Judge, 1911-11-25 · page 8 of 24
Judge — November 25, 1911 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three satirical pieces typical of Judge magazine's rural and social humor: **"Notes from the Basswood Bugle"**: Humorous anecdotes from a small town, mocking rural life—incompetent stove-building, a horse race at a funeral (suggesting rural priorities), and a postmaster offering discount stamps because mail volume increased when a local woman started submitting rejection-slip poetry to magazines. **"It Was a Glorious Victory, Peterkin"**: Social satire on college football culture. The story describes brutal violence during a Thanksgiving game where a player is severely injured, yet spectators celebrate the victory—critiquing how institutions prioritize winning over player safety and human welfare. **"One of the Original"**: A joke about the Mayflower Society (exclusive descendants club) where someone mistakenly serves fowl that "should have been the guest of honor"—mocking pretentious genealogical snobbery. The remaining items are brief jokes and illustrations about Thanksgiving traditions and baby photos.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Notes from the Basswood Bugle. ANK PURDY has got a new air-tight stove that is guar- anteed to burn smoke and ashes. Hank says he is all fixed for fuel this winter, as he has arranged to get all the smoke he needs at Frisby’s mill and he will get his ashes down back of the power house. Deacon Stubbs’s bay mare won the race home from Obadiah Tod- hammer’s funeral and the deacon won a grindstone, three scythe snaths, three flynets, a buffalo robe, two wringers, a spring tooth drag,’ and a box of red herrin’, Most of the fellers was bettin’ on William Tibbitts’s roan geldin’, and Tibbitts put up the red her- rin’ himself. There is some talk of crooked work, and the next time there is a funeral the hoss race is goin’ to be pulled off right, with a starer and timer. Hod Peters’s stop watch stopped for sure this time and he says it has done nothin’ else since he got it. Postmaster Tibbitts will havea bargain sale in postage stamps next Saturday. Twelve two-cent stamps fora quarter. Since Miss Pansy Perkins has been sendin’ her poems of passion to the mag- azines and gettin’ ’em back, our pustoffice has jumped from fourth to second class. Rev. Jones is lookin’ for a one- armed feller to pass the collection plate. That is the safest plan. “HIGH AND DRY." Chameleon. «ys asked Hawkins. “T can’t say, Hawk, old haven't seen her this morning."’ man," said Jinks. Miss Rapleigh a blonde or a brunet*e, Jinks?” oo It Was a Glorious Victory, Peterkin. TH DULL impact of the great man machine shivered the air as far as the bleachers. Men piled on men kicked and cursed and groaned in their struggle for the inflated bladder in the Thanks- giving game. Silence held for a moment as*the men untangled themselves, and the referee squirmed out with the football; then up from the grand-stand rose a rumbling, full-throated yell of victory. The men melted apart, leaving only one limp and crushed body on the ground. The bleachers hushed for a moment, while out from the side lines the clinic students ran with the white stretcher. After the body was out of sight, the pulsing, reverberating cry went up again over dear old alma mater’s victory, and all hearts were raised that Thanks- giving had brought them so much. One of the Original. Duhl—‘‘Did you enjoy the Mayflower Society’s dinner?’ Keene—‘‘No; an unfortunate blunder was made. The fowl of which I had a portion should have been the guest of honor.”’ HEN all are filled Thanks- giving Day, From father down to Rover, My special cause for gratitude Is, that the day’s most over! HOW THE BABIES TURNED OUT.