Judge, 1912-02-24 · page 8 of 24
Judge — February 24, 1912 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains several humorous short pieces typical of early 20th-century American satirical magazines: **"The Victor"** is a poem about a man triumphantly describing his battle wounds and exhaustion after conquering "the stove"—a domestic cooking mishap played as epic struggle. **"Why She Didn't Tell"** is a brief dialogue joke about a woman who didn't realize something was confidential. **"Shedding Blue Blood"** mocks Irish-American stereotypes: an Irish contractor hits an old man carrying "bluing" (laundry whitening agent), then assumes from the blue staining that he's killed a wealthy "blue blood" Yankee, exclaiming they've killed an aristocrat. **"A New Vocation"** (cartoon) shows a man claiming he paints landscapes but has never posed for them—satirizing artistic pretension. **"Not to Be Denied"** depicts a Black preacher installing a car horn in his church to wake sleeping congregants during collection. The page relies on ethnic/racial stereotypes, class humor, and domestic comedy typical of Judge's era.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
That Pessimist Again. With prices high, How fine if I The Victor. HERE'S a finger that’s smashed, there’s a nail that is black, Could live as moths and moles! A hand that is blistered and They do not need sore; Substantial feed; They live by eating holes. Percival Hayward. Why She Didn't Tell. ‘ Perk—Say, Maria, you didn’t tell anybody that secret I told you last night, did you?” Maria—‘‘Why, no! You see, I didn’t know it was a secret.’” Shedding Blue Blood. An Irish contractor had the mis- fortune to run his car over an old man who had a bottle of bluing inside his coat. Jumping from j There's a suit gray with dust and ashirt marked with rust, My trousers quite sadly I’ve tore. : There’s a mark on my face and a smut on my nose, My collar is wilted and soiled; All my muscles are strained and my ankle is sprained— A pair of new shoes are quite spoiled. My temper is shattered, my strength is all spent, Full many strong words have I said; T have banged up my shin and am minus some skin, With a throbbing round bump on my head. . Still, happy am I, for the strug- his car and seeing the fluid rapidly gle is o'er, staining the old fellow’s breast, And laurel wreaths now should he cried to his friend, ‘‘Finne- be wove; te gan, it'll go harrud wid us! For the battle is done, I’m the fellow who won— Once more I have conquered the stove! — —Den. Cameron Shafer. We've killed wan o’ thim blue- | blooded Yankees !”* i Indifferent as to the Present One. “‘Dora, you are sixteen and No, Wire-tappers. The Town Sage wants to know A NEW VOCATION. can’t spell your name correctly !"” whether the purchasing by the ‘*No, I never use models. I paint only landscapes."" “Oh, that’s all right, mother. government of all the telegraph “Well, guvner, I ain't never posed fer one o’ them things i if . j ” Lexpect to change it in a year companies will increase the vast yet, but I can learn or s0."” army of wire pullers. NOT TO BE DENIED. Parson Johnson-—"' Bredren, dis new attachment on de left ob de pulpit am an automobile horn. It am guaranteed to wake a somnolent bradder in one-fifth ob a second. Deacon Sparagus will pass de contribution-box while de choir sings * Wake, Sinners, Wake!’ "’ comicbooks.com