Judge, 1912-07-06 · page 7 of 24
Judge — July 6, 1912 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page collects several satirical pieces mocking American social life. The cartoons at top ("Smooth Bore," "Blunderbuss," "Repeater," etc.) appear to caricature different social types—likely politicians or public figures of the era, though specific identities are unclear from the image alone. The accompanying text includes: - **"Willy's Lament"**: Mocks early Progressive-era efforts to sanitize Independence Day celebrations, replacing explosives and noise with respectable quiet—a jab at reformist busybodies. - **"Put Not Your Belief in Signs"**: A joke about laundry mix-ups based on occupational stains (ink, slivers). - **"Professional Interest"**: A cynical dig at doctors extracting money from wealthy patients (Senators specifically). - **"The Tale of a Bill"**: Catalogs a middle-class man's dating expenses ($16.95 total—substantial for the era), satirizing modern courtship costs. The satirical tone throughout targets both reformers and the newly conspicuous consumer economy of the early 20th century.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“The membership committee of the Independent Order of the Fiances of Farinacea,"’ she replied. ‘‘You see, my dear boy, we have organized, and no fiances are admitted to our Wooers’ Union who have not been recommended by the membership committee and elected by the full membership of the organization as it stands. In case of your election, where shall the treasurer send the bill for your initiation fee and semi-annual dues?” Willy's Lament. They're organizin’ a sane Fourth Here in our town this year; There won't be enny noise en din, Er nothin’ else, I fear. En cannon crackers can't be had— There’s not one in our shop; En if you let a sizzer off, You gotta ask a cop. I guess there won't be enny bombs, Er ennything like that; You mustn’t bust yer ma’s ear drums, Er scare the dog en cat. So I'll just wear my Sunday pants, En wave a little flag, Sit on the porch with sister dear, En bust a paper bag. —pau! Tr. Gilbert. Now that the currency-laundering and manicuring machine at Washington is in successful operation, tainted money will no longer be seen or heard of. SOME BIG GUNS WE HAVE MET. Put Not Your Belief in Signs. The family laundry. had just been re- turned, and the usual struggle to iden- tify their respective belongings was on. “That’s my shir insisted the elder brother, who worked ina printing estab- lishment. ‘‘I can tell it by that ink spot.’* “Pshaw!"’ exclaimed the younger brother, who worked in a lumber yard. “1 suppose, in order to be mine, it would have to have slivers in it.”” Professional Interest. Young doctor—""What do you suppose 1 got out of the Senator's windpipe?”” Old doctor—‘‘Oh, about a thousand dollars !"” HE WOULD NOT. “* Sure, an’ Oi 'd have laughed if thim joy- riders had hit my wagon.’ The Tale of a Bill. Y JINGO! but I’m feeling blue, For I’ve not had a single sou Since I escorted Dolly Bright Unto the show the other night. I cannot help but get a chill Whene’er I think upon that bill. Now here it is in black and white. Something fierce? You have it right! Taxi fare and tip to driver Got away with one whole . ~ $5.00 Tickets, second row (quite ait), Also opera glass . . Hat check, tips to sundry gents Cost the whole of . -50 And then a feed at Rector’s. Shucks! I wish I'd kept those 4. When we came out I did contrive To slip the doorman. . -75 And then asmall bouquet I bought ‘er— For that I only coughed. 225 At last for starting home twas time. We took the subway train. . 10 Then, heavens! I was ina pickle! Thad to ask her for. . 05 To get back home. That night I swore I'd be a ‘‘live one'’ nevermore. Hereafter for no girl alive _—_— Will I spend, . + $16.95 Homer Crey. Commuters. Commuters, roving tribes or bands, Inhabiting the suburb places, With watch and time-card in their hands And restlessness upon their faces. comicbooks.com