Judge, 1912-11-09 · page 8 of 24
Judge — November 9, 1912 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a satirical story titled "The Economist," mocking a miserly husband (Mr. Closefist) who obsesses over trivial household expenses while ironically spending money recklessly himself. The narrative contrasts his penny-pinching complaints—demanding his wife write letters on postcards instead of stationery, use one vegetable instead of three, avoid decorating spinach with eggs—with his own wasteful behavior: he admits attending an expensive, bad theater production on Friday and losing a $60+ dinner bet at his club. The accompanying cartoon "Window Trimmers" depicts two figures working at a storefront, likely illustrating small-time commercial labor. The final section "Demands of Trade" is an unrelated short joke about a burglar before a magistrate, apparently filler content. The satire targets hypocritical penny-pinching: men who lecture family about economy while squandering money on personal vices. This reflects early 20th-century social commentary on domestic financial tensions and masculine pretense.
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T ne RS. CLOSEFIST had timidly inti- mated that she would not mind having a little ready cash to meet cer- tain necessities of a personal 8 nature. () “There you go!’’ retorted y Closefist. ‘‘It’s the same old de- ay mand — money, money, money! \. You seem to think that I have a private pipe-line connected with the Bank of England, and can shell out coin day in and day out, fair weather or foul, on demand. But I'll tell you just one thing —this everlasting hold-up has got to stop! Understand? It’s got to stop! I’m not made of money, and there isn’t any little tree out in the backyard for me to pick five-dollar bills off every time you happen to have a hole in your pocket.’ Mrs. Closefist, knowing her husband, kept discreetly silent. “The worst part about you,’’ he went on, ‘‘is your abominable extravagance and inability to realize the neces- sity of economy in small things. If you could only learn to save a penny here and a penny there, it wouldn’t be so bad. If I could only ding it into your comprehension that it is the odd penny that counts in the end’’—— “Well, [don’t see just what T can do,’’ said Mrs. Closefist. os “Well, I can tell you one thing you cando,”’ interrupted Closefist. ‘‘Just one—and that is, when you write that idiotic daily missive to your mother, you can write it ona postal card, instead of using up three or four cents’ worth “THE MILKY WAY.” Econom of stationery and a two-cent stamp.’ “You don’t write your letters on pos- tal cards,’’ said Mrs. Closetist. “TI know I don’t,’’ retorted Closefist; “*but I use club stationery all the time! But, aside from that, you are extrava- gant on the table. Take dinner last night, for instance. You had three kinds of vegetables, when one would have done just as well; and, what's more, you wasted a whole egg in decor- ating the spinach. What anybody wants to decorate spinach for beats me, and especially with eggs, when eggs are hit- ting the heavens and still rising.”” “I'll make a note of it,’’ said Mrs. Closefist meekly. ‘‘Anything else? I might save money by having my dresses made two inches shorter, and trim my hat with feathers out of last year’s feather duster. Then, for toothpicks, I can take wisps of straw out of our’’—— blk lf Hi tera! tl a Hl WINDOW TRIMMERS, s t.. ‘Don’t be sarcastic!’’ said Closefist. “It only makes you funny. But there is one other thing—I noticed, on your last week’s account, that you had anitem of two dollars and ¥% fifty cents fora matinee. Now, of course, you are entitled to entertainment; but why two dollars and a half for a rotten play, when for five cents you can see a dozen elevating films down at the Nickelodeon?" “It wasn’t a rotten play!’’ said Mrs. Closefist, rebellious. “It was, too!’ retorted Closefist. “‘How do you know?" demanded the lady. “Because I saw it myself last Friday night—that’s how!’ retorted Closefist. “1 bet Bill Slabsides a dinner and a theater party for ten there’d be more wet days than dry in September, and I lost. It cost me a good sixty- two dollars!" Whereupon Mrs. Closefist laughed so heartlessly that Closefist fled to the club where, taking advantage of club rates, he economically purchased a headache for $14.50 which would have cost him $25 if he had got it ata hotel or a corner grocery. Demands of Trade. “It would seem a fla- grantly clear case,’’ said the magistrate; adding, to the burglar who had been haled before him, ‘‘what have you to say for yourself?”" “Not much, your honor. But I hope you can give me a short sentence. This is my busy season.’’ comicbooks.com