Judge — July 26, 1913 — page 17: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Hurryupitis By HOWARD ©, KEGLEY HE SAD-EYED, dyspeptic man will T munch finecut fifteen hours a day, the blonde stenographer will reach under g restaurant table, retrieve the quid of- m that feels like the one she stuck there, irrespective of the dozens of other quids of gum with which the table leg is festooned, and she will go on chewing it as though she fears that the hinges of ber jaws will rust if she permits them to remain idle for a single moment; but when it comes to masticating food, nei- ther of the above-mentioned individuals has the time or the inclination to exer- cise his or her molars. “Gone to lunch. Will be back in five minates,”’ is the spirit of the age. It is very evident that the American people are suffering from hurryupitis! Horace Fletcher waved the danger sig- nal years ago and told us that we ought tochew our food better than we do; but what was the result? Figuratively speak- ing, we continue to try to cross the track sbead of the train. We are our own worst enemies. In spite of warning words, we go right ahead, eating our food in haste and repenting at leisure. The miller bolts his flour, the fabric manufacturer bolts his silk, and the ma- chinist bolts his machine together; and then all three of them make a dash for the lunch counter, where they proceed to bolt their food. Many years ago the people of this na- tion got in such a hurry that they had to invent the quick-lunch counter. That was too slow a system, so the cafeteria was devised, and now the refreshment parlors are serving hot coffee and cast- iron pie to the multitudes who make a trip to lunch and get back to the office in approximately a minute. The average man rushes out at noon, wedges a piece of blackberry pie into his countenance, flushes his alimentary canal with a cup of scalding hot Java, and then rushes out and runs over three or four little children on his way back to the office, where he cords his feet upon a nlltop desk, lights a black stogie and smokes contentedly for an hour. He has lots of time for smoking, but no time for eating. We already have palatable heef ex- tract and bouillon that is served at soda foontains, and we may see the day when we will cease to pay grocery bills and begin taking our nourishment at a re- freshment resort. Don’t say that it is impossible, for nothing is impossible in this age! Poultrymen have machines for stuffing thickens and making them ready for market, and it may not be long until afe proprietors will have similar appa- tatus for stuffing the public. By using freless cookers, the restauranter could Prepare meals of different kinds, extract wrt An 80 CENT tobacco in a 5 CENT TinP ound is the world- the finest Burley tobacco. Stag is sold at that price. But Stagis ina tin just Wate the ordinary 10 Cent size. ‘Why? 80 Cents a wide price of Exactly. Topawo So you can buy JUST ENOUGH at a time to keep FRESH. The wonderful NA‘T- URAL FRAGRANCE of TIN Stag has taken a nation of smokers by storm. But the greatest thing about Stag is this: When you smoke Stag you smoke fresh tobacco. Sold only in handy 5 Cent tins and go Cent pound glass humidor jars, VER-LASTING-LY GOOD the nourishment, pour it into fountain tanks, and have it on tap at all hours. With a little cherry or chocolate flavor- ing, one could easily gulp down a glass of extract from beefsteak, sliced toma- toes, cucumbers, mashed potatoes, straw- berry shortcake and coffee. The entire time consumed in such a manner would be something less than one minute. Talk about standardized eating! Think of it!” Imagine going into a place and telling the soda dispenser that you'd like to have a New England dinner phosphate. At your elbow would be a stenographer or clerk ordering a ham and eggs sundae, near by would be a real-estate man drink- ing corned beef and cabbage soda water, and a bank president would be drinking a bottle of sirloin steak pop. Imagine eating a T-bone steak through a straw, or drinking an Irish stew out of a bottle! Police ! Some men, you note, with eyesight keen, At trolley stoppings gaze, Where hosiery may now be seen In shapes that must amaze. On colors like the rainbow bright, On contours manifold, Displayed by Fashion's artful sleight, Are fixed their glances bold. Such men, ’tis plain, can have no shame, And for such prying are to blame. In answering advertisements please mention JUDGE. It will be appreciated. comicbooks.com