Judge, 1913-11-22 · page 15 of 26
Judge — November 22, 1913 — page 15: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a humorous poem satirizing wealth and poverty during the early 20th century, likely commenting on income taxation and class anxiety. The narrator—a poor man—ironically expresses gratitude for his poverty. He contrasts himself with wealthy neighbors like "Croesus Russell" and "Rouble Viking," who suffer constant harassment: tax collectors, fortune-seekers, social climbers, and people trying to exploit them. The wealthy man is miserable, besieged on all sides. The poor man, by contrast, enjoys peace and simple pleasures (turkey obtained "on tick"—on credit). No one targets him for money or schemes; he faces no social pressure. The satire targets wealthy industrialists and the nouveau riche, suggesting their fortunes bring stress rather than happiness. It also likely references contemporary debates about progressive taxation and the burdens placed on the rich. The poem's conclusion—that reputation pledges are hard to redeem—hints at broader social instability.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
O# I AM truly thankful, and peace beams from my eye, as I sit here, with tank full of turkey, cake and pie. The gods have all been smiling upon my modest vhile others wealth are piling, I'm poorer day by day. I’m thankfal that I'm busted, that Iam shy of kale; assessors are dis- gusted when they get on my trail. I often look around me upon the richer folk, and things I see con- found me and make me glad I'm broke. My neighbor, Croesus Russell, has wealth in shining stacks, and you should see him hustle to pay his income tax! He snorts around and rumbles, he rants and paws the air, he swears and sweats and grumbles, he howls and tears his hair. He talks of confiscation and dances on his hat, and all throughout the nation the rich are doing LE MINARET “It cert'inly is fierce, Mrs. Simmons; but if them jokers in Parus says it's the thing, we'll hev to come to it, and that’s all there is to that.” SAUNA ANA AAEA EAGAN TAA ENA Thanksgiving By WALT MASON ETM UO that! While I, who’d whoop and holler and fall into a swoon if I should see a dol- lar some sunny afternoon, am feeling pert and perky, and life seems smooth and slick, my innards full of turkey that I secured on tick! My neighbor, Rouble Viking, has money by the keg, and folks are always hiking with schemes to pull his leg. They camp around his palace, they come from near and far, and nearly bust a gallus to catch him in his car. They bone him when he’s chilly, they bone him when he’s hot; they chase him till he’s silly, they swim be- hind his yacht; they tag him when he fishes, they hide beneath his bed, until the poor man wishes that he was good and dead. But I have no such troubles, for I am busted flat; I sit here blowing bubbles and playing with the cat. And no one comes to bone me—if one came to the fence, I'd try and make him loan me, say, fifty-seven cents. The papers don’t ac- cuse me of holding up the poor; the preachers don’t accuse me of soiling all that’s pure; no agitator itches to take me by the throat; I’m not the man of. riches, the Universal Goat. I’ve had a goodly plateful of turkey, cake and cheese, and I am truly grateful for filling things like these; and I am deeply thankful that I am short of care, while men who have a bank full of coin are in despair. Persons who have pledged their reputa- tions often have a hard time in making good at redeeming time. comicbooks.com