Judge — November 22, 1913 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

Light and Dark Meat By HOMER Ckoy SomMEBODY is going around advocating that it would be better not to eat turkey on Thanksgiving. He says that cold turkey causes many cases of poisoning each Thanksgiving, and that as a whole we would be better off if we left the turkey in the back yard. We don’t care if we do hurt somebody’s feelings—we are going to say just exactly what we think about him. That man isa fool. There— that’s what we think of him! We'll run the risk of poi- soning if somebody’ll bring around the fowl and leave it alone on our table. Nothing gladdens our heart more than to see a turkey lying on its shoulder blades in the middle of atable. That is our favorite pose for aturkey. We like to see a turkey at rest on a platter with a string tied around itsneck. A turkey always looks particularly graceful to us in low neck. There is no prettier sight to us than a turkey lying on its back with its eyes closed for the last time. We dearly love to see it resting there so calm and still, with its feet re- moved and its thighs turned a ruddy brown. Many a happy hour we have spent with a turkey that had had its feet removed at the knees and its neck left in the back yard. We like a turkey in such a predicament as this. On Thanksgiving Day we like a turkey with all the accessories re- moved. On that day we don't like an assembled turkey—we prefer just the chassis. The fool referred to in the first paragraph can eschew the turkey Thanksgiving Day if he wishes to. For our own part, we are going to plod along just as we have been doing—leaving off the es. A monkey at a banquet got drunk the other day in New York. They are getting more like men every day. "Be Brief. "| Ye Editor's time is |, Limited A THANKSGIVING JOKE WITH A POINT TO IT The Last Days THERE are several things in this world that I can’t under- stand. Ican’t make out why everybody is so kind to me lately, and why everybody is so anxious that I should get fat. All summer I ran around with my mother, brothers and sis- ters—about a dozen in all—catching grasshoppers and growing. Pretty soon summer was over and it began to get chilly. I had grown faster than any other one of the family. One day I no- ticed the people in the house looking at me. ‘‘That's the one,’’ said the master, pointing at me. Then they caught me, put me ina pen and brought me my food. This was nice, for it saved me from running after it. They brought me everything that I could eat and kept my pan full of] water. Everybody was kind to me. Once when Spot got in my pen and nearly frightened the wits out of me, they gave him a sound whipping. It’s pretty cold now, and every day the people from the house come out and look at me. The master feels of my breast and says that I am the finest he ever saw. Just yesterday he felt of my breast and said it all over again. . .. This morning I heard the mistress say something about somebody’s wing making a good duster for the cook stove. I did not quite gather whose wing she meant. ... A while ago I heard somebody turn- ing a grindstone and saw the master bending over a long knife and feeling of its edge with his thumb. I can’t get the sight of that knife out of my mind. . . . If everybody wasn’t so thoughtful of me and didn’t feed me so well, I'd worry about what I’ve seen the last few days; . .. but I know that people who have been so good to me wouldn’t do anything to make me unhappy. The master is coming down the walk straight toward my pen. I wonder why he has one hand behind his back. . . . I'd think there was something wrong if he WILLIE’S BEST FRIENDS—THANKSGIVING, AND THE NEXT wasn’t smiling. . . . comicbooks.com