Judge, 1914-01-10 · page 17 of 24
Judge — January 10, 1914 — page 17: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three humorous essays mocking early aviation and contemporary social trends: **"Conquering the Air from the Ridgepole"** satirizes boys imitating early aviators by jumping off barns with umbrellas—a reference to the actual Darius Green story and real accidents. The author recounts his own childhood attempt, ending comically in a cow trough, carried home in a woman's apron. The joke: aviation enthusiasm among the general public is dangerously premature and foolish. **"The Henpecks"** ridicules a Los Angeles woman who clucks in her sleep, extrapolating absurdly that her husband might crow and children cackle—mocking both medical puzzlement and gender dynamics of the era. **"Nothing New Under the Sun"** defends the fashionable "slit skirt" by noting even ancient Plutarch found it acceptable, while claiming the author himself has "observed" it without complaint—playful commentary on contemporary fashion debates and male hypocrisy about women's clothing. All three pieces use exaggeration and self-deprecating humor typical of early 20th-century satirical magazines.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
ite y fe) WATCITING OUR FUNNY WORLD GO BY ' Conquering the Air from the Ridgepole WE SEE by the public prints that a boy at Athol, Mass., a few weeks ago, tried to become an aviator by the umbrella route, and we notice this week that the doctors are holding out hope for the first time. As so many boys have done, he climbed “AND CARRIED US HOME IN HER APRON” upon the roof of the old barn and veered off toward the west side of town, with an umbrella in each hand. Fortunately, neigbhors were at home and kindly fixed the ice packs, One would think that boys would learn some time not to go into the Darius Green business without making careful arrange- ments for their return. Just as sure as they go up on the ridgepole and leap off into the unknown, they are sure to need splints and a chair out in front of them. Once, when we were a boy, we became impatient at the progress that aviation was making and decided to conquer the air ourself. We set Saturday afternoon for the great event, and, taking the nails, rocks and clock weights out of our pock- ets, to make it easier on our dirigible, we borrowed Aunt Clara’s parasol, got the old family umbrella out from behind the ironing board, and slipped out to the barn. Climbing upon the roof, we opened the umbrellas, and, taking one in each hand, leaped off, heading straight for the open sea. As soon as we got on the umbrellas, they acted in a way that we had not planned on. They turned wrongside out, and from that moment on things did not go as we had so fondly dreamed. We did not reach the sea, Instead of that, the land flew up and changed our plan, Before we could take a precursory glance over the landscape, we found our- self a few paces this side of the cow trough, with our head resting in a fence corner. We began to lament loudly at the un- reliability of aeronautical paraphernalia. A kind woman who was putting out the washing heard us and carried us home in her apron. We knew Robinson Crusoe by heart before we got back with the old gang. From that hour our interest in aero- nautics began to wane, and it has waned so much that we can’t see an umbrella without a shudder, If the air waits on us to conquer it, it will be hiding a long time in the foothills and among the rocks along the Mexican border without any in- tervention on our part. The Henpecks OS ANGELES doctors are much puzzled over a wife in their city who clucks in her sleep, like a hen. This is enough to puz- zle any doctor, Even the editor of this page can’t understand it. We feel sorry for anybody who clucks in his sleep, and especially for a wife so afflicted. How awkward it would be for her if some night her clucking should awaken her husband, and he should find that her hand was reaching out for his trousers, folded over the back of a chair! We hope that the doctors can cure the woman, for there is no telling what it might develop into. If it keeps on, her husband may begin to crow and the chil- dren to cackle in their sleep. Nothing New Under the Sua T HAS been discovered that Plutarch, who lived nineteen hundred years ago, knew and wrote about the slit skirt. But it is not on record that the great Greek journalist had any objection to the slit skirt. He did all the looking he could, and, after the vision of loveliness had gone on by, contentedly went back to work on his old Caligraph. We ourself have observed the slit skirt and written about it. But the author of this page has never found fault with the split skirt. It is truly remarkable how great writers agree on things. . En Passant THE passengers on a steamship in the South Seas heard a flute by wireless HOW AWKWARD IT WOULD BE” telephone four hundred miles away. Just atrifle more is the right distance—say, five hundred miles, a The real stylish women, according to the fashion section of one of the news- papers, are now buying gowns to fit their minds, We think this is going a bit too far. It seems tous that the dresses are scant enough already. comicbooks.com