Judge, 1914-03-07 · page 13 of 24
Judge — March 7, 1914 — page 13: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from *Judge* contains several satirical pieces targeting early 20th-century social conventions: **"A Marital Serial"** mocks indecisive courtship—a man agonizes endlessly over whether to telephone or write to a woman, paralyzed by vanity (worried his handwriting looks bad, his clothes are shabby). The joke is his overthinking prevents action entirely. **"A Boob's Problem"** satirizes a foolish man who rescues someone from traffic, then cheaply offers only a dime as thanks, calling it "square." The satire targets both his stinginess and obliviousness to the rescued man's injuries. **The title quips** mock a female writer ("Mrs. Von Peyster") through tattle about her multiple marriages—implying promiscuity while pretending innocence. **"Words of Wisdom"** cynically jokes that young women should reject romantic declarations unless backed by life insurance—satirizing both male sentimentality and mercenary courtship. The cartoons and humor reflect period anxieties about gender roles, courtship rituals, and urban modern life.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Tittle—How many husbands has that Mrs, Von Peyster, the writer, had? From a Sinner’s Diary N’T dive into a thunder cloud with a lightning rod on your head, unless it's grounded on somebody else. A woman asked me if it wasn’t about time I was married. It’s past time. But how is anybody benefited by all the time harping at meon that? Don’t I realize harder than anybody that if I don’t get my hand in the grab bag before long I'll go to the wall? Ihave a scholar who flats all his notes just as I flat some people’s ideals. When he bows open string it sounds bad as the rest—judged by the company it keeps. So every few days 1 send him a post-card, saying, ‘‘Sharper!’’ for if he’s practicing I know what he’s doing. If I knew I'd pass this way but once I'd feel easy. It's the thought of being obliged to come along again and perhaps be cat-hauled by the ones I sold small measure to that causes me to fill the bas- ket half way between the marks where I'd like to buy and sell. Because you're not afraid of dynamite is no sign you may not get a thumbnail nicked yet if you keep on blasting. Yesterday I patched bags to lend, and drove horse to elevate a load of oats. When the first sling full got to the peak, my pa performed on the wrong ror.e and let the whole thing down on his dcfense- less head. The next time he took his head and backed out on the wagon tongue so that couldn’t happen again, and the sling fetched loose in the middle, a fas- tener taking him between the eyes! The next was so big the horse and I couldn’t raise it, and we had to back up and have part of it pitched off. I expected next a tug would break and a whiffletree fly back and take me in a mortal part right on the eve of the ox roast.—Lynette Freemire. A MARITAL SERIAL A Boob’s Problem SHALL I telephone or write? Shall I write or telephone? Guess I’}l wait until to-night; D’ruther write at home alone. Shall I telephone or write? She’d prefer my dulcet tone; My handwriting is a sight — I'm quite witty on the ’phone! Wish I’d written yesterday! I can almost hear her groan If I call her right away— Chasin’ downstairs to the ’phone. Shall I telephone or write? Shall I write or ’phone at all? If my clothes weren't such a sight, I'd just hop around and call! —M. Duncan, Swatting with a toy balloon may not bring the results a blackberry briar would. Tattle—Her husbands are now in the third edition. Paid in Foll «MY DEAR man,” said young Sap- head to the battered specimen of humanity who had just pulled him from the path of anonrushing auto, ‘‘you saved my life! What can I do to cancel the ob- ligation?” “Just slip me a dime, boss,’’ replied the battered one, ‘‘and we’ll call it square.’” Not Moch Bess—Do you think much of Jimmie? Tess—No; only about twenty-four hours a day. Words of Wisdom Young ladies, please to recollect A fellow’s wish to die For you is of no worth unless There’s life insurance nigh! MAKING LIGHT OF HIS CASE comicbooks.com