Judge, 1914-08-08 · page 12 of 24
Judge — August 8, 1914 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two distinct pieces of satirical fiction rather than political cartoons. **"The Game" (top section):** A romantic story where Miss Moneypenny agrees to marry whichever of two suitors—Spooner or Crabthorne—plays the better game (likely cards or billiards). The satire mocks courtship conventions: though Spooner plays gallantly by deliberately losing to impress her, she marries the brutally competitive Crabthorne instead. The joke critiques both gender relations and human nature—she chooses the aggressive "fiend" over the considerate gentleman, suggesting primitive instinct trumps rational choice. **"The Inhumanity of Humanity" (bottom section):** J. Fuller Gloom, a "pessimisticogitorialist" (pessimistic thinker), catalogs everyday cruelties disguised as humor: mocking widows, calling red-headed boys "Red," teasing bald men about hair loss. The satire exposes how society inflicts psychological wounds through casual mockery while expecting victims to laugh along—highlighting the disconnect between outward civility and actual human unkindness. Both pieces satirize social hypocrisy and the gap between civilized pretense and brutal reality.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
his teeth showed with a sinister suggestion as he glanced at Spooner. . “‘Nor did I say I shouldn't decide to marry one of you after playing.’” “Then we have a chance —an equal chance?"’ asked Spooner. “Yes. Your chances are equal as you stand."’ “And the one who plays the better game?’’ per- sisted Crabthorne. “Will stand a better chance than his rival,’’ an- swered Miss Moneypenny. ‘‘But my idea as to which plays the better game may differ from your ideas. Psychology as well as technique will count with me." And the game began, the two young men against the young woman, with the usual handicap. Miss Moneypenny was a clever player as well asa clever woman, but she seemed to lack something of her usual skill in her intent observation of the rivals. Spooner, who would have run second to Crabthorne in most races for the fair, played with a peculiar defer- ence to Miss Moneypenny. He slighted points that might have been set to his and Crabthorne’s credit, bringing guarded rebuke from his partner, and conducted himself as though he wished her to win the game, though at times. the spirit of the play impulse] him to skillful energy. Crabthorne, handsomer and more attractive in every way, played like a fiend. He seized every advantage and conceded nothing and was almost brutal in his aggression. He bent every effort to win and displayed the virile grace of the athlete. Sometimes his activity suggested the lithe and vital motion of a panther. Of course the young woman was defeated. And in spite of her psychological interest in the game—or perhap: because of it—primitive impulse con- trolled, for she married Crabthorne. The Inhumanity of Humanity «ee QYHEN you put your mind to it,’’ grumbled J. Ful- ler Gloom, the well-known and deserved!y unpop- ular pessimisticogitorialist, ‘‘it is actually painful to think how infernally inhuman the most of usare. Every middle-aged man flinches at being brought for the first ‘time to'a realization of his years by being addressed as ‘Untle’ by a total stranger. We joke a grass widow and expect her to giggle as much as we do, when mebby the experiences she endured before she invoked the law ' “seared her heart like a hot iron. And we josh a widower about marrying ag: when perhaps the spirit of his dear, dead wife is ever by his side and a living reality to him. ‘tA red-headed boy hates to be hailed as ‘Red,’ and While he seldom says anything about it, he eventually grows so scrappy that everybody believes red-headed folks fight forthe pure love of fighting. The runt you call ‘Shorty’ will get you for it if he ever has a chance. The man who wipes a long lick of hair across his bald spot may grin on the outside at your witty remarks about his marble dome, but inwardly he is full of some- thing entirely different. And I remember yet the first time a fresh young feller called me ‘Dad.’ He settled down here and became a prominent citizen and has sev- “-eral-times run for office, and he always wonders why he can never get my vote, confound him!” —Tom P. Morgan, MOTHER LIES F a | comicbooks.com