Judge, 1914-11-28 · page 8 of 24
Judge — November 28, 1914 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains several short humorous pieces typical of early 20th-century American satire: **Main cartoon** (top right): Shows men on a telephone, satirizing early telephone etiquette and marital dynamics—a husband monopolizing the line while his wife waits, the caption joking that he's "talking to my wife" despite being silent. **"How He Knew"**: A racial stereotype joke featuring "Rastus Johnson," using crude logic to mock both a Black suspect and the witness's dubious testimony about identifying him in darkness. **"My Boarding House"** (poem): Social commentary on boarding house life—poor conditions, mediocre meals, unsociable roommates—yet the narrator stays because he "lives at home," suggesting immigrant or working-class attachment to familiar (if unpleasant) circumstances. **Scattered quips**: Include jokes about war-time cosmetic price inflation and a college student inventing a sneeze-based yell during hay-fever season. The humor relies on period-specific references (early telephones, boarding houses as common housing) and casual racial stereotyping typical of the era.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Mr. Brandwein’s clinched right fist smote his left palm. ‘‘Lot depends on this, ma’am—no less than who's to be boss in my house! Tell me! Do you sweep a rug either way, or have you got to go with the grain?”’ Mr. Brandwein was eying Miss Libby with all » the intentness of the zeal- ous seeker of truth and light. Therefore he marked, if he did not comprehend, certain disconcerting phe- nomena. The roses faded from Miss Lib- by’s cheeks; then they came back with a rush. She was gazing at him blankly. She gave a queer little gasp; then, of a sudden, her eyes were shining with a strange light. Her lips moved; she spoke lightly, almost merrily. Great is the discipline of the sex! “With the grain—with the nap, that is,’ she said. ‘‘Treat a rug as you'd treat a woman—follow the line of least resistance !"’ Up to Snuff Arthur—Uriah Umson made a great hit at school during the hay-fever season. Anna—How? Arthur—He invented a college yell with a sneeze in it. HOW IT HURTS Clerk—Yes, miss, all face powders have gone up in price on account of the war. Young lady—Oh, isn’t war just horrid ! AND HE HELD THE WIRE How He Knew «« YOU say,’’ said the at- torney for the de- fense, ‘‘that though the night was very dark, you saw Rastus Johnson leaving your hencoop at midnight from your bedroom win- dow?"" “Yes, sir,’ plaintiff. “How could you distin- guish him in the blackness of the night?’’ demanded the attorney. “Why —er,"’ said the plaintiff, ‘‘the darkness got so much blacker all of a sud- den that Rastus’s presence there was obvious. No other human being could cast such a shadow on anything so dark as that night already was."’ replied the Social Burdens Mrs. Gramerey—Did you have a pleasant afternoon? Mrs, Park--Yes; it was almost perfect. I called on a dozen of my friends and found nine of them out. Mrs. Golitely—Great heavens! are you going to keep that ‘phone forever? You have been there twenty minutes and haven't said a word! Man at*phone—Sorry, madam, I am talking to my wife. My Boarding House OFT TO my room the perfume wafts From cooking bacon, cabbage, beans. On windy days I feel the drafts As round my form the sad breeze keens. The service in the house is poor— I run my errands, as a rule. The mealtimes are by no means sure. You think I kick, just like a mule? No, Ido not. You think it strange. You'll think it stranger when I say I do not contemplate a change From this poor shelter where I stay. And neither is it that I save A single red by doing so. The daily outlay’s mighty grave And much augments the sums I owe. The vther boarders do not treat Me with consideration—no! They let me buy the things they eat, And often bone me for some dough. It costs me more than good hotels Charge for good service when I roam, But yet I stand for cooking smells And other things ~— I live at home. Strickland Giltilaw. His Indefinite Status “The fellow who married your daugh- ter’ —— “He is my son-in-law now,"’ grimly replied Grout P. Smith. ‘I don’t know what he used to be.’’