Judge, 1915-05-22 · page 6 of 24
Judge — May 22, 1915 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This satirical story mocks professional liars and hypocrites. Two men meet on a park bench near the Hudson River and bond over their shared claim to despise dishonesty. The fat man with an acorn-shaped nose and the theatrical-looking sad man compete to prove their absolute integrity, each claiming they'd rather suffer illness or death than lie. The joke emerges when they finally reveal their professions: one reads gas meters, the other writes vacation resort circulars—both occupations inherently requiring deception and exaggeration to customers. The story satirizes how people convince themselves of their own virtue while working in fundamentally dishonest trades. The accompanying chorus girl joke reinforces the theme: people value doing nothing (like czars receiving medals) over honest work. The piece mocks self-deception and the gap between claimed morality and actual behavior.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“AND EACH ‘ HY SO pensive, stranger?"’ “I'm thinking — thinking what liars men are,"’ replied the short, fat man, whose snub nose looked like an acorn. “H-m! True,”’ rejoined the slope-shoul- dered, sad-looking individual, a person with a certain air of distinction about him, sug- gestive of the theater possibly, a long lock of raven-black hair swung carelessly over his right ear. “We've had an early spring,’’ said the fat man. **You interest me,"’ said the sad man. “Sit down and tell me your life story."’ The man whose nose resembled an acorn took the proffered space on the park bench, “*Personally,"’ he remarked, ‘‘ personally I would rather have lumbago, prune fever and delirium tremens than be guilty of an untruth—wouldn’t you?"’ “You continue to interest me, sir. May I inquire what prune fever is?"’ “A boarding-house malady."’ ‘“H-m! Thanks. Answering your query, yes, I would much rather die than tell an untruth.’" They were silent. The lights on the Jer- sey shore grew faint. An evening mist was rising from the Hudson's broad bosom, and you could hear a policeman making love to a nursemaid. Just after that a foghorn blew. **We were born in the wrong age,’’ said Chorus TO HIS the sad man, in a fine, keen, sibilant, chal- lenging tone. “*Ha!’’ said the snub-nosed man, in a broken voice. “In regard to your life story?’’ suggested the slope-shouldered man. “*It is too tragic. “*You refuse?"’ I cannot tell you." Chorus girl—Cholly, you should have been born a czar, or a kaiser, or something like that. an—Aw, why ? Chorus girl—Woy, just see all the medals they get for doing nothing! “Lest I should even so much as seem to depart from the literal truth, I must refuse.’’ *‘T respect your desire to run no risk of even seeming to wound Truth. She is mighty and comes back like a boomerang."’ “You and I and George Washington are in the same class,"’ observed the man with the acorn nose. ‘‘It’s a long way to Sheeps- head Bay."’ SEPARATE S TAR” “*Why do you smoke cigarettes?"’ asked the sad stranger. “Sorry, but I have none.” “‘Thanks."” Again they were silent. The May moon threw fantastic bars of light over the misty river. The policeman was saying good- night to the nursemaid. After that you could hear the bark of thirty thousand dogs in New Rochelle, “It grieves me to see you so over- wrought because men are liars."” “It is ghastly!” And the snub-nosed man shuddered. “What is your pro- fession, sir?’ softly asked the other, thoughtfully coiling his raven lock beneath his collar. “**My profession? I —er—read gas meters for a living.” “*You have nothing on me!"" The words stabbed the night air. “IT write vacation-re- sort circulars.” A whistle shrieked. —Fred Ladd. More Like It Crawford—Did he tell you that he was going to marry the widow? Crabshaw—No; the widow told me she was going to marry him. Suspicious Mrs. Bilton—I think you're the dearest, sweetest man that ever was! Bilton (suspiciously)—Were you at some millinery opening to-day?