Judge — June 19, 1915 — page 8: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

(editatio OFTEN sit me down and think about the faults of others; it seems all men are on the blink, my poor, weak, erring brothers. It makes my spirits fall so low, I cuss in Greek and Flemish; I am the only gent I know who has no moral blemish. I see a hundred loathsome traits in all my passing neighbors; they all keep up their selfish gaits, and greed inspires their labors. They’re toiling in the early dawn, they're toiling in the gloaming; to nail a coin, so help me John! the whole town they are combing. And I alone have sense to sit here in my fig tree’s shadow and watch the others throw a fit and strive for Eldo- rado, ‘Tis true my neighbors hand me roasts until the air is hazy, and say I'd join the toiling hosts, but that I’m too blamed lazy. I see my neighbors spend their cash for fine imported raiment; for plumes and furs and kindred trash they're always making payment. They wear their earn- ings on their backs and follow fashion's phases, while I sit here as tight as wax and moralize like blazes. Oh, what's the use of princely garb and furbelows and sables? They are the harbingers that harb of soup and poorhouse tables. Oh, what’s the use of wearing bone and straining thews and muscles, if all the money earned is blown for Grecian bends > and bustles? I sit beneath my pumpkin tree and think of these things always; an old horse blanket covers me—that and my sorrel galways. My neighbors see me, and again it makes them sore and grouchy; they say I'd dress like other men, but that I’m too derned slouchy. I see my neighbors buying cars when they can’t well afford them; some day, behind the rusty bars, the sheriff gent will board them. I have a trusty pair of limbs, with which I have no quarrel; they do not call for tires or rims or petrol by the barrel. AsI sit here upon my bench, those good old legs I’m wearing; I do not need a monkey wrench when they demand repairing. Of course they have an outward curve and don't stack up for beauty, but they're as good as I deserve and always prompt forduty. Oh, why do men buy motor carts, to fix and clean and bur- nish, when they have legs that all the marts of all the world can’t furnish? My neighbors hear me say this thing— and many times I've said it—and say, “He'd buy a car, by jing! but he’s out- worn his credit!"" And thus philosophers they josh, the sordid worldly rabble; they hear our truths and say they’re bosh and call our maxims gabble. Petticoat Government IEN lady judges hold the courts And lady cops the force, The hydrants will be painted pink And spout cologne, of course. On every corner there will be A powder puff and glass, With chewing gum and caramels Ad lib. for all who pass. Each store will be compelled to have A daily bargain sale; A manicure will then attend The inmates of the jail; And nothing but the kind of drinks Imbibed through little straws Will ever in cafes be served, When women make the laws. Minna Irving. THE FASHION Plump enthusiast—There, that's my style! Sarcastic Truths BEFORE marriage he has a duck fit if she sees him with a shave and massage that are less than two hours old or the per- fect poise of his correct tie disturbed a hair's breadth; but afterward he comes to the table with his shoe strings untied, no collar on and a stubby growth of beard that would play a tune if you ran it througha music box. These days one cannot help admiring the raw and recherche college youth who goes out and gets a job and slaves like a dog to help pay off the mortgage on the dear old auto, A fool and his money are soon married. Even the rich have their struggles—these days it’s all they can do to keep the stork from the door. Of course, when an old rake marries a grass widow, he'll ruffle her occasionally, Hew to the waist line—let fashion move it where she may. In the stone age men awed women with clubs; these days women awe men with them. —Phil H. Armstrong. Useless Knicker—Smith thinks the world is his oyster and he is the knife to open it. Bocker—It wouldn't do him any good; his best girl would eat it. One Danger Optimist—The world owes me a living. Pessimist—Look out that it doesn’t de- clare a moratorium. PROMENADE