Judge, 1915-07-03 · page 14 of 32
Judge — July 3, 1915 — page 14: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This poem mocks Americans celebrating Independence Day recklessly. The satire contrasts the sacrifice of Revolutionary War founders ("few, few were they whose swords of old / Won this fair land") with modern celebrants who carelessly injure themselves—losing "limbs and ears and eyes"—while claiming patriotic devotion. The poem's bitter punchline reveals the true motivation: citizens bleed "Not for your altars and your fires, / But for your surgeons and your docs!"—suggesting celebrants injure themselves primarily to benefit doctors financially, not from genuine patriotism. The accompanying illustration (top right) shows "How the Thing Started," depicting Adam offering Eve "a little dressing"—a crude visual pun suggesting humanity's injuries and the need for medical treatment originated at creation itself. This reflects Progressive-era skepticism toward jingoistic patriotism and critiques the commercialization of national holidays, with doctors profiting from preventable Fourth of July injuries caused by fireworks and reckless behavior.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
The Insane Fourth HEN Freedom from her mountain height* * 4 Unfurled her standard in the air, She named a day for boys’ delight, So doctors raiment fine might wear, Thus modern patriots may bear Their scars as well as those who fought And posed upon the Dela- ware— Ah! liberty was dearly bought! So when to-day we celebrate, We give our limbs and ears and eyes, To prove our loyalty is great And that we are not very wise; To prove the luster will not dull Which Fame around our heroes sheds; To prove our patriot hearts are full, And empty are our patriot heads. Few, few were they whose swords of old Won this fair land round which we flit; But we are many, we who hold The firm resolve to bleed for it. Strike, daring sons of daring sires! Strike, though the wounded fall in flocks, Not for your altars and your fires, But for your surgeons and your docs! * In Philadelphia. A Hopeful Sign ‘*Elocution seems to have become one of the lost arts, and'’—began the professor. “Eh-yah!"' interjected the old codger. *tAnd the same may be said of autograph albums, obituary poetry, yodling, sage tea, fables, county fairs, postage-stamp collect- ing, party regularity, Uncle Tom's Cabin, crazy quilts, spirit rappings, madstones, the personal devil, mandolins, wax flowers and many other things that formerly infested —Lee Shippey. WM HOW THE THING STARTED aAizam—Won't you try a little dressing, Eve? us. And yet there are people who don’t be- lieve that the world is growing better!'" The Freebooter CH man has in hima bit of the savage. I, who am dreaming of winds salt and cool, Yearning to go out and pillage and ravage— Here I am chained toa bookkeeper’s stool. Oh, for a chase without let or abatement! Oh, for a blade and a barkentine stout! There's the boss bawling! What is it? That statement? Yes, sir. Just so, sir. I'll get it right Wm. S. Adking, POINTERS Behavior Brevities Simplicity HE chorus maid her charms displays In simple, close-to-nature ways; Her thoughts are artlessly expressed, And she is never over-dressed. Humility Be modest. It is better far To really own a low-priced car Than swell with sham four-figure pride On some ** free demonstration"’ ride. Punctuality In keeping an appointment, you Should not this virtue overdo; Or precious time you'll waste, mayhap, In waiting for the other chap. Urbanity When itching nose would fain be scratched, While to a car strap you're attached, Address the crowd in accents bland, “Kindly unsqueeze my other hand."" —Frederick Moron. A Song of Degrees “op YOUR son making a success in col- lege?’’ “To a degree, yes."" “*To what degree, may I ask?"’ “Oh, about one hundred degrees Centi- grade, I fancy. At least, I am told that he is a hot dog! Anticipating Mr. Singleton—Do you believe in divorce, Miss Yellowleaf? Miss Yellowleaf—Oh, you men are just awful! You haven't even asked me to marry you yet! TATE RIE DR IE IT RTA ONES 02. comichooks.colm