Judge, 1915-08-28 · page 19 of 28
Judge — August 28, 1915 — page 19: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
The top cartoon depicts a husband claiming he doesn't want neighbors to think he's beating his wife—his excuse for not wanting to hear her vocal practice. It's satire on both martial discord and women's artistic pursuits being treated as noise rather than legitimate activity. The larger piece humorously illustrates a boy returning from camp, telling wildly different stories to different people. To his father he's blasé; to his stay-at-home chum he exaggerates wildly; to his mother he emphasizes nature study; to his aunt he brags about camp comforts. The joke exposes how people—especially children—tailor their narratives for their audience, inflating experiences for peers while downplaying them for authority figures. It's gentle satire on human vanity and storytelling habits rather than political commentary.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
SRA ReRE R2AP RFR HB PREPARING AN ALIBI Cecilia—Why do you rush to the window and hang out every time | begin practicing my vocal lessons? Horace—\ don’t care to have the neighbors think | am a wife beater. WHEN JOHNNY COMES MARCHING HOME—FROM A BOY’S CAMP OHNNY, to his father, in- quiring if he had a good time—Oh, goo'nuff! Tohischum, whostayed at home—Say, I had the bulliest, crackingest time you ever heard of! To his mother, investi- gating his progress in na- ture study—Yes’m, I got apoint for noticin’ frogs swim the breast stroke, , To his chum—Say, do you know, if you jaba sharp stick through a frog, he'll keep wrigglin’ and kickin’ like all possessed? To his elder sister —How'd I know whether our counselor was Beth Gordon's brother and had curly hair? Didn't expect me to ask him about himself, did you? By W. T. NICHOLS To his chum—Jiminy! but you ought to ’a’ heard old Bull Gordon’s yarns! He's second sub-fullback on the Bowwow eleven, and he’s some bear! Five feet eight and three-quarter inches and weighs a hundred and ninety-two and a half. To his doting grandmother—That blister on my heel? Got it on a derned old hike they made us all take. To his chum—Thirty-two miles we tramped the first day—with our packs. Sure it was great fun! But I'll bet you’d ‘a’ caved in in the first two miles. To his maiden aunt—Course you can’t have hair mattresses in a bunk, but we all slept like tops. To his chum—Holy smoke! but little Peters howled for two hours the night he found a dead snake in his bed! To the assembled family—Oh, I dunno’s I want to go next year. Gets kind of pokey, you know. To his chum—Going back next year? You bet I am! All my gang’ll be there, and, cracky! but we'll put the new kids through the works! Too Good The chap who slips down on wet ice And smothers his profanity Is just a little bit too nice To mingle with humanity. Political Economy Little Bobbie—Papa, what is a soup-house built out of? Papa—It is built, my son, out of the planks of a political platform.