Judge, 1917-01-20 · page 8 of 28
Judge — January 20, 1917 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains anti-war satire by Walt Mason responding to World War I's economic and social disruption. **"Horrors of War" (main article):** A common man complains that military conflict has caused inflation across all consumer goods—pumpkins, shoes, tobacco, barber services—making daily life unaffordable. He wishes military leaders faced punishment ("feathers and tar") instead of ordinary people bearing the financial burden. The satire targets how war profiteering and supply disruption create hardship for civilians while generals remain insulated. **"Timely Warning" (right column):** Mock-scientific verse satirizes both medical pseudoscience and wartime anxiety. It invents absurd bacterial names (Sliptocoggus, Staphylocolon) suggesting doctors exploit fear and uncertainty to sell unnecessary treatments—a commentary on how war hysteria fuels both medical quackery and public paranoia. **"A Good Guess" (bottom):** Brief anecdote where a man avoids a ride because his landlord might leave, implying economic desperation during wartime. The page collectively mocks how WWI disrupted civilian life through inflation and fear while enriching military/commercial interests.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
HORRORS of We BY WALT MASON. Russia or France! I’m tired of the guns and their rattle, I’m sick of the sword and the lance. I would that each bloodthirsty ruler, for whom countless soldiers have died, were given ten days in the cooler, and told to break rock, on the side. ‘or when to the stores I go shopping, to purchase some beeswax and pie, the merchants begin their stale yawping, ‘‘The war’s sent the prices sky high! These pumpkins last year we were selling at seven- teen roubles the peck, but now, if you buy, you'll be shelling out four times that money, by heck!” I would that the kings and the princes who manage the juggernaut car, the captains, and all of those quinces, were treated to feathers and tar. Because of the carnage and slaughter, because of the wrangling and strife, I can’t buy new shoes for my daughter, I can’t buy a lid for my wife. Because of the fighting o’er yonder, because of that idiots’ fray, the people who butcher and laun- der are raising the prices edch day. Because the old world’s in a pickle, and U-boats are scouring the sea, I get two cheroots for a nickle, where always before J got three. Gee whiz, I am weary of battle! I’m weary of hearing you tell of men who were butchered like cattle, and showing the place where they fell. I’m tired of your tales of the trenches, of ambush by tarn or by tor, for all things, from roosters to wrenches, are higher, because of the war. I don’t buy much for a dollar as lately I bought for six bits; I go without necktie or collar; what wonder I'm throwing some fits? For peace, with the rest, I am praying, and while Lam praying I groan; I'd set all the armies to hay- ing, if 1 were a king on a throne. I’d send all the cruisers in harbor, with guns, to a watery grave, when Thompson, my favorite barber, has charged me two bits for a shave Gr SCOTT, I am weary of battle, of fighting in Questions of the day: Young man, can you keep her in the alimony to which she has been accustomed? TIMELY WAR G fe story of the microbe is an awe-inspiring thing, For all our choice diseases from these interlopers spring, And every known disorder has its own peculiar beast, From grippe and hydrophobia unto the very least. ‘They put ‘em on a slide of glass, bacteria and sich, And gazing through a microscope, determine which is which, And publish learned treatises to prove beyond a doubt That the Sliptocoggus Rheumacephalus Damphagocyte'll get you if you don’t watch out. And modern science says that when your mind turns blue, And your budgets won’t budge, and your nerve falls through, And your reflexes are wobbly, and your tongue feels gray, And your immunizing leucocytes are all squenched away, You'd better mind your symptoms, and your doctors kind and dear, And let them excavate you and overhaul your gear, And extirpate the vitals that you're better off without, For the Staphylocolon Noncompos Poliocommune'll get you if you don’t watch out! —Corinne Rockwell Swain. A Good Guess “ Y brother-in-law, Hop Spraddle, over at Torpidity, writes me that he is plumb ruined,” stated Mr. Gap Johnson, of Rumpus Ridge, Ark. “He don’t explain in the letter just what has happened, so mebby he’s lost his wife. But as he kicks up right sharply and talks about shoot- ing, I reckon some feller has pizoned his dogs.” Sam—Jump in and I'll fe ou a lift. Samson—No, thanks. I'm going to pay t, and if | walk my landlord may be gone when I get there. comicbooks.com