Judge, 1917-02-03 · page 12 of 28
Judge — February 3, 1917 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
**"The Wise Face" (by Walt Mason):** This poem satirizes "Colonel Bonehead," a small-town figure who gains prominence and public honors despite having no demonstrable accomplishments. The satire targets how appearance and demeanor—"looking wise," dignified bearing, fancy whiskers—can fool the public into granting power and respect to mediocre people. The narrator contrasts the colonel's success with his own failures, suggesting that genuine merit and humor don't advance one socially or politically. **"A Surfeit" dialogue:** This brief joke mocks Russian geopolitical discourse of the era. When Mrs. Muffit asks why Russia needs "an outlet on warm seas," her husband jokes "Surf bathing"—absurdist humor playing on the serious 19th-century debate about Russian imperial expansion and access to ice-free ports. **"From a Sinner's Diary":** Cynical aphorisms about human nature, success, and disappointment—typical of Judge's sardonic tone targeting American social pretension and hypocrisy.
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some y ago, and I have studied life and men, to find some subjects for my pen. This is the sum of all I’ve found, since I began to look around with eager and inquir- ing cyes: There's nothing pays like looking wise. Old Colonel Bonehead, of our town, enj sumptuous renown. The people think he’s safe and sane, a man with Daniel Webster brain. They always have him at the front when there is any public stunt. They load him down with all the snaps that are desired by other chaps; they’ve made him mayor a dozen times, and helped him gather in the dimes, and honored him in every way that men can honor such a And if you asked some local skate, ‘What has the colonel done that’s ’ that skate would have to hem and haw, and wag his ears and scratch his jaw, admitting that he cannot tell wherein the colonel does excel. The colonel’s reached his present size by singing low and looking wise The colonel has a stately walk; the colonel knows too much to talk; the colonel’s whiskers bring to mind the justly famous Wall Street kind; the colone ir is one of pride, he’s always slow and dignified, and so the people take great pains to load him with gold-headed canes; they name their infants after him, and always keep him in the swim. Now, when it comes to sterling worth, I back the colonel off the earth. But I’m a gurgling sort of guy, with mirth forever in my ¢ I jog along the vil- lage street, and yarn with everyone I meet; I josh the maidens and the lads, and thrash the war news with their dads. And nothing ever comes my w for which I do not have to pay. If I should start to make the race for any sort of public plac keeper of the village pound—they'd simply stamp me in the ground. To dizzy heights I'll never rise; I am no good at looking wise. A Surfeit Mufit—I don’t understand about Russia. This article says Russ ‘an never grow unless she gets an outlet on the warm s Why does she need an outlet on the warm seas Mr. Mufit (jokingly) —Surf bathing. growth. Mrs. Muffit—Oh, I see millions of Russian serfs that never had a [= journeyed through this vale of woe since I was born, Mrs. It promotes And I suppose there are bath. FROM A SINNER’S DIARY Pee cattle, fenceless by the gale, mangled my baby quince tree, wore buttonhole bouquets as a yearling and handed out four record-breaking quinces as a two-year-old. Now if that tree’s an optimist it views its bro- ken arms as a blessing, of course, knowing it waved its gold too carelessly at admiring passe: y and so stood in need of this reprimand. But if it’s a pessimist it imagines it’s set back three years, if not for all eternity Brother sneezed till he stripped his gears. It’s always going down hill that brakes break. I know a man who favors vacations; when you're so near dead you can’t enjoy them. Nothing—a large field in which to plant Hope. If I chewed tobacco I'd buy it by the ton and not run ten miles for a plug every other day. I know a woman whose imagination is turned end-for-end. It always ma smaller. Duty—a punishment if you shun it you don't. L Says J. Fuller Gloom I fire at and a worse one if nette Freemire. OBSERVE random, random is not there. I detest that every time the bore who when I have told him my pet funny story insists upon telling me his. I once knew a man who was so nervous that he was always on the dead run even when sitting down. By a remarkable coincidence the queer accident that I have been lying about for years actually happened to me yesterday. Now that I have become longed association I have little fear of germs. seem to accept me on terms of perfect equality. It is so hard to shock me by recitals of the follies and shortcomings of my fellow men that the ‘neighbors have become discouraged and practically quit telling me gossip. I am not inclined to speak long and widely of my an- cestors. About all [inherited from them is a mean dispo- sition, an odd-shaped nose, and a few tricks of manner that but serve to irritate my fellow men. —Tom. P. Morgan. ustomed to them by pro- Indeed, they Knowledge Blinks—What is your dearest wish? Jinks—That I knew as much as my son thinks I do. Mr. Hen Peck—I don’t want to butt into your affairs, Mary, but what am I going to do this evening?