Judge, 1917-08-11 · page 11 of 28
Judge — August 11, 1917 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
**Top Cartoon**: A WWI-era joke mocking incompetence. A military officer is asked to punch horses to make them pull a cannon to the front trenches—absurd logic suggesting either the officer's stupidity or the desperate, illogical nature of war itself. **Main Story "An Undying Friendship"**: Social satire on shallow upper-class relationships. Two women (Mrs. Gothamite from New York and Mrs. Wicks from the Midwest) tearfully promise eternal friendship at summer's end, swearing to stay in touch. By January, Mrs. Gothamite has completely forgotten Mrs. Wicks's name and basic details about her. The satire targets the performative, forgettable nature of polite society friendships—genuine warmth evaporates once social convenience disappears. **Sidebar Joke**: A political gag about someone trying to describe the "new Russian cabinet" to a deaf-and-dumb person—likely referencing recent Russian political turmoil (possibly the 1917 Revolution era), making it inherently absurd to communicate. **"Vanity Fair" Poem**: Whimsical verse about an exclusive, aspirational social realm accessible only to the wealthy and well-connected—classic period class commentary.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
eee ee XUM “Hey, Captain. Come over and give these horses a punch in the eye. AN UNDYING FRIENDSHIP M*®s. GOTHAMITE (when parting with Mrs. Wicks at the seashore)— And so our delightful summer is at an end. It has been such a pleasure to know you and to have you at our table—a kind of a meeting of the East and the West, as one might say. It is always pleasant to form new friendships and ours has been a peculiarly delightful one that a distance of only a few miles, as we count “What happened to him?” “Oh! He tried to tell his deaf and dumb brother the names of the new Russian cabinet.” They won't pull this gun up to the first line trenches.” distance in these days, must not prevent us from keeping it up. If you are ever in New York you are to let us know. You will find our number in the telephone book and you must ring us up. You will, won't you? Mrs. Wicks—I surely will, and if you should happen to be in Chicago you must do the same with us. We shall never forget you, never. And you must let me hear from you even if we do not see each other. I can’t begin to tell you how I have enjoyed meeting you and I don’t want to lose sight of you. Mrs. Gothamite—No, indeed! Mrs. Wicks—No! Mrs. Gothamite (in January, to her hus- band)—What was the name of those people from somewhere out West that we met at the shore last summer? You know that they sat at the same table with us, a large florid woman who was always rather over-dressed. They were from Chicago or Minneapolis or Kansas City or somewhere out that way. I just happened to think about them. Scems to me that the name was Wicks or Hicks or Watts or some such name as that. Wasn’t the name Wicks? Mr. Gothamite—There was some one of that name at our table, but you have a better memory than I have for I hadn't thought of them since we left the sea- shore. Mrs. Gothamite—I hadn't cither until this minute, and I don’t suppose that I will ever think of them again nor they of us. —Ellis Evans. VANITY FAIR By CLINTON SCOLLARD “THERE'S a dim and indefinite region From every-day mortals apart; Its charts, they may number a legion, And yet you'll not find any chart Whereon you'll discover its border To say of a surety—“Jt’s there!” And nobody knows who’s the warder— The warder of Vanity Fair! ’Tis said that its slopes are all sunny,— That, should you persistently plot, It’s easy to gain if you’ve money, But hard to attain if you’ve not! Blue blood here maintains its exhibit, (Pride Rampant’s the crest that they bear!) And there's folly and foible ad libit,— Ad libit. in Vanity Fair! There are some who decry it as stupid, But haply they cannot get in! Here, others declare, young Dan Cupid Is worshiped until it’s a sin; ’Tis rumored that there is a dim rose And soft golden tint to the air, That the paths are decidedly primrose That wander through Vanity Fair! Wherever it be (why deny it?) It is an undoubtable thing We'd many of us like to try it, And have for a little our “fling”; Join in all the graces and paces, The laughter and lilt of it share, With faces alight take our places, And gambol in Vanity Fair! The cook that will stay is a cook whether she can cook or not. comicbooks.com