Judge, 1917-08-11 · page 18 of 28
Judge — August 11, 1917 — page 18: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
The main cartoon mocks **Prohibition enforcement** in America. An express agent suggests to a doctor that a shipment of "books" is "leaking"—an obvious euphemism. During Prohibition (1920-1933), illegal alcohol was commonly smuggled in disguised containers. The joke is that even in a "Prohibition Town," people find creative ways to circumvent the law, and the agent brazenly hints at this to a doctor, suggesting widespread complicity. The accompanying text pieces are cynical observations by "J. Fuller Gloom" and humorous short dialogues. "The Choir Invisible" jokes about heaven and religious hypocrisy. "Parliamentary Inquiry" plays on medical language—the patient quips that constitutional "amendments" (treatments) cost as much as adopting actual Constitutional amendments, satirizing inflated doctor fees. The overall tone is cynical commentary on American society, law enforcement, and human nature circa the Prohibition era.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Express Agent (In a Prohibition Town) Say, Doc, better send down for this case of books—they’re leaking ! SAYS J. FULLER GLOOM: I AM ready and willing to sacrifice an entirely able-bodied brother-in-law on the altar of my country. Whenever I encounter a man who says “By Jove!” I usually find that there is something else the matter with him I have ceased trying to convince other people that I am right when it does not make any difference whether I am or not. What makes me especially impatient with the average bore is that he appears to feel it his bounden duty to bore my head for the simples. Iam getting tired of having practically everybody who talks with me carry the idea that I am steeped in either abysmal ignorance or wilful sin, or both. I was born a pessimist and have developed by degrees into an enemy of humanity. But I have never indulged my hatred for my species to the extent of writing chain letters. —Tom P. Morgan. The Choir Invisible She—How is your daughter coming on with her less the harp? He—Well, her mother isn’t quite so keen on going to heaven. ns on Parliamentary Inquiry M. D.—Frankly, all that saved you was your constitution. Patient—Well, Doc, aren’t you soaking me pretty stiff for adopting a few constitutional amendments?