Judge, 1917-12-22 · page 18 of 28
Judge — December 22, 1917 — page 18: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page collects short humorous pieces targeting WWI-era American audiences. The content mixes college humor with war commentary: **"Thrilling War Statistics"** uses absurdist exaggeration to mock both the war's scale and Congressional incompetence—suggesting poisoned gas from politicians would defeat Germany better than actual combat. **"That Ball at Webster Hall"** catalogs the clichéd experiences of a Jazz Age party in Greenwich Village, satirizing both the pretentious desire to seem "Parisian" and the predictable stages of intoxication. **"Maid of Paree"** is a sentimental poem about a soldier seducing a French woman before returning to combat—likely mocking both romantic wartime literature and the casual treatment of French women by American soldiers. The shorter jokes target contemporary social hypocrisy: a wife's sarcastic "war effort" joke, the contradiction between asking workers to farm while cutting wages, and spiritualist fraudsters. The tone throughout is cynical about war, sexuality, and middle-class morality.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
WITH THE COLLEGE WITS TM Meco Tisch. SOME Thrilling War Statistics—lf all the shoestrings of the allied armies were made into one shoestring, it would pass seventeen and a quarter times around the earth, If the swear words expended in one day’s fighting on the western front were rolled into one word, that word would be more powerful than Vesuvius in eruption. If every book that has been written about the war were read by one man, that man would go crazy. If the poisoned gas loosed in one Congres- sional session were collected and blown toward the German lines we would have the war won. That Caveman Feeling o—I wonder why none of the New York Giants have been drafted? ander—Huh! We want to win this war. That Ball at Webster Hall (1 Wak Square Affair) The dark stree The “bring-o ur-wild-women” wish. The arrival at the shrine of Bacchus. The lights, the laughter, the liquor. The “‘so-this-is-Paris” feeling. The o-so-fresh freshman. The lady with the green mosquito netting. ‘The painfully sophomoric sophomore. The flowers from the Winter Garden. ‘The cynical senior. The jazziest band. The lady with the blue tights. The groggy sailor. The lady hout the blue tights. ‘The impulse to kiss your partner. The result of that impulse. The six o'clock train. The bromo seltzer. The guilty feeling. HE Eternal Feminine—Bub—What are you laughing at? Claud—I'm afraid it’s a man’s joke. Bab—tThen I want to hear it. Business man (lecturing on farm work to employees)—And every one of us ought to raise something this summer to help our country! “vice in rear in on our wages? Good! How about starting Maid of Paree Come with me, fly with me; maid of Parce, Fly through the warmth and the scents of the night. The kind stars are dazing, But that’s not amazing, so take no affright. Come with me, fly with me, maid of Paree, Out through the leaves and the mists of the night. gazing, this soft dusk is Fly with me, flirt with me, maid of Parce One kiss in the warmth of the soft, misty night! I'm off in the scorning, I've given fair warning fright. Fly with me, flirt with me, maid of Paree And kiss in the warm little murmurs of night. morning—now’s no time for there's no cause for Smile with me, laugh with me, maid of Paree, No thought of the morrow in this fragrant night Our moments are flying, the music is dying, No time for sad ing—too soon must I fight. So—smile with me, laugh with me, maid of Paree, We've kissed in the hush and the throb of the night! J.F.C., Jr. A CHEERING Thought—*! dreamed last night that I had died and gone to Hell. “Well, it might have been worse.” “Huh?” “It might have been true.” War Slogan—* Don’t feed your husband— husband your food.” “What mad: neral Goldbrade so sick?” “Oh, things in general.” ack is in love with you.” “Yes; he is a man after my own heart.” “Her mouth is like a rosebud.” “And like a rosebud, it’s bound to open.” Witness these trenches made by grief and itus Andronicus, Act V, Scene 2. We know just how you feel, Tite, old boy. Spiritualist—Ah, I hear the knocking of your late wi Patron—| now? Who's she knocking at SO? John (angrily)—Now, I see through your subterfuge. Marie—Well, that’s only bees a very bright sun.” comicbooks.com