Judge, 1917-12-29 · page 10 of 29
Judge — December 29, 1917 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This satirical piece mocks Victorian-era literature and its melodramatic heroines. A mid-Victorian novelist returns to the modern world (1918) searching for the delicate, weeping, fainting women who populated his novels. A pragmatic cop repeatedly redirects him toward hospitals, morgues, and psychiatric facilities—suggesting modern women have abandoned such affectations or are institutionalized. The joke culminates when the novelist lectures a contemporary woman on proper feminine weakness; she responds by punching him. The cop then arrests *her* for "mashing" (accosting)—a final ironic twist showing how gender norms have inverted. The accompanying illustration shows a modern woman confidently reading while a bewildered man gestures in frustration—visualizing the clash between outdated romantic ideals and actual modern women's independence. The satire celebrates women's liberation from oppressive Victorian performance while mocking men nostalgic for that era.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Lavender and Old Bunk By ZOR HARTMAN IID-VICTORIAN novelist came back to earth again, And wandered in the flesh, amazed, ‘mid modern haunts of men. as he watched the human tide sweep by for hours, My sweet and fragile flowers? of pride and joy to me! xclaiminj “Where are the | ‘Their drooping health was such a sour Most any day they swooned away as neatly as could be; They languished pale and int'resting—excuse these sad complai Kut where's the girl that faints, alas, where is the girl that faints And the cop on the corner said, ‘Why doncha try The hospital down the street? Wotsa matter? Was yer lady friend caught in one o them Bargain counter rushes?” “How lovely,” cried the novelist, “my heroines looked in tears! They sobbed on all occasions, quarts and quarts, the pretty dears Your modern hussy’s too composed—she gives a man the creeps; Oh, where's the girl that weeps, alas, where is the girl that weeps? And the cop on the corner said, “Why doncha try The morgue on Chestnut street? Wotsa matter? Did her old man croak In that west side L smash-up?” My heroines hysterics quite adored or dinner burned, or charming maids yrew lies of my day? The author sighed, When love was spurnec bored; We loved ‘em when they screamed and kicked and chewed the rus: to bits! Oh, where's the girl today who makes a specialty of fits?” And the cop on the corner said, “Why doncha try The psychopathic laboratory at the city hall? Wotsa matter? Did yer lady friend go bug Tryin’ to dope out her income tax?” The mid-Victorian then harangued a lady: ps there “Sweet maid times more fair! Oh, let me teach you to be meek and cling like any vine; And True Romance decline!” if you were frailer you would be ten demands that you go into a Then the lady flattened him out with wallop of her Right hook And said to the cop on the corner, Otficer, arrest that shrimp For mashing!” The Connoisseur Im'’—hmed the man who wore his socks outside his shoes, as he threw his ray of light the contents of the cabinet. ‘Rather a choice array. An enthusiastic collector of antique silver, T take it.” And he did. over The brid: A MUCH-DISTURBED KING NCE more King Charles XL of Sweden is being dug up. One hundred years ago King Charles was leading the Swedish assault on the Norwegians at Frederikshall, when a bullet struck him in the head and rendered him excessively hors de combat. ‘er since then, whenever two Swedish historians sit down together over a mug of beer and a can of sardines, they argue heatedly as to whether King Charles was shot fairly and decently in the front of the head by a Norwegian, or foully and traitorously in the back of the head by one of hisown men. To avoid civil wars over the question, the Swedish government allowed Charles to be dug up in 1746 and again in 1859. Both times the question appeared to be settled; but the convolutions of the human mind are such that in cach instance the post- mortem verdict was forgotten. ‘Today in Sweden they are ar- suing the question more acrimoniously than ever. For the third time the government has granted permission for the opening of the royal tomb and an examination of the royal skull, It is evident that this lesson has been deeply taken to heart by present-day kings, and that none of them are taking any chances on being dug up after death. None of them ever get close enough to the fighting to be killed by an enemy any of them are killed, there won't be any argument as to who did it —Kenneth L. Roberts Fine! ” housewarming up at our new home “We're going to have “Won't that be love “Fine. Every guest is going to bring a lump of coal.” That's strange. It doesn’t even mention camouflage. comicbooks.com