Judge, 1918-01-12 · page 12 of 28
Judge — January 12, 1918 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a humorous essay by Walt Mason about the burden of holiday feasting. The narrator comically complains about the social obligation to overeat during Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's celebrations—each demanding rich, elaborate meals that trigger his dyspepsia (indigestion). The satire mocks upper-class dining customs and the physical toll of conspicuous consumption. The narrator ironically celebrates Groundhog Day as the only holiday offering relief, since no one expects him to attend banquets or demonstrate his wealth through lavish eating. The accompanying illustration depicts a separate scene: a mother before an "exemption board" (likely a WWI draft board) pleading that her son cannot be conscripted because he requires her constant care and protection. This reflects contemporary anxiety about military service during wartime, showing how mothers claimed their sons were indispensable to family welfare.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
HE holidays come thick and fast, when once the summertime is past. November brings Thanksgiving Day, when we stow roasted fowl aw and take on board large pumpkin pies, while we give thanks, with shining eyes, that we have got the appetite, to such things and eat them right. ‘I eat the grub, boiled, baked and stewed, with truly Spartan fortitude, although L know dyspepsia dire will make my works seem allafire. Then Christmas in December comes, and all the world with gladness hums, and everyone receives a treat of something good and rich to eat. The Christ- mas dinner always looks like something read about in books, a feast a monarch might enjoy, and think himself a lucky boy. When Santa Claus has come to town, with dauntless courage I sit down, and bravely ply the knife and fork, and cat the roasted goose or stork, although dyspepsia, well I wot, will make my stomach seem redhot When Christmas goes, I view with tears the coming of the glad New Year's. For I'm invited out to dine by some mis- And they've prepared a gorgeous guided friends of mine. RED LETTER DAYS wastxsson “Uncle Walt’s’’ Exclusive Message to Judge spread, that I may like a prince be fed. ‘They've searched the marts for costly things that well might tempt some queens or kings. And I am long- ing, heaven knows. that my old works might have repose. How gladly would I fast for weeks, or live on turnips, ps nd leeks! But I must eat the New ‘ear spread, e’en though the next day finds me dead. digestion comes along, and shows me where my course is wrong. But there's one holiday, my friends, that no distress or sorrow lends, the gladdest day of all the year, and that sweet day will soon be here! On Groundhog Day I’m not implored to test some neighbor's ample board; I'm not expected to sit down and the biggest roast in town. Oh, Groundhog Day and sane, the holiday that is not in vain. It leaves no spasms in its track, no grips that rend, no pains that rack. The groundhog wanders from its lair, and squints around him everywhere, de- si ciding whether winter's gone, or if it still will carry on. And 'm not asked to eat a duck or hen or owl or other truck! And I can calmly go to roost, without dyspepsia’s pangs unloosed! Mother to exemption board—Gentlemen, you surely cannot mean to take this dear child, who has never been one day without my personal care and protection! ER