Judge, 1918-02-16 · page 35 of 36
Judge — February 16, 1918 — page 35: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page promotes **Judge magazine** (a humor publication) through an extended metaphor: ordinary people are "sausages"—common, sometimes self-deluded, prone to petty pride over minor achievements (owning a car, a child's school promotion, pantry supplies). The large photograph shows an actual **giant sausage monument** in an American city, likely erected as a promotional stunt or public art installation. This visual absurdity anchors the satire: the text asks why anyone would monumentalize something as ridiculous as a sausage—yet humans do similarly absurd things by inflating their own importance. Published during **World War I** (note references to wartime worries), the piece argues that humor—specifically Judge magazine—provides psychological relief. The advertisement positions Judge as "The Happy Medium," offering yearly cheer through laughter. The coupon at bottom sells annual subscriptions for $1, targeting readers seeking wartime distraction through satire and humor.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
February 16, 1918 “| Why Be a Sausage ona Monument, Eh? y to fa ater : j OT that you want to be. Heavens, no! fy , 4 4 f Or that you are going to be. We Let OR should say not. Or that you are, te j “ae physically. Howabsurdathought. And yet —Well, a lot of us poor, frail mortals pos- at S sess attributes of which we wot not, what? an S tm Some of us are human turnips and we vice my think we are tuber-roses. And some of a in a us are onions and we fancy ourselves glad- ‘of wm iolas. The one great difficulty with most ne Bim ; of us is that we're not onto ourselves. Per- 2a mm haps it’s just as well that we’re not. d $0 Ta ay; Some of us are puffed up with a bit of bat mB temporary success; some of us exude a nen rh kind of greasy satisfaction over small ac- eh mm complishments; a few of us have become ois bloated spiritually and mentally and a few cor. D4 j '| more of us are frightfully swollen in the =A ego because we have pulled off a good hey j 1 s 4 business stunt; or because we own an au- = bis ee ; A tomobile much superior to our neighbor’s ler- Pe & | tin Lizzie, or because our boy has been moved up one grade in the army; or because we have sugar in the pantry or coal in the cellar; or—something. t It’s a sad fact to acknowledge, but we are really his ‘ 1 all sausages of one kind and another. It is only an ; 3 aT Te whenwe stick ourselves up on a pedestal, however, that we become darned objectionable sausages. bor. , < : : |The great thing is that while being regular sausages we should realize it and laugh at our sausageness. ‘The saving grace of humor!—How it greases the wheels of life and chases old man Gloom out the back door. Still, no matter how receptive we are to humor we must have something to laugh at. And right here is where we begin to reveal the truc purpose of this sausage sermonette. Yes, we want to sell you something—something good—Jupce. It’s nickname, “The Happy Medium,” is no misnomer. It is cheering the Nation to- day and perhaps you will agree that we need cheering. _A smiling visitor to the home fifty-two times ayear. A ray of sunshine piercing the drabness of war-time worries. Maybe you don’t know Jupce as intimately as you might. That’s too bad, if it’s so. But there’s an easy remedy 225 Filth Ave for it; you can NewYork Cay Ome ever From the February 22 issue of Judge I accept your Laugh Your Head Off for a Dollar! ane a A : . Junce beginning with the That doesn’t mean losing your head, or your sense of economy, either. current issue—12 numbers There’s a big bunch of smiles in every number for you. You simply inall. Tenclose $1 (OR) send - me a bill at a later date. mail the coupon in the corner of this page together with a cute little nes Ae a, : dollar bill and we do the rest—all of it. (Canadian $1-25—Foreiga: A150.) Sausage or no sausage you will enjoy the treat in store for you prepared by JUDGE for all the wide-awake ones during 1918. «Here, waiter! Bring me my check.” «Yes, sir, this is it—Thank you, sir.” —> comicbooks.com