Judge, 1918-03-09 · page 10 of 36
Judge — March 9, 1918 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three humorous short pieces reflecting WWI-era American concerns: **"Preparation"** uses military jargon as romantic innuendo—a man justifies kissing a woman without permission by citing "preparatory shelling" from war news, treating courtship as military strategy. **"Her Suggestion"** is rural American humor where a girl advises her suitor to delay proposing to her father because he recently poisoned three dogs; she fears he won't distinguish between losing dogs and gaining a son-in-law. **"My Enemy" by Walt Mason** is the main piece—a patriotic complaint about wartime food rationing and sacrifices. The speaker resents being forced to eat unpalatable foods (old roosters, fish) and criticized for buying new clothes while soldiers need supplies. He directs his frustration at Kaiser Wilhelm II, blaming him for America's hardships. The illustration shows a scrawny, resentful man. This reflects genuine civilian resentment over WWI rationing policies and patriotic pressure to conserve resources for the war effort.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Preparation By Terxrett Love Houupay lifted her head from shoulder and looked hit in blissful wonderment. “Do you know, dear,” she confessed, “I was firmly resolved to say no. But after you had put your arms around me, and kissed my hair, my eyes, my chee! my lips—well, the yes just slipped out. Naughty boy! You should have asked me, first.” “That would have been a fatal tactical error,” he an- swered, happily. ‘‘I’ve learned, from reading the war news, the value of pre- paratory shelling.” The Weaker Sex “Ts your husband a help to you?” “T expect he will be. I am teaching him how to drive the car.” Drawn by R. B. Futter But I'll be fair. My Enemy: 4y “1 saw him first, Joe, an’ it really ought t Her Suggestion By Tom P. Morcan RECKON I'd _ better speak to your Paw to- night, Zaline,” said the young swain who had won the heart and hand of the eldest daughter of Gap Johnson, of Rumpus Ridge, , and was desirous of ob- taining her father’s consent. “Aw, Sankey, dearest,” returned the maiden. “Paw had three of his best dogs pizoned night before last, and I’m afraid that the idy of losing three dogs and win- ning one son-in-law mightn’t strike him favorably. Lez wait till he has had time to get the two transactions sor- ter separated in his mind. Doing His Bit “Ts Millionbucks doing his bit?” “Certainly, he has ‘Eat Less Bread’ posters on all his be my shot. ad’ pe 2 automobiles. Let’s toss for i Walt Mason “Uncle Walt’s” Exclusive Weekly Message to Judge DO not like the kaiser, I cuss him, might and I main, though doubtless I’d be wiser to treat him with disdain. My hatred spreads and thickens, it still is mounting up; I’d like to swipe his chickens and steal his dachshund pup. Where is the roast I cherish? No more it cheers my gaze. Why do I fast and perish on meatless, wheatless days? Whydo I chew a rooster that’s old and tough and sour? Because old Bill’s a booster of military power. Because old Bill’s ambitious to rule the whole blamed sphere, our waiters come and dish us cheap victuals through the year. They say I am a glutton, un- patriotic, too, if loin of pork or mutton I diligently chew; I always had the habit of dining wisely well, but now I eat a rabbit that has a rancid smell. It’s all because the kaiser thought war the one best bet, that cheap john advertiser, that grand stand actoret. I always hated fishes slimy kind; they make the dishes that any man can find. I'm billed to eat them at least two times a week; the women clean and heat them, I chew them with a shrick. Teat the cod and grayling, I eat the ike and perch, and you can_ hear me wailing clear to the Baptist church. of every punkest But now n by E pe hi steal his dachshund pup.” With language I’m no miser, when all worked up like that, and so I cuss the kaiser, his face and spiked tin hat. I buy a suit of clothing, to make myself look sweet; my friends, with looks of loathing, greet me upon the street. “You are a_ blooming traitor,” they cry in angry haste; “no treason could be greater than is such wanton waste. The coin you blew for raiment would buy a hand-made trench, or it would: make a payment on shotguns for the French. vou train with the carousers, the waste- ful, heedless ones! The coin you spend for trousers would buy our soldiers guns!” What answer can I make them? What can a fellow say? Alas, I merely shake them, and go my weary way. But having reached the _ hallways which lead up to my flat, I cuss the kaiser’s galways, his cousins and his cat. From eating slaw and liver, my stomach’s in the hole; I sit around and shiver because there is no coal; my in- nards raise a riot, because they’re full of bran, which is a helpful diet for cows, but not for man; I’m ordered, bossed and driven, and dare not disobey, and new commands are given by some one every day. I blame it on the kaiser, that jay in royal robe, that chronic early riser, who wished to rule the globe. Froese chickens and comichooks.coun