Judge, 1919-08-02 · page 7 of 36
Judge — August 2, 1919 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis: Judge Magazine This page contains three satirical pieces mocking early 20th-century social conventions: **"Inscribed to a Lady Motorist"** (main poem): A husband humorously complains about his wife's terrible driving. She stalls, grinds gears, nearly crashes into buildings, confuses throttle and brake, yet smiles sweetly throughout. The satire targets both her incompetence behind the wheel and her manipulative charm—she relies on her appearance and demeanor rather than actual skill. The punchline: despite finding her attractive, he insists on driving himself next time. **"He Loses Out"**: A drunk man maintains dignified composure until he stumbles over a burnt match, revealing his intoxication. Social satire on maintaining facades and performative respectability. **"Placing Him"**: A brief joke about a "prohibition poet"—likely referencing Prohibition-era poets or one specific celebrated writer. The humor mocks overwrought literary praise by suggesting he be called "the bonedryden" (pun: "bone-dry" prohibition + "bard"). The page satirizes gender relations, automotive incompetence, and literary pretension typical of 1920s Judge humor.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Drnen ty Doxa McKee course right in whatever she does. This supposition need not necessarily effect Husband’s own actions and opinions to any marked extent. By no means must she be made to feel that the matrimonial yoke rests heavily upon her neck. It must be just the finest silken thread held lightly but surely in Friend Husband's capable hands. These few suggestions are simple enough; prac- tically self-evident to the intelligent husband. But it does no harm occasionally to remind him of them. Practised with proper discrimination in the individual case they may have lasting results in cementing con- jugal felicity. Inscribed to a Lady Motorist By C. L. Fusxeut FAIR Maid, your generosity is worthy of acclaim; Your love of nature also ought to bring you ample fame. A picture of your disposish would grace the grandest halls, And tablets to your winning smile would Art-ify the walls. But Lady, when you bought that car and had it ’most a week, And zig-zagged up my sanded drive, and stopped with wailing squeak, ( I thought you knew the way to chaufe—I mean knew how to run it. You asked me out to ride with you—I wish you hadn't done it! You started well. Just stalled it once, but when you shifted gears The music that exuded forth was wearing on the ears; And when you took that winding hill and pointed to the view You missed your shift entirely versed a mile or two. and re- You always kicked the throttle when you meant to hit the brake, Although you smiled engagingly and mur- mured: “My mistake!” SumMeR Drawn by Rar Roun Oreos } eceree lee Boo And when you nearly rammed a load of red and heavy bricks I almost pushed your floorboards out. I had a swell time— Nix! So while I like your disposish and dote upon your hair And thoroughly approve of all the costumes that you wear, And while I palpitate with joy whenever you arrive, The next time you invite me out, for Pete's sake let me drive! He Loses Out “What's the matter, Colonel?” “T was promenading with my wife. I was drunk but a@gni- fied. I had her fooled, I had the whole street fooled.” “Yes?” “Then I stumbled over a burnt match on the sidewalk and it was all off.” Placing Him “What shall we say of this celebrated prohibition poet?” “Eulogize him as the bonedryden of modern literature, and Tet it go at that.” Forpippen Fruit comicbooks.com