Judge, 1920-06-12 · page 7 of 36
Judge — June 12, 1920 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of "That Obliterated Feeling" This appears to be a humorous detective/mystery story rather than political satire. The illustration shows three well-dressed figures in a drawing room, illustrating the narrative below. The story concerns detective Ferret investigating a suspicious box delivered to Cypress Grove Cemetery addressed to "Dr. B. Blibber." Ferret sneaks into the cemetery at midnight and discovers the box contains stone jugs marked "Nearlife" and labeled "for internal use only"—clearly a reference to illegal alcohol. **The satire targets Prohibition enforcement**: The joke is that someone is smuggling liquor into a cemetery, of all places, to hide it from authorities. The absurdist humor—hiding bootleg alcohol in a tomb, the detective's melodramatic fear in the graveyard—mocks both the ridiculousness of Prohibition and the lengths people went to circumvent it. This reflects the magazine's likely skepticism toward Prohibition policies popular during the 1920s-30s, presenting law-breakers sympathetically through comedic storytelling.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Sieees Bn acts through the aperture in the wall thus created, a long, heavy box-like case, or, to be exact, a case-like box, was emerged Plainly marked in violent ink was the address: “Dr. B. Blibber, Receiving Tomb No. 69, Cypress Grove Cemetery. C. O. D. with care.” Cuaprer IV God Bless Our Home press Grove Cemetery there was a “No Admittance except on Pleasure.” But in spite of this come-not-hitherishness, Ferret's flat. faithful feet, with Ferret faithfully following, flitted fear- that somely up the gravel walks, night, coming to anchor at a low grave entitled: “Here lies, as usual, John Johnes, Attorney-at- Law.” * 2 . . * * Midnight happened, as it so of- ten does in cemeteries. A gibbous moon, like a half-eaten slice of but- ter on a cheap restaurant plate, decorated a sky half hidden by cold-gravy colored clouds. The wind whinnied like a_ lovesick Tom. And Ferret was afraid. No one Drown by base Cowen I Ap ever died of laughing, you know, at Tuat Osuireraten Feeinc seeing a long heavy box being ved into a receiving tomb. You don’t at all feel like going up and knocking at that iron door and say Whose little corpse are you?” Do you? Oh, no, you don’t And yet, Dr. Blibb: inside—far in. he managing to while away the time in such dull com- i How was pany? One hour—twain hours— waited. And no sound came from that grim edifice there was anything inside that tomb to amuse a t business man, it was certainly not a phonc Ferret got up courage enough to sniff at the crack of the iron door. [t smelled good—very good fact, did that door smell that he boldly pu see what that smell looked like. , It's an awful responsibility t to a point like this in a topen to to ory vere the author has to . good or quit. But I’r fo both. The tale is over, anyway. And so, what Fe ret saw was viz The long box was open for busi- ness. Packed in excels were everal, or possibly more, stone jugs. Some were empty, the others had nothing in ther But they were all marked “Nearlife; ul Seated on the cold stone floor for internal use aio Tusr’s a Hust 7 . j comicbooks.com