Judge, 1921-05-14 · page 9 of 32
Judge — May 14, 1921 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Golden Age" - Judge Magazine Satire **"The Golden Age" poem** mocks a college professor's claim that modern literature lacks merit. The speaker sarcastically argues it *is* a "Golden Age" — not because of literary quality, but because popular authors like Harold Wright, Zane Grey, and George Barr McCutcheon are wealthy. The joke: the professor values serious literature; ordinary readers measure success by authors' bank accounts. This satirizes both anti-intellectual attitudes and the commercialization of American letters. **"The Changing Viewpoint"** depicts Bob Curtis, a married man now recklessly endangering pedestrians with his automobile, dismissing concerns about hitting people. Five years earlier, he was more cautious. The satire critiques how automobiles were corrupting manners and morality — drivers treated the streets as their domain, pedestrians be damned. It's a social commentary on technology's dehumanizing effects and changing values. **"Trump!" joke** mocks women's priorities: Maud valued her outfit more than winning at bridge — reinforcing period stereotypes about female vanity.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
By bowann Antuoxy “ Historians will never call this the Golden Age of College professor, in magazine article. Literature.” I AM a humble citi And hate to disagree With obviously learned men, And yet it seems to me That college prof. is hardly fair, His reasoning is queer, For Harold Wright's a millionaire, The Golden Age is here! n Professor, you don’t know the facts, You ought to read the news, Instead of dry and dusty tracts Devoid of any clues To Modern Litrachoor and sich, And then you'd know, old dear, That one Zane Grey is very rich, The Golden Age is here! To contradict a man who knows A good deal more than I Is insolence that, I suppose, Most people will decry. Yet ere they lay me ‘neath the sod I wish to make this clear: George Barr McCutcheon has a wad, The Golden Age is here! Up the Ladder Manager Office Boy wanted to Of Gourse Igatha—I want to go to the shall I wear? Burdie—Oh, any of your fur ce The Golden Age I rose to this position from that of office boy Yep, I could blackmail the boss too, if I ancy dress” as Spring. «by Hastinton Wenttases “VERY DISTINGUISHED, ISN'T WE? A LITTLE GARLIC ABOUT HIM.” My DEAR YOUNG Laby, THERE’ But, p’you know, I tHixk I Noticep S$ NO SUCH THING AS A LITTLE GaRtic.” The Changing Viewpoint ht OB CURTIS was a Saturday-night “Well, Alice, you muffins when you k “The picture’ll prob He grabbed her elbe front of the on-comir Horns sounded; ch. Lourrua Anna Westman piloting his bride of six-months through crowd on Broadway. would insist on experimenting with these new we were going out,” he grumbled. ably be over by the time we get there. ow and precipitated her ahead of him, in ng traflic auficurs raged; his wife yelled desperately “Bob, we'll be run over!” “Let them wait fc taxi-driver and forcir own the whole street What or-us,” he retorted, glaring furiously at a ig him to halt. “Huh! They think they A pedestrian doesn't stand a chance.” They landed safely on the other side of the street, Bob tri ‘hi Son—No, Fatuen, | CAN Never accert your Moxey! You pton’t MAKE IT HONESTLY! (YoU DON’T HAVE TO BELIEVE 17.) umphant, his wife breathless. Five ye: . “TM never dine at the Palais again,” 1s Bob helped her into the Ss passed yawned Alice, new car. “The service is atrocic “We'll have to speed up or we'll miss the first act,” answered Bob, jumping in beside her and throwing in the clutch “Not that TL mind much. I’m fed up on the * Follies.” People scrambled right and left as he jabbed the horn loudly “Heavens, Bob!" exclaimed his wife, clutching his sleeve nervously. “Be careful. You'll run some one down!” “Let them get out of the way,” snapped her husband. “Can't they see we're in a hurry? An autoist doesn’t stand a chance these days with a bunch of fool pedestrians.”* Trump! Maud—I had a fine time at the bridge today: Beatrix—Did you have the best score? Maud—No, the best hat. comicbooks.com