Judge — October 1, 1921 — page 34: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

NO MONEY DOWN #: dust £ Zoot game and the LIENTTE GEM Ring ne th fire ant ‘matchiers gems. ‘mountiogs aod aiead- ker srattas GUARANTEE oe rm sing MUST entiofy von 9 perfect! BeeTies esi esi Tas) y oan eld fica" ouda rooayess Teal a) Byatt LIZNIT! CEM Cc lity and Price’”_ 1281. Wel SEXUAL KNOWLEDGE By winged scorT rita Pa D., Ph.D. EX FACTS MADE PLAIN Swat every young Wrapper AMERICAN PUB. COMPANY, “i008 Winston Bids, NOTICE DOCTOR I. BRING PROSPERITY prescribes for every man, woman and child who is nerv- ous over the future, a mini- mum dose to be taken every pay day of one $1 Treasury Savings Stamp Warranted to restore financial health to every one who will take it faithfully, especially beneficial in preparing for “rainy day.” NOTE: Fill this prescription each week at your Post Office or Bank. GOVERNMENT LOAN ORGANIZATION Second Federal Reserve District 120 Broadway New York \“STAMMERING] Ifs Guse and Gre ** You can be quickly cured if you stammer. send 10 cents,coin or stamps,for 288 page cloth bound book on Stammering and Stuttering. It tells how I cured ode self after Stammertng and Stuttering for 20 ye: F pases BOGUE, 1209 Bogue Bullding, 1147 N. Mi. st daapts What the Night-cap Said to the Eye-opener By BENJAMIN CASSERES Fiends for Work ORACE and Sam Fowler live H out in Los Angeles, which is the capital of departed souls, “movie” vamps and retired Iowans. Horace looks like Andrew Carnegie (last phase) and Sam, who is “pro- fessor of genetics,” looks like Joaquin Miller, Sam Walter Foss and the Atlantic City corn doctor (medium phase). Horace and Sam, finding prohibition hanging heavy on their hands, got together and wrote a book that they call “The Industrial Re- public” (H. N. Fowler Company, Los Angeles). The part that will cure our tax corns was written by Sam. Horace flattens out the carbuncles on our body politic and is foreman of the semicolons. The greatest need of humanity, say Horace and Sam, is an industrial republic. This, of course, means that all of us have got to work whether we like it or not. I know what you think of that right away. I agree with you. Under our present régime of capital- ism each one of us passes the buck and dreams of an alibi when the alarm gong goes off each morning. I am in favor of more capitalism, un- der which system, if you can accumu- late enough, you can bum, bootleg or otherwise invite your soul. In place of this grand old system Sam and Horace desire to found a republic founded on the “Crystalline beatitude, which existed primarily in conjunction with Persistency, and by its Persistency, Consistency, Con- tinuance and Divisibility are endowed with reflective unity.” That’s Hor- ace’s idea of putting you and me on | the fritz. You can see from this the ravages of prohibition in the American brain. Sam and Horace are agin rum and tobacco. They look it. Thank heaven, there are still some men so thirsty that they would reap the whirlwind | if it would ferment. Einstein is a poor sap compared to Horace and Sam. Deport ’em! HERE are more rhymsters in the world to-day than any other kind of faker. Nothing iscommoner thana person who can make pale and grail, lost and cost, sea and me, rum and bum, fat and sat rhyme. Poets are rare; everybody can versify. Why have brains when you can rhyme? Nothing bores me like a poem that rhymes unless written by an inspired lyricist—one with TNT in his veins. I find more inspiration in Old Cap Collier (like Irvin Cobb) than in the | 34 bushels of dope called “poetry” that I wade through—or don’t. The poor in spirit, unhumorous, the weaklings of will and the sentimental molluscs all take to putting their pewlings into scanned lines. Guy Nearing comes along. He has doused himself with phantasms, the cosmos, fens, night, Voices, listless rivers, solemn ecstasy, threnody anda whole crock-full of other home brew words, rhymes and images. ‘Vistas of Wonder” he calls it (Robert Bar- ron, Arden, Delaware). Like thou- sands of other American Rigmarole- ans who have “vistas” and put them into Walker rhyming shape, there isn’t an original note, a daring image, a flake of fire, a pod of passion in him. They are Tennyson at his worst (and that was rotten). Now, Mr. Nearing knows his art. He has “technique”; he had learned his trade, like Louis Untermeyer and Harry Kemp. But anybody can learn a trade. Zuleika the Vamp [u tell you about a jewel of a book. Max Beerbohm wrote the book. Max is, as you know, an exquisite English satirist, who is sui generis, which means, sure enough, a guy that doesn’t run tandem with anybody. The story he wrote concerns one Zuleika Dobson (Boni & Liveright). Zuleika is one of the greatest and most fascinating vamps in all history. She was an international conjuror— juggled things at Hammerstein’s cld Victoria and at the Folies Bergére, in Paris. Zuleika landed at Oxford Uni- versity, where her grandfather was a Warden. His Grace, the Duke of Dorset, and all the undergraduates fell in love with this reincarnation of Helen of Troy, Semiramis, Jezebel and Lily Langtry. She spurned them all. Led by the Duke, on the day of a great boat race, they all committed suicide simultaneously. Ah, but you must see how the great Max treats this satire on romantic love—and youth! youth! youth! There is no book like it in the world. If you never read a book, read this. I hope to start a Zuleika Dobson craze. I don’t get a cent for doing it. I simply holler for a thing I love —yep, I’m like that. You will place Zuleika between “Huckleberry Finn” and “Don Quixote” on your shelf. And, by the way, this Modern Library of Boni & Liveright’s is an event in American publishing—the biggest ever. Let’s all sit up and be- come cosmopolitan. comicbooks.com