Judge, 1921-10-29 · page 10 of 36
Judge — October 29, 1921 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Judge Magazine Page Analysis This page from *Judge* satirizes early 20th-century intellectual and social pretensions. The top cartoon mocks poor eyesight through the absurd figure of "little Judkins," who must move across a room to gaze into his lover's eyes—a visual pun on romantic sentiment meeting practical limitation. The main text ridicules the "International Eugenics Congress" (a real movement of the era promoting selective breeding). The author sarcastically proposes a "referendum" on whether Americans should become "demigods or barbarians," suggesting the congress's pseudo-scientific categorizations are absurd. He notes cynically that different regions would vote differently, and that criminals ("bandit vote") hold actual political power—undercutting the congress's pretensions to rational human improvement. The "Eastern Fancy" poem and office jokes in the right column are lighter filler content. **Context:** This reflects skepticism toward eugenics pseudoscience that was gaining credibility among American intellectuals in this era, despite its eventual association with Nazi ideology.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Ibsen’s “Wild Duck” who went from flat to flat ringing doorbells and call- ing out, “Any ideals to-day, lady?” Werle sold one to a perfectly happy family and broke up the party. Then there are the trance-tootsies and those who sell magic mouse- traps to catch fairies and pixies. Are you bothered with them? I have always asked myself, “‘Sup- pose I am immortal—what good is is?” It is the sense of mortality that makes things precious for Consider the deplorable case of poor little Judkins who is so far-sighted that when he wants to look soulfully into his darling’s eyes, he has to betake himself to the opposite side of the room. a matter of local option. Each town and city in the country ought to have the privilege of deciding for itself whether it wants to evolve into supermen or slide back into the blessed state of predatory pilfering. Just what a demigod is no one at the Eugenics Congress would tell. But the word is a mouthful, so it must mean something. A demigod is probably a man who is his own police- man and rules all the demigodlets with amendments issued over night. The towns in Georgia and Kansas, for in- stance, would vote the straight demi- god ticket on a national showdown, while the large cities would vote for a modified form of barbarism. The bandit vote now holds the balance of power in New York and Chicago. And those who chose to remain in statu quo as plain, everyday boot- legging, free Americans would re- main away from the poles—forming a reactionary middle class. me here. Whatever lasts for- ever is of little value. What discourages me most in digging into these “mes- sages from beyond” and listen- ing to the revelation of “me- diums” is the total lack of a sense of humor Over There. Has a laughing spirit ever recorded itself on the ouija board? Do Charlie Chap- lins become Presidential secretaries on the “other side’? Would I lose my sense of the absurd? Looks to me as though immortality —- modern brand—is for those who have not laughed enough here. Maybe immortality is a way the Great Jester has of damn- ing them. OH!DADDY!_- | An Eastern Fancy | By THOMAS J. MuRRAY M Y dreams drift with some [ = fading caravan, An Asian trade route or the dim Soudan; | With tinkling of the camel bells afar, | Beneath the burning of the desert star. Rich, spicy odors steal from swinging bales Across the yellow sands; then swiftly pales My Eastern dream, the Per- sian rug is rolled, While screams the auctioneer, repeating “Sold.” In Public Speaking A MONG the matters dis- “In your speeches you allude cussed by the late San- hedrin of Fantastics which met in New York—they called selves the International s Congress—was the question as to whether we Americans were to become a race of demigods or bar- barians. Why not have a referendum on the question, which is a a great deal to Uncle Sam.” “Well, isn’t that all right?” “Oh, of course, of course. But don’t forget that women are voting. Mention Miss Co- lumbia now and then.” Working the Boss Killjoy—You go back to work to-morrow, don’t you? Brighteyes—Oh, not at all, mighty interesting one? Per- sonally, I think it ought to be Red-headed. 10 old bean—merely back to the office. comicbooks.com =P