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Judge, 1922-01-07 · page 6 of 36

Judge — January 7, 1922 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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Judge — January 7, 1922 — page 6: Judge, 1922-01-07

What you’re looking at

# Page Analysis **Top Cartoon:** "Is a College Education Necessary?" depicts four figures arguing about whether chemistry requires formal education. The cartoon satirizes debates about practical vocational training versus traditional college degrees—relevant to post-WWI America when automotive and industrial work offered alternatives to academics. The text discusses engine design and the "butterfly valve," suggesting tension between self-taught mechanics and credentialed engineers. The cartoon mocks both positions: the figures' exaggerated features suggest foolishness on all sides. **Bottom Section:** "Melancholy Serenade" is a romantic poem by Elias Lieberman about unrequited love, illustrated with a man pining for an indifferent woman. This provides tonal contrast to the satirical content above. The page balances social commentary on education/class mobility with sentimental verse—typical of Judge's mixed editorial approach.

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

Is A COLLEGE EDUCATION NECESSARY? Yes! colleges are said to be considering a post-graduate course in distilling. With this knowledge the undergrad would know when to produce the flask. now to know just when to offer your companion the T.N.T. coming generation. car. The self-starter turned it over, the piston pulled at the air supply, but so many improved features were in the way that no air was forthcoming or incoming, and the engine died of suffo- cation. The air intake then was made larger and this generous action so re- duced the velocity that no gas was in- haled. An economical design, but it lacked the true sporting flavor. Tom then made 364 jets for the gas, painted the float red and set the thermometer for hard boiled. Up to this time the car had not started, and so a change was made in the butterfly valve. I have always liked that name, but- terfly valve. It seems to bring to these sage workers a breath of flowers and nature beautiful, of balmy breezes and busy bees. Believe me, they need it! The fumes they breathe are enough to make them balmy, to say the least. Be that as it may. By throwing out all the improvements and letting the air whiz past the end of the gas pipe a mixture was secured that would ex- plode. This simple and beguiling de- vice did not, however, hold Tom’s re- spect for long, as when he opened the butterfly valve the engine promptly died. And so we arrive at the fascinat- ing problem of carburetting for accel- eration. This may sound strange to you now, but you will learn to recog- nize in it a worthy enemy. There are other, many other, charming points of Without four years of chemistry one would be helpless with fusil oil, juniper essence and hip juice. A big thing for the young idea and the interest along the pathway which leads to a perfect mixture. Take for an example, and a horrible example, the simple job of atomizing or vaporizing the gas. Right here let me say—never take any back talk from anyone on this point. Your device is the only one that vaporizes properly. Every one claims this, and no one has done it yet, although this record has not been checked ince 6 o’clock. Do not fear that you will get your device done and be thrown out of work with a couple of years left to live. Tom assures me there is no danger of this, for dear old Mother Nature, ably as- sisted by the oil companies, changes the grade of gasoline every full moon and then, of course, you start all over again. # 4 Some It is rather trying Melancholy Serenade (Upon seeing a beautiful unknown) By Elias Lieberman ONE look which you are pleased to waste Upon that Pomeranian, Would set my heart tc pound in haste Such fecble tribute as it can. I’d give you for a glance so treasured, This universe by Einstein measured. Were I a prince of great repute And you a queen of storied fame, A naticn’s purse would be my loot To win your heart, my royal dame. You’d get such gems as would delight a Modern cook, my incognita. But no such luck is mine, cherie; Your pup will keep the inside track; For Fate denies my ardent plea And points an index finger back. No solitaire by me adjusted Will grace your little hand. busted. I'm My wherewithal, O fair unknown, Would hardly match your pomp and show; In fact I now possess one lone And paltry jit, a buffalo. Drop one! I hear a nickel falling. Farewell—the automat is calling.