Judge — January 14, 1922 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

THE PROF. AGAIN Professor's Wife—Why, my dear, you've got your shoes on the wrong feet. Professor—But, the only feet Phoenix. Henrietta, they’re I’ve got. — Chicago TOUGH Prof—Success, gentlemen, has four conditions. Voice from the Back Row—Tough luck. The Secretary will kick it out of college.”—Lehigh Burr. SCANDAL! First Servant—How did your one eyebrow wear out? Second Servant—Well, you see at our place they have rough door-knobs. —Lafayette Lyre. MERE SUPPOSITION We suppose that now when a man becomes pie-eyed on Toilet Water, the charge against him is “fragrancy.”— Notre Dame Juggler. INSIDE STUFF Little Boy—Ba-w-w-w-w-w-w! Kind Old Lady—Are you in pain, my little man? The Kid—Naw! —Cornell Widow. The pain’s in me? xs “Why do you compare Mabel’s head to a knob?” “Because it’s so easy to turn.”—Wil- ams Purple Cow. Joyous, “Does your fiancée know much about automobiles?” “Heavens, no; she asked me if I cooled my car by stripping the gears.” —Harvard Lampoon. THE QUALITY OF MERCY Jimmy — Dearest, I must marry you— Shimmy—Have you seen father? “Often, honey, but I love you just the same.”—Notre Dame Juggler. CULINARY DISTINCTION “I haven’t any raw ideas. How do you expect me to break into this issue?” “Why all your ideas are half-baked.” —Cornell Widow. GOING IN ON THIS? UDGE’S annual College Wits number will be published early in May, 1922. The competition for its rewards will be fierce. So you young artists and writers who in- tend to win representation: should get busy. All matter intended for that number must be in hand early in March. A handsome silver cup for the best art feature, another for the best literary feature, and the College that makes the best show- ing wins the massive silver trophy won first by Cornell and last March by Columbia. All matter accepted will be paid for. With the College Wits Irrepressible, Irresponsible PROUD OF IT Father — Well, son, you certainly made a fool of yourself! That girl robbed you of every cent you had. Son—Well, dad, you have to hand it to me for picking them clever.—Yale Record. TIME AND PATIENCE Love and porous plaster, son, Are very much alike; It’s simple getting into one, But getting out—Good-night! —Pennsylvania Punch Bowl. OVERTAXED! Blackeye—When that big stiff tried to collect the war tax I told him the war was over. Close Friend—And then what? “I found out that it wasn’t.”—Stan- ford Chaparral. JUDGMENT Smith—What did you name your new son? Smyth—We are going to call him Jeremiah, after his uncle. “Hasn’t the lad’s uncle barrels of money?” “You don’t suppose we like the name, do you?”—Amherst Lord Jeff. “Service at the Varsity Show is cer- tainly slow; Tom and I waited there nearly thirty minutes to-day.” “Well, you must remember it’s no divorce court, my dear.” — Missouri Showme. comicbooks.com