Judge — August 5, 1922 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

“Why, Maggie, whatever do you mean, a-wearin’ yer hat down over yer nose that way? new one!” That ain’t th’ style!” “I ain't tryin’ t’ be in th’ style, Lizzie Keefe—not me! I'm settin’ a Pitiful Publicity ‘G of the crime wave,” ed the Skeptic thought- fully sometimes marvel that business survives present-day advertis- Not that busi simply an- other Topsy; ‘just growed,’ you kne Its papa and its mamma—and its siste and its cousins and its aunts—were ad- It was advertising sold that AKI ess i vert ng. apple in the Garden of Eden. Without it, business wouldn't have been simply even. It would have been topsy- and no one can pretend that the turvy family has ever gotten anywhere in the world. I don’t doubt that Lady Godiva paraded in the interests of an unrecorded hair restorer. Probably St. George’s famous bout with Kid Dragon was nothing but a magnificent gesture for some patent vermin exterminator; and Samson merely a demonstrator for a wrecking concern. “By present-day advertising, ever, I refer to that school of Public’ Philosophers who would have us look upon business success some frail, exotic creature, too delicate to survive contact with common humanit ephemeral that for mere business acity, bre and a love of hard work even to dream of touching it, would spell disaster. And spell it ‘die,’ instead of merely ‘di.’ A red-headed man might as successfully try to carry home an eski- mo pie under a passionate fedora hat. You know the sort of advertising I have in mind. The Etiquette-and-Hygiene School of publicity. The busybody school, intimate as an income-tax exam- ination, which tells you frankly that you are such an utter failure, such an un- pleasant ass in general and so disliked by the world at large, entirely because you fail to brush your teeth with purple mud or omit curling the little finger about ur oyster fork. They divide humanity into two classes; both im- how- By GARDNER REA perfect. One class is represented by the fool who doesn’t buy their purple mud, their invaluable ‘Social Snap for Real Gents’ manual, or whatever it is Artist—I’ve had this idea in my head a long time. Friend—Ah, aged in the wood, eh? 5 they may want to get rid of. And the other class is represented by the fools who do. Of course, once you have their mud on your bathroom shelf or their vade-vobiscum on the bible stand, you cease to be a fool. Thus anointed and purified, you are free to reach forth for business success. You're a made man. Nothing, they say, can possibly stop you. But therein, amusingly enough, lies the whimsical irony of their vicious circle. As you sharpen your knife and prepare to slice up the promised bacon, another advertiser springs disconcert- ingly into view. With horror in his benevolent countenance he thrusts forth a restraining hand. Informs you sadly that not yet are you fit for the kingdom of the elect—and the queen- dom of naturally blond stenographers. He has just invented a patent depila- tory attachment for your razor. With- out it, re doomed; with it you are a—r man. Nothing can possibly stop Until the next advertiser comes along. “V HEN we were boys, you remem- ber, everything beautifully simple. Brains and hard work sufficed. The path lay plain before us. We be- gan modestly on the lowest rung of the mercantile ladder, married the presi- dent’s daughter, and became joyously rich, So rich we could afford to eat 2m on our bread three times a And even if we found that the president had gone in exclusively for sons, we were undismayed. In those far away times, inconceivably enough, one could succeed in business merely by succeeding in business. It was a quaint old world belief. “Nowadays mere business ability has nothing whatever to do with it. Wha if a man is a whole bundle of emb (Continued on page 9 comicbooks.com