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Judge, 1923-08-11 · page 11 of 36

Judge — August 11, 1923 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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Judge — August 11, 1923 — page 11: Judge, 1923-08-11

What you’re looking at

# Judge Magazine Page Analysis This page contains multiple satirical pieces typical of early-20th-century Judge magazine: **Main Cartoon**: Shows a well-dressed man and working-class figure beneath a tree overlooking farmland. The caption mocks advertising excess: "You bet! We can see three more billboards than anybody in the State." The satire targets the intrusive proliferation of commercial billboards in the American countryside. **"Much Trouble Saved"**: Mocks the contemporary trend of "free verse" poetry by claiming it requires no skill—readers can compose it themselves without understanding rhyme or meter. **"Snooze to Me"**: Defends the Sunday afternoon nap as a wholesome American custom worth protecting and promoting. **"Talking Turkey"**: A humorous poem dialogue between a romantic suitor and his sardonic girlfriend, satirizing flowery romantic language. She repeatedly deflates his poetic declarations with practical comebacks. **"Country Clubs"**: Brief joke suggesting such clubs exist mainly to encourage struggling farmers—implying their actual purpose is pretentious leisure rather than genuine rural support. The overall tone reflects Judge's characteristic mockery of American commercialism, social pretension, and changing cultural values.

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

in motion them. should of course be set invent 1 to ‘This, then, is the plan that will win the hun- dred thousand for any reader sufficiently —am- bitious and enterprising to copy it out, fill in the necessary envelope blanks mail to Mr. Bok, bearing and The the earliest the mone ? postmark gets There are, of course, a few working details to be gone into; but [have no time to bother with such trifling matters. incidentals like un be easily sup- by the reader him- - In pointing out how Mr. Bok’s hundred thot can be yours I think T have done quite cnough. eet Much Trouble Saved by Win, 8. Adkins I (REE VERSE strikes me as prime; T call the same immense, Custom leaves out the rhyme, yew York Pater What is. there about Europe that’s so. won- derfully fascinating? ‘ New One meets Americans. such nice eee “Snooze to Me” (Continued from page 5) and his nasal twangings will echo and re-echo through the room until his wife wants to go riding, pestiferous company comes, a hitherto lovable offspring. sh a door, or a fly paces up and down his forehead with measured tread and slow. Although very little has been said in open support of the Sunday afternoon nap it has long been known for its whole- someness. If well-advertised, it is more than probable that it could be clevated to a plane where an interruption would constitute a misdemeanor in the eyes of the law, punishable by death and a fine of no less than half the book value of the offending indivic The Sunday after- noon nap has merit. If it could be made compulsory the envious glances of all other nations would be turned this way. “Corking view, old man!” 0 York Daughter “You bet! We can see three more billboar i a And there would be absolutely no chance of ever restricting immigration. ery Vt decide where to hang Jaughter’s diploma—the one she received for excellency in cooking. Father—Well, if the meal she cooked to-day is a sample of what she is going to do, you had better hang that diplot in the dining-room where the guests can see it and) make allowances cordingly. Mother—1 our ac- eer First Hobo (viewing country club)— So they calls “em country clubs? I won- der why’s that? ‘ond Hobo —To encourage the farmers, I s'pose. Per providing an electric washer they catering to their wives’ desire for 9 Talking Turkey by Cyril B. Egan Jour eyes are like the stars, my dear Cut the soft stuff—quit yer kiddin! Your presence suns this planet drear! Put on yer weed chains, lid, yer skiddin't There is no other girl like you Oh, Sidney, yore a silly jay! Somehow you're diff'rent, darling Sue. Say—howd ye get that way? I've written pomes of you in reams Come down to earth, yer off yer lid! You are the Ldeal of my dreams Now don’t be serious, Silly Sid! But, Love, T make ten thou’ ary T wish you'd share the wad with me— Ah! Atta baby, Siddie dear! When, old kid, will the wedding be? comicbooks.com