Judge, 1924-04-19 · page 7 of 36
Judge — April 19, 1924 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis for Modern Readers This page contains three separate satirical pieces from Judge magazine: **"The Log of the Something or Other"** (top left): A humorous poem mocking sailors' tall tales. The narrator recounts an implausibly vague fishing story—uncertain of dates, what he caught, what he ate—yet insists it's verifiable by asking any ship's officer. It satirizes how unreliable seafarers' stories are, full of convenient memory gaps. **The clothing joke** (bottom left): A brief gag about a woman named Muriel Mehitable who went "crazy over clothes" and had to be institutionalized in a straitjacket. The punchline ("How was it trimmed?") jokes that even in an asylum, she's concerned with fashion details—satirizing women's obsession with clothing trends. **"A National Peril"** (right): This satirizes 1920s theater culture. A blind beggar lost his eyesight not in WWI but from straining to read program notes in darkened theaters during the 1923-24 season when all plays were performed in foreign languages (Russian, Italian, French). It mocks both pretentious foreign theater and the impractical experience it created for audiences.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Tue Loc or tHe “SomeriinG or OTHER” I? happened in eighteen hundred two, Or maybe three or four, While T was on a brig or bark Or else a man-of-war. ay L had six feet of rope, Or p’raps “twas eight or more, ‘Non one end I tied a hook, Or nail —Pm not quite sure. I baited it with something, Here memory seems to fail— T couldn't say if it was pork, Or just a piece of sail. I stood upon the starboard side, Or else it was the le N there T caught a fine Or maybe T caught three. Then the admiral or captain i whale, Or it might have been the mate, He cried: “L will?’ or else “TE must” “Most surely celebrate!” So first we ate a steak, I think, Unless it was a stew; *N then we had some ale or beer, From bottles, red or blue. You dow't believe my tale? ‘Tut! tut! Well, then, my friend, Tl tell: you what Find a brig, or bark, or man-of-war, The Silver Moon or Golden Star; Ask for the admiral, captain or mate, He'll say things happened as I state On that brig or bark or man-of-war In eighteen hundred three or four. Eveanor McCrea. _ “Yes, Muriel Mehitable went crazy over clothes. in a strait-jacket.” “How was it trimmed?” They had to put her ao << “Now could you make us a drawing to advertise our Acme Pile “Would you want a blond or a brunette?” A NationaL Peri HE STRANGER paused in front of me and rattled his tin cup dis- mally. He was blind. “My poor man,” I said as I gave him a few coppers, * id you lose your eyesight in the Great War?” He shook his head mournfully. “Was it the result of too many flashlight pictures of Rotary lunch- cons?” “Much sadder than’ that!” he replied. “Twas a theatergoer in the 1923-4 season,” he continued. “AIL the plays that I attende by foreigners, acted by forcigners, were written and spoken in Russian, French—any la I lost. my evesi guage but English. trying to follow the program notes in a darkened theater, in order to understand what was happening on the stage.” He groped his way sadly down the Avenue, and passed from’ view. Corey Forp. comicbooks.com