Judge — August 23, 1924 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

1 | f Editor, Norman Anthony. Incognito “So you're going to pay us a little visit, Lord Renfrew?” “Yes, JupGe. Can’t resist a good polo match. I’m very much interested in horses.” “Ye-es. So I’ve heard. Do you know the Prince of Wales?” “Not any too well. Why?” “Oh, he’s interested in horses, too. Nice chap. He never fell for a horse harder than the American people fell for him, last time he was here. Too bad you don’t know him any better.” “I’m sorry myself, Junce. I'm going out to his ranch later and perhaps I'll have a chance to get better acquainted with him out there. You know the best way to learn to know a person is to share a little quiet and privacy with him. The poor prince is so on the go all the time! And there are always other people about him. He can’t even take a spill in peace. Many a time he’s told me he wished he were I. But I wouldn’t change places with him on a bet, and it isn’t sour grapes on my part, either.” “No, Lord Renfrew, I can well believe that. However, please give the prince my best regards when you see him.” True to Form The State that has given to the country the Ku Klux Klan and Representative Upshaw has about decided to withdraw all State funds from any school or college that teaches the theory of evolution. In other words, Georgia is bound, b’gosh, that neither Kentucky nor any other American commonwealth shall outdo her in bigotry—a state to make the heart of William Jennings Bryan break into song. But just what kind of a joke is this preposterous and futile conspiracy to stem the tide of free thought that seems to be spreading in the South and Southwest? Is it the kind of joke that, beginning in a small way among a few States, eventually finds its way into the Constitution of the United States? Perhaps, when e very honest scholar has been turned into a bootlegger of knowledge and students professing the scientific faith have to meet in caves like the early Christians, it won’t seem so funny. But what a thirst for learning there will be! One member of the Georgia House of Representatives, in supporting this new form of prohibition, said that if he Associate Editors, William Morris Houghton, William Edgar Fisher was descended from a monkey he was ashamed of it. He’s got nothing on the monkey. Another member re- marked that he didn’t believe a wagon load of mud could be left in the road and “by own inherent evolutionary powers” become something “all dressed up and running for the Legislature.” Yet who hasn’t seen that very thing happen time and time again! Georgia's Legislators can't disprove the theory of evolution by aping Mr. Bryan. Louder and Funnier We could almost welcome a national ban on the teaching of evolution if what a New York professor predicts is coming true. “The man of the future,” he says, “will know too much to laugh at anything.” But we think the’ professor is cockeyed. man knows, beyond a certain stage of pompous self- complacency, the less seriously he takes himself and the holy show we call life, and the more inclined he is to Taugh at both. “Laughter arises from the twin caus gruity and inequality.” Granted. But doesn’t the growth of wisdom multiply the incongruous (for the ob- server), and doesn’t it, similarly, widen the gulf between The more a incon- the w nan ‘and the moron? Try to imagine, for instance, the inequality that separates Einstein from Mayor Hylan—and laugh, d—— you! Clem The papers say that Mr. Davis, the Democratic nominee, in picking Clem’ L. Shaver as his campaign manager, did so because the latter has been a lifelong friend. But didn’t his name have something to do with The post of campaign manager to a Presidential candidate requires infinite tact, a smooth insinuation, quiet, unruffled industry. And no man named Clem L. Shaver can help but slip about his duties with an entire absence of delay or friction. We still contend, now Lemuel Ely Quigg is dead, that the most artistically named of our sub-surface politicians is C. Bascom Slemp. Squirt Mr. Slemp into any political gathering or situation and, according to all accounts, no further lubrication is necessary. But a cute little shaver like Clem ought to give him a close race for the champion- ship in this respect. W. M. H. comicbooks.com