Judge, 1924-11-15 · page 7 of 36
Judge — November 15, 1924 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The New Anesthetic" This satirical story mocks a supposedly new "psychological anesthetic" that would allow patients to remain conscious during surgery while being entertained by jokes and radio broadcasts. The narrator describes the absurd experience of lying on an operating table while a surgeon cracks jokes—including ethnic humor ("the Irishman") and puns about appendicitis ("Appendicitis Rag")—to distract from the pain. The humor ridicules both modern medical pretensions and contemporary entertainment obsession. Rather than actual anesthesia, patients are offered distraction through comedy and radio, a commentary on cheap solutions to serious problems. The accompanying cartoons about washing machines and hope chests represent typical period advertisements, while "Funnybones" offers additional social humor typical of Judge's satirical content.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
The New Anesthetic AS THEY stretched me out on the operating table I was filled with a curious happiness. We were about to test the new psychological anesthetic. A man out in Coshoc- ton, O., was going to broadcast me jokes—his own jokes, thought up especially for me and science, and under the spell of listening to him I wasn’t even going to notice my appendicitis operation! s « brrr-wurrk—zik—reeow awrrk ...and the Irishman... . . « the half of it!” Evidently I had missed the first one, but the headpiece was now clamped into place, and I had only to wait. Ah, there he was! “Ah, there, Appendicitis? Or maybe I’d better call you li'l ole One Touch of Nature! Why? So glad you requested! One touch of nature—if it’s good-nature—makes the whole world grin, doesn’t it? And haven't you made even the staid old doctors, cut-ups? Ha! ha! ha! . . . arr—gugg—klunk— uggle.... ” Traitorous though it was, I began to experience misgivings. “|... kwukk-arrr . . . reminds me: since we’re ranking so rank— forgive me, I mean so high—in our national deportment, why not deport the ultra-feminists to Arabia? Aw go on, you know why! Well, since you insist: isn’t Arabia Nomad's Land? Ha! ha! ha!” Huspanp—No. The artist who liked a large palette. My mind was distracted, and for a moment found ease as the surgeon’s knife ripped its way to my vitals. But only for a moment. “.. . learn the Appendicitis Rag? You'd find it simple. All you'd have to do is learn the words, see— you've got the malady already! Ha! ha! ha! Did you get that, Appendi- ritis? But I'll just call you ‘Ap,’ for short. Short for ‘happy.’ And you can call me your little Polly Anesthesia. Your little Rolly Polly-put-the-kettle-on _ how-old-is- Anna’s Thesia? Your little... .” When I came to, the surgeon was lifting the clamps from my head. AcEent—Do you want to buy a washing machine? T have one. “While you were reveling, oblivi- ous to all else, in the magic spell of radio,” he told me triumphantly, “your appendix was removed! Were we not right in our supposition that the operation would be painless? Comparatively, at least?” “Comparatively,” I murmured brokenly, “it was heaven!” Gardner Rea City Life in America The Public Library See those folks at yonder table, Over dusty volumes poring; Just a moment—my mistake— What I meant to say was snoring! R.C. 0. Rad Nevertheless, many a married man finds it easier to listen to the radio. tot An old maid built a hope chest, From a box once filled with soap; Said she, “I'll have my hope chest, Though I haven't any hope!” Funnybones “That isn’t fare,” said the con- ductor, as he returned the button. ‘CTadge will pay $5 for ach one printed comicbooks.com