Judge, 1924-12-20 · page 12 of 36
Judge — December 20, 1924 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Judge Magazine Christmas Page Analysis This is a multi-panel satirical page mixing holiday humor with social commentary typical of early 20th-century Judge magazine. **Top cartoon**: Two rural figures ("Jasper" and "Ezry") exchange Christmas greetings while one is visibly ill—gentle, dialect-heavy humor about rural life. **"No Amateur"**: A marital joke about wives learning to drive cars, referencing the novelty and difficulty of automobile operation for women of that era. **"Funnybones"**: A quip about a barber's Christmas carol, playing on the phrase "single bells." **"Cellar Song"**: The most pointed satire—a poem about home-brewed alcohol during Prohibition. It mocks the dangerous practice of making illegal liquor in cellars, warning that the corrosive homemade spirits will damage one's stomach and possibly cause fatal explosions ("pipes explode"). This directly satirizes Prohibition-era lawbreaking. **"Voice from Top of Stairs"**: A brief joke about someone intoxicated on Christmas. The page blends innocent domestic humor with thinly-veiled mockery of Prohibition's consequences.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
MERRY CHRISTMAS! “Well, how ye been, Jasper? Merry Christmas!” “I been sicker’n a dog, Ezry. Same to you.” No Amateur Fi If a man can build a better house Kriss—Do you suppose that it SEE DONES or make a better mousetrap than will take long for’ your wite'to learn Ake Barter a: Chratmas Carel his neighbor the world will beat a how to drive the car? path to his door to beat him out of Kross—It shouldn't! She had the patent rights. about ten years’ practice driving me! After all, a Ge Matrimony is no gamble to the minister who marries the couples. He gets his in cash! Cellar Song Srs your songs of indoor sports, * With cocktail, maraschino, Or games of chance of different sorts— Like euchre or casino. One indoor sport with greatest thrill No doubt will be my ruin— You play it with a little still. Its title? Just home-brewin’. You hide down in the cellar, dark, The door you lock behind you— But have a care your jolly lark Does not, by error, blind you No doubt, the product will corrode Your stomach and maltreat it, 7, But when your precious pipes ex- Voice From Top or Srams—Is that you, John? plode Jonn (Who has the Christmas heaves) —No, m’dear—mussa The game is over—heat it! been two other fellahs:” Arthur L. Lippmann comicbooks.com