Judge, 1925-06-13 · page 8 of 36
Judge — June 13, 1925 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Political Satire Analysis: "Judge" Magazine Page This page satirizes **Prohibition-era America** through absurdist humor. The main cartoon imagines a dystopian future where the State licenses parenthood via civil service exams—a jab at over-regulation. The central conceit: if babies require government permits like Prohibition-regulated alcohol, people will illegally produce them anyway. The sketch depicts federal "revenuers" (Prohibition enforcement agents) raiding a home searching for bootleg babies hidden in the cellar—mirroring actual Prohibition raids on illegal stills. The satirist (Cyril B. Egan) explicitly argues that Prohibition's absurdity has made lawbreaking fashionable across all social classes. Even society elites flout it, evidenced by the acronym "B.Y.O.B." (Bring Your Own Bottle) appearing on their formal invitations—scandalously open defiance of federal law. The "Funnybones" aside mocks alimony law similarly: taxation without consent. The overall message: Prohibition creates contempt for law itself, encouraging precisely the behavior it forbids.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Grocer—Are those eggs fresh, ma'am? those eggs are cool enough to sell yet. Tuning in on the Millen- nium Mprearer Sancer, declaring = many parents mentally unfit to bring up children, hopes for the day when the State will forbid folks to have babies unless they have first passed a civil service examination and then duly received their licenses for parenthood. I “Dearest wifie I passed my ex- amination!" “But y I passed cum laude with an average of 90 per cent., and that entitles us to have twins!” I “Hessst—watzat?” “It’s the revenooers, wifie; hide the babies!” “Up with yer hands! license?” “Hee-he . . . with a license? in this house!” “Don't tell me that, I heard ‘em from outside!” “Really, you musta been mistaken, you musta heard the kids next door!” “Blaaaah!” “Kids next door, hey? Sounds more like kids in this here cellar to Where's yer what do we want There ain't no babies Here. George, just see if (Eunnybones/- Paying alimony is like taxation without representation ee Ceadge wil pay 85 for oxch one printed “Jimmy, you'ee been fighting again “Well, Mother, supposin’ Mrs. Jo . «+ Yes, sir! Down into the cellar with ya, Ike, and sce what's there while I keep these sarpints kivered. “Aha—well, Il be blowed. boot- leg babies, blast my eves—ten of ‘em —notonewith the Gover'ment stamp! Confiscate ‘em, Ike, and pour “em into the nearest river!” me. Il Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I stand four-square for the repeal of this ridiculous prohibition. Never was the law in such contempt as it is to-day. Babies being forbidden, people are having more of them now than they ever had before; people are having babies who would not think of having them were it not for the mere excitement of defying con- stituted authority. The kiddies are being bootlegged from border to border; baby runners on both coasts think nothing of the fifty-mile limit marked out against them, and the patrons of these babyleggers are legion in every stratum of society. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, in such disrepute is this law that even the highest officials of the land do not hesitate to subscribe their social in- vitations with the snickering initials, B. Y. O. B.; and we all know what that means! Cyril B. Egan nes was to put a squashy tomato down Your neck, wouldn't you land her one?” comicbooks.com