Judge, 1925-06-27 · page 8 of 37
Judge — June 27, 1925 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Political Satire from Judge Magazine This page contains three humor pieces satirizing early 20th-century American society: **"Wire (to novice)"** mocks golf etiquette—a wife's naive question about "holing out in one" suggests she misunderstands golfing terminology. **"Funnybones"** offers quick jokes: one mocks wealthy car owners (confusing "automobile snubbers" with Rolls-Royce riders), another satirizes France's colonial gold-hunting in Guiana as abandoning America as a "bad job." **"The Final Fairway"** is a longer satirical story ridiculing religious hypocrisy. A heavenly admissions committee rejects sanctimonious candidates: one prides himself on never missing church duties; another boasts of organ-playing and harp practice. Both are rejected, with the second literally falling through a trap door. The satire targets those whose faith centers on performing religious duties rather than genuine virtue, while the committee's casual mention of admitting "jazz babies and humorists" suggests the afterlife itself has modernized beyond stuffy piety.
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Wire (to novice)—I suppose that's what you call holing out in one, dear? (_ \Funnybones All a Loan! The French have sent an expedi- tion to Guiana to hunt for gold \) Dumb Dora thinks that automo- bile snubbers are people who ride in Rolls-Royces \— _ —uaddge mill pay 85 for ach one prosted treasure. They must have given up America as a had job. Golfers cover enough territory in a season to wall: through many a country. Why not make more attractive obstacles and give them the atmos. phere of travel? The Final Fairway Gu. heavenly gloom, but gloom nevertheless. was stamped on the faces of the Members of the Committee to Determine Heavenly Fitness. Outside, in the waiting- room, sat four candidates. “Horace Quisenberry!” called the doorkeeper and Horace blithely scampered in. “Gentlemen,” he started, “I’m just the man you need. For sixteen years | never missed a Sunday as usher at the Sixty-first Presbyterian Church. 2...” “Nix.” echoed the committee and the second candidate was brought in, = “E'm Deacon Sheldon.” he piously started, “and I notice how sad you all look. I'm sure you need a man of my sanctimonious qualifi- cations. For thirty years I played the organ at the Fifty-first Baptist Church and I've been practicing on the harp for the last ten years in anticipation of this moment. I know how sad it has made you to admit jazz babies and humorists for the last ten years... . But he got no further, as a trap door was gently lifted and he fell into space, nearly drowning himself in a radio wa’ comicbooks.com