Judge — November 21, 1925 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

Interference lOOTBALL is a great game. The struggling, surging teams, the plunging rushes and spectacular broken field runs, the huge colorful stadiums, the tang of autumn air, and over all the spirit of youth and irresponsibility. Even now, and I’ve been out of college for years, all the old thrill comes back when once or twice each fall I get out the old coonskin and Bill and I start out for one of the big games. Bill is as much of a football fan as I am, and wouldn’t miss a big game for anything; so he usually calls for me early Saturday morning. First we drive over to his club to get warmed yp a bit, then over to mine to get a little warmer. At both places we always pick up a few friends who want to make it a party and. insist we stop at their rooms for a drop or two before starting. On three different occasions I can distinctly remember leaving New York. Two years ago we would have made Yale but for a telegraph pole getting in Bill’s way. And last year we got off to a flying start a day ahead of time, but Bill, who The fellaw who always kicked about getting any of the “breaks”— ae one at last! always knows the shortest routes, missed Princeton somewhere between the second and third quart and finally landed us in Atlantic City. This year we're going to devote more time to football than ever before. In fact we’ve planned to get started at least two full days before each game. And we hope to keep it up right through the entire season. Yes, football is certainly the king of sports. Jack Shuttleworth Judge is sick of hearing about the Big Butter and gg Men fiom the West. Let's have some new ones! $5 will be paid for each one printed. In cases of durlication the first one received gets the five bucks. Send them in to the “Who's Who” Editor of Judge, 627 W. Forty-thi.d street, N. Y. Point of View Sve things are funny, and some things are not. There are certain misguided mor- tals who think that it’s extremely comical for a man to slip on a banana peeling, or to stub his toe or step on a tack in the dark. But not I. I can see that such things are tragic. The victim al- ways gets my sympathy. Of course I wasn’t always that way. I used to get a good laugh every time I witnessed a minor accident. But not any more. No, sir! Last night I stepped on a tack myself. R. C. O’Brien Thanksgiving Out ooR man, confined for life in prison drear, I come to bring you solace, hope and cheer. Thanksgiving Day has come. On this one day I hope you may be happy. pray. Let us In For what? I’m satisfied! The food is fine. Three hot and hearty meals a day are mine; No hat check girls or waiters seeking tips— No need to pay the bills or sign the slips. I have a private room—a comfy bed. No income tax to pay. I have no dread Of modern bandits, thugs and stick- up men To plug me full of holes no telling when. No traffic laws, green, red and amber lights Disturb my dreams or cause me sleepless nights. I’m safe from bootleg booze, wood alcohol, Synthetic gin—but still, that isn’t all T’m thankful for. I had a nagging wife. I'm thankful, friend, because I’m in for life! Rolfe C. Spinning AAD First Pickpocket—Where you been, Slick? Second Pickpocke-—Oh, just out in the crowd for a little change!