Judge — January 29, 1927 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

— “Henry, you smell of tobacco. You've been with some woman!” —Sans Gene KEEPYOUR SKINYOUNG Tedious treatments unnecessary if the soap used for daily cleansing is Resinol “It would be a good thing if France understood our foreign policy,” de- clares a writer. It could be a much better thing if we understood it our- selves. —Passing Show tae Wife—The maid has just given notice; she said that you spoke in- sultingly to her over the telephone yesterday. Husband—Great Scott! I thought I was speaking to you. —Pele Mele (Paris) OISZY AES We call her “cocktail.” We have a good time after we shake her. Judge pays $5 for each one printed. Now, Come What May os not one of those who are al- ways reaching up to pluck the intangible plum, nor am I continu- ously applying jiu-jitsu tactics in the expectation of getting a half-Nelson on the tail of the comet. My am- bitions have always been of the same plausible nature and as easy to label as a can of tomatoes. One in particular has pricked my nervous system into action with the regularity of a Macy sale. This no less than the ambition of seeing my name in print. Ihave been writing letters to news- papers for years. I have commanded the draining system of East Tenth Street, lauded the synchronized work of street cleaners on the Fifty-ninth street bridge, and praised the one- man operation on Sixth avenue cars. To date only one of these many mis- sives has been printed. That was in tabloid form, minus my signature. The paper merely stated that the name of the correspondents would be given on request. (Right Box 14, Station K.) I have sent nonde- script articles to some thirty-seven prominent magazines, and it was only yesterday that I finished paper- ing our maid’s bathroom with a col- lection of monthly rejection slips. I gave $10 to the Society for the Protection of ‘Sailors on Riverside Drive, molested by young girls,” believing that my name would ap- pear in their Year Book. But after waiting six months the book finally appeared listing me as “a friend.” At this writing it would not be hard to assure them that I am not. Besides this, I made a survey for Columbia University, entitled “Why Japanese students are never seen unless accom- panied by a kodak.” When the sur- vey was printed, it was counter- signed “Biology Department,” with no reference to myself. In desperation I gave up, consoled to meet death with this ambition still unsatisfied. Incidentally, we lived in one of those apartment houses where the janitor, besides running the elevator, fires the furnace, renovates the vari- ous apartments, and operates the telephone switchboard downstairs. Telephone communication had been almost an impossibility, so I was driven to putting in a private wire some six months ago. At last I have reached and plucked one of those in- tangible plums. A beautiful new telephone book came last week and, glory be to God, on page 297, given, Christian, middle and last name, in print. Only my telephone number has been changed to Audubon 6281. S. E. Rauh comicbooks.com