Judge, 1928-07-21 · page 18 of 36
Judge — July 21, 1928 — page 18: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
**Top Section ("Shades of Jack Dempsey and Babe Ruth"):** This satirical piece discusses a newspaper syndicate negotiating with a newly famous celebrity (likely a sports figure, given the Dempsey/Ruth reference—both major 1920s sports icons). The humor centers on the celebrity's unexpected demand: he insists on writing his own material rather than having ghostwriters. The syndicate finds this absurd—they expect famous people to be content with money and publicity, not actual creative control. The joke's twist is that they eventually capitulate because his fame is too valuable to lose. The satire mocks both celebrity entitlement and media desperation. **Middle Section ("Made-to-Order Heavens"):** A poet's humorous verse describing his ideal heaven: a picturesque setting where he never struggles to write, his poems sell immediately, and checks flow in for gin. He gets no rejection slips and his work gets anthologized. The satire targets poets' romantic self-image and their financial struggles—his "heaven" is simply modest commercial success, highlighting the actual poverty most poets face. **Bottom Cartoon:** A transatlantic passenger regrets his ocean voyage, wishing he'd taken a steamer instead to see the Folies Bergère (famous Parisian cabaret). Brief visual gag about travel priorities.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
JUDGE Hey, Porra, Get a Loan or Your New I just thought of a joke that's too funny for words—clean “Say, I see b. Jake's shirt’ store burned down “Whose?” asked his slightly deaf wife. was the loud reply. “My goodness, who tore it?” asked the dumb brute. Blokes like that will come to no good end. words, So try to get this one: Made-to-Order Heavens | The Poet's My Heaven is a lovely nook that’s built’ beside a babbling brook where birdies chirp within the trees and flowers’ fragrance fills the breeze. In this, the fair- est of all climes, I never have to grope for rhymes. I always have the wherewithal to rent a room just off the hall, I sell my pomes, the checks flow in to buy me quarts and quarts of gin. I toot my flute, I strike my lyre—my efforts find a waiting buyer. My rippling meter smoothly trips— I get no rude rejection slips. And all the pomes I've dearly prized are praised and then an- thologized. I make “Who's Who” my lot to leaven . oh, this indeed’s a Poet's Heaven! Davairer-1n-Law! the paper that “Jake's shirt store Shades of Jack Dempsey and Babe Ruth The newspaper syndicate was dickering with the fellow who had just become famous. They wanted his writings—his life story and his daily opinions on things in general. Remuneration and other details had been agreed upon and the deal was about to be consum- mated, when a hitch developed. It seems there had been a slight misunderstanding the part of the celebrity in the matter of one small detail. They wanted it one way and he insisted on the other. “Lookit the money in it for you,” they coaxed. “Think of the advertising—it will keep you con- stantly in the public eye.” But he was adamant. They cajoled him further, but to no avail, At one time it looked as if the deal would fall through. They considered him unreason- able, but because he was so very famous, they stretched the point and gave in to him, And so he won his point. It was unusual, but perhaps the public would not be aware of it. Besides, nobody would believe it, even if the fact be ne known, And so they let him actually write his own stuff! —R. C. O. Transatrantic Frver—I wish I’d took a steamer... this is a hell of a way to see the Folies Bergere!! comicbooks.com