Judge, 1928-09-15 · page 11 of 36
Judge — September 15, 1928 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Waiting Room at Dang-Dang" Explained This is a satirical piece mocking Prohibition-era excess and the absurdity of alcohol enforcement. "Dang-Dang" appears to be a fictional agency supplying hallucinatory creatures (products of "delirium tremens"—alcohol withdrawal symptoms) to deliver alcohol and facilitate drinking parties. The joke: Mr. Fronk manages these surreal beasts, dispatching them on jobs like delivering pink-necklaced hippos to gin parties and coordinating absinthe orgies in Cambridge. Harvard law students and Brooklyn residents place orders for fusel oil (cheap, toxic alcohol), treating illegal drinking as a casual business service. The satire targets Prohibition's failure—organized drinking persists openly, treated as a commercial enterprise with logistics and customer service. The fantastical "D.T. animals" metaphorically represent how Prohibition created a surreal, hallucinatory economy around illegal alcohol. The page mocks both the absurdity of the law and those who flaunted it.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
JUDGE The Waiting Room at Dang-Dang Where the D. T. Animals Stay When They’re Not Out On Jobs. Bringggggegg! The telephone bell. Mr. Fronk, Gen'l M’g'r and Supt. of the Beasts of Delirium Tremens, Inc., picked up the receiver. “Hallo . wh zat?... Right sir. I'M send m right down.” Mr. Fronk put down the receiver and called to Alk, the Delivery Boy. “Alk, put pink necktics on a carload of purple hippos and send ‘em down to 20 Christopher Street . rush! Big gin party in progress.” Mr. Fronk, Gen'l Mgr. of the Beasts of Delirium Tremens, Inc., has just put pink neckties on a carload of What'll you send For all his experi- ence, old Fronk stumped. "Wi F minute,” he — stalled, and holding his hand over the mouthpicee, ip to. the volunteer . to go to , Mass.”, he Cambrid said. “Complaint is fusel oil.” A big beige cle- phant held up his hand. “LI take the job,” he offered. “Un- der the condition, of course, that if I like it, Til get all the fusel sions an pie Gel purple hippos and shipped them out to a big gin party in '1.J0s in Hie Tatas Cai-mWas vole Brooklyn. He is seen taking the order for a magenta Pignk: wo. flights greeted Mr. Fronk’s puppy with parthogenetic proclivities to be sent to the op, and ask for Mr. is imei scene of an absinthe orgy in Cambridge, Mass. Campbell” -And ‘the speaking. This clephant trotted off, I'd like to get hold of a was the bear's laconic response, lingering only long enough to inbow clephants and a of flaming No, no hurry . . evening party in question is drinkin, psinthe.”” Mr. Fronk entered this on the order blank, and as he did so, the playing a b sure do, Massa Fronk,” and with this he launched into the irresistible third movement of Beethoven's Fifth. “What's: yours? into the telephone. “This is the u Cambridge bran voice over the wire. “And I want alittle help. A gang of Harvard law students is tossing off fusel oil highballs over at 4 Arl Street. asked Fronk nager of the came the on This is a new one on me. light up a fresh panatella. At six A. M. Mr. Fronk sent out the last animal in the place a handsome magent with said the sleepy Mr. “Another night's work But just as he was about to close up shop, the irritating tinkle of the phone bell called him back. 28) (Continued on page Fronk. done.” ———s —— comicbooks.com