Judge, 1928-12-29 · page 4 of 37
Judge — December 29, 1928 — page 4: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Judge Magazine Page Analysis This page contains three distinct satirical pieces: 1. **Top cartoon**: Depicts a robbery scene where a gunman demands a woman reveal her jewelry and money locations, threatening violence. The satire targets marital discord—the joke being that a wife might refuse to tell her own husband such information, making her vulnerable to criminals. 2. **"The Sore Spot" poem** by Arthur L. Lippmann: A bitter monologue from a scorned man whose wife doesn't love him, whose bank rejected his loan ("NO FUNDS"), and who faces public humiliation. It's satirizing male wounded pride and financial desperation. 3. **"The Stork" and "Fowl Verse"** by George Mitchell: Light verse about the stork's role in childbirth, humorously questioning whether the bird deserves credit for deliveries it makes. The page mixes domestic humor with economic anxiety themes typical of early 20th-century Judge magazine.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
i} i “So you better tell me where you keep your jewels and money and not make an outery—or I'll pull the trigger and let these mice out at you.” Fowl Verse The Stork The stork, dear reader, is unique; His legs are long, so is his be He flies about the countryside Scatt’ring babies far and wide. Consid’ring all he does, God knows. He makes few errors; but sup- pose He does leave babies where he ortent; After all, is that important? And yet, I often think if he Had done the proper thing by me I might be heir to some fat purse And not the sap who writes fowl verse. —Groror Mitcueie If all the New Year's resolu- tions were laid end to end they wouldn't reach to the first of February, JUDGE Fashion experts say s should be halfy They must n ing from the ears. The Sore Spot Slander me, lie to me, blast me with curses, Mock me and shock me as much as you please, Blithely’ I'll toil at my: trivial And laugh at your efforts to puncture my ease. But hand me a check—be you friend or relation— That's spurned by my with a “NO FUND: jon And vengeance is mine till the end of creation! Publish the fact that my wife doesn't love me, Say I'm an oaf, that my man- ners offend, Burn down the roof-tree that towers above me And still I am willing to call you my friend. But wild grow my eyes and my heart es stony As grimly I gun for acquain- tance or crony Who hands me a check that my bank says is phony! —Artuer L, Lippmann The woman who fainted and the chivalrous seconds. comicbooks.com