Judge, 1929-03-23 · page 11 of 36
Judge — March 23, 1929 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Judge Magazine Satire Analysis This page satirizes contemporary American fascination with Haitian Voodoo religion, presented as exotic "mystery" for titillation. The narrator describes infiltrating a Voodoo ceremony (houmfort) through a guide named Charley, depicting the ritual as theatrical and absurd—featuring a high priest in a Santa Claus mask presiding over an altar with a skull, empty gin bottle, Clara Bow photograph, and soap box. The satire mocks both the sensationalized Western perception of Voodoo as occult danger and the performative aspects of religious practice itself. The crude altar objects (especially the Hollywood starlet photo) underscore Judge's message: the "mystery" is partly fabricated entertainment. The six small cartoon vignettes above appear unrelated, showing physical comedy. The bottom cartoon captioned "A couple of yegg men take some time off to go big-game hunting" features what appear to be criminals (yegg = safecracker/burglar) confronting a large creature, likely satirizing criminal leisure or masculine posturing.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
It was through Charley's ef forts that [owas taken to. the houmfort (mystery house) of the followers of Diqui-Voodoo-de-o0, made a suckaire (p ) and permitted to wear a Diqui-Voo- doo-de-oo petit. onvanga in’ my buttonhole. Twas given a key to the houmfort and told to come round a lot. For several months thereafter, with the authority of tay petit ouanga, 1 went to the houmfort, joining in the simple diversions of the norrs, singing their songs and drinking my gin. I was practically one of them, ex cept on Monday nights, when the houmfort was forbidden me. On Monday nights, Charley said. they made mystére. And when was I to be permitted to view the % Soon, Charley assured me, soon, Even now a cabrit mystere (goat) was being prepared. So it was on a Monday night, when the full moon cast rie shadows through the jungle thick ets and the Rada drums boomed a cosinic rhythm, that I was sum- moned to learn the mysteries of Diqui-Voodoo-de-o0, “Along the tortuous trail To made my way alone to the houmfort. At the threshold I was seized by two of the blacks who waited for me, and tiny petit ouanga was rem | was led through the houmfort and thrust into the mystery room which IT had never be been permitted to penetrate. Lighted by flickering candles, the entire » most of whom T knew, a semi-circle about the the high priest. Even I known him, I would not have recognized him, for his body was enclosed in a swallow tail coat, and over his face was a Santa Claus mask. On the bare floor beside him was a crude altar on which was placed a skull, an empty gin bottle, a signed photo- aph of Clara Bow and a soap box. At my entrance, the assem- » rose and si *Papa-Diqui, nous gagnin zoran- Papa-Diqui, nous gagnin zéna- nas, Papa-Diqui, nous gagnin zoran- ges, zananas, Papa-Diqui-nous gagnin pas ba- nanes. As the weird melody died away, (Continued on page 28) JUDGE =—— = wt A couple of yegg men take some time off to go big-game hunting. comicbooks.com