Judge — May 18, 1929 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

lowanece, He's at Harvard!” “Pd hate to be a spe sitting on the in bottom d in and day out.” said the ‘Treasurer. “1 wouldn't mind it,” said. the president, lighting a cigar, “if 1 good books.” | y well,” added ut. how would you like it if you were a papa sponge and a flock of your chil- dren were dragged to market and used to wash automobiles?” “One of my children does wash tutomobiles. in his spare. time,” exclaimed the vice-president, “and I'm proud of it!” “If my wife were a spor hold her under water ina l- vanized-iron scrub bucket until I'd counted 1,000," said — the treasurer, thoughtfully, The president took out a linen pocket handkerchief and thought- fully polished his pince-nez. Said he finally: “Gentlemen of the board of the Purely Sponge Company—I the secretary, © I'd have a suggestion to make.” “Do vou know how [ feel about catehing >" interrupted the treasurer; “it’s like cropping sponges dogs’ ears.” A MONEY-ORDER FOR TWO GUI , PLEASE! “Here's what let's do!” cried BELLOWED THE BRITON | the vice-president, springing to Introducing the Warner Brothers in their smashing theme his feet: “Let's be kind to our song-hit, “Box-Office, I Love You.” “Is there anything I can do before you leave us, Pat?” queried the weeping wiff of the moribund Clancy. “Faiz, I think I smell roast pork; could T have a bit?” asked Clancy. “I'm sorry, dear, but we're saving it for the wak sniffed the hotsy. And while you were reading that, WLW. Scott wrote dumb friends of the sea and man- ufacture cotton wash clothes. —Jack Crverr ¢ hundred two-line gags. SORRY FOLKs, SEEMS HE'S only A BANTAM- WeIGHT AVO THE YOUNG LADY ISA “icht HEAVY. é The Scientific Summer This summer I propose to live At last in blissful ease. My alternating fan will give A tingling oc By Instead of climbing mountains steep With snobs who put on airs, | In good condition I will keep By climbing flights of stairs. an bree: quitoes in the flat nted, piercing bills To penctrate my hide so that I'll think I'm in the hills, No ardent plea from kin or kith Will lure me from the scene— And I will get my sunburn with My violet-ray machine. Why not have the boxing commissioners weigh in the June brides? —Anruce L. Livesaxs | comicbooks.com