Judge — May 17, 1930 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

AIG Gowf us is the season when lonely wives at lonely luncheon tables staring at the vacant place op- posite, while their dollar-darlings, at- tired in plus 106s, herding little boys burdened with bags of wood and iron, tear up millions of acres of lawns all over the country in the name of sport. Soon handicap three men will plain to the tournament committee about a guy with three (rusty) clubs in his bag and a twenty-five hand who shot an 88 in a ball-sweepstakes. This is all very trite. I want to give golf some new notions, equalling, frinst, the new ball which is supposed to make the game easier for the duffer but harder for Bobby Jones. Why not case the game still more for the boob? I have in mind an invention called the Bobby Jones. It is an auto- maton-robot which is attached to the duffer and no matter how he swings, the mechanism corrects his faults and makes him shoot a sliceless, hookless, perfectly straight smash down the fairway. They have also installed a Frigid- aire on links, ice cubes being provided at every hole Well, why not sur- round the ice plant with a gynnasium, thus saving all that wait for the one at the end of every 18th hole? For the bettor who is not satisfied with Nassau bets: bets on individual holes, syndicate holes, syndicate put- ting, nearest approach to the pin, length of drives, medal play, foursome bets and which - what bets; betting on the color of the caddy's eyes, his mother’s age, on the duration of the next war; and on the next Book of the Month Club selection, might help. I would like to start a service which provides divorce - proof escort for the above mentioned golf-widows; automatic deadeners for club bores, clowns and post-mortemers; an ¢: multiplier for hol tenners and _ television recorders for hole-in- SEASON HAS oners. FORMALLY OPENED JUDGE Commuters’ Special Give a thought to the man who com- mutes in New York ‘but doesn't leave the city limits. In fact he may live right around the corner from his of fice, yet he must rush for his evening conveyance. He's the lad who dwells in the upper reaches of a Fred F. French cloud-tickler. Should he miss his evening elevator, dinner will be cold when he finally gets in, and his wife's temper as hideous as a motor cop's complexion, Should he miss the elevator, he is late for the office and his next raise. He can't win, Why not give him a break? At least elevator time-tables might drawn up for his convenience. Club com forts in cach car would help, inky men providing coffee. zines, served in. sinky seats. down! Elevator now leaving the 108th floor! Step down please! Hihattractions The plush cars on the N.Y. NH & H., making parlor cars look like relics of the horsehair sofa days ¢ charged nuther. .. ', made of crepe rubber. Bend or twist it and the cubes pop out without benefit of hotwater faucet, ice- pick or profanity. . . . The modern asparagus berler. It berls the per pendicular plant flat on its back and keeps it so till it is served at table when it is crumbled, in cating, of course, you dodo, . . . The new kitchen ventilator, an electric fan thinguma- bob which can be set up in dens and poker hells to clear the air of smoke, Haig fumes and losers’ beefings. ... The handy bathroom shox polishing kit, very ele- nt, making every man his own Julius the Streetboy. . 2. Mark Hellir 's stories about Constance Bennett's “temperament” in al most every Daily Mirror. —Juoce, Jr. comicbooks.com