Judge, 1931-07-11 · page 11 of 36
Judge — July 11, 1931 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Judge Magazine: "Judge" (Betting Obsession Satire) This page satirizes a compulsive horse-racing gambler through a humorous narrative and accompanying comic strip. The unnamed protagonist is so addicted to placing bets that he claims never leaving Manhattan due to health concerns—yet is obsessively glued to racing results, constantly phoning in bets and checking outcomes. The joke culminates when a decrepit junk wagon horse appears in a traffic jam. The gambler, initially alarmed by the "strange animal," relaxes upon learning it's a horse, revealing his singular focus: *only* racehorses register as interesting to him. Real horses pulling actual work are invisible; only racing horses matter. The closing simile compares his suspicious anxiety to "a color-blind Scot playing poker with strangers"—a period ethnic stereotype suggesting paranoid irrationality. The satire mocks the era's widespread gambling culture and its dehumanizing effect on addicts, rendering them oblivious to ordinary reality.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
| Tia Juana. What a breed ! Boy! Oh, b Yes, sir, it’s a shame to take the money.” He fidge The r said, and he would get the results ina few minujes by telephone. When he did call I judged from his expression that he had made a slight miscalcula- a tion about the horse Parisienne. “T pucss the race was in the bag,” | he said when he hung up. ‘“Grand- father’s Beard did it again.” ¢ was on, he H & turned back to his racing chart with a feverish air, My interest was all roused. “I'd 1 to go out to Belmont,” I said. “What do you say w now? He stared at me blankly. He shook his head. “I seldom leave Manhat- ‘ tan,” he said absently. “Now, take this horse ty Yeast. He's O. K. in a sprint, but——” I didn’t want to spend the rest of the afternoon in that office. “Let's go out and have a drink, then,” I sug- gested. He nodded. “I'll put fifty on Tasty Yeast first. I've got a hunch—" He picked up the receiver. “I'll be with you ina minute, We can find out the results from ‘Tony’s—we can phone n from there. Hello, Johnny And he placed his bet. On our way to Tony’s we were held up by a traffic jam. As we paused on the curb, I observed, “Did I under- stand 4 ou never leave Man- hattan? “Doesn't agrce with my health.” He was looking eagerly into the cen- ter of the traffic jam as he spoke, to where a wagon labeled Junk and Old Bottles was holding. up taxis trying to cross Fifth Avenue. sives me the jitters!” “But how can you attend the aces?” I persevered, but he n't tening. He had taken hold of my arm and was holding it tensely. “Good Lord, what's that strange- i looking animal in front of that junk wagon?” “What do you mean? Strange ani- mal? You mean that horse?” 1 His hand relaxed. “Horse? Well, is that a horse? It’s a funny thing. You know, I thought they looked something like that.” But he was no longer interested. lurry up,” he said as the traffic cleared. “I want to get to Tony's and phone up to } if I made anything on Tasty Yeast. —P.S§ ou to say r Simile As suspicious as a color-blind Scot playing poker with strangers.