Judge, 1932-05-14 · page 12 of 36
Judge — May 14, 1932 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Explanation for Modern Readers This is a humorous letter from a self-made athlete named Bull to his father, describing misadventures traveling through Texas and Mexico with his dog Percy. The satire mocks both Bull's naïveté and period attitudes about the Southwest. Key satirical points: - Bull's incompetence: he boils eggs in the dog's water tank; loses Percy in the Rio Grande; foolishly bets the dog in a poker game - Stereotyping: references to Mexico as lawless ("when a thing goes over the border...kiss it good-bye"), dismissal of Mexican locals, casual racism about "Indian gals" - The illustrations show Percy escaping after being shot at in Mexico, and Bull's romantic mishaps - The humor relies on Bull's obliviousness—he's actually terrible at everything despite calling himself "self-made" - The closing joke: he's lost his dog gambling and now wants money wired home The piece satirizes cocky American youth, casual attitudes toward other cultures, and get-rich-quick schemes typical of the era.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Letters of a Self-Made Athlete EAR POP: Here 1 am in Tia Juana, which means your Aunt Mary in our lan- yuage, but don’t ask me why. A lot of dirty water has yone under the bridye since I last wrote and here me of it. We hit across Texas last week and what with the heat and flies, to say nothing of Percy’s snores, thinys sot pretty tough. Would you believe it when I say I boiled a couple of egys for breakfast in Percy's tank?) That was the pay off! when we hit the Rio Grande the Show laid over and I fi around Percy and ambled him down to the river fora dip. I thought the Rio Grande was a river—what a bunch of dopes these sony writers turned out to be! I finally lo muddy looking trickle and le ator splash himself in that Then the fun started. Blame it on the Spring or something, but that wrinkled son of a gun cast loose the rope and headed for the unk. A bunch of surprised yreas- ers watched him climb out on their side and then took it on the Jam pronto. I yuess ‘gators in Mexico s live Presidents ran back to the Show and tried raise a posse, but all I got was the ugh. When a thing sroes over the border it is time to kiss it srood-bye—only I of ¢ La rope rshing and a troop valry can retrieve it for you. JUDGE “Why, Tony, you're another Bing Crosby!” That night I went back to the tent ing pretty sick; it’s funny how attached I yot to that snapping piece of Florida Sunshine. In an hour or so T heard a whiffling at the door and umping up I see Percy! Boy, what « beating that baby must have His tongue was hanging out and he was ell chipped up with bul let holes around the tail. We arrived in San Dieyo yesterday and last nisht 1 came down for a lit- tle fun at the roulette wheel. 1 dropped fifty smacks and tried my luck shooting crap. That was sui- cide, too, so | wound up at the poker table. And this is where the bad news comes in. I drew a pretty pair ot red aces back to back, but Loy tailed along ever We yot our last carc he didn’t reraise me. That was the dough I had, so I had to sweeten it just once more—with Percy. The doy outdrew me to a straight! So here I am. Tomorrow this lo- cal guy is drivingye me back to yet Perc He only speaks Spanish and 1 tried to tell him about Perey, but he won't listen. I wonder just what he thinks he won, anyway? Better wire me fifty bucks, for it’s a cinch the show'll can me without Perc I think I'll so up to Holly- wood and crash the movies. If ever a gruy was cut to play Tarzan, it’s me and I hear they are looking for guys like that. Pretty crumby bunch of seforitas around town but I hear they have all yone to Hollywood. Wire the dough—don't write. Adios, Your Son, Bull Rex Dean comicbooks.com