Judge, 1932-05-21 · page 12 of 36
Judge — May 21, 1932 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis for Modern Readers This is a humorous murder-mystery parody titled "Among Us Murderists" by Lawton Mackall. The satire mocks the popularity of 1920s-30s detective fiction and "cozy mystery" conventions. The joke: at a dinner party, an uncle dies suspiciously. Rather than genuine alarm, the guests treat it as entertainment—one woman even compliments the hostess's arsenic quality, comparing shopping for poison as casually as buying groceries. A Scotland Yard detective collapses into the fireplace. A secret bookcase opens, revealing a gorilla that absconds with a guest through a window and rain-pipe. The cartoon above shows characters in deliberately ridiculous poses captioned "They're not speaking"—exaggerating melodramatic mystery-story tropes. The satire targets how fashionable mystery fiction had become among society people, treating real violence as parlor game entertainment. The escalating absurdity (competitive poison shopping, gorillas in libraries) mocks the implausible plot mechanics these stories relied upon.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
JUDGE “Nice of you to say so. Really, though, it’s nothing out of the ordin y—just Mother’s Own, Guest s » kind that says on the pack- age, ‘Lethe is e lump’? Why, I didn’t recognize it. But tell me, you clever housewife, how did you—’.. They were interrupted by a dull thud, the Man from Scotland Yard collapsed into the fireplace, gum shoes and all. Was he shamming? To be on the safe side, I signaled Lu ia to ring for the butler to a tempted to do so, but in pressed the wrong button! Imayine the surprise then when, instead of the obsequious Mugyins putting in appearance, the north bookcase of our mystery library swung out, revealing Wuzzy, our gorilla, It w his fi bow in society, and he was in great shape— ylowering and frothing and what not. Even I was surprised at the celerity with which he seized hold of that Miss What-you-may-callem from Yonkers. (I can’t think of her name, but I seem to remember that she had red hair.) In less time than it takes to turn a page, friend Wuzzy, lively as a cricket, had sprung with her to the window and was lochinvaring up the rain-pipe. Bound for the haunted cupola, we presumed. “They're not speaking.” AMONG US MURDERISTS By Lawton Mackall to be quite an eveni 1 all the keenest crime 3 derists in our set, so we were sure of a good time; but it did seem special luck, though, to have old Uncle S found strangely done to death in the wing just as Lucretia was pouring tea. The discovery e was “that way” sort of started things. “How baffling!” shrilled Sue Killingsby, one of m wife’s old schoolmates at Homicide Hall. She's alway the life of these situations. Maybe it wv something odd in the tea,” suggested somebody. At which there was a chorus of, “Do have another cup!” Lucretia, the perfect hostess, smiled and kept pour- ing. Beside her a fresh kettle sang on the hob, emitting intriguing green fumes. “Sugar?” she asked. xpansive in a sliding-panel gown, took sion to lorgnette one of the lumps. “My dear,” she cooed, “where do you get your arsenic? It’s so much smarter, so much more sugary-looking than the kind I get at the unpretentious little poisonne shoppe 1 patronize. “Gad! That's the first hatpin I've seen in years!” comicbooks.com