Judge — June 11, 1932 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

Skippy Dialogues By Perey Crosby Well, prosperity’s comin’ Y A008: back, ‘cause I was lookin’ over rbage on me way down shells all over the place. Skippy: That's nice! the coffee ground What other kind o° YacoB: Let’s see—oh, yes, was orange peels. Skippy: Orange — pe must o’ given the country back to the people. YAcoB: crust. Skippy: “A wilful waste makes a woeful want.” Yaco. SKIPPY wilful waste. Yacos: Or, not!” Skippy: Yes, but mine's better. Say who do ya think was perfumin’ up Vesey Street? Nobody but the boulevard brat Farnsworth. I quizzed him about their garbage just ’s I could see the gulls fly up on orehead, “What kind o’ garbage on the boulevari * T asked. “Garbage he says. “Y garbage,” I says, “Swill, you carnation!” Well, he gets runnin’ off the garbage on his fingers. Then puttin’ on a casket face, he ‘There’s such a fright- ful lot of bridge going on in our quarter, that unless one occasionally hows a chop bone in the refuse, one really doesn’t belong.” Yacos: BPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!! eyst- Looks as if days are over. sarbage did ya there Marlowes had a bread A bread crust! A woeful want makes a irt s, sir! “Waste Want not! Skippy: That reminds me. Collar “ Button was with me an’ I owe him another potato for his oil can. Yacob: I suppose Farnsworth goin’ to take his piano lesson n? Skippy: Yeah. I'd rather have music go in the s than come out the fingers any day, ’cause I went through the music racket one whole afternoon, stucyin’, an’ I don’t think there’s anythin’ to that end of it. JUDGE “Yeah, any day, 'cause musie racket.” Unless, 0° course, trade. YAcos: xot to liv Skippy: ya take it up a Yes, 0’ course people's Yes, indeed. Yacos: Whenever [I see music writin’, it reminds me of a lot o° ickaninnies climbin’ over a fence: Maybe they're playin’ soldiers — they’re always carryin’ flags. Still, I mustn’t forget that music made me what I am today. Yacos: What do you mean? Skippy: Oh, I don’t know, I would've been on a freight train now, maybe, if it wasn’t for “Home, Sweet That yoes down in ya. time I he that song, I feel swallowin’ baseballs. If I heard the boulevard brat playin’, I'd want all the base- balls I could lay me hands on. Skippy: If I heard him play, it wouldn't exactly stir up an enemy- ship with me—just his fingers goin’ a I'd rather have music go in the cars than come out the fingers T went through the up an’ down the piano would make me think of a lot of sissies hoppin’ up an’ down the street. Y AcoB: Well, piano-playin’ an’ horn-tootin’ an’ sawin’ up a fiddle may | right, but let me hear the at the Queensboro A, C. yellin’ for a knock-out, an’ that’s music to me. Skippy: What have ya got against music players? : in the blood I guess. a the truth, me aunt mar- ried a guy who could only play the black places onthe piano. So when he harps off, she marries a_ bloke who could only play the white places on the piano. Skippy: Which did she like? Yacos: One was feedle-dee-dee, an’ the other w foodle-dee-doo, so she run away with the fish peddler se she figured she couldn't yo wrong with him an’ his one note. comicbooks.com