Judge — January 1933 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

Judge faint ondulations still lingered, I was at some pains not to reach up and whack her, the contempt with which any given coiffeur regards work other than his own being beyond loth my comprehension and _toler- ance, but I did say nought, deeming t unwise to provoke a woman armed with a pair of heated curling tongs. So up and did on my black frock with the great white collar, and off to lunch at a publick with Lydia Loomis, who has bought an airship end can talk of little else, but she cannot persuade me to accompany her hither and thither on her flights through emphasizing the time mini- mum, for I have marked that how- ever few the hours spent aloft, pas- engers are set down in Newark, Koosevelt Field, or some other out- lying spot from which the return home is far more difficult and tedious than from the Grand Central Sta- tion. As Samuel has always main- tained, it is much simpler to go to Europe than to go to Brooklyn. A quiet evening listening to the radio, albeit the substance of some of the popular lyrics was nauseating, and when one crooner announced that he would not trade the silver in his mother’s hair for all the gold in the world, I could but hope that the old lady was not listening, else she would regret having reared her boy to be a simpleton. “Mr. Wiggins is out—This is Mr. McGuire speaking.” CAs “Hic—n-n-now lesh get lost again—we need ‘nother drink.” g ig 1 comicbooks.com