Judge — January 1933 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

Bock to Bock T’s all very well for beer to come back and wet the Great American Whistle. Great American Manhood ought to feel quite hoopla about it. But how is Great American Woman- hood going to feel? I should imagine it’d object, and if it doesn’t, I'd like to object for it. These grounds :— Beer is masculine gender. It is brewed in carnera-sized vats, kegged in manly containers; and delivered by giants with Power Trust muscles in gargantuan trucks pulled by Brob- dingnagian percherons. These giants play football with these kegs during their off moments. Beer is consumed in great steins in company with vast quantities of pretzels, cheeses, bolognas, pickles and rye breads. While consuming it, men vie with each other over their capacities. They point with great pride to the marks said capacities have left on them: such as miracu- lous expanses of haunch, paunch and jowl, red cheery cheeks, firm muscles, steady hand and ability to look a person in the eye with clear orbs. They become very manly in- deed. The greater the quantity of beer consumed, the greater the boastful coefficient to the talk and the greater the imaginative coefficient to deeds done in the past. Under the influence of many schoon a man will boast about his weight, his weight lifting ability, his powers of labor, his ex- ploits as a bachelor, his goodness of heart, and the medicinal influence beer has had on him. Beaucoup beer will also cause him to discuss bril- liantly subjects he knows absolutely nothing about, such as celestial hy- draulics, the course of empire, Henry George and the Single Tax, Russia, the Law, the Higher Philosophy and the Advantages of a Small Farm in the Country. On the other hand, beer is de- cidedly not a woman’s drink. It is not really pleasing to the taste of a woman. A woman who likes beer is like a child that adores spinach. Secondly, beer as a woman's drink is unzsthetic. No woman likes to fancy herself decorating a brass rail with a bartender in a_ spitcurl showering stein after stein on her. She hasn’t the necessary leg power. Three steins and she’d crumple and want to find a little booth to take an- other in, Beer, most decidedly, is not swizzled in little booths. Fie on such ideas! Again, to blot up beer properly, it to blow off the collar. I don’t know a woman in a million who could apply a good lustful blow to the collar. Nor do women like to drink from a stein. It’s not delicate or fragile enough. The female wrist would get no kick out of grasping it. And what woman could shout hoch, and let a schoonerful flow down the lower regions without stopping for breath and the devil with the throat muscles? No, she'd want it served in a cocktail glass with a straw. Lastly, it is a common maxim that woman never likes to come right out in the open and discuss things like a man. Liquor makes her giggly, catty and very possessive. Not to mention jealous, noisy and quite likely to burst out in a soprano or tears. It also encourages her to want you to buy things for her. It is obvious, then, that beer, which mellows a man, swells him up, and turns him into an honest creature, at once philosophic and silver-tongued, is go- ing to have no such effect on a woman, Lastly it’s downright bad for her figure. I for one don’t want to snug- gle up against a Machamer girl who has consumed an east river full of the golden elixir. comicbooks.com