Judge — August 1938 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

“Do IT occur TO YOU THAT I MIGHT LIKE SOME OF THOSE PEANUTS?” moonlight was magical. Mr. Abitabile peered out the cabin window. “All right,” he said, “now you tell him.” For a moment I felt pity. “Does he know what is going to happen?” I asked. “Sure he knows,” said Mr. Abitabile. “He loves Il Duce. He is glad.” The bank president smiled and bowed. “All right,” I thought, “you are asking for it.” Then quickly I let him have it: “Go And Tell Aunt Nabby Her Old Gray Goose Is Dead.” I took pains to speak distinctly. For a moment the victim just sat there, his face getting whiter and whiter. Then faintly he made a sound like “oosh.” Suddenly his face purpled, his eyes popped. He sprang to his feet and dove shrieking through the cabin win- dow. Tt was six thousand four hundred and thirty eight feet to the ground. I knew that I was cured. “A brave man,” said Mr. Abitabile. “His deed has saved the world.” We shook hands warmly. This Advertised Age I was raised on advertised milk They prepared by an advertised rule, And as soon as I possibly could, I attended an advertised school. With an advertised suit on my back, And an advertised pen in my hand, I was told that I soon might aspire To the helm of this advertised land. To an advertised club I belong, And I listen to advertised men Who explain in a wonderful way What is advertised now and again. To an advertised grave I will go When at last I havevfinished the strife, And behold on the stone overhead The advertised dates. of my life. —David ‘Ferris Kirby. Several peeresses, heavy on pedigrees, but light on cash, have been notified by the chambermaid that their presence will not be required at further court functions this season. New York Journal-American. Not the Lord Chambermaid? An address of prestige where the discrim- inating traveler may relax in an atmosphere of refinement. Under the same management as The Drake and The Blackstone in Chicago. A. S. Kirkeby, Managing Director The Town fouse ON WILSHIRE IN LOS ANGELES rt DO YOU FLY INTO RAGES? Do you get so furious you could put arsenic in the water cooler? Are there ind want to boil somebody oil? Sure there arel That long line ‘on your palm means you are a creature of moods—oh, frightful moods, the kind of person that gets sore reading the morning paper. * Don't do it—don't murder anybody —don't stab your mother—don't beat your wife. (Crime does not pay a liv- ing wage. want to help you. We don't u subscribe to THE JUDGE; shucks, we're piling up all the increment we want. We're just thinking of you. We Want to Sublimate Your Ra and Keep You Out of Harm's Way. Just Follow the Directions: See the little coupon? Well, glare at itl Work yourself into a lather of white hot anger. Then TEAR IT OUT SAVAGELY! SLAP IT INTO AN EN- VELOPE. Pound an AMERICAN stamp. on it! Then JAM IT into an AMERI- CAN mail box and go home and cool off! THE JUDGE—I8 East 48th Street, New York Keep me out of harm's way with The Judge forfone vear and tend me the bill for $1.50 two years and send me the bill for $2.75 Name Address City State comicbooks.com