Life, 1908-06-25 · page 14 of 21
Life — June 25, 1908 — page 14: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page satirizes the fashion for German Idealist philosophy (particularly Immanuel Kant's thought) that was gaining intellectual currency in early 20th-century America. The main cartoon illustrates a man's absurd attempt to live by Idealist principles—the belief that reality exists only as mental constructs ("ideas") rather than objective facts. The humor comes from applying this abstract philosophy to everyday life: he dismisses his wife as merely a "noumenon" (thing-in-itself), treats breakfast as "phenomenal empiricism," and describes a cook stealing brandy as merely "a particular state of consciousness." The joke escalates when his wife attacks him with a knife—which he insists has "no objective existence"—yet he still flees to the police station in panic, exposing the philosophy's absurdity. One cannot actually live as if reality is merely subjective. A secondary cartoon shows a mail carrier confused by spelling ambiguity between "H. Fly" and similar names, a lighter joke about miscommunication. The satire targets intellectuals who adopt fashionable Continental philosophy while remaining practically unable to doubt material reality.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
690 A Prayer “] FE isa game,” so I’ve heard old men say. Then give me cards. I only ask to play A round or two, just long enough to get A taste of what it’s like, and to forget, (Plunged in the fever-passion of it all) No matter how luck runs, there is a call. And when the final show-down comes, I ask For nerve to go unflinching to the last; ‘Then silently to cash my checks, as one Who, having had his fling at fate, is done; Content to know that in his little store Is all he borrowed from the bank—and more. Robert V. Hoffman. ‘Being an Idealist The Idealistic position ia philsophy is in reality very simple. It means this: That the world, so far as I know it, exists only as my idea, as a state of con- sciousness. This table is not a table. It is only a sensuous formula which I calla table. And so on of everything, my own body, my friends etc. There are in reality only two things: My- self (my ego) and my states of consciousness (my non ego).—From a recent text book. I AROSE this morning with my Ego, as usual, feeling first-rate. After I had arrayed my Ego for business, I proceeded to examine my Non Ego. I have to keep pinching my- self all the time to remind myself that my Non Ego is after all nothing but the i masking under my own con- And even this has no objective validity, don’t you know, for pinching myself is only stimulating a certain set of sensations referable to another state of consciousne Ah, well, it’s all in the NOW. For, of course, there isn’t anything else but a NOW. When I was in that syn- thetic Unity called Yesterday (which is in itself only a part of the NOW) I was under the strange impression there was a WHAT and a THAT. A mere illusion: I must go over my Transcendental Dialectic again in order to under- stand this better. As I went down to that condition of pure phenomenal em- piricism I call breakfast, my wife (who poses under the form of a stern reality, but is nothing but a noumenon or a particular state of consciousness which assumes a peculiar form, chang- ing in its apparent aspect from mild, gentle, to ferocious and voluble) explained to me with tears in her eyes that the sup- posed entity we call the cook (an ontological term standing for a variable phenomenon) had been drinking all my best brandy. Now, what had happened, or rather, that particular disturb- ance of my conscious Non Ego which had been evolved from previous conditions, was, that a particular state of conscious- ness had encroached, as it were, upon another state. This Mr, Buc (the mail carrier): Gee! I wish people would be a little more explicit with their spelling. Here’s a letter marked H. Fly and I'll be blamed if I know whether it’s for that humble Mr. Horse Fly in the stable or that haughty Mr, House Fly in the cottage. naturally had impinged upon my Ego, with the result that, speaking from a basely materialistic standpoint, we were both in danger of our lives. For at this point in time (an a priori form or Ego) the phenomenon in question appeared, brandish- ing a carving-knife which, indeed, had no objective existence. Nevertheless, I felt distinct evidences of the phenomena of shuddering. In less time than it takes to tell I had shifted my conscious state from that of dining-room to a police station, my wife (hysterical noumenon) following me ina syntheticdisunion. In effect this was really a synchronization, although refer- able apparently to two separate conditions. I merely mention the whole event (a synthetic evolution) to show the supreme advantage of being an Idealist, over those who are merely common Dualists or Realists. For when I was called a mouse-colored coward for running away from my wife, it was only necessary for me to appreciate the great truth that this was in effect only a charge preferred against one state of my consciousness by another. Thus my Ego became normal; and even threatened proceed- ings for divorce have no meaning for me, as they are casily quite resolvable into other states of consciousness which have no objective validity. I confess, however (doubtless a weakness), that it seems hard on my Ego to have to take its meals at a restaurant, even though this is a phenomenon. Thomas L. Masson. RIGGS: Was the hotel crowded with young girls? Griccs: Yes! But not half’so much as I was.