Life — February 16, 1911 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

-LIFE: Life’s LVI An Allegory Demonstrating Why No Man Should Marry a Suffragette The Song of the Hurt (With congratulation to Thomas Hood) With garments tattered and torn, With hat stove in on his head, A husband ran, in unhusbandly rags, Shricking his woes as he fled; Leap! Leap! Leap! Mid crockery, kettles, and thumps; And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, He wailed his grief to his bumps. “ Jaw—Jaw—Jaw” While the cock is crowing aloof! And Jaw! Jaw! Jaw! Till the stars shine through the roof! It’s O, to marry woman, Smiling, docile, and sweet; Not canting, ranting Venom, Driving me forth to the street! “Jaw—Jaw—Jaw” Till my brain begins to swim! Jaw! Jaw! Jaw! Till my eyes are heavy and dim! “Right,” and suffrage, and vote, Vote, and suffrage, and “ right; Till under the tirade I fall asleep And angered she wakes me to fight! Dovctas R. Gray. LVII The man who marries a suffragette Will suffer more than he’s suffered yet. —Comedy of Terrors. Indisputably such magnificent men- tality and amazonian personality as culminates and fulminates in that hys- terical, chimerical cry “Votes for women” is congenitally and irreme- diably incompatible with those incon- spicuous and unobtrusive characteris- tics which from prehistoric tradition and for eons immemorial one inevita- bly and immutably associates with his prospective hymeneal coadjutor. Indubitably the adequate alimenta- tion of the proximate physiological verities is infinitely more essential than the consideration of the ultimate cos- mic entities. Suffragette Contest $300 to the Winner Notice to Contestants This contest closed on December 31, 1910, no manuscripts received after that date being considered. On account of the number of manuscripts still to be read by the judges, we are unable, at this writ- ing, to give the date of the prize award. But it will be as soon as possible. Irrefutably no prognathous promul- gation appreciably ameliorates the in- cineration of the matutinal biscuit. Nor is the turgidity of the concomitant coffee adequately compensated by the lucidity of any exegetical syllogism. Incontrovertibly an assiduous super- vision and interdiction of the perni- cious peculations of the predatory purveyor of the indispensable valetu- dinarian comestibles is a desideratum which immeasurably preponderates any inquisitorial investigation of the ex- traneous expenditures of an imper- turbably materialistic municipal ad- ministration. Undeniably, a post-prandial disquisi- tion anent problematical political prop- aganda or psychological phantasma- goria inherently lacks efficacity as a sedative. Contrarily the inconsequen- tial persiflage, the linguistic insuffi- the incomprehensible cachin- nations of the mere unemancipated woman is a sovereign anodyne. Indefatigably then let the meticulous aspirant to connubial felicity eschew the acerbity and animadversions of the ultra-progressive female. Rather he should contemplate the saccharinity of unregenerate femininity. Irrevocably espoused to a suffragette Perpetual horripilation is the one best bet Lee Era. LVIII No Man Should Marry a Suf- fragette, Because She Would Think Love, a weakness; Marriage, a surrender; Wifehood, a bondage; Motherhood, a burden; Widowhood, an emancipation. Tu, Kur, LIX Cave Canem! I hold with Tennyson, you bet! I felt it when I sorrowed most; ’Tis better to have loved and lost Than to have won a Suffragette. Our other follies have their day; They have their day, and off they go, But marriage is a life-long woe And Suffragettes—what worse than they ? Man’s love should ever cluster round A wife who treats him passing well, But ah, ’tis Comfort’s passing bell When he to Suffragette is bound. And so I hold with him who sings Of Suffragettes in warning strain That that man is a slave to pain Who weds one of those horrid thingst Grorce A, NicHOLson, LX Why should a man not marry a suf- fragette? Listen: Yonder at the head of the dinner table sits Father—oracle of the fam- ily; fountain of all knowledge; para- gon of truth! For full these thirty years he has been the very keystone of our re- public. Ten times ten million wives and daughters have grown to maturity and wisdom under the careful tutelage of his towering intellect. When they wanted information on any subject under the sun they asked Father. And Father, God bless him, always gave them just as much information as he thought was good for them. When they became inquisitive about the ways of business and asked ques- tions that, if persisted in, might have led to the shocking revelation that al? “the pillars of the church” are not “Pillars of Fire,” Father saved them. He had but to say: “My dear, busi- ness is business. Besides, you wouldn't understand these things even if I ex- plained them to you,” and all was well. When they asked why it was some folks were poor was it not Father who reminded them that the Bible itself declared “the poor we have always with us.” And when they read in the newspapers that certain politicians had (Concluded on page 368) comicbooks.com