Life, 1911-11-02 · page 23 of 56
Life — November 2, 1911 — page 23: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
The top cartoon depicts a crowd rushing toward a "Special Sale—Mining Stock" window, satirizing the public's gullible enthusiasm for speculative investments despite warnings. The masses are depicted as sheep-like, pursuing obviously risky ventures. Below, the text presents a mock "Pessimists' Club" Thanksgiving dinner agenda, mocking American optimism through deliberately depressing toasts about the President's "harrowing and hopeless job," creditors, and wives' extravagances. The dinner opens with Mendelssohn's Funeral March—dark humor about national pessimism. "Dr. Wiley's Thanksgiving" is a satirical poem by Wallace Irwin praising adulterated, contaminated food while thanking God—likely referencing **Harvey Wiley**, the Progressive-era food safety crusader who exposed food industry corruption (evoking Sinclair's *The Jungle*). The poem sarcastically "thanks" corrupt officials like those blocking pure food legislation, mocking both the food industry's poisoning practices and political obstruction of reform.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
n he es if ) the nost who een sto ese And rac its ou ill ir operation is attended by some show of immediate enjoy- ment, all this is purely fictitious; you will suffer enough the next day to make up for it. Do not hesitate to smoke all you can; excessive and persistent smoking, if continued for several hours at a time, will depress you more than anything else known, All old stories will be welcome. The following toasts will be given “To our wives: May their extravagances never grow less. Prosperity, a fetish.” ‘0 our President, and his harrowing and hopeless job “Our creditors—their inevitably increasing number.” Other toasts will be considered, provided they are pre- pared with a full realization of our condition, At no time in the year is the opportunity for all pes- simists to unite so good as at Thanksgiving time. It is, therefore, believed that all pessimists realizing this will attend this dinner, which will begin with Mendelssohn's Funeral March. s And,in looking for the largest attendance upon record, we desire to state that the great perfection of organization which the Pessimists’ Club has reached should not be taken to mean nything encouraging. On the contrary, it is evi- dence th. the American people as a whole are thoroughly aware ot ‘cir hapless plight. There is, therefore, no con- solation to ve drawn. We have none to offer. ANY a fear sticks a feather in his cap and calls him conservatism. Dr. Wiley’s Thanksgiving ORD, as from off this turk I cut a slice nd 4 Meaning it’s Jain in Omaha on ice For fully six or seven y And as I taste the dressing, brimming o'er With poisonous preservatives abhorred ; That these have never done for me before, I thank Thee, Lord! te its flavor, verging on the strony 8 too long— The cranberry sauce I reach for, knowing well How saccharated glue and analyne Can mock the ruby fruit of Jersey’s dell Yet gnaw away the stomach’s inner shrine; Nay more, I’m ‘ware the jellies of to-day Of falsely flavored, tinted trash are blent, Yet I maintain I'm thankful, anyway— I am content Bring on the old mince pie of ancient me Dopey with acids, sogged with shoddy spice; Fain would I analyze it as I eat, But I confess the language isn’t nice, Being a page from Sinclair's “ Jungle” Combining all the foods and drugs that kill Yet spite of this I do not blame the cook— I'm thankful still. I'm thankful that the Washingtonian clams Who block my schemes to keep our fodder pure The Wilsons and the wicked Wickershams Secking to oust me on a charge obscure— kful when they sit them down to feed On cranberry sause and turk and celeree Are risking King Adulteration’s greed The same as me! Wallace Irwin, comicbooks.com