Life — September 25, 1913 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

ERE: 517 WHERE THE MILITANTS WANT HER Man AN: a once useful animal, who lived on the earth for the purpose of enabling woman to reach her present exalted position. Strange as it may seem, it is doubtful if without him woman could be what she is at present. Man was employed on railroads, in mines, and at the head of primitive states. He was also used in the army and waited upon the table in palm rooms. Some of the rarest and crudest works of art, poetry and drama were fashioned by man before woman came to her own. It is said he was Possessed at one time of a strange illusion that he was neces- sary. Since man has gone out, his place in evolution is well recognized, it being thought that without him our present financial system would not be what it is. Aside from this, however, no permanent use has been discovered for man. He appears to have been a parasite, who filled up the gap between the old régime and the new. At one time man was thought to be immortal, but this view was held almost entirely by himself. On the Level OF all the folks in all the world who go to picture galleries, Add lustre to the varnishings of all the springtime shows, Who wave lorgnette and eyeglass while the artists earn their salaries By emulating Masters in the manner of their pose; I wonder, in this earnest throng, how many of the knowing ones Who murmur, “Too much foreground!” brutality and pith!" “Distinctive drawing!" “See this Splash—he’s ranked among the growing ones!” Can tell a Whistler moonlight from an Autumn scene by Smith? “There's Of all the folks in all the town who go to sce Grand Opera. Go gadding after Gadski and are flooey o'er Farrar, Who fill the Diamond Horseshoe with each bright tiara- topper—a Bejeweled glare quite dimming the effulgence of the Star— Who rave about leit motifs till there's really no use hin- dering ; 1 wonder, of these connoisseurs who never give us peace, How many, O how many, when they go a-Koenigskinder- ing Know half as much of music as the pretty Goose Girl's geese? Of all the Leading Citizens who shine at dedications most, Who're always laying cornerstones for Homes of Higher Thought, Who make commencement speeches, give advice in their orations most And hold best pews in churches where salvation can be bought ; How many, O how many of these idols-to-be-mollified, These models whose approval gives Success its proper stamp, If gauged by moral measure, would be any better qualified To stand upon the pedestal than Dusty Jones, the tramp. In fact, if Doc Diogenes should put his X-ray clinical Upon the inner workings of us humans in a chunk, He'd get a diagnosis that would make us all so cynical We'd join our hands fraternal in the Brotherhood of Bunk. One priest said, “Omnia vanitas!” the world’s pretenses summing well— Too harsh, perhaps, his judgment—but this fact to me appears: If all the Humbugs in the world a-while should cease their humming—well, We might enjoy some echoes from the music of the spheres. Wil. comicbooks.com