Life, 1918-01-24 · page 35 of 40
Life — January 24, 1918 — page 35: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This short story satirizes the pretentious superiority of East Coast (New York) elites toward Westerners. The narrator, an Easterner, murders a visiting Western businessman over dinner—not from genuine offense, but from seething resentment at the man's effortless perfection and confidence. The joke is the narrator's absurd hypersensitivity: he's offended by the Westerner's correct manners, good clothes, and grammatical precision, viewing these as arrogant rather than admirable. The murder itself is triggered by the final insult—the Westerner's mild observation that Eastern frogs' legs seem slightly more "bowed" than Western ones. The satire mocks Eastern provincial vanity and defensive insecurity masquerading as refinement. The Easterner's jealous rage over minor social details reveals how hollow his cultural superiority actually is.
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dier roll. ind- rket and ind- him the the et's him SP E* At dance or dinner Themost delight- ful dancing frock —the most elegant dinner decollete either has an added charm from the occasional use of Gvanss Depilatory This standard toilet accessory re- moves superfluous hair temporarily. (There’s no safe way to do it perma- nently.) 75 c 101 Evans's complete and convenient outfit for applying the depilatory. At your own drug- or department-store—or send us 75e with your dealer’s name and address, \, George B Evans 1108-Chestaut St Philadelphia Makers of “Mum? HIS WEAK SPOT CAUTION: LIFE employs no direct travel- ing representatives; it does not offer prizes, college courses or other in- ducements for agents to canvass for subscriptions. Anyone soliciting subscriptions on any such basis should be turned over to the author- ities as a swindler. Be sure to place your order with a reliable bookseller, news agent or solicitor, if you do not mail it to LIFE direct. Ba os nema a LIFE PUBLISHING COMPANY 17 West 31st Street, New York Avenging the Honor of the West By D. Dimeron E was a typical New Yorker, the man I killed, Everything about him was perfect. His hair, a slight wave, just enough. His face, keen-cut, alert. His very being radiated activity. One thought of cold baths, scented with violet ammonia. His clothes spoke of Fifth Avenue. His manners oi the British Court. It was at dinner I met him. He was West on business. Very boring, the West. So crude as yet. He liked the women. Very pretty. Not polished, of course, but attractive. Oh, dear, yes. The men? Good, honest chaps. That of a certainty, But did the tailors in the West cut with mowing machines? The lines, awful, And the shoes. Per- haps oolish was cut off by the war. Yet in the East— I hated him, of course. He was so perfect. My collar felt tight, my clothes too loose, And my hands, Ye gods! the bigness of them. We talked, or rather he talked. His grammar was quite correct. He knew everything. There were no arguments. He alone knew the right answers. And as he talked I became more and more peevish, And more. At last the cocktails came. They were good, but ah, we should taste the Ritz-Carlton special. Nothing like it in the West. The oysters? Fair. But not so fresh as on the Atlantic Coast And always he used the right fork, and always he ate so correctly, How I hated him! It was then the frogs’ legs came that —but wait. You have beer West? Perhaps you have tasted the frogs’ legs at Coppa’s, the St. Francis. They can- not be excelled. The crispness. Anx- iously, with bated breath, I watched while, with gesture dainty, he took a taste. Did he smack his lips? No, no, it isn’t done. But over his face came the smile of satisfaction so rare in an Easterner. And then, again his brow wrinkled. Trembling, I inquired, “ You like them?” He glanced at me, through me, and as he dangled a little leg perfectly on his fork, he replied : “They are surprisingly delicious. Superbly cooked.” I sank back in my chair, At last something approved. The honor of the West was saver But he continued, “ Yet, as I look at them, it seems to me they are more bowed than those we get in the East.” It was then I killed him. And as his head tipped forward, he gasped, “ Ship my body East. Bury me in New York.” He wavered, then with a struggle, looked at me and faintly murmured, Universal News Service The Christian Science Monitor through its world-wide news gather- ing service records daily the con- structive development of the human race. It publishes in detail the most significant happenings of world politics. It analyzes, classi- fies, and interprets world events editorially from an international view point. Its governing purpose in this period is to establish a better un- derstanding between the progres- sive elements in human affairs, not only in America, but throughout the world. The Christian Science Monitor is on general sale throughout the world at news stands, hotels and Christian Science reading-rooms at 3c a copy. A monthly trial sub- scription by mail anywhere in the world for 75c, a sample copy on request. THE CHRISTIAN SCIENCE PUBLISHING SOCIETY | BOSTON U.S.A. “You stabbed me with the wrong fork. You should have used that for the oysters.” Stunned, I looked. He was right. I had killed him with an oyster fork. What had I eaten my oysters with? There was a spoon missing. Ye gods! Disgraced, I put my head down on the table and wept huge Western tears. that can be Enjoyed by Everyone WAVING NON-INTOXICATING ‘NO GOFERSMENT LICENSE REQUIRED FULL BODIED, MELLOW, SATISFYING Deak HUDSON, N. ¥. comicbooks.con