Life, 1919-04-10 · page 17 of 46
Life — April 10, 1919 — page 17: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This satirical piece uses cars as stand-ins for social classes. A fancy, snobbish automobile (representing the wealthy elite) encounters a shabby, worn-out vehicle (representing the working class) on the road. The wealthy car boasts of its superiority and exclusive "set," refusing to acknowledge the humble car as an equal. The working-class car's response forms the satire's point: though currently inferior, it will outlast its haughty rival. When "1920 opens," the fancy car will be "scrapped"—likely referencing economic cycles or social upheaval—while the humble car continues serving its loyal master faithfully for years. The accompanying street scene shows a boy trying to impress his date by asking a man to call for a taxi, reinforcing themes of aspiration and pretense. The title "Gloria Mundi" (Latin: "glory of the world") ironically comments on how fleeting status and material superiority truly are.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
AVOIDING A BORE Gloria Mundi Oo" a haughty little snorty little naughty-mobile Went a-calling on the Mineola Road, Vhile a shabby little runabout with patches on its wheel Was in waiting at the very same abode was a wheezy little sneezy little greasy little rat In its better days it might have been a Ford; \nd the snippy little lippy little high aristocrat cret of the fact that it was bored. “Yon sec, my dear, you're not in my set: an never be my way: ve met Tn passing ont on the highway. For some shall glitter and some shall rust, liut the frumpy little stumpy little bumpy-mobile Made an answer that was eloquent and apt: 1 is true that for the moment you have got the upper wheel, ut when 1920 opens you'll be scrapped. 1 may keep your haughty, snorty little sporty little year: When it’s over you'll be lightly cast aside ; Kut I'm jozuing with my master through a happy, long career, And he'll need me till my little works have died. You see, my dear, you're not in my set; ir way can never be my way; n't recall we ever have met In passing out on the highway. For some shall glitter and some shall rust, SAY, MISTER, I'M COMING BY HERE WITH MY JANE IN A And some shall swallow the dust, the dust.’ MINNIT, IT ’UD MAKE A BIG EFFECT IF YOU'D HOLLFR, ‘TAXI, Juliet Wilbor Tompkins, MISTER?'” comicbooks.com