Life, 1919-11-27 · page 12 of 36
Life — November 27, 1919 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains satirical commentary on post-WWI American politics and society. The top cartoon jokes about animal identification, likely mocking public confusion or political rhetoric. The main piece, "Put Our House in Order!" critiques widespread social problems: corruption among politicians and profiteers, church hypocrisy, labor unrest, poverty, and profiteering on Wall Street. The skeleton figure titled "The Man Who Waited to Get His Number" appears to reference death or fate, suggesting these problems persist unaddressed. The poem catalogs societal ills—from "smug reformers" to "hypocrites," wounded veterans hidden from sight, and financial exploitation—while repeatedly insisting "we must put our house in order." The satire suggests American institutions have failed to address fundamental social injustices despite wartime sacrifice.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“MUMMY, IS THAT A BLACK HORSE WITH WHITE STRIPES OR A WHITE HORSE WITH BLACK STRIPES?” Curious! HAT raids can blackjack heads but not ideas. That amendments can prchibit but not stop thirst That injunctions can enjoin men from getting what they nt, but have no power over the wants. That there are gags for the mouth, but none for the bri That when the world had been made “safe for democracy everything became unsafe. Sue (to man on Elevated): Don't you ever get up to give your seat toa lady? Tue Man: Lady? Put Our House in Order! Over the sea where the dead men sleep The crosses stand in the sun; Over the sea where women weep Toils on the silent Hun. Over the sea where the shadows creep His work is never done. HERE are politicians braying to the sky; There are solemn-faced committees brooding deep; There are profiteers unheeding all the clamor and the ding; somolent church wardens fast asleep. ¢ statesmen knowing not which road to take While our anarchists, red-handed, flare the way. There are horny-handed slackers led by parasitic clackers— Let us put our house in order (So we say!) There are smug reformers feathering their nests; There is revelry of wastrels day and night; There are talkers, there are fighters (but they're not among the blighters); There are wounded, but they're hidden from the sight THE MAN WHO WAITED TO GET HIS NUMBEK There are senators who bicker at their posts; There are hypocrites who snicker as they pra: And the ladies, war tasks dropping, they are buying, they are shopping: Let us put our house in order (So we sav!) There are wives and mothers stecled in sacred grief; There are heroes, but they've gone where heroes go; There's a mob of Wall Strect brokers scraping profits 1) like stokers; ‘There are little children shivering in the snow; ‘There are secret sins that never come to light; There are open sins we lightly gloss away And the wheel of Fate turns slowly for the grafter and th lowly— We must put our house in order (So we say!) Over the sea where the dead men sleep The crosses stand in the sun; Over the sea where the women weep Toils on the silent Hun Over the sea where the shadows creep His work is never done. T.L. M. comicbooks.conmy