Life, 1920-08-26 · page 24 of 36
Life — August 26, 1920 — page 24: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains several humorous sketches typical of early 20th-century American satire: **"Local Gossip"** depicts rural characters—the Deacon and Missus Oakman—who laboriously churn ice cream for a Baptist social, only to have rain prevent attendance. They then eat the entire batch to prevent waste, causing the wife stomach distress and the Deacon to nearly freeze. The humor targets small-town life's petty disasters and working-class earnestness. **"The Acid Test"** mocks Christian Science's denial of material reality. A grandmother's commonsense suggestion (feed the sick boy a pickle) contrasts with the daughter-in-law's spiritual explanation that illness is merely "error," satirizing the sect's rejection of medical evidence. **"The Curate"** critiques British literary convention—the hapless Anglican curate as a stock comedic figure in humorous fiction, perpetually subject to ridicule. The final joke about a Californian "losing his health while earning money to regain it" satirizes get-rich-quick schemes and health-tourism fads.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
The Baptists had a sociabul last Tuesday night. The Deacon and Missus Oakman donated the ice cream, and it kep’ ‘um a-turnin’ that air freezer putty nigh all day to git enough. Erlong about sundown it begun to cloud we and fust thing you know it come on to rain. The Meetin’ House was lit up, but thar didn’t nobody much turn out. The Deacon was all upsot over that there ice cream being a total loss, so he and Missus Oakman started in to eat it to keep it from spilin’, They et and et till finally a pain ketched Missus Oakman in the stummick, or I guess they'd ‘a’ finished the hull mess. They had to have the doctor working over her all night, and the Deacon almost froze to death. The Acid Test BoB8y's jaw was somewhat swollen, and grandma suggested that he might be entertaining mumps unaware; but her daughter-in-law, who was a Christian Scientist, protested. “You shouldn’t say that, mother; we know that it is only error.” “Very well,” said the old lady. “ All I ask is that you let me feed him a pickle, and see what kind of an error it is.” \WHEN a guest suggests that you play the phonograph, it's a sign that someone is bored. “WHERE TO PITCH A TENT” AFTER A SHORT SOJOURN IN ONE The Curate HAT would the world of humorous fiction have done with- out curates? If a writer wishes to be humorous, all that is necessary is to ring the bell and tell the valet to drag in a curate—and then write about him. No humorous sketch in which a tea table figures is complete without this docile creature. He has meekly been the butt of humor for years. All curates should. rise in a body and protest against such flamboyant outrage. Our gentle friend has flourished best in England, and is a part of the natural scenery of that tight little isle. Like the rubber plant, he is kept indoors in the winter, but as soon as spring is far enough advanced to have tea on the lawn—out he goes. West: Barson has gone to California for his health. NortH: How did he lose it? West: Earning the money to go to California! HIS FAVORITE SUMMER RESORT comicbooks.€omig