Life, 1920-09-02 · page 21 of 52
Life — September 2, 1920 — page 21: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This satirical piece mocks contemporary concerns of the 1920s by presenting them as questions to an ancient Greek oracle. The supplicant humorously asks about urgent issues of the day: Prohibition (the "thrice-accursed Eighteenth Amendment"), the high cost of living, baseball star Babe Ruth's home run record, and horse racing tips—treating trivial modern anxieties with mock-serious classical language. The joke targets both the era's obsession with these issues and the absurdity of seeking divine wisdom for them. The reference to "Mary Rose" (a horse he's wagered on) and the offer of 25% of winnings as tribute parodies superstition and the period's fascination with oracles and fortune-telling. The accompanying cartoon of a rider on a bucking horse labeled "MANY HANDS MAKE LIGHT WORK" appears to illustrate the chaos of managing multiple concerns simultaneously—visual reinforcement of life's complicated modern challenges.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
LOCAL GossIP They say there wuz trouble over to the Bailey's last Tuesday! Missus Bailey, bein’ kind of clost and savin’, wuz lamentin’ and takin’ on about her frying pan. There wuz a hole wore clean through it, but she wuz a-pokin’ at it. “Seems a shame,” sez she. “It’s all good but the bottom.” And Josh’ sez, “ Wall,” sez he, “you're all good but the top, so I should think you and that skillet would get along fust rate.” Josh is layin’ kind 0° low since. A Visit to the Delphic Oracle MIGHTY ORACLE, many a time and oft have I heard tales of thy unerring wisdom set forth in the pages of mythology; oft have I heard that there is no problem too subtle, no riddle too enigmatic, no puzzle too baffling for thy match- less wit; oft have I been told that, as a fathomer of mystery, thou art e’en more infallible than the vaunted Board of Ouija. Therefore, O Oracle, have I journeyed across countless leagues of briny expanse, to make all due obeisances before the majesty of thy might, and to ask of thee many grievous questions which have sorely troubled my poor intellect, and which I would fain have thee answer. First and foremost, O Oracle, wilt thou tell me when, if ever, shall the high cost of living cease to be quite so high? How many home runs will Babe Ruth make? Will the thrice-accursed Eighteenth Amendment be amended? And if not, what is a good recipe for home brew? Who invented campaign oratory? When shall we have peace? Why is it that, when the mercury doth soar to dizzy altitudes, the fair ladies do persist in wearing furs? And, above all things, tell me which horse is to win the fourth race at Saratoga; for have I wagered many golden drachmz, not to mention several oboli, on the filly Mary Rose, and am I much distraught at the thought that she will be left unattended at the post Enlighten me, O Oracle, and straightway shall I prostrate myself within thy temple, and shall offer up the symbol of my devotion upon thy altar; e’en shall I decorate thy shrine with the Brown Derby. What is more, O Oracle, shall I slip thee twenty-five per cent. of my winnings on Mary Rose. “MANY HANDS MAKE LIGHT WoRK” comicbooks.com