Life, 1920-11-18 · page 10 of 44
Life — November 18, 1920 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is Dorothy Parker's satirical poem about irritating social types. The accompanying cartoon illustrates one subject: amateur spiritualists or séance practitioners claiming to contact the dead. The poem catalogs various bores—Symptom Collectors, doctors, Parlor Comedians, Gluttons for Business, and these "Amateur Mediums." Parker mocks people who: - Constantly receive supernatural messages at séances - Claim spirit communication is "same" for everyone - Sit in circles with "lights out" - Pretend clairvoyant powers The cartoon shows crude figures gathered around what appears to be a makeshift séance setup, emphasizing the absurdity and low-class charlatan nature of such practices. Parker's critique targets the pretentiousness and tedium of people claiming mystical authority without genuine knowledge.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
HATE Bores; They take the joy out of my life. There are the Symptom Collectors. They have tried every specialist once. They go about, quoting what they said under ether; They give readings. from their fever-charts ; And they carry their cast-off appendixes with them, in bottles— Just for old times’ sake. They are forever showing you X-ray photographs Of their quaint crannies and intimate inglenooks. They say that you can never guess what they suffer, And then they clear up all doubts. Every doctor tells them that their case is hopeless— I'll say it is. Then there are the Parlor Comedians. They have memorized the entire series Of history’s favorite anecdotes. They begin by saying that they just heard a new one— IN THOSE -LIFE. Hymn of Hate Which is the funniest line in the whole story. They go in strongly for the kind of humor That requires special apparatus. They will go miles to procure an explod- ing cigar Or a perforated drinking-glass. They have a repertoire of sure-fire come- dy hits: They address all waiters as “ George,” And they love to call you on the telephone And say, “This is Police Headquarters speaking.” They save up all their witticisms for you, And tell you how everyone’ nearly dies at them— Nearly dies is right. There are the Gluttons for Business. They started on a shoe string And worked their way up to white spats. They are entirely self-made, And think that everybody is clamoring for the recipe. Their life is an open ledger; They tell you all the inside gossip About invoices and bills of lading, And illustrate their talk with diagrams Showing their increased output through- out the Middle West. They relate heart-rending stories Of how they haven't had a vacation in ten years, And how they wish they could go away for a while— And I wish they could go away from now on, And there are the Amateur Mediums. They are always fooling around with the spiri They are constantly receiving messages from the Great Beyond Saying Uncle Walter is well And hopes everybody at home is the same. They spend every night Being warned, in dreams, of their friends’ deaths. There is nothing that they can’t worm out of a ouija board. They are so messy around the house; They are always tipping tables And sitting around in circles, with the lights out. They are forever seeing things and hear- ing knocks, And they just know they have clairvoyant minds— If any. I hate Bores; They take the joy out of my life. Dorothy Parker. DAYS, ADVERSE CRITICISM WAS SOMEWHAT UNWISE comicbooks.