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Life, 1921-04-28 · page 26 of 36

Life — April 28, 1921 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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Life — April 28, 1921 — page 26: Life, 1921-04-28

What you’re looking at

This is a **meta-editorial feature** where *Life* magazine publishes rejected reader submissions, inviting readers to judge why each piece was rejected. The editor notes these are paid contributions from valued writers—the rejections aren't insulting, but educational entertainment. The cartoon header shows overflowing trash baskets of rejected material, with a child emerging from one—visualizing the volume of submissions *Life* receives. The actual rejected poems and humorous pieces satirize contemporary themes: aspiring writers lacking inspiration ("Something I Lack"), con artists exploiting vanity ("Twins" selling fake before/and-after photos), prohibition-era temperance sentiment ("Apparently"), and romantic disappointments. The feature's appeal is psychological—readers enjoy "figuring out" editorial judgment while authors gain exposure despite rejection. It's a clever way to fill pages while poking fun at both amateur writers and reader psychology.

📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

(Note: The contributions on this page have been rejected. Rejection Page Why? The reader may judge for himself. There is a reason in each case, All this rejected material is paid for, and its publication here is not intended as any reflection upon the authors, among whom are some of Lirt’s most valued contributors.) Oh, Very Well wre I a little manuscript In this benighted age, I'd like to wake and find myself On Live's Rejection Page. For, speaking psychologically, The public reads with zest To see if it can learn just why These weren't considered “ best It always likes to figure out What it would do instead, Thus were I on Rejection Page I know that I'd be read. Lois W. Clarke. Something I Lack HEN the spirit moves I seize my pen, Assume a_ studious and then Try to work up the necessary Which skeptics say is mostly perspiration expression, inspiration By and by when I have a so-called hunch, When the spirit is moving, someone says lunch. Try as I do, tempting visions arise The inspiration leaves and the spirit dies Next day I determine to try it again, But the inspiration now will not begin. Something urges and something holds me back. The chances are, it is ‘something I lack Twins USIE Spratt she had no fat, her twin she had no lean, And so betwixt them both, their scheme is plainly seen They never work and though they shirk, They both are fortunes making; They sell their photos labeled thus: “ Before and after taking.” * Apparently ITTLE drops of water In the place of rum Make a mighty nation Mighty, mighty glum. | i The Rejection Page this week To go from bad to Verse. Ye Ed, Crushed Hope WAS on my way to sea, When a young lady met me. She lured me to her den— In a barber shop crowded with men, There [ learned to my disgust A manicurist was she just; ‘There I found to my dismay To her other men do attentions pay. Since then, I have been sad, . And I feel [ shall go mad. W. Milton Schuffman. After All, He Was Not to Blame! FT I sit here dreaming Of days when you were mine— Of days when we were living Up North, in that frozen clime. I sink down in the armchair Before the roaring flame And, thinking sanely for a time, Know you were not to blame. It wasn’t your fault for a moment That you wanted to leave the wild; We were too much alone there— You were Society’s child. Now I am back in the States, But not for long, I know; For the wild up there is calling, And there I am bound to go. You will stay here with the many; I will be there with the few. Which will know life the better— Will it be I or you? So when the snow is falling, Think of me alone up there, Where a man can learn to think And is willing to risk and dare. Marian Cathryn Buel, For Heaven’s Sake— HE day the sun first shone on me! never shall forget ; My mother and I and a nurse in white asi another fellow met. I recognized him at a glance, | saw bi features drop; He knew I was a preacher's son—I knew be was my Pop. Repartee ‘O some oysters loud cawed a passing crow— Crows are proverbially pert, you know— As they sat in contemplative rows on the shore, Soothed by the ocean's motherly roar: “The saying, O somnolent bivalves belor, “As dumb as an Oyster,’ is certainly so!” The oysters opened their mouths, and with slow Dignity shut them again, as though A stoical upbringing bade them desist; But the youngest oyster couldn't resist Rising to what corresponds to a toe In an oyster, and shouting, “ You're boare as a crow.” N. ELV, The Mack Sennett Ladies (After Kipling) NE day I dropped in at the movies, (What, pray, is meant by a screen?) Film was of Venuses diving, Filmiest ever was seen; Every least move was a picture, Over-exposures they were: Each shapely Annette Emerged dripping wet And I learned about swimmin' from bet Prunes [ stores we see them dry, jejune, And hence the saying, “ Poor old prune” But soaking changes their condition ; They swell up like a politician My boarding-house—I hate to knock— Makes profits from this watered stock. comicbooks.com