Life, 1921-08-18 · page 12 of 35
Life — August 18, 1921 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This satirical piece presents two scenarios mocking social types. Panel VII, "The Man Who Whistles," ridicules someone who constantly whistles and hums, disrupting others. The poet wishes to place such an annoying person in a "Hall of Infamy" with poor acoustics as punishment. Panel VIII, "The Exhibition Child," satirizes parents who parade their precocious young children as entertainment for guests. The verse criticizes keeping such children "upstairs" initially, then displaying them as curiosities—the child has been "on exhibition far too long." The "Fantasy" section below expresses the author's desire to escape to an idealized tropical paradise, contrasting with urban American life. The final note humorously suggests movies need "a reel for good behavior"—mocking audience conduct at screenings.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THE Drawings by “W. E. HILL The KNOW a person who, all day, Whistles and sings his time away. Man Who x . . I should not care so much if he Whistles Occasionally hit the key Or tried to keep the air in mind, But this he never does, I find. Of course if I, upon this page Should properly express the rage I feel for whistling folk, I know ’Twould shock these poor Iambics so That I should have to use the dread Homeric dactyls in their stead. So in the Hall I’ll build a cell With bad acoustics where shall dwell This specially obnoxious bird Unwept, unhonored—and_ unheard. HALL OF INFAMY Verses by ROGER BURLINGAME VIII The DO not, as a rule, object To children, nor should I elect That they be kept upstairs until The guests have left the house; but still I never have been reconciled To this, the exhibition child. Exhibition Child She can (or so I have been told), Though somewhat less than three years old, Say, sing and do such pretty things, And think such quaint imaginings, You'd be surprised! I should, for I Confess I’ve only seen her cry. Within the Hall of Infamy, But hid from view, this child shall be; She’s been (unless I judge her wrong) On exhibition far too long. Fantasy OME day I shall hie me to a far corner of the earth—a place of exotic grandeur, where I may lead a life of languorous delight beneath the passionate warmth of a tropic sky; where I may hear messages of romantic enchantment in each whisper of swishing palm leaves; where vaguely disturb- ing perfumes of Araby are wafted to my nostrils on the wings of each soft breeze that springs from the lustrously shimmering surface of lily-clad pools; where all the mysterious magic and occult glamour of the Orient lurks in the velvety depths of a houri’s eyes. . . . There I shall lay me down on great mounds of silken cushions, of a surpassing softness; and I shall read all the drab, dismal novels of small-town American life—from “Main Street” down—from cover to cover. And the raucous peals of my exultant merriment shall echo through the riclily verdured glades of the jungle, startling the gaily caparisoned bul-bul from its haunt in the colorful crest of the orchid trecs. N some of the movies the audience ought to have a reel off for good behavior. comicbooks.com