Life, 1922-06-29 · page 15 of 35
Life — June 29, 1922 — page 15: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This cartoon depicts an elderly, elaborately dressed figure broadcasting a story into the night. The winding text spiraling outward contains fragmented phrases about racing, Paris, "skirts," and "dice"—suggesting a rambling, disjointed narrative. The caption reads: "There is society, where none intrudes, / By the deep sea, and music in its roar." The satire appears to target verbose or nonsensical public speakers—likely radio broadcasters, a relatively new medium in the 1920s-30s. The elderly figure's ornate clothing and the jumbled, stream-of-consciousness text mock both the pretension of broadcasters and the absurdity of their often rambling content reaching mass audiences indiscriminately. The cartoon satirizes early radio's tendency to transmit whatever speakers offered, without editorial quality control.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Hot Weather Imaginings FEIGNED a fountain, mossy- lipped, Beneath the forest trees; I thought of pools wherein I'd dipped, My noddle and my knees— But still with briny sweat I dripped, \nd prayed to feel a breeze. I dreamed about a marble crypt; Of icebergs in the seas Where whalers, to the Arctic shipped, ind floes that grind and squeeze; I thought of steppes, all tempest- whipped, Of blasts that make you sneeze; Of mainsails by the northers ripped, Oi frozen toes, and noses nipped; Of collies, for the summer clipped; Oi slaves who'll fan you if they're tipped; Oi old-time bar-rooms, all equipped With ice for beverages chipped— Of rickeys that of old I’ve sipped !— Oi sherry-flips that I have flipped! (And yet there came no breeze.) As last, you get me, I was hipped— I thought of skeletons, all stripped To icy blasts that fairly zipped \nd made their marrows freeze! I thought about the chill that gripped My vitals, when my manuscript Was turned down, and my hopes were gypped! (And if, besides all these, There are some cold ones I have skipped, Chink of them, if you please. I thought of them. My meter tripped To cooling melodies— But still I dripped and dripped and dripped— There never came a breeze!) T. R. Lessons in New Yorkese The Day’s News t LO yabigstiff! Chadoin, read- ina noos? Wennayou learna rea!—hunh? Ho-ho.” “lwusjus givvina coupla head- a wunsova. Say, Harry, sguy djawge, heesa bad akkor.” JhwIseen woise.” hamean, yaseen woise? You- waint never see Lawdjawge.” “lyaint aint? You wanna pokin- anose? Heesa Scosh kummedean, ep” Yapoor fish, acawss heyaint. Heesa Wale.” “Lika Prinsa Wales?” LIFE “Yeah, lika Prinsa Wales.” “Wefferalllcare hecan bea porpus. I seenim. Hewuzza Scosh kumme- dean. He kummoutin barelegs anna- skoit.” “Lawdjawge in barelegs anna- skoit? Gowan youmusbe cuckoo. Wherejasee Lawdjawge in barelegs annaskoit ?” “Iseenim. Hecumout ansing ‘Iluv- valassie.’” “Aw, Harry, nowlgetcha. You- seen Saharry Louda, not Lawd- jawge.” “Oh, Saharry Louda. Oh, thassit, izzit? Saharry Louda .. . Well, wassee uptanow?” “He sovatta Jenno, runnina coffer- ence.” “Runnina cawfee house ovatta Joisey, Fgossakes !” “Notta cawfee house, yadumbbell. A cofference. In Yurrup.” “Well, whyntee sticktavodvil?” 13 “Chamean, sticktavodvil? He- yaintevverbinninovodvil.” “Heyaintaintee? Iseenim in vod- vil, Itellya. Hecomeoutin barelegs—” “Fgossakes, Harry, Itolyatwicet youseen Saharry Louda. Imtalkin- about sguy Lawdjawge.” “Youstill talkinaboutis Lawd- jawge? Whattaboutim?” “He's gotalla nations inna coffer- ence annees tryinto hoggalla graft.” “Thbig stiff! Wherezee pullinnis?” “In Yurrup, Itoleya.” “Aw, in Yurrup. Aw, wattavit? Lettim cmovahere antryit. We'll givvimma pokinnanose. Hey Mac—” “Whattizzit, Harry?” “Tellwittis Jawge, lesgettus wun- nem iscreem pies, cha say?” “Awright—skinda hot. SwatlIsay. Tellwittim. Lesgo.” . cha wantcha paper?” . snothin innit.” H.W. H. Broadcast “There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar.” comicbooks.com