Life, 1922-09-21 · page 23 of 36
Life — September 21, 1922 — page 23: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two distinct pieces of satirical content: **"The Tie That Binds"** (prose story): A humorous account of social anxiety. The narrator fears an uncomfortable dinner when two ex-spouses—Ann (Malcolm's second wife, his third husband) —unexpectedly meet at a dinner party. The satire mocks the anticipated drama and "catty" behavior, only to subvert expectations: the ex-couple greet each other politely, discussing a golf putter with forced civility. The joke is that their awkwardness manifests as tedious small talk rather than the "fusillade" of insults anticipated. **"Subterfuge"** (poem): A romantic piece about emotional vulnerability and feigned indifference. **Bottom cartoon**: Shows a prospective buyer negotiating a horse purchase, asking how many miles of oats the horse consumes per peck—a nonsensical question that satirizes ignorant or confused buyers haggling over livestock care. The humor lies in the absurd conflation of distance and feed measurements.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
The Tie That Binds T threatened to be a disagreeable situation, but it was too late to do anything except hope for the best. Phyllis had invited Ann Hunting- ton to dinner. I had asked Malcolm Frayne. Ann had been Malcolm’s second wife. Malcolm had been Ann's third husband. Both were now several decrees removed. She was coming in from Lake- mont. He was motoring down from Westville. Both had started and it was impossible to head off the ap- proaching frost. “You know how catty Ann can be without even trying,” Phyllis moaned. "Yes: and Malcolm can put a keen LIFE edge on a cutting phrase himself,” I groaned. Well, they arrived, and they met, while Phyllis and I stood in trem- bling anticipation, waiting for the opening roar of the fusillade. “Hello, Ann. How are you?” was Malcolm's greeting. “Did you ever chance to find that old putter of mine? It’s the only one I ever had any faith in.” “Enjoying disgustingly good health,” was Ann’s answer. “Yes. I ran across it in the attic the other day. Shall I send it to your club?” “If you will be so kind,” Malcolm said. “How’s your game?” “Perfectly awful. How’s yours?” “Horrible.” Then we went in to dinner. Subterfuge HERE'S scarcely need of co- quetry As life stands now ‘twixt you and me, Yet when you asked to come to-day I was constrained to say you nay. The curt denial in my voice Sprang in no manner from my choice. ‘Twas rather that I longed too much For the assurance of your touch, And, longing so completely, knew I dared not risk the loss of you. Came you today, I’d reap but sorrow Should you not ask to come to- morrow! Prospective Buyer: Now then—question o’ upkeep. How many miles ¢’ th’ peck of oats? comicbooks.com