Life, 1922-10-05 · page 23 of 36
Life — October 5, 1922 — page 23: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains several satirical pieces typical of 1920s American humor: **"The Lament of a Joke"** mocks the widespread plagiarism and reuse of jokes across media. The joke personified—"See America Thirst"—complains of being stolen repeatedly from a Pennsylvania farmer to newspaper columnists to vaudeville performers, each claiming originality. This satirizes the common practice of comedians and writers lifting material without credit. **"Reflections at a First Night"** humorously depicts a theater-goer's stream of consciousness, complaining about audience members and the play itself, then ironically concluding the "stupid-looking chap" he mocked must be the author—since only the author could write something so bad. **"Dodging the Approach"** references *Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde*, with one character avoiding discussion by pivoting to Prohibition ("U.S. ships selling liquor"), suggesting alcohol and morality were contentious contemporary topics. **The cartoon** shows Mr. Buldge seeking validation about a play's quality from his wife through an usher, satirizing how people manufacture consensus about art. These pieces reflect 1920s concerns: intellectual property theft, theater culture, and Prohibition debates.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
The Little Home of Dreams WISH you could see my little house, ainst a sleepy hill, weather-beaten shutters, vd a worn door-sill. oh, it knew my family r many happy years, chuckled at their laughter, 1 wept at all their tears, now, it’s like an old man, ting in the sun, t has grown a beard of vines it carelessly all run down, and round about, kind old yellow face, akes it look just what it is— eat-grandfather place. ips there’ll come a happy day 1) gold midsummer weather, When you and I will seek the hill ©: misty purple heather, And there we'll find my little house miling to itself, Because it knows it holds the dreams I've dreamt about Yourself. And if you kiss and leave me there, Its heart will break of pain; And hearts and love and houses Cannot be young again! M.C.L. Reflections at a First Night ONDER who that stupid-look- ing chap in front of me is? Looks silly enough to be the author. And what a terrible show this is. I'm glad I just told. my neighbor what I think of it. Wish that woman in the second aisle ahead would take off her hat. Wish she’d put it back on so I could see. She has bobbed hair. Ii that fellow in front of me doesn't stop squirming I'll go mad. bad enough having to sit through this show without being forced to view a St. Vitus perform- anc li he had written this play he couldn't squirm more. icre, thank heavens, he’s leaving. | don’t blame him. \Vonder who he is? Jove! I've got it. Ile is the author. * Dodging the Approach Norta: Of course you've read “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”? West: Yes; but I don’t care to a discussion about the U. S. selling liquor. LIFE The Lament of a Joke [* all tired out and I think I de- serve a rest. It isn’t right to over- work a poor old decrepit thing like myself the way they do. You've heard me, probably. I’m “See America Thirst.” A farmer out in Pleasantville, Pa., used me first down in the Village Post Office, two years ago. Ezra, the editor of the Pleasantville Courier, took a fancy to me and used me in his paper. Then a New York column writer grabbed me and impressed me into service. I didn’t mind that so much but I did feel a little put out when a writer for the Newton News, Newton, N. Y., protested, saying that he had first used me three months before. Then a_ vaudeville performer adopted me as his own and dragged ANNA \ — Mr. Buldge (to usher): Usher: Why, yes. Mr. Buldge (to wife): 21 my tired self out on the stage twice a day for weeks. Another columnist heard the actor one night and he claimed me in his paper the next day. “How does it happen,” he asked, “that actors dare to steal my stuff the way they do without giving me credit?” Now here I am in Lire without a single one of my old friends to keep me company.* It’s too much, I tell you. much, It's too T. HL. * It’s up to the editors to make good on this. Carramba! In Mexico, where knives abound, And dirty work, The injured victim doubtless cries, “He done me dirk.” —s 2 A7ZEZ Say, is this a good play? I think it’s very good. There, mother, I told you it was a good play. comicbooks.com