Life, 1922-11-30 · page 22 of 36
Life — November 30, 1922 — page 22: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from *Life* magazine contains two satirical pieces: **"Telephone Accessories"** mocks the aggressive selling of unnecessary telephone gadgets. The author complains that salesmen have pressured him into purchasing $683 worth of add-ons—mufflers, amplifiers, recorders, mirrors, parking lights, even "hot and cold running water"—for his desk telephone. He's frustrated that a simple tool has become overcomplicated. The cartoon depicts a man buried under absurd telephone contraptions. The satire targets consumerism and manipulative sales tactics: the canvasser's compliment ("your telephone is bare") is deliberately designed to trigger a purchase despite the customer's resistance. **"Scenes from Clerical Life"** is a humorous poem about archdeacons—Anglican church officials responsible for discipline. It presents them as meddlesome bureaucrats who monitor other clergy members' behavior, report infractions to bishops, and obsess over hierarchical church rankings. The tone is gently mocking of institutional church administration. Both pieces reflect early-20th-century anxieties about technology proliferation and institutional bureaucracy.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
con A rol Telephone Accessories OMETIMES, as I sit to-day among my telephone, I cannot help longing for the plain old- fashioned desk telephone into which we just talked with the nude voice. The old-fashioned telephone may not have been perfect and it may not have been pure, but it at least did not give us the feeling, when we called anybody up, that we were in a clinic. My telephone is just the average business man’s desk telephone. As you will see by looking at the accom- panying picture, I have not put ALL the accessories on it that have been offered to me. In fact, I think I have done a fairly good job of re- sisting the telephone accessory sales- men, for there are still several inches of the barrel of my ’phone on which there are no clamps. I took a great deal of pride in what one wily can- vasser said to me this morning. “Why, sir,” he said wily-ly, “your telephone really hasn’t any of the modern improvements on it. I see several good places on which I could clamp the Pollyanna Voice Sweet- ener—the only device which makes your voice sound pleasant regardless of your real feelings. In most cases Ihave to remove some other less use- less attachment in order to make room for our Voice Sweetener. Why, your telephone is bare com- pared to most. I don’t see how you get along with such simple equip- ment.” “If you ask me,” I retorted, "I think my telephone looks like a Christmas tree already, and I don’t want your Voice Sweetener or any- thing else on it. Besides, I don’t al- ways, if ever, want my voice to sound sweet on the telephone.” “Well, you can of course use this throw-off when you want to talk nat- urally,” said the canvasser. “T feel like a graduate trap drum- mer every time I talk on that ’phone, as it is. It’s so loaded down now with conveniences that I have to stand up and put my whole weight on it to move it., Get out.” In a few minutes he had sold me the Pollyanna, and that is why, per- haps, I am a bit moody on this sub- ject at this moment. While I have been more economical than most business men in regard to dolling up my telephone, I have just estimated that I have $683 worth of contrap- tions on it. I have, among other things, the very latest mufflers, disguisers, ampli- fiers, rectifiers, strainers, recorders, sterilizers, smoking sets, hot and cold running water, mirrors, meters, and even a parking light so I can find it in the dark. But to-day, in this blue mood I am in, I can’t help feeling that a Ford is a Ford and that a telephone is a telephone, and that it is better that it should be. At this moment I am of a mind to send my desk ’phone to some dry dock and have it scraped. D. A. A Cynic is one who knows the price of everything but who refuses to buy. Benny Leonarp isn’t the light- weight champion. tain grocer in mind. We have a cer- Scenes from Clerical Life The Archdeacon OU don’t know what Archdea- cons do? You godless little child! What is the good of teaching you? You make me very wild. They are a scourge to all the clerge, They jump on any parson Who gives himself to sin and crime And wastes his valuable time On burglary or arson. They are a scourge to all the clerge (I rather like that word). They have to let the Bishop know When anyone has erred And who is High, and who is Low, And who should be preferred, And all the things that they have seen And all that they have heard When dining with the Rural Dean— A very knowing bird. And if at some rough country fair The Reverend Mr. Glue Has hotly pulled a maiden’s hair And giggled, “How are you?” Or madly kissed a maiden’s wrist— A horrid thing to do— O then, O then that lawless kiss Re-echoes through the Diocese And all the air is blue; From Vicarage to Vicarage They fling the warning beacon, And at a very early stage It reaches the Archdeacon; And there are tears in both his eyes, And people note with some surprise Those rugged features weaken, As he pursues, in rubber shoes, The wickedest of all the Glues And vainly tries to dish up Some sort of case for that embrace, To pacify the Bishop. But there is no excuse for sin, The Bishop can’t endure it; And Discipline is Discipline— Here ends another curate. A. P. H. “And Discipline is Discipline” comicbooks.com