Life, 1922-12-28 · page 8 of 37
Life — December 28, 1922 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two separate pieces. "My Husband Says" is a humorous domestic column where a wife complains about her husband's peculiar tastes—he dislikes dim lighting, prefers realistic moral tales, and frequents an inn called The Sign of the Roaring Tigers. The humor derives from her exasperated cataloging of his odd preferences. "The End of the Race" appears to be a brief comedic dialogue about a woman who completed a four-year course in three years, with wordplay about hygiene and fashion. The accompanying illustration depicts a woman with children in what appears to be a tenement or modest home, with the caption suggesting domestic comedy about putting "muss" (mess) in Christmas.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
LIFE - My Husband Says HAT he hates to eat by a dim light. He doesn’t mind soft candles with shades, when we have company, if I can arrange them so they'll shoot some light on things; and I can have roman- tic, sepulchral lights anywhere in the house, excepting the library and din- ing room. He says he wants to see the moral of a tale, and he doesn’t care to take chances with mackerel bones. But I don’t care much for reading or fish, and I think dim lights are ever so much more mysterious and amus- ing. Last night we motored to The Sign of the Roaring Tigers to dinner. It’s the dearest inn. They've done it all over with new cretonne hangings in heavenly shades, and stunning pictures of English hunting scenes, and darling little yellow pots with red geraniums in them. My husband says it is possible to drink the eye brimful of beauty and still have a terrible thirst. And they have a dream-gray parrot with red patches on him, and he’s the most perfect blend with the cretonne hangings. His name is Martini. My husband says he must be an old bird, for it is years since they have called any- thing that. They put in moving pictures, too. And during dinner they turned out nearly all the lights, and showed pictures of Famine in the Near East, and the most interesting process of fumigation after an awful epidemic in Russia. He said he didn’t mind that so much, for one didn't have to look at them unless one were morbid. But he said his chicken must have met its death in a fearful railway accident, and it made him nervous trying to avoid the slivers when he was eating it. My husband says that some people have a rotten idea of a substitute for the entertainment of the public. L. B. S. The End of the Race Co-ep: Gladys finished the regular four-year course in three years. Ditro: Whom did she marry? “T am extremely unhygienic,” said the old-fashioned voluminous skirt. “T gather as much, long train. replied the evening gown with the iy ¥ riTy Ks t i in “Lawdy, honey, yo’ sho’ done put de muss in Chris’mus!” comicbooks.com