Life, 1923-02-08 · page 25 of 36
Life — February 8, 1923 — page 25: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
**The Cartoon:** A man attempts to imitate a chickadee's call ("Chickadee-dee-dee") while another man interrupts, demanding he "talk English" instead of making bird sounds. This is a simple joke about miscommunication—the bird-lover speaking the bird's language while the passer-by wants plain speech. **The Text Stories:** "My Apostasy" is a humorous domestic complaint where the narrator's wife Millicent reads his published article (likely critical of women) and becomes hurt and argumentative, twisting his words to suggest he finds her worthless. He ultimately surrenders his writing ambitions to keep peace in marriage—hence "apostasy" (abandoning his principles). "A Toast" is a sentimental poem praising a cocktail shaker, personifying it as a once-lively companion now silent on a shelf, likely a Depression-era reference to Prohibition's aftermath or lost pleasures. Both pieces satirize domestic life and male-female relationships through humor and irony typical of 1920s-30s *Life* magazine.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Passer-by: Well, w'ot is it? The Bird-lover: Sh-h! ‘Chickadee-dee-dee. “Aw! Peek-a-boo-boo-boo—fer th’ love-a-Mike, talk English.” ‘VE always wondered at those devastating realists who can write clever things about women and still have their wives call them smilingly to dinner. Millicent applies that sort of thing personally. For example, last evening I felt suddenly empty. Late last evening. “Fee-fi-fo-fum,” I remarked in my best forced manner. “When do we eat ?” “Kindly do not disturb me,” Millicent. I glanced up in surprise, and saw that my wife was reading the hand that fed her, At once my emptiness vanished. I felt like a pup full of warm milk. “Enthralling as all that?” I asked, delighted. “I hadn’t dared hope—” For reply, Millicent flung aside the magazine. It missed me. “What a pretty woman may mean to a man, she can never know—and even the man may forget,’”’ quoted said My Apostasy © Millicent. “Certainly,” I replied. that article of mine you were just “Do you recognize that?” “Tt’s from reading. Rather neat, don’t you think ?” “Neat! To inform the whole world in cold print that I mean abso- lutely nothing to you—that I’m not worth even thinking about—that—” I gasped, and threw up my hands. “Am I ugly?” demanded Milli- cent. “My dear, you’re—” “Then of course you meant me. And suppose I were simple-minded enough not to realize it, what good would that do? Everyone else would know.” “But why?” I broke in wildly. “It’s absurd! Aren’t there other women—” “So,” wailed Millicent, “it’s with other women you're spending your—” But you see what I mean. It’s not that I expect sympathy. I’m telling you all this simply to forestall future misunderstanding. When you hear that I've given up my art for art’s sake, don’t think I’m selling out to the brazen calf. I merely prefer to re- main married. G.R. A Toast You stand so silent on the shelf, Who once so gaily filled my life; How merry was that other self You used to show when joy was rife. A thousand thoughts of other days Creep in upon me as I ponder Upon your once so prankish ways That made me fond of you—and fonder. A toast to You, O Silent One! A tribute glowing to your maker. A sigh, a thought of work well done, My gleaming, silver Cocktail Shaker ! L. A. M. comicbooks.com