Life, 1923-02-08 · page 8 of 36
Life — February 8, 1923 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three distinct pieces: 1. **"My Husband Says"** - A humorous domestic column where a wife complains about her husband's complaints regarding her treatment of pets (particularly a cat with fleas). The husband's criticisms are portrayed as petty and hypocritical. 2. **"A Diagnosis"** - A pessimistic poem listing various states of depression and malaise (inability to do, laugh, cry, etc.), attributed to "J.P.S." This appears to be satirical commentary on depression or existential ennui. 3. **Bottom cartoon** - Shows children building a snowman. A boy (Jack) asks why he should love his mother more than his aunt, with the girl (Jill) responding that blood relation alone should determine affection—satirizing the arbitrary nature of familial duty. All three pieces gently mock human behavior and social conventions through domestic situations.
📄 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 thinks I really shouldn’t have tried to take the fleas off the cat with the vacuum cleaner. He said they belonged to Tiddly- winks by right of inalienable possession, and they were always on his side, and stood at his back through thick and thin. And he said as long as they were faithful to him, and didn’t try to force their attentions on us, he didn’t see why I should concern myself in the matter. But I thought they made him awfully nervous and rest- less sometimes, and I thought if he didn’t like the Hoover he would just run away. He was very active, but he didn’t run away. it was because his fur caught in the brush. The veterinary said for five dollars, that he thought the fur would grow in again; and I must cut his liver very fine for some time, and I might try gentle massage with something. I felt awfully, but my husband said tears didn’t seem to help much; he said he was sorry, but he couldn’t cry, because I was using his handkerchief; mine are too small to cry with. He said every one should be kind to his pets. I think And I do try to be. I darn his stockings ever so much better than I do my own and I sew on perfect seas of buttons for him, and I bought the most stunning collar with a turquoise setting and a cutie little bell; and I made a darling jade sweater of brushed wool. It buttons in the back with pearl buttons, but my husband says he will lose all self-respect if I force him to wear anything that buttons in the back. I hate to have him stay out nights when his fur is so thin in places, but my hus- band says he simply can’t bring himself to go out in our back yard at midnight to page a cat who wears a jade sweater ; especially if it buttons in the back. L..B.S. A Diagnosis HEN you cannot do and you cannot die; When you cannot laugh and you cannot cry; When you cannot swim and you cannot sink; When you cannot help thinking, yet dare not think; When you cannot work and you cannot play; When you toss all night and you groan all day; When you’re quite collected and all upset; When you won’t remember and can’t forget; When you curse the world and yourself and Fate The lady doesn’t reciprocate. Jack: Why should I love Mother more than Aunt Fanny? Jill: Oh, you simply must—because you are related to Mother by bornation. comicbooks.com