Life, 1923-05-10 · page 10 of 36
Life — May 10, 1923 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This satirical poem targets different categories of wives through bitter, humorous critique. Parker catalogs women she despises: Splendid Housekeepers who bore people with domestic minutiae; Drooping Lilies who play the victim while their husbands pursue other women; and Regular Little Pals who present themselves as ideal helpmates in business and social life. The satire mocks not individual women but rather the *types* and pretenses—women performing exaggerated domestic roles, feigning martyrdom, or presenting false competence. Parker's wit lies in exposing the gap between how these wives present themselves and their actual nature. The refrain "I hate Wives; Too many people have them" frames marriage itself as the problem, suggesting wives as social constructs rather than individuals. The illustrated vignettes reinforce each stereotype through caricature.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
LIFE Hymn of Hate By Dorothy Parker I HATE Wives; Too many people have them. 5 KD There are the Splendid Housekeepers ; The Girls: Who Shake a Mean Furnace. Give them a darning-egg, and a box of assorted hooks and eyes, . And they wouldn't change places with Lady Mount- batten. They keep you right on the edge of your chair With stories about the stoppage in the kitchen drain, And how impudent Delia was about those new aprons, And how they have every reason to believe That the laundress is taking soap home to her For comedy relief They relate how they wise-cracked the butcher When he told them veal cutlets had gone up. Their books are their best friends ; They love to browse in “Thirty Pretty Ways to Cook Cauliflower” Or “Two Hundred Daring Stitches in Filet Crochet.” They can’t see why people should want to go out nights ; Their idea of whooping things up Is to sit by the sewing-table, and listen for Junior’s croup. They are always making second-hand puddings, Or seeing whether the blue vase doesn’t look better on the piano Than it did on the bookcase. Oh, well,— It keeps them out of the open air. folks. HEN there are the Veteran Sirens; The Ones Who Are Wedded, but What of It? They can take their husbands, or let them alone, — But not in the order named. Any unmarried man above the age of Jackie Coogan They regard as All Theirs. They are constantly helping to fix up bachelor apart- ments, Or visiting the male sick, with jars of beef tea, Or picking out oddities in neckwear for their Boy Friends. If any man they know goes and gets married, They feel that they have grounds for a breach of promise suit. They are always talking in low voices over the telephone, And carefully dropping letters out of their hand-bags, And going around full of smiling mystery About where they are having tea. They say they wish to goodness They could have a moment to themselves; ak & ‘ They'd give anything if some nice girl would come along And take some of their admirers off their hands,— Try and get them! HERE are the Drooping Lilies; The Girls Who Could Have Married That Man with All That Money. They are always parking a secret sorrow, And you must guess what the unshed tears are all about. Their husbands may look normal in public, But they are Little Better than Animals in the home. You have no idea what they have to put up with— Their husbands dance with Another Woman Twice in the same evening, Or won't read anything but the newspapers, Or simply refuse to touch spinach in any form, If they could only bring themselves To write down what they have been through It would be the biggest day that Literature ever saw. Everyone tells them they might have gone on the stage And become the toast of the town, Or put the movies on a paying basis, Or sent the interior decorating business for a loop— And here they are—yoked to a lot of Clods! Things may look pretty black for them now, But some day, Some day they know that they will get their due— I hope to God they will! ND then there are the Regular Little Pals; More Like Friends than Wives. They go everywhere with their husbands Just to hold the franchise. You find them up at the Polo Grounds Asking which is the Yankee eleven; Or on the golf links Making a fifth in a Sunday morning foursome; Or lending a feminine touch to a poker game— Going ahead on the idea that a straight is better than a flush. They are a big help in their husbands’ business affairs; They are always dropping in at the office For little surprise visits. They smile happily at you And ask you what their hus- bands would ever do $; : without them,— pal n I'll give you three guesses! 7EOv I hate Wives; Too many people have them. wa Qe oH comicbooks.com