Life, 1923-08-30 · page 26 of 36
Life — August 30, 1923 — page 26: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This 1920s *Life* magazine piece satirizes the Russian Revolution's violence through dark comedy. The narrative mocks Lenin and Trotsky as they mechanically execute perceived class enemies—bourgeois bakers, profiteers, undertakers, and aristocrats ("Dukes")—using a dehumanizing machine that counts victims like factory output. The satire's core joke: the revolutionaries claim to oppose class distinctions, yet a communist Sister accidentally calls someone "Mister" and is corrected for violating ideology. When an *envoy* (diplomat) is murdered, Lenin hypocritically cries "murder" and "obscene"—exposing the Bolsheviks' selective morality. They justify killing common people but condemn killing dignitaries. The closing quip about cocktail hours suggests American indifference to Soviet atrocities, implying that losing luxuries matters more than mass executions abroad. The crude caricatures and broken English ("hellovitch," "darr") reflect era-typical anti-Soviet, anti-communist American prejudice.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“AFTER ALL, MAYBE I AM A LITTLE TOO QUICK WITH ME TONGUE.” “What's Sauce for the Goose—” Cc™ E a Comrade, rough and hir- sute, office door, Shoved it open with his top boot, Spat urbanely on the floor. “T have bagged a bourgeois baker.” Quoth this most fraternal Red, “A profiteer, an undertaker, Speak the order—and they're dead!” Trotsky, after he’d commanded, Clicked them up on a machine. “What's the count?” a voice de- manded “Ninety-six! My dear Lenin.” Next 2 communistic Sister Burst right through the office door, In her haste she called him “Mister” (Titles are forbid by law). “LT have got of Dukes a lotsky, Something over seventeen.” “Pop ’em off!” dictated Trotsky, “Spoil the good ones!” cried Lenin. Thus the Comrades daily picked up The Intelligentsia, clean: Trotsky “popped ’em off” and clicked up, ‘ Till he bust his old machine. Came the hirsute Comrade Drovsky, Swearing “hellovitch” and “darr “They have plunked Envoy Verovsky In the tummy at Lausanne!” Rose Lenin and cried, “Great Scotsky ! This is murder, most obscene! Ain't it awful, Comrade Trotsk “Scan-da-lous!| My dear Lenin. Roger A. Derby. HERE is less grumbling over the loss of the cocktail hour now that people have discovered that almost any one of the remaining twenty-three will do just as well. comicbooks.com