Life, 1924-07-24 · page 9 of 36
Life — July 24, 1924 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
The top cartoon depicts a baseball game during a rainstorm. The umpire has called the batter "out" on a foul ball, but the batter protests vehemently, shouting "YOU FOOL, YOU! YOU'RE BLIND! HE HIT ME!" The satire appears to target umpires' questionable calls during poor weather conditions—the story notes it was so dark the crowd couldn't see play properly. The lower illustration, "The Park Joy," shows a child asking ducks why they weren't present last season, poking gentle fun at parental excuses for family outings. The remaining content includes humorous short pieces like "Dog-Day Digressions" (satirizing motor tourism) and "The Same Thing" (a brief domestic joke about a kiss).
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Foul Ball! ]T was the ending of the fifteenth in- ‘ ning. The score was three—three. he place was in one of those small ravns in the South where they take seir baseball seriously, It was so dark hat the spectators, composed for the nost part of hardy, bearded moun- \ineers, could barely make out the play- Big drops of rain pattered and pattered. Lightning flashed and thun- ler rolled and roared. From the little grandstand the crowd shouted for the mpire to call the game because of rain nd darkness. The home-town nine was at bat. The visiting pitcher, a tall, red-haired coun- tryman, became nervous and passed the first two batters who faced him. The third one reached first base on an error. Two more batters came up and sent line drives to the catcher, each batsman killing hundreds of mosquitoes in his efforts to drive in the runners on the bases. With two strikes and three balls on the batter, two men down, and the crowd on its toes waiting for the death-knell, the lanky pitcher decided to resort to strategy. > ES a ES THE MORNING PAPER WHEN THE FORESTS ARE GONE He strolled forward to the catcher. There was a conference. It was de- cided that the pitcher should return to the box, wind up for a mighty and im- pressive delivery and pretend that he had thrown the ball right for the groove. Returning to the mound, he gazed at WE BEG YOUR PARDON, BUT YOU WERE NOT WITH US LAST SEASON, WERE YOU? the runners on the bases, looked at the batter, wound up, and, apparently, let the ball go streaking like a bullet to- ward the pan. “STRIKE THREE; BATTER'S OUT!” shouted the umpire. The players started leaving the field; the crowd began filing toward the gate; and then the batter rushed out to the umpire. “YOU FOOL, YOU!” he roared. “YOU'RE BLIND! HE HIT ME!” W. C. Stouffer. Dog-Day Digressions F Congress enacts a national divorce law, it should’ include among the grounds all bragging over motoring time made between Bryan, Ohio, and Goshen, Indiana. There is enough scenery between Brownsville, Pennsylvania, and- Hagers- town, Maryland, to ruin anybody's voice, if the rule of exclaiming over every view is followed. Sophisticated tourists take it easy until they get to Somerset. The Creator never intended middle- aged women to wear khaki breeches. In the prairie states the Last Chance has been succeeded by the Coffee Shoppe. This is thought to be due to progress. McC. H. The Same Thing BETTY: Bobby Smith tried to kiss me. Motner: And what happened? “He kissed me.” comicbooks.com