Life, 1924-11-27 · page 5 of 37
Life — November 27, 1924 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains several satirical pieces rather than a single cartoon. **"Art Is Long"** (top left): A humorous short story about a poor man counting coins while his wife complains about having nothing to eat—poking fun at financial hardship and domestic tension. **The illustration** (left): Shows a woman at a window, accompanying dialogue about not wanting children to grow up too soon. The caption "'Then you'd better stop takin' the newspapers'" suggests satirizing how current events (likely war news or economic crisis) depress children. **"Hopeless"** and **"A Record"**: Brief comedic exchanges about relationships and domestic management. **"Think How Differently Things Would Have Turned Out"**: A whimsical list imagining alternate histories of famous figures—literary and historical—in humorous "what-if" scenarios. The page reflects *Life* magazine's typical mix of humor addressing everyday American life and cultural commentary.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Art Is Long HANKSGIVING DAY. It was fiendishly cold, and the wind whis- tled sullenly through the cracks in the window, stirring with icy fingers the papers littered about the room. A thin, shriveled man was bent over a desk; his breath was white on the air. He was writing. “Frank,” called a woman's voice from the kitchen. “We haven't a thing to cat, and there’s nothing for the chil- dren but a few crackers.” The man raised his head. Method- ically he counted the coins in his pocket. “I have fourteen cents,” he an- nounced. “Perhaps the delicatessen is open.” His wife came into the room, took the change, and went out. The man re- sumed his task, wrinkling his brow and squinting at the enigmatic paper. Pres- ently his wife returned. “I bought some Kimball's soup—” she began. With a roar the thin, shriveled man leaped to his feet, seized the can, and dashed it into the black, empty fireplace. Then he went on with his writing: For joy and Christmas jollity, When stomachs must be tickled, Kimball’s soup’s the best I see, And— “Bickeled, cickeled, dickeled,” he whispered to the icy air. Kenneth F. Fearing. Hopeless ETTY: The first time he kissed her she called for help. Krrry: I think he still needs it. “I CALLED HER A COUPLE OF CROSS WORDS, AN’ SHE MADE A PUZZLE OUT OF ME!” A Record GUE: Do you keep a cook book? Auice: Oh, yes, indeed! I require my cooks to register their time of arrival and departure. Think How Differently Things Would Have Turned Out IF Rip Van Winkle had slept in an apartment house. If the Lorelei had tried to vamp her victims with a saxo- phone. If Boccaccio had written for the movies. If there had been censorship in the spacious times of Queen Elizabeth. If Cleopatra had started the hair-bobbing craze. If Hamlet had sect up housekeeping with Pollyanna If Goliath had donned a catcher’s mask when he saw David coming. If Atlas had ever taken a vacation. If the chiropractors had had to treat Job. He Owed It to His Public “C)H, oh, oh—terrible, awful!” groaned the chief broad- caster of Station WOOF as, tired but presumably happy, he returned to the bosom of his family after the evening program. “What's terrible? What's awful demanded his ever-ready helpmect. For some moments the broadcaster of Station Willie: you pvon’r WANT ME TO GROW UP TOO SOON, DO Mother: No, INDEED, DEAR. “THEN YoU'D BETTER STOP TAKIN’ THE NEWSPAPERS.” WOOF was unable to speak. Then, slowly lifting his tortured face, he said, “Dearest, I—I forgot to say ‘Good night’ to-night when we signed off.” 'HERE’S one advantage about be- ing a boob: you needn't be lonely. comicbooks.com