Life, 1924-12-18 · page 7 of 37
Life — December 18, 1924 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
**Top Section - Two Cartoons:** The left panel shows "The Telescopic Umbrella Handle for Use at Close Quarters" — depicting people with impossibly long umbrella handles to maintain distance while sharing shelter. The right panel illustrates a "Machine for Getting Little Girl to Take Her Cereal Every Morning" — an elaborate contraption with pulleys and mechanical arms to force-feed a child breakfast. **Bottom Section - Humor Pieces:** "Dependability" is a anecdotal story about a reliable truck driver whose steady demeanor during a derby race saves the day. "The Only Way" is a brief comic dialogue where someone wanting their name "ringing down the corridors of time" is told they must hire a bell-boy to page them. All content satirizes everyday domestic and commercial absurdities through exaggeration and mechanical solutions to mundane problems.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
* LIFE = Two Practical Suggestions THE TELESCOPIC UMBRELLA HANDLE FOR USE AT CLOSE QUARTERS. MACHINE FOR GETTING LITTLE GIRL TO TAKE HER CEREAL EVERY MORNING. Dependability {HIS particular truck driver had such a nice, dependable * face that I turned to look at him again. It was a ter, windy day; half-frozen pedestrians slanted into the lden gusts, hands punched deep into coat pockets. \s I watched, one of life’s little dramas shaped itself ore my eyes. A well-worn derby was whipped from the iy head of a pitifully small and wizened man across the cet. The wind played with it, tossing it about always st out of his agonized clutch. What a pity!" chattered some, while others broke into les of ill-timed laughter. Get that fumble!” roared a pimply youth in a raccoon ut, barely grazing it with the wheel of his roadster, while college men in the crowd cheered this pat reference to the gridiron game, derby swirled directly in front of the onrushing wheels of the nice-faced driver's truck. And there, the shuttlecock of fate, it settled, rocking gently on its well- worn rim, On came the truck; the owner of the derby sank to his knees, his thin hands twisted before his breast. A final sharp swerve to the right would save the day. I felt sure that my truck driver would uphold the finest traditions of the great merchant's name which emblazoned the side of his thundering juggernaut. He did. Smiling, he gauged the distance with expert eye, and—when he had passed, a worm could have looked over the derby without raising its chin from the asphalt. I knew that driver wouldn't fail. His face had that dependable look. Stanley Jones. The Only Way BARE: T want my name to go ringing down the corridors of time. Carr: You'll have to hire a bell-boy to page you, comicbooks.com