Life, 1925-09-03 · page 22 of 36
Life — September 3, 1925 — page 22: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three satirical pieces typical of early 20th-century American humor: **"The Poet Eats a Tin of Sardines"** mocks overly sentimental, romantic poets. A poet finds two sardines in a tin and projects an elaborate tragic love story onto them (comparing them to operatic lovers Radames and Aida), only to eat them matter-of-factly. The joke: his pretentious philosophizing ("All life is like that") contrasts absurdly with the mundane reality of eating canned fish. **"To Kneecap the Climax"** satirizes a Chicago beauty trend where women painted decorative designs on their knees, exposed by rolled stockings (fashionable in the 1920s). The poem humorously complains that a color-blind man can no longer distinguish his various sweethearts by their painted kneecaps—mocking both the frivolous fashion and changing courtship customs. **"Nubbville Spark"** is a small-town gossip column joke about a counterfeit bill in circulation. All target contemporary social trends and vanities with gentle, sophisticated ridicule typical of Life's editorial voice.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
* LIFE - tyfss Palnist A VERY BAD PAST AHEAD YOUNG Lapy, YOU HA oF you. The Poet Eats a Tin of Sardines HE Poet lifted a fork to pick the oily minnows out of the tin, and paused. An expression of tenderness filmed his eyes. Side by side, immured together like the tragic Rhadames and Aida, lay a large sardine and a small one. The large one’s flank glistened with bur- nished silver mail; his streamlines were those of young and confident health, and their refinement reflected a noble je ne sais quoi that set him above his fellows. The small one nestled against him; she was the piscine personification of suppleness and grace and that subtle je ne sais quoi which is the es sence of the charm intangible. How sportive this happy pair must have been beneath the ultra-blue of the Mediterranean, thought the Poet. How idyllic their companionship! How poctic that this Paul and this Virginia should lie embalmed in the oil of the olive that grew on fair Italia’s slopes, but how sad they had died, and how crass—how unpardonable!—that their tomb should bear the legend, Compact Brand Sardines. The Poct laid them carefully side by side between two slices of rye bread, and bit. “All life is like that,” he sighed. WV. B. To Kneecap the Climax (Painted pictures on such feminine knecs as «posed by rolled stockings and perversi are advocated by Chicago beauty specialists.) knees of my Gertrude are printed, tell me, a light navy blue, While Edith’s, it’s hinted, are tinted A sort of pale heliotrope hue. The knees of Priscilla are yellow, While Pearl's are two colors combined— And believe me, it’s tough on a fellow Who always has been color-blind! The kneecaps of Fannie are stenciled With generous splashes of green, And those of my Annie are penciled (They whisper) in aquamarine. They tell me they used pink on Mabel, While Susan in purple is smart; And shucks—now I'll never be able To tell all my sweethearts apart! Arthur L. Lippmann Nubbville Spark ITE YODER, our marshal, has announced his int of entering the footrace in the coming Grand Fall tival, and ev'rybody in Nubbville is wonderin how he wil look in a hurry. mPHES 2S a new one-thousand-dollar counterfeit out. “Watch your change when you buy theatre tickets.” GESTION—WHY NOT MODERNIZE THE WINDOWS OF STORES SELLING MISSFS’ WEARING APPAREL? comicbooks.com