Life, 1925-12-17 · page 7 of 40
Life — December 17, 1925 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three separate pieces of satirical content: 1. **"A Minor Bard Grows a Little Blue"** — A poem by Baron Ireland lamenting mortality and forgotten legacy, referencing Shakespeare and Dante. It appears to satirize a writer's anxiety about being forgotten after death. 2. **"Thoughts of a Modern Child"** — A humorous piece by McCready Huston depicting a child's selfish holiday expectations, mocking parental indulgence and children's materialism around Christmas. 3. **"Absolutely"** — A brief one-liner joke about indecisive women. The accompanying illustration shows a domestic scene with a father and son, captioned with dialogue about getting "a thing" in January—likely satirizing post-holiday financial consequences and parental disappointment with children's behavior or demands.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Postman: ov, BOY, THERE'LL MORNIN'—TWENTY FAMILIES OF JONESES! Thoughts of a Modern Child ‘H RE it is not yet noon and I've got to pretend to be interested in this toy steam shovel till bedtime. I'll he all right to-morrow when Father goes to the office, if l can only get through to-day. I had a mighty hard time seeming delighted when I came downstairs to the Christmas tree and found all these tractors and tin railroads and bridges. “But Bessie over there is carrying on over her doll and baby carriage just as if she liked them. That kid should be in the movies; she'll make a great notional actress some day. You dn't_ ask anything more from a ne-year-old than her registering of polite joy. “Of course, Father has no way of knowing that these things are for chil- dren and not for fellows ten and cleven years old. He's basing his ideas on his own experience back in the naive Nineties. And it wouldn't be sporting to disillusion him, poor old fellow! Well, here goes! Watch me be a kid- die again for half an hour! Dingaling- aling! Choo! Choo!” McCready Huston. Absolutely “TH = woman who hesitates is lost.” “Worse than that—she is ex- tinct.” Son; NEVER MIND, POP. A BATTLE KOVAL HERE IN THE A Minor Bard Grows a Little Blue BY this worn desk whence comes my daily crust (What's twenty thousand nowadays, my dear?) I sometimes muse (as muse one sometimes must) On what I shall have done in my career. I mock at peasant, prince and finance’ I flick the fads and follies of the day But when, alas!* myself no more am here Who will remember what I had to say? Shakespeare is mingled with the primal dust. Vanished the clay of Dante the austere. No longer Swift, with savage cut and thrust, Impales humanity upon a sneer. Howbeit, although the body disappear, Their words live on; their thoughts know no decay. But when I've joined them on that other sphere Who will remember what J had to say Perhaps some little timid wandering gust Will blow to you, in a yet unborn year When you are old and just a bit mistrust Your memory, a fancy not quite clear And not quite dim, that titillates y yw, did you read that long ago or—stay! ur car OF course it’s yours! You must be getting vill remember what I had to say? L'Exvor . Prince! T feel a trifle out of gear. ‘ame pays no rent! That was a good one, eh? I care not, once I'm paid by your cashier. Who will remember what I had to say! Baron Ireland. *Alas ?—Ep, Father: 1 CAN'T SEEM TO GET A THING. WHEN JANUARY COMES YOU'LL GET THE BILL, comicbooks.com