Life, 1926-05-13 · page 40 of 52
Life — May 13, 1926 — page 40: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains several distinct humor pieces typical of Life's satirical approach: **The Perfume Advertisement** (top) presents "Aimé de la Rôse, Paris" as a luxury product—standard 1920s advertising masquerading as editorial content. **"In Salem"** is a pun-based joke about witch hunts, playing on "Witch Is Witch" as a reference book title—contemporary wordplay rather than political commentary. **"Dotted Line Tragedy"** mocks Russian place-names (Semipalatinsk, Petropavlovsk, Blagoveshchensk) in a darkly comedic story about a man who kills himself because he cannot complete correspondence-school coupons. It's absurdist humor exploiting both Russian exoticism and American self-improvement culture. **"Two Firstnighters"** satirizes playwright Burton's contrasting behavior at his own play's opening (nervous, disheveled) versus a competitor's opening (cool, composed). The joke exposes professional jealousy and ego. **"As the Fellow Says"** offers observational humor on class, servants, and social pretension—the golf pro being the ultimate put-down. All reflect 1920s American magazine humor: wordplay, social satire, and light mockery of contemporary life rather than hard political commentary.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
CARON CORP. 389 FIFTH AVE..NEW YORK “TELL ME AUNTIE, AFTER T THE WORLD, WHAT WILL Go! ALL THE CAKES THAT WILL BE LEFT IN THE BAKERIES?” L'Echo de Paris. In Salem N Salem, Massachusetts, in days of old, There was no book of reference called “Who's Who,” I'm told. But when folks’ curiosity for facts did itch, The book that they consulted first was “Witch Is Witch.” BH. Dotted Line Tragedy “WHY do you mourn, Stanislaus?” “I mourn, Semipalatinsk, for the death of my dear friend, Petropavlovsk Blagoveshchensk, who killed himself because he could never attain success, for he could not fill in Correspondence School coupons.” As the Fellow Says STANDARDS are odd things, I ‘once knew a man who ran a bucket shop. He cut me because he believed my revoke at bridge was not accidental. see A man doesn’t know what servitude really means until he has acquired a cook so good that he doesn’t want to lose her. eee And, along that line, take myself. I have a number of responsible friends; I am well received in excellent homes; even my banker pays me a modicum of respect. Yet a little, illiterate Scots- man deems me the world’s most use- less animal. He is the golf pro at the country club. eee A people, they say, deserves the gov- ernment it gets. Could anything be more horrible? eee What annoys us about the younger generation is that we are shamed by its honesty. eee An excellent rule is never to vote for any candidate so popular that the gen- eral public calls him by his first name. James Kevin McGuinness. Two Firstnighters cr is Monday night. Tensely gripping the arms of J 13 is a pale, shivering figure. One leg is clenched convulsively about the other. Now he reaches under the seat and removes his hat, now he twists it in a strangling grip, now he replaces it under the seat, now he squirms to the right and wriggles back to the left, looking at his companion with sick, ap- pealing eyes. His suit is wrinkled, his collar wilted, his trousers rucked above his garters and his face ashen. Who is this haggard, twitching wreck? It is Burton, the playwright, at the opening performance of “Ripe Peaches,” his new comedy. 1 Ir is Thursday night. Carelessly resting his elbow on the arm of J 13 is a cool, composed figure. One knee is crossed negligently over the other. His only movements are an occasional glance at his program as a new character appears upon the stage and now and then a leaning across for a whisper in his companion’s ear. In- frequently he smiles faintly as he de- cides not to disapprove of the last joke but two...the one at which the gallery roared. His tournure is immaculate, his appearance a triumph of the tailor’s art. Who is this condescending god? It is Burton, the playwright, at the open- ing performance of “Green Persim- mons,” somebody else’s new comedy. Baron Ireland.