Life, 1926-06-17 · page 31 of 44
Life — June 17, 1926 — page 31: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains several short humorous pieces satirizing 1920s American culture: **"Salvation"** mocks sentimental confessional stories popular in magazines, where a woman reformed from a scandalous life through—absurdly—the Post Office making her "clean." **"Revenge"** is a brief rural joke about a farmer amused that a speeding car knocked a hornet's nest off his lilac tree, eliminating his pest problem accidentally. **"Another June Bride"** gently ridicules women marrying without love, treating it as socially thrilling rather than concerning. **The cartoon** shows men examining what appears to be a tiny theater ("dog-house"), labeled the "newest of the little theatres"—mocking New York's experimental theater boom. **"Fancy Food and Plain Home Cooking"** satirizes advertising's absurd pseudo-scientific approach: a salesman badgers a businessman with elaborate research about buckwheat cake consumption, divorce rates, and electricity usage, only to be repeatedly interrupted by phone calls about a play ("Abie's Irish Rose"). The satire targets advertising's inflated claims and modern commerce's intrusion into daily life.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Salvation HAD my being in despair, Ja Real Confessions heroine. I smoked, and drank, and bobbed my hair, Abandoned to my scarlet sin. My past was stained with purple shame, No future promise could be seen... And then my reformation came; The Postal Office made me clean. I gave myself to mad delights, The kind described with dash and dot. Whatever parties bloomed o’ nights, You'd find me Janey on the spot. But in the final paragraphs, I saw the light that never fails. I cut my loves, and hushed my laughs, And won admission to the mails. James Kevin McGuinness. Revenge ‘ARMER BROWN: laughin’ at? Farmer Brack: That auto party tearin’ down the pike. They jes’ stole the biggest limb off'n my lilac tree. Brown: What's funny about that? Buack: It had a hornets’ nest on it. Another June Bride MiELDRED (despondently): I am to marry Jack next week and I am not at all sure that I really love him. MapeLyn: How positively thrilling. Whatcha EVERTHELESS, things have come to a pretty state when a South American has to go to Europe to see a revolution. . { WHEN BROADWAY WAS A PASTURE Squaw Flapper: Lay ovr THAT STUFP, BIG CHIEF, YOU CAN’T HIGH-HAT ME! “WHAT'S THE IDEA—LOOKING IN THAT DOG-HOUSE?” “DOG-HOUSE NOTHING! THE THAT'S NEWEST .OF THE LITTLE THEATRES.” Fancy Food and Plain Home Cooking DVERTISING SOLICITOR: A It's nice to meet you, Mr. Kittle. I presume that you are Mr. E. A. Kittle? Mr. Kittie: ~Yeah—I'm Mr. Kittle. ApvertistnG Sottcrror: I came to talk to you about Kittle Kakes and the ultimate consumer. Our Research De- partment has spent three years fn a specific analysis of the buckwheat cake industry. I am ready to put our ex- haustive findings before you... .Frankly, it will’open your eyes. It shows the per capita consumption of buckwheat in every home lit by electricity. It shows the growth in population in dense buckwheat cake-consuming areas. It shows conclusively that divorce is prac- tically unknown in towns that have a ninety per cent. or over buckwheat cake coverage. It shows— Mr. Kittie: Pardon me....Hello— yeah, this is Kittle. No, I didn't say free seats—I said three seats. Yeah, “Abie's Irish Rose.”...Now, Mr.— ApvertisinG Soticttor: Pebbles is my name—Ernest Pebbles. I was touching upon our recent buckwheat cake research work—but I see you're busy, so I'll come to the point. It is simply this, Mr. Kittle. Kittle Kakes, as we see them, have the greatest potential possibilities in the entire buckwheat cake field. We have ready a series of rough visuals that will form the basic appeal on which to build your future public approach. Featured in the country’s prominent media— Mr. Kittie: Pardon me....Hello— yeah, this is Mr. Kittle....What say? +..Sure, come right up....Pardon me, Mr.—er—Puddles. Glad to’ve met you. ++-You'll have to excuse me now. There's a fellow downstairs who wants to sell me some advertising. L. S. Goldsmith, comicbooks.com