Life, 1928-02-02 · page 16 of 38
Life — February 2, 1928 — page 16: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from *Life* magazine contains two pieces of satirical humor typical of early-to-mid 20th century American comics: 1. **"An Angora Cat Sits in Front of the Icebox"** features a monologue by a hungry cat complaining about "balanced rations" and low-quality food while sitting guard outside the icebox. The satire mocks nutritional fad diets and the pretense of "balanced" feeding—the cat would rather eat steak or salmon. 2. **"In the Land of the Midnight Sun"** shows an Eskimo stenographer, satirizing the absurdity of modern office work existing even in remote Arctic locations. The joke suggests that bureaucratic "balanced rations" follow humanity everywhere. The cartoons share a unified theme: mocking contemporary obsessions with dietary science and the intrusion of modern corporate rationality into unlikely places, including pets' lives.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
14 An Angora Cat Sits in Front of the Icebox (With Due Deference to Dorothy Parker) ERE I am and just let them try to kick me out. Let them that’s all! I'm minding my s Some day I'll figure out how those catches work, and that will be nobody's business. It’s just some kind of a trick. I'll find out some fine day, You'll see. And then —oh, baby! So I'm sticking around. Sticking around right in front of this icebox and saying nothing. Maybe the door will open of itself. That's not so funny—it has been known to happen. Holy cats, but I’m hungry! What I couldn't do to a plate of steak! Or a bowl of salmon! Or anything! Yes, sir, I’d eat anything, right now. No patent cat food, though. That's a laugh—cat food! That’s a treat, that is! Good for the fur. Nice pussy—eat the nice cat food! What “My dear, I'm simply worrying myself to a shadow! In tHe Lano or THE MipnicHt SUN Eskimo Business MAN (to assistant): No, 1 don’t like that new stenographer of ours, I have an idea that she watches the calendar. the hell do they know what's good for my fur? It’s my fur, isn’t it? I know what’s good for my fur. A plate of steak. Or a dish of salmon. Or the leg off a roast duck. I’m not particular. Hell, no, I’m just hungry! And what do they care? The big zobs. Listen to her. Oo, de ootsey-poot- A. fellea— Isn't it marvelous!” sey, minsey-winsey Sherry, den. Yeah? Well, how about a ootsey- pootsey, minsey-winsey saucer of chopped meat? Oh, sure—why don't I eat my nice raw egg that was beaten up just for me? Beat yourself up a raw egg and see how you like it. And spinach! So help me, Hannah, they have the cast-iron nerve to pull that one on me! They call it balanced rations. Oh, they’re nuts on bal- anced rations. For me, that is. Good for the fur. My God, to hear them talk you'd think I was a sable coat. Don’t overfeed the cat! That's a hot one. What they mean is don't ever feed the cat. The saps! For cat’s sake, will they ever open that icebox? What do they think I'm sitting in front of it for—my fur? If they wanted a little snack out of the icebox, would they hold off? Like hell they would. Dar- ling, would you mind getting me that piece of cold ham? Sweetheart, if you're hungry, there’s some sardines. .--Oh, Lord, sardines! Who brought that up? Come on, icebox, be a regular guy, will you? You know me, icebox. Open the door. Not the one with the ice in it—the other one. Come on, kid, I'll do something for you, some day. Be a sport. All right— stay shut. You doggone clam! Judas, I could eat a clam, at that! I wonder how a mouse would go? Fat chance of a mouse around this dump. God help a mouse around this dump! (Please turn to page 3+) Iten Iter And Iw Sue Do Her But Fro Goe The An It Wh Oh. Fo: Pr comicbooks.com