Life — October 26, 1928 — page 11: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

LIFE ~ THE RADIO Our Maude Tuis is a story of how culture came to the kitchen and it shows how any housewife, with the help of the radio, may turn her home into a tea room. These little researches into domestic science and beauty culture were not conducted by me personally. There is some terrible antagonism in my nature against my own sex that makes it im- sible for me to listen to a woman's voice over the radio. I trace this hate back to the carly days when I had a calisthenics instructor who began the day by saying, “Breathe deeply. Breathe in life and joy and love.” Things like that are what make a girl boy-crazy. So I never turn on the radio before six o'clock in the evening because I am afraid that, by accident, I will catch the voice of some sister laying down the law. But Maude will run the radio all day; in fact she docs, which keeps her from leaving our employ and going to work at a place more convenient to the movies. She has a system for listening to the radio that I recommend. She puts a record on the phonograph, then she turns on the radio and then she switches on the vacuum cleaner. And tourists who happen to be passing my house stop suddenly with a terrible grinding of brakes because the Agnes Smith noise from within sounds like a com- bination dance and revival being held in a saw mill. The radio has done great things for Maude. For one thing, it has made her Vitamine-Conscious. Before the household hints came into her life, Maude was satisfied to get dinners that tasted good. But one morning someone in the scientific diet racket got hold of her and that night we had liver smothered with spinach for dinner, “Where did you get this?” I asked, thinking she had been delving into “Famous Poisoners of the Middle Ages.” “I got it off the radio,” she answered. “From the station low down on the knob.” The next night we had a salad that looked like a set floral piece and tasted like carrots covered with library paste, which it probably was. It was a big day when the radio told Maude what could be done for a kitchen with a can of yellow paint. In one morn- ing, she turned a kitchen that Jacked color and personality into a perfect imitation of “Ye Laughing Catte Tea Shoppe.” Now she complains that our dish towels lack color harmony, that white shelf paper gives the pantry a cold, unfriendly look, and that the kitchen should be completely turned around to get a maximum of sun- light. No, Maude isn’t the same girl that came to us. The olive oil no longer goes into the salad; it is used as food for tired and sagging face muscles. She must have a sun-bath to ward off rickets and she won't use the perfume I gave her for her birthday because it is too Oriental for blue eyes. She goes in for exercises as she washes the dishes, to acquire shapely Tue Canpwate Sue: I hope our seat is near the announcer, because Mother's listening in to hear me cheer over the radio. ankles. And she has discovered that black uniforms are depressing. Moreover, she has taken to using the typewriter because she wants to win a prize for the Best Recipe of the Week offered to the cook who can think up the craziest way of combining turnips, prunes and raisins in a dessert that won't cost over fifty-three cents. And if she gets the prize and her name is announced over the radio, there will be just another litle help wanted ad in the Sunday papers. OPPORTUNISM Dentist (administering gas to a come- dian): Laugh, clown, laugh! comicbooks.com