Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, September 1921 · page 6 of 68
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #27 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains no cartoon—it's prose text from what appears to be a humorous column or letter. The narrator describes firing an employee named Gus, who became increasingly difficult after enjoying modern luxuries (aeroplane rides, trips to New York and Atlantic City). Gus grew so self-important he refused basic work, eventually declaring "I'm through" and departing for Minneapolis. The satire targets **working-class entitlement and social climbing**—a common post-WWI concern. The narrator suspects Gus was homesick for urban Minnesota and especially attracted to Prohibition-era drinking opportunities (Minneapolis vs. the "dry" Breezy Point area in Indian territory). The humor relies on the narrator's begrudging admiration mixed with exasperation: he wishes Gus well but can't resist cursing him ("Gosh Darn you"). The piece satirizes both employee disloyalty and the disruptions of modern leisure travel on traditional labor relationships.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
4 Captain Billy's Whiz Bang he played exactly fair. After he had enjoyed several aeroplane rides and a wonderful trip to New York and Atlantic City, he became ob- sessed with the idea that the sun rose and set in his face—that it was his bounden duty to hang up the moon and take down the sun each eve- ning. Really, Fellow Soaks, I couldn't get him even to feed the pet monkey which I gave him as a present for assumed faithfulness. Pre- viously I had a confidential talk with him re- garding a boat which was badly in need of a coat of white lead and tar. He became quite haughty at the idea that I should expect him to act as Indian guide and hired man at the same time, so he threw his hands in the air and yelled: “I’m through.” And I guess he is through, for the last time I saw him that morn- ing he was spinning away to Minneapolis. Right at this point, I must get somewhat confidential. My opinion of Gus is that he was lonesome for Robbinsdale—and its nearby sub- urb, Minneapolis. Breezy Point at Pequot, Minnesota, is thoroughly dry on account of its location in the Indian territory. When Gus is thirsty, he’s good and thirsty and it is my hon- est belief that some day in the future he’ll come back to the old homestead again. Well, Gus, if you ever read these lines, Good Luck to you and God bless you—though I do feel like saying Gosh Darn you instead.