Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, April 1922 · page 61 of 67
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #32 — page 61: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from the satirical magazine contains several brief humorous sketches with no visible cartoons or illustrations—just text-based jokes. **"Animal Tales"** uses a dog anecdote to mock selective logic: a man defends his supposedly good rat dog by claiming the rats drinking from its bowl are *his* rats, while the dog will attack stranger rats. It's absurdist humor about rationalization. **The "grass widow" poem** plays on wordplay: a "grass widow" (a woman separated from her husband) married "A. Hopper," then divorced him—so she became a "grass-hopper." Pure pun-based humor. **"Old Stuff"** satirizes the medical specialization trend of the era by having characters claim they visit specialists for every ailment. Mrs. Wilkins's punchline mocks this by calling a barber a "tonsorial artist"—elevating common trades with pretentious language, reflecting 1920s anxiety about professional credentialism. These are gentle social observations typical of period humor magazines.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
60 Captain Billy's Whiz Bang Animal Tales I thought you told me that dog of yours at the house was a good rat dog. He sure is, Sam, he sure is. Well, how come, when I passed there this morning that the dog was drinking milk out of a bowl with ten or eleven big rats drinking out of it, too? Are you sure that was my house? Sure am. Well, you sure it was my dog? Positively. Well, then, you see those are our rats, but let any strange rats come around and he will take care of them all right. * * * When a fellow is allowed to muss a girl's hair he considers it a net gain. She considers it a net loss. * * * There was a grass widow quite prop- Who formally married A. Hopper; But he got a divorce; As a matter of course, The grass widow is now a grass-hopper. * * * Old Stuff At twenty a kiss is an experiment, at forty a sentiment and after that—a compliment. * * * “I believe in specialists, b’heck,” said Hep White. “When my heart is bad I go to a heart specialist. When my lungs are bad I go to a lung specialist,—” “Them’s my sentiments, too,” interrupted Mrs. Wilkins. “Take my boy, Jimmie. When his tonsils bothered I took him to a regular ton- sorial artist.”