Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, July 1922 · page 8 of 67
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #35 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page is the magazine's **self-promotional editorial**, defending *Whiz Bang* against censorship and imitators. The text claims the magazine succeeds despite "salacious imitators" while insisting it maintains "fundamental decency" despite broader standards than competitors. The editor references postal scrutiny ("goes through Uncle Sam's mail boxes"), suggesting the magazine faced obscenity concerns—common for 1920s humor magazines. The social jokes reflect post-WWI attitudes: women's changing behavior regarding alcohol (now drinking themselves rather than rejecting drinks), contrasting "before the uplifters got on the liquor trail" with Prohibition-era reality. The final section brags about the editor's "Breezy Point" resort and recreational aircraft/vehicles, suggesting wealth and leisure culture. The tone is boastful, self-congratulatory humor typical of the magazine's voice.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang 7 for, after all, kissing is as innocent as a babe unborn. * * * IN THE meantime little old Whiz Bang is bowling along—amusing millions of readers every month—enjoying unprecedented success. Some of our too salacious imitators have fouled their own nests but I would like to emphasize that Whiz Bang goes through Uncle Sam's mail boxes just the same as ever—snappy, seasonable, satirical, second-class mail matter. Whiz Bang's standards are broader and more elastic than those of the single-trackers. Yet they operate along well established lines of fundamental decency—free from viciousness, chock full of humor, virility and punch. * * * A FEW years ago before the uplifters got on the liquor trail if you offered a girl a drink of hard whisky she would throw it in your face. Nowadays she throws it in her own. * * * WHICH reminds that up at Breezy Point, this old hayseed-editor has not only the finest all-around summer resort in the northern hemisphere but also the finest equipment for “space killing” ever gathered under one tent—to-wit: One aeroplane; 160 h. p.; one seaplane, 100 h. p.; one sea sled, 90 h. p., and