progbear: Pride Goeth Before Destruction (1900) (pride goeth before destruction)

He Was No Dude



by C. J. Taylor (1895)

he was no dude (1895)


Customer (in uptown drug store).—I want a thirty-grain dose o’ quinine, young man.
Clerk.—Yes, sir. What will you take it with, sir?
Customer.—I’ll take it with a spoon. I’m a Wabash Valley man, an’ I ain’t doodish ’nough yet, thank God, to eat with a fork.


Lazy Curator™ sez: I apologize for the “on the bias” nature of this entry. Wonky Scan strikes again!
progbear: Pride Goeth Before Destruction (1900) (pride goeth before destruction)

Where Did the Shoe Pinch?



by C. J. Taylor (1891)

where did the shoe pinch (1891)


D. B. Hill.—How dare you address to me such an insulting and impertinent communication?
Henry Watterson.—“I can not help thinking that the same words might be with propriety addressed to any Democratic aspirant by the humblest Democrat in the land.”


Lazy Curator™ sez: Here we have New York governor David B. Hill, irately confronting Henry Watterson with an issue of the New York Times dated Nov. 2, 1890 bearing the headline, “Watterson’s Letter to Gov. Hill.”

Honestly, some days I think every entry (or at least every other entry) ought to be accompanied by the sentence, “Now, let the slash fiction begin!”

The search for the fabled Joseph Keppler rendering of Hill continues...
progbear: Pride Goeth Before Destruction (1900) (pride goeth before destruction)

Didn’t Have Ten Dollars



by C. J. Taylor (1892)

didn't have ten dollars (1892)


Weary Raggles.—What became of your friend, Frayed Keegan?
Tomato Canby.—He is doing the Robinson Crusoe act.
Weary Raggles.—What is that?
Tomato Canby.—Gone to live on the “Island.”


Lazy Curator™ sez: I could swear that Weary Raggles is a recurring character. I really don’t feel like sifting through the five year backlog of Weekly Puck entries to find his previous appearance, but I would not at all be surprised to learn that Taylor is pilfering from Samuel Ehrhart. I could have sworn that “funny tramp names” was his “thing.”
progbear: Pride Goeth Before Destruction (1900) (Boss Croker inflated)

“It’s a Wise Child,” Etc.



by C. J. Taylor (1892)

it's a wise child etc (1892)


  • Spigotheimer.—You pad little loafer—you git avay from here, or you git a pucket of vater shucked on you.
    Migsy.—Ah, why don’t you tell his daddy on him.—dere he his, on der corner!

  • Spigotheimer.—Ish dot your fader?—

  • —Hellup yourselfs, mein leetle frents, unt you tell your fader I vant to speak mit him on der pack door, alreaty.


  • Transcribing all that dialectical spelling always gives Lazy Curator™ a headache.

    Also: Spigotheimer makes me think of Spankenheimer. And what is going on with the splotches on his butt in Panel 2?
    progbear: Pride Goeth Before Destruction (1900) (Boss Croker inflated)

    Too Much Like Cæsar



    by C. J. Taylor (1895)

    too much like caesar (1895)


    Cassius Reed (to Brutus McKinley).— “Upon what meat doth this our Benjamin feed, that he hath grown so great?”


    The LOC sez:

    Print shows Benjamin Harrison as Caesar, standing in the foreground, wearing a Roman toga and a laurel wreath; Thomas B. Reed as Cassius and William McKinley as Brutus are standing in the background, wearing Roman togas, conversing, Reed holds a knife.
    progbear: Major-General Progbear (Default)

    Welcome to the Fair!



    by C. J. Taylor (1893)

    welcome to the fair (1893)


    ATTN: [livejournal.com profile] urso

    This inner gatefold image was made to commemorate the 1893 World’s Fair in Chicago. Columbia ushers the nations of the world into the fair, which seem (in typical “dinner party”/Match Game fashion) to be paired up in cozy boy-girl couples: (L-R) Belgium (?) and Holland, Italy and Austria, Turkey and Russia, England and Ireland, France and Germania, China and Japan.
    progbear: Major-General Progbear (Default)

    At the Organ Recital



    Art: C. J. Taylor
    Text: Philip H. Welch (1886)


    at the organ recital (1886)


    This entry is accompanied by the following dialogue (click above image to see in context):

    Miss Sealskin.—Oh, these seats are lovely!
    Miss Sable.—Aren't they? We can see everybody.
    Miss Sealskin.—How full the hall is!
    Miss Sable.—Oh, yes; it's the thing, you know.
    Miss Sealskin.—Yes; I was awfully sorry I didn't come down to the first one. I dined at the Elliott's that night, and they were all talking about it.
    Miss Sable.—I see lots of people who’ll be at the Cadwallader dance to night, so you’ll be all right.
    Miss Sealskin.—Yes, indeed! Rain, hail and frost couldn't have kept me away this afternoon.
    Miss Sable.—There's Maud Mezzotone. She goes in for music, you know, and shows regularly at all these places.
    Miss Sealskin.—-And can't sing or play a note.
    Miss Sable. —Oh, no, indeed! I heard her going on the other evening to this very same organist who is playing now. She said: "I never play; I appreciate the lofty genius of the old masters far too much to attempt in my feeble way to interpret them." It was too touching to hear her.
    Miss Sealskin.—What a humbug she is!
    Miss Sable.—Oh, frightful!
    Miss Sealskin.—Oh, dear, I shall split my glove if I applaud any harder. It was a lovely thing, though.
    Miss Sable.—Just too sweet. Which is it on the programme?
    Miss Sealskin. —The second, I think. This "Fugue" of Bach's.
    Miss Sable.—Oh, yes, I do so enjoy Bachs's music.
    Miss Sealskin.—So do I. What a funny - looking person this pianist is.
    Miss Sable.—Awful! Do look at his hands.
    Miss Sealskin.—He is not a bit swell, is he? Some of them are.
    Miss Sable.—Yes, indeed! Do you remember Professor Capo?
    Miss Sealskin.— Oh, yes! Wasn't he lovely?
    Miss Sable.—Perfectly so! Such exquisite teeth!
    Miss Sealskin.—How long do you suppose this wretched creature is going to play?
    Miss Sable.—I'm sure I don't know. Have you got any nougat?
    Miss Sealskin.—Yes; but dare we eat it? It’s awfully vulgar to munch here.
    Miss Sable.—Put some in my muff, and I'll manage it with my handkerchief.
    Miss Sealskin.—I'm just dying for some.
    Miss Sable.—It's awfully good. I just dote on almond nougat.
    Miss Sealskin.—So do I. There, he is done at last. Why, how they do applaud! He must have played something.
    Miss Sable.—Let's see—oh, it's this "variation" of Beethoven's.
    Miss Sealskin.—No, we were wrong before. That other piece wasn't the " Fugue." It was that Liszt "arrangement," and this is the "Symphonic"
    Miss Sable.—Oh, yes; I do believe this will be a recall.
    Miss Sealskin.—It looks like it. There! I can not clap any more.
    Miss Sable.— He's coming back. Don't look now, but Jack Meredith is directly across the hall from us.
    Miss Sealskin.—Is he? Who's with him?
    Miss Sable.—A man I don't know—swell, too.
    Miss Sealskin.—All Jack's friends are swell.
    Miss Sable.—He's awfully nice, too, I think. Did you ever notice what lovely ties he wears?
    Miss Sealskin.—Yes; and what a lovely bow he makes. I just love to meet him on the avenue.
    Miss Sable.—He's talking to Mrs. De Twillenham.
    Miss Sealskin.—I don't see how he can. I think her airs are detestable.
    Miss Sable.—So do I; but then you know she's a De Twillenham.
    Miss Sealskin.—Yes, I know. She has begun her afternoons, you know.
    Miss Sable.—Oh, yes, indeed! We have cards. I shall show at about the third.
    Miss Sealskin.—Mama has put the second down on her tablets, but I think I'll take the third, too.
    Miss Sable.—It's apt to be the most successful. Do look at that Robinson girl trying to catch her eye.
    Miss Sealskin.—She toadies fearfully. Quick! Mrs. De Twillenham is looking this way. There! I'm awfully glad she bowed. See, the crowd all about her are looking to see who it was she recognized.
    Miss Sable.—The Robinson will be cold with envy.
    Miss Sealskin.—She ought to be. Such crowding and pushing as she is making ought not to be encouraged.
    Miss Sable.—Yes, they're awfully common. Nell Gadabout said she took in one of their dinners, and they had glass stoppers in the carafes. Fancy decanted water!
    Miss Sealskin.—Isn't that too absurd!
    Miss Sable.—Oh, here is the basso.
    Miss Sealskin.—Rather good-looking, isn't he?
    Miss Sable.— Rather. I don't admire that sort of man, though. Mercy, what a voice!
    Miss Sealskin.—Down in his boots, I should say.
    Miss Sable.—What is he singing? Oh, from the "Messiah." I hate oratorios.
    Miss Sealskin.—So do I. They 're too awfully severe, I think.
    Miss Sable.—Frightful. There's only one thing more. Let's go after this.
    Miss Sealskin. - Very well. Mrs. De Twillenham is putting her wrap on.
    Miss Sable.—Yes; and Jack Meredith has taken his hat.
    Miss Sealskin.—We’ll just about meet them in the lobby.
    * * * * *
    Miss Sable.—Oh, my dear Mrs. De Twillenham, how do you do? Good afternoon, Mr. Meredith. Hasn't this been a charming hour?
    Miss Sealskin. —So restful and soothing. I have been in a perfect trance of dreamy enjoyment.

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