More toasts: Jokes, stories and quotations

In Short

This collection serves as a practical manual for the reluctant or professional toastmaster, gathering jokes, anecdotes, and aphorisms categorized by subject. It functions as a curated bridge between the speaker and an audience, providing the "pearls" of wit—gleaned from humor magazines and literary sources—that make public addresses palatable. It has remained a significant historical curiosity because it captures the specific preoccupations of the early twentieth century, such as Prohibition, the income tax, and the social hierarchies of the era. By archiving the humor that once filled the columns of Life, Punch, and Judge, the volume preserves the rhythmic, punchy style of American wit from a bygone decade.

The Story

The arc of the book is defined not by a linear narrative, but by the relentless progression of social anxiety and the attempt to soothe it through laughter. It opens with a preface that acknowledges the plight of the "distracted toastmaster," establishing a premise where public speaking is a burden to be mitigated by stolen quips. The editor frames the act of borrowing humor as a necessary, even noble, pursuit, invoking literary figures like Alexander Pope and Samuel Johnson to justify the compilation of secondhand wit.

As the pages turn, the focus shifts from the anxiety of the speaker to the chaotic, often absurd nature of daily life. The book moves through a vast landscape of human folly: the battle of the sexes, the frustrations of the workplace, the confusion of childhood, and the moral quandaries of the professional class. We encounter the stubbornness of servants, the dishonesty of lawyers, the peculiar logic of children, and the inevitable friction between husbands and wives. The "story" is one of perpetual, low-stakes conflict. There is no triumph here, only the weary, cynical, or chuckling recognition that the world is a series of misunderstandings.

In the middle sections, the tone turns toward the specific cultural pressures of the time. The transition from the "old days" of pre-war social norms to the complexities of a modernizing, taxed, and prohibited society creates a recurring tension. Humor is used here as a coping mechanism for the austerity measures of the period. Finally, the book concludes with a pivot toward earnestness, offering "Suggestions for Success" and poetic meditations on the nature of achievement. It attempts to balance the cynicism of its jokes with a final, slightly stiff-collared insistence that effort and character still matter. The reader finishes not with a resolution to a plot, but with a toolkit of responses to the common, grinding irritations of existence, leaving the stage just as they arrived: armed with someone else’s words to keep the audience satisfied.

How It Unfolds

The burden of the speaker The introduction sets the stage by identifying the reader as a person likely forced into public speaking against their will. It frames the gathering of jokes as a service to the "distracted" individual who needs to keep an audience engaged.

The anatomy of the joke Alphabetized sections like "Appetite," "Bigamy," and "Business" categorize the humor, moving from domestic squabbles to professional satire. Each section pairs a modern, often cynical quip with an older, classical quotation, grounding contemporary lightheartedness in the weight of history.

The social friction The middle beats explore the tension between classes and generations, focusing on the interactions between servants and masters or teachers and pupils. These stories rely on dialect and the specific power imbalances of the 1920s to generate their humor.

The pressure of the times As the alphabet progresses, the book confronts the reality of "dry" laws and the economic strain of the post-war era. The humor becomes more pointed, reflecting a society struggling with new taxes and the loss of old comforts.

The moral pivot The final sections shift away from the quick laugh toward didactic advice on success and industry. This serves as a concluding beat, transitioning from the cynicism of the joke to the optimistic, if somewhat cliché, moralizing of the early twentieth-century American work ethic.

The People

The figures populating these pages are archetypes, moving through scenes with the predictability of stock characters in a Vaudeville skit. There is the "distracted toastmaster," the primary subject of the work, who is perpetually worried about being boring or offensive. This person is defined by their insecurity and reliance on external validation. Then there are the "servants" and "cooks," often portrayed as crafty, elusive, or dismissive, who represent the common man’s quiet resistance to the domestic demands of their employers.

We also meet the "self-made man," a figure who embodies both the boastfulness and the insecurity of the age. He is often the butt of the joke, whether he is trying to impress a debutante or failing to understand the value of his own son’s education. The "lawyers" and "politicians" appear as cynical opportunists, always looking for a loophole or a way to turn a crisis into a personal gain. Finally, there is the "pessimist," a voice that cuts through the optimism of the later sections to remind the reader of the inherent futility of life. These figures do not grow or change; they are frozen in their roles, reflecting the rigid social structure that the editor implicitly accepts. They are not meant to be deep, but rather to be recognizable enough that the reader can quickly "plug" them into a speech to achieve a desired reaction.

In Its Own Voice

"No public occasion of today is complete without its joke on the nineteenth amendment, the allied debts, the income tax, etc."

The editor justifies the need for this updated volume by highlighting the specific, pressing political and social concerns of the 1920s.

"A man with a good coat upon his back meets with a better reception than he who has a bad one."

Samuel Johnson is quoted to provide a cynical, philosophical anchor for the book’s exploration of social status and appearance.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an exploration of the performative nature of social life. It argues that success in public—whether in a courtroom, a parlor, or a banquet hall—is less about authenticity and more about the mastery of appearances. It treats humor as a form of social currency, something one "steals" or "gathers" to ensure they are perceived as quick-witted and capable. Underlying the jokes is a persistent, slightly anxious question: how does one navigate a world defined by rigid class, economic, and moral expectations without losing face? The book suggests that the answer is to never be caught without a retort. It is a cynical, utilitarian guide to human interaction, where truth is secondary to the ability to control a room, and where the "best" person is the one who can turn a difficult situation into a punchline.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of American social norms or the evolution of humor will find this a fascinating, if sometimes challenging, artifact. It offers a rare, unvarnished look at the attitudes toward women, laborers, and immigrants in the early 1920s. Be warned: the reliance on period-specific stereotypes and dialect can be jarring, and the humor is frequently built upon attitudes that modern readers will find dated or offensive. Yet, there is a certain charm in seeing how the anxieties of the past were distilled into these brief, rhythmic stories.

The book is best read as a historical document rather than a source of contemporary comedy. It captures the frantic desire to appear "up-to-date" in a rapidly changing world, a feeling that remains strangely relatable. If you approach it as a time capsule—a window into the dinner parties and lecture halls of a century ago—you will appreciate the precision of the writing and the stark clarity of the period’s prejudices. It is not a book for someone seeking a light, modern read, but it is a rewarding experience for anyone curious about the mechanics of how people once spoke to, and laughed at, one another. You will walk away with a clearer understanding of the "polished brass" that defined the era’s social fabric, even if you never find a single reason to repeat these jokes at a modern party.