Published in April 1891, this cartoon from Judge depicts factional maneuvering within the Democratic Party as debates over Free Silver intensify ahead of the 1892 election. Grover Cleveland is shown being prodded by party figures pressing new demands and attempting to reshape the party’s direction.
Rather than arguing policy, the image focuses on political pressure itself—teasing, persistence, and leverage used to test authority. Drawn by Bernhard Gillam, the cartoon reflects Judge’s skepticism toward internal party gamesmanship and the tactics used to push established figures out of step with a changing political landscape.
Santa Claus in a Quandary appeared in Judge Magazine during the height of the Gilded Age fights over the Republican “spoils system.” Here, President Benjamin Harrison—drawn by Bernhard Gillam as a weary Santa—staggers under the weight of impossible political demands, while party bosses Platt and Foraker lurk in the trees demanding their cut of federal appointments. The oversized basket labeled “Fill her right up or you are another political failure” nails the point: corruption wasn’t subtle, it was expected. Judge’s artists used holiday whimsy to expose a very real political rot—how patronage, party pressure, and back-room dealmaking strangled the public interest.
More than a century later, the dynamic is painfully familiar: authoritarian movements thrive when loyalty matters more than competence and when political bosses treat democracy like a gift bag to divide among themselves.
A sharp piece of historical resistance art, perfect for anyone who believes good governance beats corruption every time.
Casewrap sewn binding | Vibrant, crisp vintage tones | Blank | 5x7 in.
This 1889 Judge magazine cover illustrated by Victor Gillam turns the autumn elections into a baseball showdown—one where the Republican Party can’t keep its head in the game. The elephant at the plate, dressed in full GOP uniform, is surrounded by opponents ready to capitalize on every mistake, while the caption warns that the party is playing so carelessly it risks being “struck out.” It’s classic Gilded Age political satire: sharp, funny, and brutally honest about how complacency and corruption undermine a democracy. Over a century later, the message still holds—authoritarian movements thrive when the party in power stops playing by the rules and starts taking voters for granted.
A perfect piece of authentic resistance art from 1889—real ink, real artists, real archives.
Casewrap sewn binding | Vibrant, crisp vintage tones | Blank | 5x7 in.
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This 1891 Judge illustration by Grant E. Hamilton captures the fatigue of political journalism during an era dominated by endless stump speeches and partisan rhetoric. Inside the editorial office of a Democratic newspaper, a weary editor is buried beneath towering piles of speeches from President Benjamin Harrison, each tied to cities across the country. At his side stands a caricatured Harrison figure hauling armfuls of encyclopedias, a visual jab at how heavily the president relied on prepared, scripted addresses.
Judge uses humor here to highlight a familiar tension: the struggle of editors to interpret, critique, and keep pace with an overwhelming political message machine. The image reflects a broader frustration with formulaic political communication and the drudgery of campaigning in the late nineteenth century.
Drawn from an issue preserved in the archives, this journal offers a snapshot of American political satire at a moment when newspapers served as the primary arena for national debate. A distinctive companion for notes, writing, or everyday planning.
Metal spiral binding | Interior document pocket | Ruled | 6x8 in.
In this 1891 Judge cartoon illustrated by Victor Gillam, Grover Cleveland appears as a showy jackdaw parading in borrowed peacock feathers—each labeled with a different state election. The joke is simple and brutal: a politician trying to claim victories he didn’t actually win.
More than a century later, the image lands with the same force. American politics is still full of figures who take credit for other people’s work, rewrite outcomes to suit their narrative, and strut like winners no matter what the truth is. If anything, today’s authoritarian-leaning politicians have perfected this move—declaring triumph where there was none, spinning losses into “stolen victories,” and treating democratic processes as props for personal glory.
Casewrap sewn binding | Vibrant, crisp vintage tones | Blank | 5x7 in.
In this 1891 Judge cartoon, Victor Gillam depicts a parade of political insiders trudging through the snow toward the gates of “Miss Columbia,” only to find a sign that reads: “Not at home this year.” The message was sharp then and sharper now—when corruption, entitlement, and backroom influence start lining up for their usual privileges, a healthy democracy has every right to slam the gate shut.
This artwork poked fun at the power brokers who thought the nation owed them access. Today, it reads like a reminder that the republic belongs to the people, not to the grifters, deal-makers, and would-be authoritarians who keep trying to sneak in through the side door.
Casewrap sewn binding | Vibrant, crisp vintage tones | Blank | 5x7 in.
In this 1891 Judge cover by Bernhard Gillam, titled “The Duet of the Saint and the Sinner,” a monk and a court jester—moral opposites by design—attempt to play from the same sheet of music. The pairing is deliberately absurd: sanctity and spectacle staged side by side, forced into a single performance.
The joke is visual and direct. Harmony is announced rather than achieved, and agreement appears as display rather than order. By setting the saint and the sinner together, Gillam turns cooperation into farce, suggesting that unity proclaimed across incompatible roles is more theater than governance.
Casewrap sewn binding | Vibrant, crisp vintage tones | Ruled | 5x7 in.
Published in July 1896 in Judge, this large-format cartoon anticipates imperial conflict before it arrives, responding directly to the Venezuelan Question while widening its critique to empire more broadly. European powers and the United States appear as caricatured figures advancing with official statements rather than weapons, as a dark shadow stretches between them, signaling consequences already in motion.
Drawn by Grant E. Hamilton, the image targets rhetoric instead of combat. Authority speaks in proclamations, but the direction of power is already visible. Appearing nearly two years before the Spanish-American War, the cartoon reflects a strain of American satire skeptical of expansionist logic and the claims used to justify it.
Original illustration from an 1896 issue of Judge, preserved as an archival artifact of anti-imperial dissent.
Casewrap sewn binding | Vibrant, crisp vintage tones | Ruled | 5x7 in.
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This 1889 Judge magazine cover turns the autumn elections into a baseball showdown—one where the Republican Party can’t keep its head in the game. The elephant at the plate, dressed in full GOP uniform, is surrounded by opponents ready to capitalize on every mistake, while the caption warns that the party is playing so carelessly it risks being “struck out.” It’s classic Gilded Age political satire: sharp, funny, and brutally honest about how complacency and corruption undermine a democracy.
Over a century later, the message still holds—authoritarian movements thrive when the party in power stops playing by the rules and starts taking voters for granted. A perfect piece of authentic resistance art from 1889—real ink, artists, real archives.
Crew length | Recycled Polyester-Cotton blend | All-over print with solid black toe and heel accents
In 1890, Judge Magazine took aim at Chicago’s swaggering bid to host the World’s Fair. The artist imagines the city as an overconfident cowboy straining beneath a globe-sized promise, while Uncle Sam looks on with a familiar mix of annoyance and inevitability. It’s a classic American problem: leaders who chase spectacle, prestige, and headlines—and then expect the public to carry the weight when reality hits. This piece lands squarely in the tradition of resistance satire that exposes political vanity and the empty theatrics of power. Then as now, grand projects can become distractions from real governance, transparency, and accountability. A perfect choice for anyone who enjoys watching hubris get the skewering it deserves.
Crew length | Recycled Polyester-Cotton blend | All-over print with solid black toe and heel accents
This 1891 Judge Magazine cover skewers political theatrics long before Twitter ever existed. A monk and a court jester—one solemn, one scheming—attempt a “duet” that’s really just noisy, mismatched chaos. Their sheet music jokes about “They’re after me” and “Razzle Dazzle,” mocking politicians who talk harmony while delivering nothing but discord. A century later, the message still lands: when politicians substitute drama for substance, when ego drowns out governance, democracy suffers.
This vintage piece is part of The Antifascist Shop’s mission to bring real historical satire back into the present fight—because political dysfunction has always been a warning sign, and these old cartoons saw it coming.
Crew length | Recycled Polyester-Cotton blend | All-over print with solid black toe and heel accents
Trying to Fish McGinty from the Bottom of the Sea appeared in Judge Magazine in 1889, during an era when American politics was drenched in patronage, bribery, and machine control. “McGinty” was Judge’s running symbol for the incompetent, scandal-ridden party boss who keeps dragging his allies down with him. Here he sits literally on the ocean floor—entangled in wreckage and corruption—while party operatives desperately try to haul him back to the surface. The message was unmistakable then, and still relevant today: you can’t rescue a sinking political machine by pretending it isn’t sinking.
Judge’s artists used humor to expose the cowardice of politicians who protect failed leaders instead of confronting the rot that keeps dragging democracy under.
This 1889 Judge cover by Victor Gillam turns the autumn elections into a baseball showdown—one where the Republican Party can’t keep its head in the game. The elephant at the plate, dressed in full GOP uniform, is surrounded by opponents ready to capitalize on every mistake, while the caption warns that the party is playing so carelessly it risks being “struck out.” It’s classic Gilded Age political satire: sharp, funny, and brutally honest about how complacency and corruption undermine a democracy.
Over a century later, the message still holds—authoritarian movements thrive when the party in power stops playing by the rules and starts taking voters for granted.
Add two mugs to your cart to receive an automatic bundle discount.
Santa Claus in a Quandary appeared in Judge Magazine during the height of the Gilded Age fights over the Republican “spoils system.” Here, President Benjamin Harrison—drawn as a weary Santa—staggers under the weight of impossible political demands, while party bosses Platt and Foraker lurk in the trees demanding their cut of federal appointments. The oversized basket labeled “Fill her right up or you are another political failure” nails the point: corruption wasn’t subtle, it was expected. Judge’s artists used holiday whimsy to expose a very real political rot—how patronage, party pressure, and back-room dealmaking strangled the public interest.
More than a century later, the dynamic is painfully familiar: authoritarian movements thrive when loyalty matters more than competence and when political bosses treat democracy like a gift bag to divide among themselves.
A sharp piece of historical resistance art, perfect for anyone who believes good governance beats corruption every time.
This 1889 cartoon from Judge Magazine skewers James G. Blaine’s dream of steering South America into the arms of U.S. power. Blaine—drawn here as a self-styled frontier “guide”—tries to lead the nations of Latin America toward American markets whether they want guiding or not. The artist exposes the arrogance baked into this foreign-policy fantasy: a belief that other nations exist to be directed, managed, or economically harvested at Washington’s convenience. More than a century later, the joke still lands. Imperial posturing, manufactured influence, and “we know what’s best for you” politics remain the old tricks of would-be global strongmen.
This piece calls that out with the sharp humor of the Gilded Age—reminding us how easily power slides into domination when left unchecked. Authentic resistance art from 1889, revived for a new fight.
Durable stainless steel core with enamel finish resists rust and staining | Lead and BPA-free | Not suitable for microwave use | Hand wash only.
This 1889 Judge Magazine cover turns the fight to host the 1893 World’s Fair into a piece of pure political theater. Chicago, New York, St. Louis, and Washington appear like anxious suitors peeking through the curtain, each one hoping to be chosen while a family watches the drama unfold. It’s a gentle but sharp jab at how civic pride, national ambition, and political lobbying often slide into spectacle. Originally printed at a moment when cities were pouring money, favors, and political capital into winning the Fair, this illustration captures the competition with humor and a surprisingly modern eye.
Over a century later, it still reads as a reminder that the scramble for power and prestige has never been rational — just louder, more frantic, and always a bit ridiculous.
In the 1890s, ballot reform was so threatening to political machines that they fought it tooth and nail. This Judge cartoon captured that fear — corruption hanging on for dear life while the idea of fair elections pulled away faster than they could stop it.
More than a century later, the cast of characters has changed, but the panic looks the same. Whenever democracy becomes harder to rig, the same old forces — different names, same instincts — scramble to block it. This artwork isn’t about left or right. It’s about the people who fear fair elections, and the democratic reforms they try to drag down with them.
Vintage satire, modern warnings. Real ink. Real history. Anti-authoritarian then and now.
Durable stainless steel core with enamel finish resists rust and staining | Lead and BPA-free | Not suitable for microwave use | Hand wash only.
In 1890, Judge ran this blistering satire of New York’s so-called “law and order” institutions. The cartoon tears into the Police Department and District Attorney’s Office—showing bribery, stolen-goods rings, and corruption piled so high it can’t be ignored. A press investigator arrives to document the mess, while politicians scramble to avoid accountability.
This vintage illustration exposes the same rot we continue fighting today—selective prosecution, politicized policing, and the corruption that authoritarian movements depend on.
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In 1890, Judge magazine imagined the Republican Party as an unstoppable force of “progress,” crushing obstacles and dismissing all opposition as mere obstruction. Seen from the vantage point of today, the irony is impossible to miss. The cartoon tells us more about political mythology than political reality. Then as now, powerful parties love to portray themselves as the righteous engine of history — even when their real movement leads somewhere far darker. What gets branded as “moving forward” often means rolling over anyone who stands in the way of concentrated power. Looking at this image today, the warning is clear: authoritarian drift always masks itself as momentum. It never calls itself what it is.
Vintage satire repurposed for a modern truth: progress isn’t measured by who shouts the loudest, but by who protects democracy instead of trampling it.
In 1890, Judge Magazine took aim at Chicago’s swaggering bid to host the World’s Fair. The artist imagines the city as an overconfident cowboy straining beneath a globe-sized promise, while Uncle Sam looks on with a familiar mix of annoyance and inevitability. It’s a classic American problem: leaders who chase spectacle, prestige, and headlines—and then expect the public to carry the weight when reality hits.
This piece lands squarely in the tradition of resistance satire that exposes political vanity and the empty theatrics of power.
Then as now, grand projects can become distractions from real governance, transparency, and accountability.
In this 1890 Judge cover by Grant E. Hamilton, “La Grippe” — the flu epidemic then sweeping the country — is illustrated as a smug, cloaked visitor paying a call on a bedridden Uncle Sam. Bottles of patent “cures,” useless pills, and a wrecked sickroom complete the scene. It’s medical satire, yes, but also a criticism of how America responds when crisis walks in the door: too little preparation, too much bravado, and a nation left holding the bill. A century later, the image feels uncomfortably familiar.
As modern political movements deny science, sabotage public health, and treat national illness as a culture-war prop, this cartoon reminds us that epidemics don’t care about slogans — and that ignoring reality has always come with a cost.
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This 1891 illustration by Grant E. Hamilton for Judge reduces the U.S. Senate to a single, overstuffed chair. Lawmakers scramble, shove, and collapse over one another, each clutching scraps of legislation and factional labels, while the institution itself grinds to a halt.
Hamilton’s satire is not aimed at a single party or personality, but at a political system consumed by its own internal struggles. Power becomes crowded, inward-facing, and ultimately inert—busy occupying space rather than exercising responsibility. The result is motion without movement, process without outcome.
More than a century later, the image remains unsettlingly legible. It captures a familiar pattern: institutions so congested with ambition and obstruction that they become their own greatest obstacle.
Durable stainless steel core with enamel finish resists rust and staining | Lead and BPA-free
Grant E. Hamilton’s Judge illustration skewers the era’s rigged gambling rackets—and the political corruption that made them possible. A naïve bettor in a “Fool’s Cap” places his wager while, just over the fence, a row of crooks labeled “Scoundrel,” “Blockie,” “Quincy,” “Swindler Thief,” and more manipulate the entire race with dangling fishing poles. The “judges” themselves sit in a tower that’s every bit as compromised.
What looks like a farce was deadly serious in its time: systems built so the powerful win and the public loses. More than a century later, Hamilton’s message still lands—when the game is rigged, the outcome isn’t fate, it’s design.
Durable stainless steel core with enamel finish resists rust and staining | Lead and BPA-free
Grant E. Hamilton’s Judge illustration skewers the era’s rigged gambling rackets—and the political corruption that made them possible. A naïve bettor in a “Fool’s Cap” places his wager while, just over the fence, a row of crooks labeled “Scoundrel,” “Blockie,” “Quincy,” “Swindler Thief,” and more manipulate the entire race with dangling fishing poles. The “judges” themselves sit in a tower that’s every bit as compromised.
What looks like a farce was deadly serious in its time: systems built so the powerful win and the public loses. More than a century later, Hamilton’s message still lands—when the game is rigged, the outcome isn’t fate, it’s design.
In this satirical Judge spread, Bernhard Gillam recasts America’s major political players as nervous animals crowding toward an improvised “Ark” run by the Farmers’ Alliance. The message is clear: in an age of corruption, graft, and economic upheaval, even the most powerful party figures scramble for cover. Gillam uses the familiar Noah’s Ark story to skewer the era’s political opportunism—showing lions, elephants, foxes, and donkeys all trying to dodge a storm they helped create.
It’s a razor-sharp commentary on how political coalitions behave when the public mood shifts: unity suddenly matters, principles bend, and every creature hustles for a spot on the next safe ship.
More than a century later, the scene feels familiar. The storm changes, the scramble remains.
Durable stainless steel core with enamel finish resists rust and staining | Lead and BPA-free
This 1891 Judge Magazine cover skewers political theatrics long before Twitter ever existed. A monk and a court jester—one solemn, one scheming—attempt a “duet” that’s really just noisy, mismatched chaos. Their sheet music jokes about “They’re after me” and “Razzle Dazzle,” mocking politicians who talk harmony while delivering nothing but discord. A century later, the message still lands: when politicians substitute drama for substance, when ego drowns out governance, democracy suffers.
Real historical satire brought back for the present fight—because political dysfunction has always been a warning sign, and these old cartoons saw it coming.
Unconditional Surrender appeared in Judge Magazine at a moment when political cowardice was becoming a national joke. Using Civil War imagery, the artist shows so-called “Republican Copperheads” handing themselves over to old Confederate brigadiers — a sharp critique of leaders who claim loyalty to the Union while enabling its enemies. The point was clear then, and remains painfully clear now: authoritarian movements thrive when politicians surrender instead of standing up. This is resistance art with teeth. Judge was warning that appeasement isn’t compromise — it’s complicity.
A perfect piece for anyone who refuses to bow to modern strongmen, culture-war bullies, or would-be tyrants.
Durable stainless steel core with enamel finish resists rust and staining | Lead and BPA-free | Not suitable for microwave use | Hand wash only.
This 1891 Judge magazine cartoon pokes fun at Chicago’s over-the-top campaign to secure the World’s Fair. The “average Chicago man” is shown buried under booster slogans, puffed-up pride, and frantic political pressure—every pocket stuffed with propaganda, every sign insisting the city must win. It’s satire aimed at civic ego and the way power structures hype themselves into inevitability. More than a century later, the joke still lands.
Whenever politicians treat public institutions as tools to boost their own image—or when local power brokers insist that their interests are everyone’s interests—this kind of satire becomes timeless.
This illustration comes from an 1891 issue of Judge, capturing a moment when political elites proudly defended a tariff law not because it worked, but because no one had the courage to change it. The text openly admits the damage was already done and the politics were too risky for anyone to fix the mess—a perfect snapshot of Gilded Age self-congratulation. A century later, it feels familiar: leaders praising “victories” that mostly protect themselves, while the public absorbs the fallout.
Real history, real satire, and a reminder that political cowardice has a long American pedigree. Tariffs: Bad policy, great cowardice.
Durable stainless steel core with enamel finish resists rust and staining | Lead and BPA-free | Not suitable for microwave use | Hand wash only.
This 1891 Judge illustration exposes a problem as old as American politics: leaders who talk endlessly about “reform” while doing nothing to improve the lives of ordinary people. In the scene, two exhausted farmers stand ankle-deep in discarded “reform” speeches, campaign promises, and empty policy scrolls, while the Capitol dome heckles in the distance. Even Congress is tired of the grift.
A century later, the pattern hasn’t changed. Today’s bad-faith politicians — especially within the modern GOP — still use “reform” as a slogan to justify voter suppression, deregulation, and attacks on democratic institutions.
This piece lands as a reminder that performative politics is a tool of authoritarianism, and that real democracy requires more than speeches: it requires accountability.
In this 1891 Judge cartoon, a military-style brass band refuses to keep playing the same tired tune for their blustering commander. The musicians are done, the public is done, and the leader is furious that no one wants his one-note message anymore. More than a century later, the scene feels painfully familiar. When political movements rely on repetition instead of ideas—and when leaders demand loyalty instead of results—the “music” always falls flat.
This illustration calls out the danger of stagnant, authoritarian politics: the refusal to evolve, the insistence on obedience, and the belief that the public will never demand something better.
A perfect piece for anyone who’s tired of propaganda loops, personality cults, and leaders who only know how to play one broken tune.
This 1891 cartoon from Judge turns the biblical story of Samson and Delilah into a battle for American democracy. Columbia — standing in for the public — quietly cuts away the “strength” of a corrupt political boss, with shears labeled Ballot Reform, Registration, and The Australian Ballot. In its own era, this image mocked the political machines that thrived on secrecy, intimidation, and rigged systems. More than a century later, the symbolism lands even harder. The tools have changed, but the threat is the same: powerful figures doing everything they can to keep the public disorganized, distracted, or asleep. And once again, the answer is the same too — protect the vote, defend the process, and cut authoritarian power down to size.
Resistance art isn’t new. Americans have been fighting corruption since before these pages were printed. You’re holding a piece of that ongoing story.
Durable stainless steel core with enamel finish resists rust and staining | Lead and BPA-free | Not suitable for microwave use | Hand wash only.
In this 1891 Judge cartoon, a parade of political insiders trudges through the snow toward the gates of “Miss Columbia,” only to find a sign that reads: “Not at home this year.” The message was sharp then and sharper now—when corruption, entitlement, and backroom influence start lining up for their usual privileges, a healthy democracy has every right to slam the gate shut. This artwork poked fun at the power brokers who thought the nation owed them access. Today, it reads like a reminder that the republic belongs to the people, not to the grifters, deal-makers, and would-be authoritarians who keep trying to sneak in through the side door.
Authentic Gilded Age resistance art—because the faces change, but the corruption never does.
Published just days after the Wounded Knee Massacre, this 1891 Judge cover by Bernhard Gillam delivers one of the sharpest moral indictments of U.S. Indian policy ever put to print. A smug senator strolls past a skeletal camp labeled “Starved into rebellion, then shot,” exposing the government’s long pattern of starving Native communities, provoking resistance, and then justifying brutal retaliation.
The cartoon flips the era’s racist slogan — “the only good Indian is the dead one” — to expose the cruelty behind it. This isn’t humor at Indigenous expense; it’s satire aimed squarely at the policymakers who engineered displacement, broken treaties, and mass death.
As authoritarian movements try again to sanitize history, images like this matter. They remind us that resistance art has always existed — and that confronting state violence is not new, but necessary.
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In this 1891 Judge cartoon, Grover Cleveland is depicted by Victor Gillam as a showy jackdaw parading in borrowed peacock feathers—each labeled with a different state election. The joke is simple and brutal: a politician trying to claim victories he didn’t actually win. Today’s authoritarian-leaning politicians have perfected this move—declaring triumph where there was none, spinning losses into “stolen victories,” and treating democratic processes as props for personal glory.
Opportunism, ego, and the hunger for unearned power aren’t new—but calling them out never goes out of style.
Add two mugs to your cart to receive an automatic bundle discount.
Published in July 1896 in Judge, this large-format cartoon anticipates imperial conflict before it arrives, responding directly to the Venezuelan Question while widening its critique to empire more broadly. European powers and the United States appear as caricatured figures advancing with official statements rather than weapons, as a dark shadow stretches between them, signaling consequences already in motion.
Drawn by Grant E. Hamilton, the image targets rhetoric instead of combat. Authority speaks in proclamations, but the direction of power is already visible. Appearing nearly two years before the Spanish-American War, the cartoon reflects a strain of American satire skeptical of expansionist logic and the claims used to justify it.
Original illustration from an 1896 issue of Judge, preserved as an archival artifact of anti-imperial dissent.
Add two mugs to your cart to receive an automatic bundle discount.
In the 1890s, ballot reform was so threatening to political machines that they fought it tooth and nail. This Judge cartoon captured that fear — corruption hanging on for dear life while the idea of fair elections pulled away faster than they could stop it. More than a century later, the cast of characters has changed, but the panic looks the same. Whenever democracy becomes harder to rig, the same old forces — different names, same instincts — scramble to block it. This artwork isn’t about left or right. It’s about the people who fear fair elections, and the democratic reforms they try to drag down with them. Vintage satire, modern warnings. Real ink. Real history. Anti-authoritarian then and now.
100% certified organic ring-spun cotton | Tear-away label and Econscious tag
In this satirical Judge spread, Bernhard Gillam recasts America’s major political players as nervous animals crowding toward an improvised “Ark” run by the Farmers’ Alliance. The message is clear: in an age of corruption, graft, and economic upheaval, even the most powerful party figures scramble for cover. Gillam uses the familiar Noah’s Ark story to skewer the era’s political opportunism—showing lions, elephants, foxes, and donkeys all trying to dodge a storm they helped create.
It’s a razor-sharp commentary on how political coalitions behave when the public mood shifts: unity suddenly matters, principles bend, and every creature hustles for a spot on the next safe ship.
More than a century later, the scene feels familiar. The storm changes, the scramble remains.
100% certified organic ring-spun cotton | Grown without pesticides
This 1889 Judge cover by Grant E. Hamilton turns the fight to host the 1893 World’s Fair into a piece of political theater. Chicago, New York, St. Louis, and Washington appear like anxious suitors peeking through a curtain, each hoping to be chosen while a family watches the drama unfold. It’s a gentle but sharp jab at how civic pride, national ambition, and political lobbying often slide into spectacle.
Printed at a moment when cities were pouring money, favors, and political capital into winning the Fair, the illustration captures the competition with humor and a surprisingly modern eye.
Over a century later, it still reads as a reminder that the scramble for power and prestige has never been rational—just louder, more frantic, and always a bit ridiculous.
Natural wood, black, or white frames with matching hands | Silent quartz mechanism
In this 1891 Judge cartoon, Grover Cleveland appears as a jackdaw parading in borrowed peacock feathers—each one a state election he tries to claim as his own. The joke is sharp and simple: a politician taking credit he didn’t earn. More than a century later, the image still lands. American politics is full of figures who rewrite outcomes, inflate their wins, and strut like victors no matter the truth. Today’s authoritarian-leaning politicians have perfected the move—turning losses into “stolen victories” and treating democratic processes as props for personal glory.
This piece fits squarely within the mission of The Antifascist Shop: real historical art exposing the recurring tactics of opportunism, ego, and the hunger for unearned power. Some patterns never fade—so neither should the satire that calls them out.
Crew length | Recycled Polyester-Cotton blend | All-over print with solid black toe and heel accents
This 1889 Judge Magazine illustration shows a stagecoach halted on the snowy plains by a rowdy band of armed frontiersmen who treat intimidation as holiday cheer. The caption’s joke—calling the gang “Shanty Claws”—was Judge’s way of mocking America’s romanticized Wild West mythos, where mob rule and gun swagger were dressed up as folklore. Viewed today, the scene resonates uncomfortably: groups who imagine themselves as patriots while using fear and force to control others. Judge was warning that violence wrapped in cultural costume is still violence—and still a threat to the common good.
A bold piece of authentic resistance art from the Gilded Age, revived for a moment when democratic courage matters more than ever.
Durable stainless steel core with enamel finish resists rust and staining | Lead and BPA-free | Not suitable for microwave use | Hand wash only.