This is one of those morality tales that points a finger more at a general character type than any specific wrong-doing. Clearly, this is a bad guy because he's smoking while standing on a street corner ("Easy Street") under a street light and looking very smug and self-satisfied, while wearing pants he's grown out of and a striped shirt under a very peculiar jacket. Therefore, Death hovers near. Death has very small hands, poking out from an odd place under his robes, though. Well, one is. Hey, I can be smartass about a drawing I did half century ago, right?