The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

"These are good comments," nods Lola Paine. "Who else can I talk to? How about that woman over there with the glasses?" "You got all day??"

Once again I must observe that the Worker is the only paper that seems to be covering this story. Much the pity, you know how much Larry likes to see his name in the paper....

 

[Fading Fast]

"We din' stan' aroun' read'n no papehs in t'oity-seven, 'n'at's f'sueh..." "You had a lunch coun'eh t'sit at t'ough," mourns Alice

I love Alice. Putting the politics aside, I've worked for "Sallys –" big picture, philosophical, visionary, and hard to get their attention on practical details, iffy on follow-up – and "Alices –" very practical, will discuss small details, follows up well, leaves "the vision" thing to you.

**********************************************************

"Ye knoo bettar, Joseph,"

Yup.

**********************************************************

Well, hold onto it, we can blow up that building we own that's on the wrong lot!

Cute.

**********************************************************

Put your glasses on, stupid, and maybe you'll see what's going on.

Countess Chichi is always out of money because those Edith Head-designed gowns don't come cheap, but to be fair, that one really does look good on her.

*********************************************************

"Good Lord, how he tried!" Outta ya league, fella.

I agree, but she married him. Plus she blasted through five marriages in her life.

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"Um," ums Alice, "I on'y bought it so I could read 'D i c k Tracy...."

She's still the best.

*********************************************************

"Every time I leave the kid with friends! EVERY TIME!"

Seriously. It's a little ridiculous.

*********************************************************

"These are good comments," nods Lola Paine. "Who else can I talk to? How about that woman over there with the glasses?" "You got all day??"

Oy. Ma could soon be proven right.

 

[Harp]

Myrna Loy was such an exquisite woman. Grace, elegance, beauty, and undeniable class.

Ginger Rogers. When in high school, Ms Rogers was here in Chicago for a play downtown, and I resolved
to meet her and autograph.... She was at the Water Tower on Michigan Avenue; surrounded by middle age matrons of Chicago society, when I started my move towards her clique. Suddenly one of the gals asked her-then-and-there if she'd ever slept with Fred Astaire. Ms Rogers turned scarlet sun blazing red faced.
And I turned around and made for the closest elevator.

I took a stab at the Jerome yesterday. Balboa was my winner but he came in second to My World.
Aqueduct's winter oval has a reputation for a slow track, but after looking over the first two race payouts,
it was obvious that the wallet was out and open in Queens. A slow track and a fast buck suits me fine;
although poker percentage play proved unprofitable. I pushed my chair away from the table and tried my
luck with the Smarty Jones later at Oak Lawn; however, Silent Tactic whom I excised for final draw came in second and busted flush kit&kaboodle. I elected to go All for first, then started poking the fire when I should
have left the blaze alone. It was open bar, anyone and everybody, and I admittedly didn't train as sharp a bead
on this particular race as I should have done. A monster pot too. Tablestakes poker wild cards and I felt like
I walked into a right cross eyes wide open. And when its your own damn fault, Maslow's Id, Ego, and Superfecta
hits hard.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("F't'las' time," insists Sally, peeling back the bandage on her forehead to reveal an angry gash, "I did NAWT get mixed up innat fight! Now gimme t' iodine." "Yeh," nods Joe, with a frown of disbelief. "Ya lookin' at me like t'at again," fumes Sally. "Leas' I t'ink you awr. I can't see a t'ing wit'eese busted glasses. Leonoreh! Go fin' my ot'eh paieh. LEONOREH!" "Remembeh?" reminds Joe, tapping his right ear. He walks over to Leonora and speaks into her left ear, and with a nod she retreats to the bedroom. "I'm sawry," sighs Sally. "But I sweahtagawd I neveh wen' neeh t'at fight. I wasn'eeven'NEH yet! We was get'n awff t' bus acrost'a street, an' we seen'is brawl get'n stawrted, an' we was get'nawff t' bus an' Alice slipped onna wet step, an' I tried'a catch'eh, an' she fell awff t' bus an' I fell right awff wit'eh, flipped oveh'reh, an' lan'ed on my face! T'at'sa gawds hones' trut. HEY! Go easy wit'tat iodine, it stings!" "Heehzya glasses, Ma," returns Leonora. "Awright," exhales Sally, opening the case and slipping them on. Joe immediately stifles a laugh. "WHAT?" Sally snaps. Snickering, Joe points to the glasses. "Oh yeh," groans Sally. "I f'gawt t'ese was broke too. T'at time I tried t'keep t'at railroad gawrd fr'm fawlin' awff t' platfawrm...")

("Ow," creaks Alice, slowly sinking into the living room chair. "Owwwwwww. C'mon, don' look at me like t'at." "Didja get inna FIGHT, Ma?" gapes Willie. "Like inna papeh???" "Yeh," nods Krause, taking out his cigar. "How many didja get, Ma?" enthuses Willie. "Didja lay'm out good, huh? Did'ey get up, didja give it t'w'm again??" "Neh," dissuades Krause, giving his son The Look. "I tol' ya," sighs Alice. "We was get'n awff t' bus, I seen what was goin' awn, an' Sal's comin right behin' me. I'm try'na keep 'eh fr'm get'n mixed up in it, she likes t' run right up me back. I fawl off t' bus, she jumps right oveh me, I grab 'eh by t' ankle, an' we'eh bot' down awna groun'. I din' wann'eh t'get arrested again, y'know?" "Wowwwwwwwww," inhales an awestruck Willie. "Yeh," exhales Krause....)

(Postwar marketing takes a more aggressive turn.)

(Goody Rosen is the only Canadian and the only plastic salesman in the major leagues. Plus he hit .325! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT??)

("Good afternoon, Sergeant," greets Mr. Ginsburg, collecting his mail as Solly Pincus descends the stairs. "A grip you carry? You are leavink us?" "Nah," nahs Solly, buttoning his overcoat. "I gotta catch a train t' Chicageh. Goin' out'eh'r'awn, you know, business. Not sueh when I'll be back, but shoul'notta be too lawng. Hey, keep'n eye awn Joe fawr me, woul'ja? He's been havin' a time'v'it lately." "Yussel will be fine," affirms Mr. Ginsburg. "Slow and steady, is the saying, wins the race. But you, mine boy, if I might say... keeping such hours, always trips taking..." "Yeh," sighs Solly. "It's a grind awright. Lissen -- uh -- do me anot'eh faveh, huh? If -- um -- y'know -- uh -- Bink -- um -- Scanlan comes aroun' askin' -- well, jus' tell 'eh -- um -- tell 'eh I'll see 'eh when I get back, huh?" "Ah," ahs Mr. Ginsburg, with a knowing nod....)

("Good, we can sell that building!")

(As every good actor knows, never drop character till the scene is over...)

(These full-service pharmacies always go the extra mile.)

("And don't ask what kind of business! That's our -- ah --my business!")

(I wouldn't have ****ed Trix for a Calvinist philosopher considering the inevitability of sin among the non-elect, but that's just me...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Another Fine Mess..."

"Leo would take him back in a minute, you know," sighs Mr. Parrott. "As a coach, I mean. And don't you think the fans would..." "Mr. Fitzsimmons," glowers Mr. Rickey, "did not do what I requested that he do. You recall that I offered him the managerial position at Montreal, and he declined. And therefore..." "...you sent him to Philadelphia!" frowns Mr. Parrott. "I obliged his wishes," sniffs Mr. Rickey. "He insisted that he is a Big Leaguer. I did the man a favor." "If you want to do a man a favor," argues Mr. Parrott, "you DON'T send him to Philadelphia!!!"

That rascal!

A lot of War Bonds are being cashed in this year...

Better get a patent, just in case...

Someday, hipster dessert houses would pay a lot of money for this recipe.

Bold talk from a man in an ascot.

If this does turn out to be Judas, I think I'll scream. If there is one man in all the comics who deserves to be dead...

Mr. Gould? Howard Hughes' lawyers would like a word with you.

A niblick? Isn't this a mashie shot?

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Thanks for clearing that up.

 

[Fading Fast]

"...T'at time I tried t'keep t'at railroad gawrd fr'm fawlin' awff t' platfawrm..."

There are no bigger lies than the ones we tell to ourselves about ourselves.

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"...Sal's comin right behin' me. I'm try'na keep 'eh fr'm get'n mixed up in it, she likes t' run right up me back...."

I'm much more inclined to believe Alice's take.

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"...And don't you think the fans would..."

Yes they would.

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Better get a patent, just in case...

Agreed. Also, considering how good Skeezix was at fixing mechanical things in the war, you'd think he'd be working on the snowblower too.

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Someday, hipster dessert houses would pay a lot of money for this recipe.

Carl Ed should see a doctor; something is wrong with his head. His storylines have been bizarre.

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If this does turn out to be Judas, I think I'll scream. If there is one man in all the comics who deserves to be dead...

Very fair point. Also, it looks like Edith Head is putting a toe in the acting game with a cameo here in T&TPs.

***********************************************************

Thanks for clearing that up.

I give 'em 18 months at the outside.

 

[Harp]

Sipping my first cup of joe, I noticed the Mansfeldt decade-long manslaughter verdict against
her appellate recourse insanity defense; which the jury rejected citing collective concern for her children.
Such solicit however admirable, in my opinion, allowed reasonable latitude toward trial judge to take the
verdict away under judgemente non obstente veredicto, and free the defendant. Although I believe defendant deliberately slew the decedent, and her appeal predicated upon fragile grounds, the jury rejection suffices said initiative though this did not happen. Intervention in criminal trials is rare as great deference accords a jury wrought verdict.

The nationwide Manhattan jewel thief chase yielded gems and the culprit is a male ballet dancer
*** soda jerk. Who tried to hawk the load at a cut-rate discount because he felt the heat.
Something tells me he'll be dancing another jig in Ossining.

Gloria Swanson and her beau breakup looks interesting. In 1946 money, hubby looks like he's packing heat.
Real heat. All denied, of course. Howsoever, Gloria's a love 'em-and-leave-'em gal. Red flags up his yazoo.
He'd best be adequately covered. This should be privately settled away from court.

The 12 year old ******* is beyond tragic. I cannot imagine what the parents are enduring.

-----
Terry the old China hand, should have enough points to skedaddle Shanghai.
Captain Judas last seen was shot by Dude Hennick, armed with the storied '03 Springfield *****.
Chambered for .30-06 caliber with a 150 grain slug, the Springfield packs a punch. And Judas had
verbally verified his mark, hand over stomach. Looked like a celiac aorta or a descending left gastric
arterial puncture severance. A southpaw strike ain't good. I gave the ******* six or seven minutes tops;
while our gal Burma has a 9mm Parabellum trained on him for the coup de grace sayonara.
And speaking of the devil, has anybody seen Burma? I last saw her at the Crestwood, Illinois
Off Tack Betting joint cashing a winning ticket. It definitely was her. She left before I could overcome
my shock and speak to her, so there it is.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Oi tell ye, Tommy," sighs Uncle Frank over a Toomey's doughnut, "it's joost woon thing aftarr'anoothar. Nora wants me t'take aaahn Sally at th' sarrploos shop on th' days she ain't aaahn picket duty. Oi mean, th' gaaarl's practically me oon daughtarr, boot Oi doon't think that's th' roit loin'arr waaaark faaar'er." "Plus she'd drive ya up t'wawl," snickers Sergeant Doyle thru a sip of coffee. "Makin' speeches t'ev'rybody comes inna dooeh. Why don'cha put'eh oveh t't'at dress shawp ya own?" "Oi doon't oon it exactly," shrugs Uncle Frank. "Moozelewski'd be foine with it, boot that Miss Kaplan..." "Ya shoulda putcha foot down wit'eh when she was a kid," snickers Doyle. "Yaaar a foonny man, Thomas," frowns Uncle Frank. "Oh, hey" continues Doyle. "Lissen, nawt t' change t' subjeck, but r'membeh t'at guy you was lookin' fawr las' mont'? T'at T'ud Wilentz? Well, a Joisey troopeh'r I know tol' me t'ey jus' fished 'im outta t' Raritan Riveh." "Whaaaat?" gasps Uncle Frank. "Yeh," nods Doyle, thru another slurp of coffee. "Coupla kids seen 'im stickin' outa t' ice. Hadda chip 'im out. Figyehed he'd been inneh a week a'so. Foun'a coupla slugs in'im fr'm an Awrmy 45. Heh, good luck trackin'at! An'ee had a broken jawr too. Whoeveh got'im woiked 'im oveh good. Hey, y'gonna finish'at doughnut? Frank? Frank...?")

("Oi joost think, daughtarrr," argues Ma, "that'cheed be happiaaar waarkin' next door 'steada in here, that's all. Didn'chee always say ye couldn' wait t' get oota this place?" "At's diffen't," frowns Sally. "Joe's woikin'eeh now. I could help'im out. I bet 'ee's oveh t'eh right now tellin' Docteh Levine jus' how much he'd like t'have me in'eeh." "Ye nivvar loiked wait'n aaahn coostoomars when ye was a little garl,' dismisses Ma. "Whot makes ye think ye'd be any bettar at it now." "I'm a grown woman, Ma," Sally growls. "I ain' no mout'y fifteen-yeehr-ol'. Look, heeh comes a guy now, lemme wait awn 'im. I'll show ya. Hiya bud, what'll it be?" "Packa Luckies," mumbles the customer, reaching down for a copy of the Eagle. As Sally slides his cigarettes across the counter, he flips past the comic section wrapped around the paper to the front page. "Twenny cents," announces Sally, offering Service with a Smile. "Yeh," mumbles the man, flipping a quarter on the counter. "Jeez, willya getta loada t'is. T'eh gonna tie'yup t' whole gawdam phone com'pny jus' f'ra buncha Reds out'ta Joisey. Oughta put t'whole lawtt'v'm awna boat an'..." "DAUGHTER!" interrupts Ma, as Sally's eyes dilate and her fingers clench.....)

(Don't look so stunned, Mr. Cooper. At least they didn't send you to Philadelphia.)

(Such a gentleman.)

(That's how I feel every single morning...)

(In other words, equilibrium...)

("It wasn't at all cold." She had that line all rehearsed and ready to go.)

("This would be a great job if we didn't have to deal with clients.")

("The last time I saw Frank Fay, he was walking down Lover's Lane holding his own hand." -- Fred Allen.)

("You'll be sorrrrreeeeeeeeee!" -- Elaine Barrie.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"New York's Picture Newspaper."

Once you're in show business, it's in you for life...

One reason I don't get a Christmas tree is because when I was little, seeing them abandoned in the trash always made me cry.


Have you considered getting dressed first?

All cowboys have a bent to the melodramatic. It's in their contract.

Oh those rascals.

No fool like you know what. And what's this, Beezie and Poison are back from the war, and no "welcome home?" The life of a tertiary character is full of slights.

I've always been impressed with Mr. Mosley's knowledge of aviation, but I fear he isn't quite up to speed on jets.

WIth that hair it certainy isn't Judas -- my gawd, it's TONY SANDHURST!

There's always a Luddite...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...


Everybody's got Imogene figured out.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Plus she'd drive ya up t'wawl," snickers Sergeant Doyle thru a sip of coffee. "Makin' speeches t'ev'rybody comes inna dooeh.

Dear God she would. Just pay her to stay home.


Foun'a coupla slugs in'im fr'm an Awrmy 45. Heh, good luck trackin'at! An'ee had a broken jawr too. Whoeveh got'im woiked 'im oveh good.

D*mn, Solly, rough but fair justice.

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"Jeez, willya getta loada t'is. T'eh gonna tie'yup t' whole gawdam phone com'pny jus' f'ra buncha Reds out'ta Joisey. Oughta put t'whole lawtt'v'm awna boat an'..." "DAUGHTER!" interrupts Ma, as Sally's eyes dilate and her fingers clench.....

As noted, pay her to stay home. Families do what families have to do sometimes.

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In other words, equilibrium...

An Aristotelian balance.

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One reason I don't get a Christmas tree is because when I was little, seeing them abandoned in the trash always made me cry.

It is a very sad sight. The disgarded ones are all over the sidewalks right now waiting for trash pickup. I helped a neighbor out yesterday by walking her dogs and I just couldn't let them "water" the forlorn trees. So I'm the idiot pulling the dogs over to the curb before they pee on the trees.

**********************************************************

Have you considered getting dressed first?

Churchill didn't, even when meeting the President.

 

[Harp]

The Kovacks killing seems a textbook cookie cutter ''tort of misadventure;'' until mature consideration
of Ms Stevens behavior is weighed against The Worker plebeian-patrician story angle. Apparently, Ms Stevens
and her next door neighbor Mr Milton were more than casual acquaintances. However, in capital criminal
cases evidentiary tamper is itself a criminal offense, which is a paramount prosecutorial issue.
State Prosecutor Willis is an accessory after the fact and entered jeopardy by stepping into the actor's
shoes; whom now is joined with Imogene Stevens as her accessory subsequent within murder.

John Garand rings a bell. After the war, I served an advisory with Hellenic infantry in northern Greece.
American M-1 Garand *****s were Second World War discards made standard issue to the Greek Army.
I even found a circa 1920 Browning Automatic ***** among my draftee squad; which, inexplicably was a
crew served weapon according to the Greek Army. I tried for two years to break this habit but no such luck.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I jus' wish t'ey'd 'sign us t' picket closeh t' home," sighs Alice as the train rumbles on. "T'ezzat awffice awff 14t' Aveneh. We could wawk up t'eh. Sleep late. Eat a good breakfas'. An'nen get some exehcise..." "T'at awffice on Foehty Fois' Street'?," argues Sally. "Tat's, what, a mile from home? You wouldn' even boin awff t'at good breakfas'." "I oughta weigh nine'y poun's," sighs Alice, "awla wawkin' we BEEN doin'." "Ahhhhh," scoffs Sally, "you'll live." "On doughnuts n' cawffee I'll live," laments Alice. "Well'en," concludes Sally, "yain' gotta worry 'bout weighin' nine'y poun's!" "Huh," huhs Alice. "I guess'at's sump'n...")

("That's roit," whispers Uncle Frank, his hand cupped around the telephone mouthpiece. "Oi doon't care whatchee do aaaar hoo much it caaahsts t'do it. But'chee got t'keep him oot there until --- well, until Oi tell ye ootharwise. No, I caaaaan't tell ye why. Doon't ask me sooch questions. Foind soomthin' farr'im t'do! Send 'im aaaahn a buyin' trip t' -- Oi dunno, Ohieh. Awr Canadarrr arr' soomplace. OOOpen a doozen new staaaaars if ye have to! Doon't argyeh with me, joost do it! Aaaahl roit then, Oi'll woire ye when th' coost is clear. Ahhhl roit. G'bye't'ye..." With a loud sigh, he slams the receiver back to its hook, and pauses to ***** his finger around the coin return. "BIg business," chuckles Joe from behind the counter. "Oh yes," jitters Uncle Frank. "Biggar than ye' c'n evaaaar knoo. Listen, Bink's not aroond is she?" "Out doin' c'llections," shrugs Joe. "Be back about foeh-t'oity, five'a clock..." "Whin she cooms in," warns Uncle Frank. "Ye doon't knoo noothin' 'bout that phoon caaahl." "Well," shrugs Joe, "I don't know nuthin' 'bout't'at phone cawl. "Ye got it, son," nods Uncle Frank, putting on his hat. "Tell Nora Oi'll naaht be hoom farrr dinnar, Oi got to go see soom people. Tell'arr not t'wait oop." "An'," adds Joe, "I dunno nut'n." "Exactly," nods Uncle Frank, as he jingles out the door...)

(But don't worry, you'll never find a place to live anyway.)

(Well, if they're breaking up the Cardinals, never mind Kurowski, get Musial!)

(Pity there's no good place for a talented kid like this Cousy to make money playing basketball...)

(It's neat how he can talk IN BOLD FACE LIKE THAT.)

(Suuuuuuuckerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrs)

(It's bad enough when these pharmacists hand out medical advice, but we need to draw the line at beauty tips...)

(Gable could have had that part if he'd wanted it. But who does?)

(All the world's a stage...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

War certainly ages a kid.

Whoever laid out this page has a very sarcastic sense of humor.

("Then you'll have plenty of time to get me a slice of that pie.")

Sandhurst was a disgusting pig the last time we saw him, so at least he's consistent.


Those mischievious rapscallions!

Well, it's easier than signing up for college.

Yeah, that can be a real disadvantage for a gambler.

What would YOU do if you saw this guy skulking around your neighborhood?

The first signs of middle age are always unsettling when they arrive.

"So? Hey, what's for dessert?"

 

[Fading Fast]

"Whin she cooms in," warns Uncle Frank. "Ye doon't knoo noothin' 'bout that phoon caaahl." "Well," shrugs Joe, "I don't know nuthin' 'bout't'at phone cawl. "Ye got it, son," nods Uncle Frank, putting on his hat. "Tell Nora Oi'll naaht be hoom farrr dinnar, Oi got to go see soom people. Tell'arr not t'wait oop." "An'," adds Joe, "I dunno nut'n." "Exactly," nods Uncle Frank, as he jingles out the door...

This is when Frank is most dangerous: when he's planing something big that will inevitably blow up in his face.

***********************************************************

Suuuuuuuckerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrs

Nice, though, to see both of them getting what they deserve.

***********************************************************

It's bad enough when these pharmacists hand out medical advice, but we need to draw the line at beauty tips...

Today you'd need someone to come over and unlock the plexiglass blocking the hair dyes. At least in NYC, it's amazing how we've allowed pharmacies to be turned into locked up dispensaries that everyone – employees, owners, and the customers – hate.

***********************************************************

Three arrests, yet out – you always think it was a much tougher justice system "back then," but sounds like the revolving door (a perennial slam at NYC's justice system) was in place in the 1940s. This would be the man's forth arrest and this one would be for attempted r*pe. It will be interesting to see how it turns out, but my guess is the story is over from the newspapers' perspective now that they've told us about the hero boys rescuing the pretty girl.

***********************************************************

Whoever laid out this page has a very sarcastic sense of humor.

True, but since it seems like a big day for arrests, any chance they found the guy who slashed the "take no sh*t" priest yet? Seems like they had a big dragnet out for him.

**********************************************************

Sandhurst was a disgusting pig the last time we saw him, so at least he's consistent.

An awful human being. Makes me think of Normandie and Pat, though. I wonder if he's ever coming back.

**********************************************************

Well, it's easier than signing up for college.

Is it?

**********************************************************

What would YOU do if you saw this guy skulking around your neighborhood?

Has Skeezix gone stupid since he left the army? He can't think of a way to blow the snow to one side? He was fixing heavy equipment with glue and popsicle sticks. What has happened to him?

I know the world was different in 1946, but two boys with good "fix it" skills would do very well in 2026.

 

[Harp]

Slim pickens around the stateside legal docket. That 17 year old Crowley kid is by his own actions an
emancipated minor within majority-kleptomaniac habitual, and if not careful could find himself sent
up the Hudson to Ossining. Speaking of criminality, if Imogene Stevens is still married to her Army officer
husband and domiciled government military reservation housing, her attorney can gimmick out of state
extradition by attempting to force such remove through the federal judiciary. Although this would only delay
matters, and tip his hand to the opposite side.

The rotation system looks skewered. Manilla is a slum and the boys are upset, granted; yet a bottleneck
was clearly in the cards. Were I there-and-then, I'd avail extension program enrollment and register for any
GI instruction offerings for college credit. Economics, finance, and whatever baccalaureate core curricula
I could find. Once back home, GI Bill college start as an upper classman. University of Chicago for Economics
bachelor's, grad school for Finance and Business; and law school. Hyde Park one-stop shopping. And the Chicago
jazz scene, girls, and dancing to the Big Bands. All work and no play.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("My own encounters with your Sergeant Pincus," flusters Ignatius J. Quinlan, "certainly invoked something of the surly and brutish. But..." "Waaaar," intones Uncle Frank, "changes a maan." "Oh, to be sure," agrees Inky. "My own military experience in the Great War..." "YOU?" blurts Uncle Frank. "Oh, indeed," nods Inky. "Were you not aware of my service? I proudly wore the uniform of a captain in the Quartermaster Corps..." "Until he nooticed it was missin' ," snorts Uncle Frank. "The repercussions were unfortunate," admits Inky. "But be that as it may, I was exposed to man at his most savage. It was a deeply disquieting experience. And if, as you suggest, Sergeant Pincus has proven unable to readjust to civil society..." "Oi'm sayin'," sighs Uncle Frank, "he croaked a man in Jarrsey. Soom thoog 'e was chasin'. R'membarr, I toold'jee 'bout all that darrty business with that boy in Bensonharrst..." "Ah," nods Inky. "Had you come to me, that matter could have been easily..." "Oi'm coomin' to ye NOW," sighs Uncle Frank. "If thim coppars start pookin' too deep intarr this business, they'll foind Solly. An' if they foind Solly, they'll track doon th' troock he was droivin' that noit. An' they'll see whose name is painted aaahn th' soid'a thaat troock, and..." "Say no more," interrupts Inky. "I am, as ever, at your service." "We need," explains Uncle Frank, "t'coom oop with an alibi, soom way'a proovin' Solly wasn' nowhaaar near New Jarrsey that noit." "Some document, then," nods Inky. "Perhaps a letter demonstrating his presence elsewhere, perhaps a charming billet-doux wafting the fragrance of..." "Can that stoof," snaps Uncle Frank. "Hooow aaare ye at -- ah -- aaaalterin' phootographs?" "Ahhhhh," smiles Inky....)

("It's jus'," sighs Sally, absently stirring her Coke with its wilting paper straw, "I dunno what t'do wit' myself. I ain' got picket duty t'day, Leonoreh's at t' clinic, yawr oveh'reeh woikin'. Alice is helpin' Krause haul ashes..." "I bet she is," snickers Joe. Sally shoots a look. "Sawry," mutters Joe, his face flushing. "I wen'upta t' telephone awffice up on Foehteent' Aveneh jus' t'see what was goin' awn, an'nat buncha bums t'ought I was a scab, an' run me awff. Wouln' even lemme show'm my plant badge. Look, ain'cha got anyt'ing f'me t' do? I c'n, I dunno, set up y'meat f'tmarra awr sump'n." "Ain' been d'livehed yet," shrugs Joe, scraping at his grill. "T'ey don' bring it by till five 'a'clock." "You ain' had a customeh inna las' houeh," sighs Sally. "Eh," ehs Joe. "Kids'll be gett'n outa school pretty soon. Bunch'vm come by heeh awna way home. T'em Capiello kids, y'know, Heckie's lit'l brot'eh 'n sisteh, t'ey awrways come by wit' a buncha kids." "You give'm credit??" frowns Sally. "Um," ums Joe. "Jus' Jerry an' Angie. I know Heckie's good fawr it, an' if he ain't, Rosa will set'l up." "Hmph," hmphs Sally. "Hey," heys Joe, "tell ya what. Whyn'cha come back 'eeh an' help me get set up f't' rush. Get t' wrappehs all ready 'n stuff." Sally brightens at this offer, and takes a final sip of her Coke. "Wait a minute," pauses Joe, giving her a squint. "You inna Sanwich Woikehs Union? Lemme see ya cawrd!" "You neveh useta be," snorts Sally, "sucha smawrtass." "'Roun'eeh," chuckles Joe, "y'pick it up quick...")

(War was Heck.)

(Yankee Color Job? Hah, that'll be the day.)

("Y'know," sighs Bink Scanlan, "I neveh really t'ought about it, but most pitchehs really -- well, t'ey stink." "Jus' catchin' awn, huh?" snickers Rosa Capiello. "I mean," continues Bink, "I been goin'a movies awl my life, but -- I mean -- well, I neveh useta go t't movies t'look at t' pitcheh, y'know?" "Business," laughs Rosa, "befoeh pleasueh, huh?" "But since I give up my careeh," exhales Bink, "t'eh'r'ain' nut'n to do inna pitchehs but wawtch t'pitchehs. I mean, how'da people STAN' it?" "Dincha look aroun'?" scoffs Rosa. "Yeah," shrugs Bink. "I tried'at wit' Flappy, but'ee awrways had a mout' fulla pawpcawrn. Wisht'eed cawl a'sump'n. I ain' seen'im aroun' awl week." "Yawr a pitcheh show," declares Rosa, "awl t'yaself...")

("Slightly owly in the attic, with just a touch of squirrel...")

(Don't be hasty, they pay extra for double acts.)

(I tried red once, and it came out orange. I'm just sayin'.)

("I'm a Man of Easy Conscience." Didn't Jimmie Rodgers sing that?)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG has completely forgotten how to get home.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Choo-Choo??"

"You ain't seen nothin' yet..."

"When are you going to tell them you lost your wallet?"

I hope Normandie and Merrily are far, far away from here, but I hope Pat Ryan is standing right outside the door.

D I C K Tracy.

There's a time and a place for everything, hon...

Remember years ago, when Wilmer went on the road as a traveling salesman? Here we go again.

This is a new phase for Lena. She used to actively hate Harold, now she just trolls him.

So yes, this is exactly what you want to see in your bedroom in the middle of a very dark night...

No trolling here, just deep and meaningful insight...

 

[Fading Fast]

"Were you not aware of my service? I proudly wore the uniform of a captain in the Quartermaster Corps..." "Until he nooticed it was missin' ," snorts Uncle Frank.

Perfect.


...perhaps a charming billet-doux wafting the fragrance of..."

The "billet-doux" is Inky's go-to move.

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"You inna Sanwich Woikehs Union? Lemme see ya cawrd!" "You neveh useta be," snorts Sally, "sucha smawrtass."

Good one, Joe.

**********************************************************

"But since I give up my careeh," exhales Bink, "t'eh'r'ain' nut'n to do inna pitchehs but wawtch t'pitchehs. I mean, how'da people STAN' it?"

Perfect, too.

Separately, despite what Herb Cohn and Bink say, I think "Scarlett Street" is a very good movie.

**********************************************************

I tried red once, and it came out orange. I'm just sayin'.

With red hair in panel two, she looks an awful lot like Jane.

**********************************************************

AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG has completely forgotten how to get home.

If we've learned anything about Trix, it's that he does not play his cards right when he has a good thing going.

**********************************************************

"Choo-Choo??"

"How do you spell it?"

"Like a Train."

Wonderful.

**********************************************************

So yes, this is exactly what you want to see in your bedroom in the middle of a very dark night...

You're right, but proving how upside-down Annie's world is, this is exactly what she wants to see.

**********************************************************

No trolling here, just deep and meaningful insight...

It is an interesting and quite good change of pace.