The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

(Coming Events...)

****....

What did you expect??? Now get busy, you're going to spend the next three months chasing Itchy!

I didn't know I wanted to read Harold Gray trying to write like Damon Runyon, but I guess I do.

"And at least he's not listening to those awful radio programs!"

Alcatraz is lovely this time of year.

I'd give a lot to know what they really said in panel two before the editor changed it.

Hey kid, try dabbing some avgas behind your ear.

The retreat into the comforts of adolescence indicates ambivalence on the part of the patient toward the responsibilities of adulthood.

Hey Moon, go over to Walt Wallet's house and play a few hands of gin rummy.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Soomthin' O'Soomthin..."



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

Yeah, I look forward to reading the police report on this one...

Good for you as I've lost half the thread on this story, but I'm not going back as I figure I'll pick it up again in a day or two and, if I don't, I just don't care enough to scroll up that far or, God forbid, have to page back and start scrolling. "Invisible Scarlet" just isn't worth that amount of effort.

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

Coming Events...

And here it is 80 years later and the UN is mainly irrelevant to world affairs, but NYC still has traffic jams every September when its General Assembly meets. I used to live a block away from the UN headquarters and way before even 9/11, the security for the General Assembly meetings was extensive and intense.

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

Hey kid, try dabbing some avgas behind your ear.

She's so not interesting.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("T'ez sump'n I need t' tawk t'ya 'bout," begins Sally, contemplating her bowl of Wheaties. "Oh," ohs Joe. "Make it quick," adds Leonora, slurping her milk. "Gotta catch m'train." "You," directs Sally, firing a gaze of iron at her daughter, "g'wan downna t' Ginsboigs, wait down'eh. T'is is grownup tawk." "Y' woise'n Lottie," grumbles Leonora as she finishes her milk, pulls her jacket off the peg, and heads out the door. "I do'wan'eh sayin' nut'n," declares Sally. "Whassis awlaabout?" questions Joe. "T'ez sump'n inna wind at t' plant," explains Sally. "Awlese phone comp'ny strikes. T'is stuff y'been seein' inna papeh. Y'r'membeh I tol' ya t' trouble I had wit'ta union out t'eh, when I complain'tabout Alice bein' busted down f'rm supehviseh? Well, 'atsa kinda stuff 'been goin' awn awl oveh t' whole damn Bell System, y'know? T'ese comp'ny unions ain' doin' nut'n f'rus, t'eh'rawl fake. An' some'v'us wanna get a real union inneh, a CIO union. An'na N-L-R-B 'grees wit' us. But t'is comp'ny union is try'na break us up wit' awlese phony strikes. Y'see?" "Um," ums Joe. "So t'ez gonna be a strike, but you don' agree wit it? Migawd, Sal, you ain' gonna crawss a picket --" "No, no, it's woise'n'at," sighs Sally. "If t'ey cawl a strike, I gotta strike. But t'ez sump'n comin'. T'ey laid awff awlem people back in Augus', an' a bunch'a t'em was leanin' CIO. An'ney ain' done yet. T'is comp'ny union din' stan up f' none'a t'em, t'ey din' stan' up fr' Alice, an'ney ain' gonna stan' up f'me. Sump'n's gonna hap'n..." "Sal," sighs Joe. "I'm try'na get t'is hamboigeh t'ing goin'. I'm woikin' real hawrd awn it. I'm 'zausted." He exhales a deep breath. "Jus' don' end up in jail...")

("Whassis awlabout, Frank?" sighs Alice, standing in the dim light of the office of F. Leary & Sons Plumbing and Heating. "Y'cawl me up las' night, 'speck me t'run awlaway oveh'reeh, an'nen get awl fussy when I tell ya I can't, an' now when I *do* come oveh, ya sit t'eh mumblin' like ya dunno whatcha tawkin' bout." "It's a dellllllicate situation," insists Uncle Frank, tossing the stub of his Tootsie Roll in the wastebasket and digging in his desk for his hidden cache of cigars. "Ye know Bink Scanlan, roit?" "T'at lit'l chippie t' ol' lady's gawt woikin' inna stoeh," nods Alice. "Whoooo says she's a chippie," retorts Uncle Frank. "Y'heeh stuff," shrugs Alice. "What's she gawt t'do wit' me?" "Bink is...." hesitates Uncle Frank, "...goin' t'....thaaat is to say, she's in the -- ah -- fam'ly..." "Somebody knocked 'eh'rup?" snorts Alice. "Well stawp t' presses!" Her eyes narrow as she considers the implications. "Who?" she frowns. "Mickey??" "It's a def'nite paaaahsibility," eyerolls Uncle Frank. "Now wait a minute," snaps Alice. "If you t'ink I'm gonna..." "No, no," hastens Uncle Frank. "Ahhhhl Oi waaant," he continues, "is farr you to TALK to th' gaaarrl. She's been pickin' paaaahckets, shaaaapliftin', doin' who knoos what else, an' she's gaaaht t' staaap b'farr it's too late. Noo, she doon't take me aarr Nora serious, but if soomone with a -- recarrd -- was to have a convarrsation..." "I ain' got no reckid," scowls Alice. "T'ey wiped it clean. An' you know 'swell as I do why." "Niverth'less," wheedles Uncle Frank, "if ye was t' -- oh, throo a scaare in'twerr, ye moit be able t' get th' paaarnt acrasss. Ye see? An' don'chee think that baby d'saaarves a fair chaance? That innocent choild?" Alice glowers at Frank, breathing slowly. "Y'put it t'at way," she mutters, "I s'pose I could tawk to 'eh." "Oi knew Oi could count aaahn yee," grins Uncle Frank. "Nowwww, heere's how we'll waaaark it...")

("The returning veteran posesses many useful skills that will be of great value to employers in the postwar world.")

(Virgil Trucks' nickname is "Fire." Because of course it is.)

("And I'm a podiatrist!")

(If he's this sick this fast, that lake water must be absolutely disgusting.)

("So hey, who's up for lunch?")

("Don't just stand there AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG, bust me out!")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News --

"Here's the smell of the blood still, all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand!"

Every one of these people swipe their material from "Can You Top This?"

When did Mr. Clark start hanging around the Village?

"Can't we just shoot him and throw him in the river?"

"As gawd is my witness, I have no idea what to do next."

"Gee, Andy, remember when we used to flirt like that?" "We did?"

Mr. King recently had a narrow escape.

"*Yawn.* Wake me up when this all blows over..."

It's hard to miss a target like that.

Look in the mirror, son.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Sit back and enjoy the show!

 

[Fading Fast]

"Somebody knocked 'eh'rup?" snorts Alice.



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

"...you can wear practically twelve months a year!"

Even without the fur lining, a Harris Tweed coat is no summer coat. Try wearing that in a Brooklyn summer and you'll melt.

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

Every one of these people swipe their material from "Can You Top This?"

All that today showed is how hard it is to tell a joke versus making a spantaneous quip. Most of these remarks were probably funny in their moment, but not one of them is funny as recounted.

We all have to make a living and I don't care if it's hokey, but any honest work is something to be proud of, but man would I not want to be a shellac salesman. Having to enthusiastically promote shellac all day to bored buyers would **** the life blood right out of me and I've had plenty of un-fun jobs.

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

"As gawd is my witness, I have no idea what to do next."

"I tried to teach you."

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

"*Yawn.* Wake me up when this all blows over..."

"What!!!!!!! I demand a raise and better medical coverage!"

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I dowanna get outa bed," mumbles Sally, clenching her eyes closed against another morning. "Who says ya gotta?" sighs Joe, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You ain't gotta woik t'day, I c'n take Leonoreh oveh't stoeh wit' me, you c'n lay in bed awl day if ya wanna." "But if I do t'at," Sally reasons, "t'en I'll lay heeh awl day t'inkin' 'bout Monday." She rolls over on her stomach and buries her face in the pillow, and when this produces little succor, she flops back over on her back and forces herself to sit up. "I can't do it, Joe," she exhales. "No matteh what I do, I'm awna losin' side. I mawrch wit'em, I'm doin' 'zackly what t'ey wawn'me t' do. I crawssa picket, 'n I'm doin' 'zackly what 'tey wawn' me t' do. An' I can't do eit'eh one'v'm." "T'ezza'not'eh t'ing y'could do," offers Joe. "Absentee." "Doncheh know," snaps Sally, "t'ezza wawr awn?" "No," argues Joe, "t'eh'r ain't." "I don' mean'nat one..." sighs Sally, flopping back on the pillow...)

("It's aaaahl set oop," declares Uncle Frank. "T'marra, Alice is goona coom ovarr here an' pr'tend t'be a shopliftaaar, an' yarr goin' t' staaahp 'er, boot she'll sling ye woon an' they'll get away." "Is that soo?" gapes Ma. "She's goin' t' sling me woon? Th' day'll nivvar daaawn." "It's aaaahl paaaart'a th' plan," continues Uncle Frank. "She's gooin' t'get Bink's ****fidence, ye see, an' thin she's gooin' t' ****vince 'arr t'goo IN with haaar aaahn a big hooldup jaaahb. An' she'll goo aaahn an' aaahn aboot how she's naaat afraaaaid'a gooin' back t'prison ev'n with aaaaahl th' aaaaarful things she been thru before. An' then..." "Francis," scowls Ma. "D'ye ivvar lissen t'ye'self?" "Yaaar always sayin' that," pouts Uncle Frank. "Boot ye'll see." "Noooo doooubt," sighs Ma....)

(I met this guy yesterday, and he was nowhere near this polite.)

(Passeau? We haven't forgotten you throwing your bat at Hugh Casey. Granted, he hit you in the back, but he always pitches like that.)

("Hey, Tetanus Shot," calls Solly Pincus as he strides up to the counter. "Wheh ya been?" "Nowhezz," mutters Bink Scanlan. "I been busy. I been woikin'." "A woild'a wondehs in which we live," snickers Solly. "T'at Joe," fumes Bink. "He's a slave driveh." "Joe???" marvels Solly. "Joe Petrauskas? Looks like Jawn Gawrfiel', excep' when he staehs wit' 'is mout' open? T'at Joe?" "He's runnin' me ragged," complains Bink. "I can't go t't'movies, I can't read no magazines, I can't go down an' see Rosa, I can't do nut'n." "Y'missed a spawt," observes Solly, pointing to a bit of schmutz by the sink. "Y' eehs," growls Bink, "was blockin' my view...")

("Seems like good investment advice to me!")

(Panel Three is the most three-dimensional Flame has ever been.)

("The confidence game is of course reprehensible, but I really must venture admiration for the moustache." -- I. J. Quinlan.)

(Those siblings didn't make out so well, but hey, whatcha gonna do?)

(I wonder how many chances Worst Dad Ever bought?)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Hey, it's one of those things.

"Can you loan me ten bucks?"

Mr. Gray is getting all this dialog from a gangster picture he saw in 1929.

"Of course, he's paying you twice what he pays me, so I'm sure you won't need any help at all."

Comes the reckoning.

C'mon, kid, that "anatomic bomb" line is so August.

Some people are having a hard time adjusting to the postwar world.

"It's not a pie, it's a tart. Surely you know what a tart is, living in this house..."

Every time anyone says "Such Crust" I think about how much I miss the ****les...

Or you could just shoot him.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

Speaking of reckonings...

 

[Fading Fast]

"It's aaaahl set oop," declares Uncle Frank. "T'marra, Alice is goona coom ovarr here an' pr'tend t'be a shopliftaaar, an' yarr goin' t' staaahp 'er, boot she'll sling ye woon an' they'll get away." "Is that soo?" gapes Ma. "She's goin' t' sling me woon? Th' day'll nivvar daaawn." "It's aaaahl paaaart'a th' plan," continues Uncle Frank. "She's gooin' t'get Bink's ****fidence, ye see, an' thin she's gooin' t' ****vince 'arr t'goo IN with haaar aaahn a big hooldup jaaahb. An' she'll goo aaahn an' aaahn aboot how she's naaat afraaaaid'a gooin' back t'prison ev'n with aaaaahl th' aaaaarful things she been thru before. An' then..." "Francis," scowls Ma. "D'ye ivvar lissen t'ye'self?" "Yaaar always sayin' that," pouts Uncle Frank. "Boot ye'll see." "Noooo doooubt," sighs Ma....

This is an awful idea, Frank. Alice is too smart to agree (I hope).

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

I think Dr. Levine should see this and then decide if it would be helpful or not for Joe to see it. It could trigger everything for him or, conversely, could get him to see that many went through the same thing and maybe that would help him process his experience.

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

"The confidence game is of course reprehensible, but I really must venture admiration for the moustache." -- I. J. Quinlan.

Inky, just sayin', counterfeiting and the confidence game are kinda tied at the hip.

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

Hey, it's one of those things.

"She brought the nurse's still-warm body..." Jesus

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

Every time anyone says "Such Crust" I think about how much I miss the ****les...

Ditto. An odd but very engaging strip that was much more enjoyable – and smarter – than Ella Cinders or Invisible Scarlet.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("So t'at's t' sitchiation," sighs Sally, staring up at Dr. Levine's ceiling. "I dunno what t'do. Y'know t'at sayin' 'damned if ya do, damned if ya don't?' T'at's me." "I can't tell you what you should do," declares the doctor. "You must make your decision on the basis of your own conscience. I can't decide that for you." "I know," sighs Sally. "I jus' wish -- well, it useta be easieh, t'at's awl. Befoeh t'wawr. Ev'ry'ting was cleeh, y'know? Y'knew whatcha hadda do an' ya done it. An' durin'a wawr, even. But now -- it's like we're awl stan'in' aroun' try'na figyeh out what weeh s'posta do. Las' night I sat up half t' night read'n'at sociology book, y'know. I t'ought maybe t'ey'd have sump'n inneh gimme 'n ideeh how t'is is s'posta go. It's jus' -- in nineteen t'oity seven, it was jus' --simpleh." "Maybe," offers the doctor, "it's just that *you* were simpler." Sally considers this for a long interval. "Y'know, Docteh," she finally resumes, "me'n Joe 'n Leonoreh's goin' t't' bawlgame t'day. Doubleheadeh, Nat'nl League Awl Stawrs voisus ***** League Awl Stawrs. T'at's gonna be sump'n t'see. 'Slike t'at book I read, 'T'ez a New Woil' Comin'." "In more ways," nods Dr. Levine, "than one..."

("Doon't stand tharr, Barbara," snaps Ma, "with that doomb look aahn ye face. Yarrr blockin' th' door." "On'y face I gawt," mutters Bink, with a defiant snap of her gum. As if on cue, the door jingles open, and Alice strides in, her jaw set. Ma draws in a breath, and they lock eyes. Alice breaks the gaze with a roll of her own eyes, and reaches for a carton of cigarettes from a display on the counter. She sizes them up, glances at her sleeve, and puts the carton back. She steps next to the wire rack displaying paperback books, and picks up a copy of "Lost Horizon." She riffles the pages, closes the book, and her hand slips toward her jacket pocket. Ma holds her breath. Bink leans on her broom. "Aw," explodes Alice. "T'hell wit' t'is." She returns the book to the rack, and grabs Bink by the forearm, the broom clattering to the floor. "Name's Alice Krause," she announces. "Ol' friend'a t' fam'ly. C'mon wit' me. We'eh goin' oveh t' Dewes' f'lunch, annen' we'eh gonna have us a tawk...." As the door jingles closed, Ma closes her eyes and exhales......)

("Look 'eeh,' declares Sally, as Joe sips beer from a paper cup. "T'is guy comin' up, t'is Campanella. Don'ee look like'a guy comes t'fix ya berleh? But -- t'eh! Wawtch'at swing!" "He's hitchin' too much," observes Leonora. "What?" erupts Sally. "Hol'sa bat an' pulls it back," insists Leonora. "She's right," nods Joe. "He hitches back an'nen snaps aroun' jus' like Mel Ott." "C'ept." points out Leonora, "he don' wave 'is foot inna aieh like Mel Ott." "Whatta you know about Mel Ott?" remarks Sally. "Ya foueh yeehs ol'!" "I seen Mel Ott," sneers Leonora. "Little bitty guy. Waves 'is foot inna aeih foist, 'nen'ee swings." "But he hit five hunnet homehs," notes Joe. "T'is Campanella eveh plays reg'leh innis bawlpark," declares Sally, "HE'll hit five hunnet homehs." "Maybe," adds Leonora, staring intently at the field, "he awtta wave 'is foot inna aeih...")

(Not only that, he's just thick period.)

("Sniffles, bubeleh, I'm your agent, and I'm tellin' ya -- you haven't made a picture in over a year! WORK IS WORK!")

(Doesn't anyone in Comicsland lock the door before they take a bath???)

(Mr. Tierney doesn't seem awfully pleased about this turn of events.)

(Demand a raise, Marge. None of this is in your job description.)

(Let's have more speeches like that.)

("Ew, putrefaction!")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Everything's gone insane at once.

If you think this is bad, go to a school board meeting.

And nobody will even notice the smell.


"Fatal Floyd?" He sure has refined taste in henchmen. And ever notice that Smilin' Jack hasn't smiled in years?

Gladyse Medbury is the wife of humorist J. P. Medbury, who is one of Mr. Willard's racetrack cronies. And Jonathan Myth is definitely not one of Mr. Edson's cronies.

Good dog.

Someone please have a long talk with this kid.

It's always the husband, Walt, and there's always blackmail. There, saved you a lot of trouble.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Hey April, if you get sick of Corkin, here's a new job for you...

 

[Fading Fast]

"T'hell wit' t'is." She returns the book to the rack, and grabs Bink by the forearm, the broom clattering to the floor. "Name's Alice Krause," she announces. "Ol' friend'a t' fam'ly. C'mon wit' me. We'eh goin' oveh t' Dewes' f'lunch, annen' we'eh gonna have us a tawk...." As the door jingles closed, Ma closes her eyes and exhales.....

Good movie, Alice. All battle plans fall apart with the first shot anyway.

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

Mr. Tierney doesn't seem awfully pleased about this turn of events.

From what I've read about him, he was born angry at the world and stayed that way until he died.

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

Everything's gone insane at once.

The strikes remind me of the 1970s when it felt like there was a new one – sometimes violent – every other day.

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

"Deep in her heart she probably wanted to go straight."

What does that even mean?

 

[LizzieMaine]

("C'mon, Sal," huffs Alice, hustling up the steps to the foyer, where Sally stands waiting. "Sawry I'm late, Willie an' Siddy was try'na get t' Supehman button outta t' cereal box, an'ney ripped it, an'nez flakes awl oveh t' flooeh.." "Yeh," nods Sally --notably not wearing her work clothes. "Lissen, I'm gonna absentee t'day. I gotta go registeh t'vote, an'..." "Huh?" huhs Alice. "Wit' awlat stuff goin' awn at t' plant, ya gonna absentee?? Can'cha registeh afteh woik?" "Neh," insists Sally, her eyes darting. "Too busy afteh woik, evr'ybody's oveht''eh t'en. An' lissen, you oughta absentee too." "I registehed las' yeeh," shrugs Alice. "R'membeh?" "Y'gotta registeh ev'ry election," explains Sally, "an'na sooneh t'betteh. Like t'day." "Why not some ot'eh day?" presses Alice. "No," declares Sally, her face hardening. "T'day. An' you betteh absentee too. I mean it, Alice. Trus' me. It's betteh. It's -- jus' betteh." "Oh," ohs Alice. "T'registeh t'day, I mean," stumbles Sally. "Sueh," nods Alice, as comprehension dawns. "Sueh....")

("So t'ese Jeeps," declares Solly Pincus, riffling a folder of papers. "I got some ideehs." "Oi gaaaht a lead," nods Uncle Frank. "T'ezza man Lowrey knows in Tooleadar. He says tharr's Jeeps that didn't pass moostar farr th' Army. Moostly moinar stoof, things that can be fixed. Tharr plannin', he hearrs, t'sell'um oondar th' table, aaaand..." "An' whatta we s'posta do," frowns Solly, "wit' Jeeps wit' sump'n wrawng wit'm?" "Well," continues Uncle Frank, "Oi was thinkin' Jimmy an' Danny..." "T'em two lunkheads!" sputters Solly. "They've kept me troock roonin' aaahl this toime," counters Uncle Frank, "and Oi think..." "Ya t'inkin' smawl-time, Frank,"scowls Solly. "S-M-A-L-L T-I-M-E. We can't be messin' aroun' wit' sub-pawr moichendise. We'eh gonna handle Jeeps, we gotta comp'ete wit' T'ESE guys, t'at's selling NEW ones. Now..." They are interrupted by the unexpected entry of Bink Scanlan, carrying a brown paper bag. "Joe's testin'a grill," she murmurs, handling Solly the bag. "I brung ya hamboigeh, see'f'it's any good." "Oh," ohs Solly, taken aback. His eyes narrow. "Whadja, put red peppeh awn it a' sump'n? F'ra gag?" "No," replies Bink. "It's a hamboigeh fawr yeh." "Ahhh," ahs Uncle Frank. "Oi could goo farr a hambarrger. Hand me oovar woon, will ye now?" "I din' bring YOU one," sniffs Bink, making her exit. "Oh," ohs Uncle Frank. "Oh," ohs Solly....)

(KIDS TODAY)

(Too soon.)

(Don't go, Happy -- the fun's just beginning!)

(Commit to the Bit.)

(Ahhh, just throw some iodine on him and run.)

(Mary Worth was up for this part, but she's been out of work for so long she couldn't handle the dialog.)

(Margie is wondering if it's too late to join the WACs.)

(Look out, here comes the vice squad!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

I miss the Langford Case.

Gruesome, gruesome times...

Where are the brave men of the Sanitation Department when you need them?

You know, you could go to college on the GI Bill.

Coming Events...

Meanwhile, Brownie and Blenda get to know their new neighbor -- Wilmer!

Listen Monday thru Friday to "Our Gal April.."

Maybe you better stop talking about it and get up there. Halloween's coming on fast.

"Tidnab."

Having spent a couple of hours last night dealing with a balky mantel clock, I am sympathetic.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Ya t'inkin' smawl-time, Frank,"scowls Solly. "S-M-A-L-L T-I-M-E. We can't be messin' aroun' wit' sub-pawr moichendise. We'eh gonna handle Jeeps, we gotta comp'ete wit' T'ESE guys, t'at's selling NEW ones. Now..."

Solly simply runs circles around Frank as a businessman.

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

Mary Worth was up for this part, but she's been out of work for so long she couldn't handle the dialog.

The old Mary would have seen right through this guy, though.

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

I miss the Langford Case.

I do too, but the newspapers have completely washed their hands of that one. "Langford? Who is this Langford of whom you speak?"

Did you catch the expression "knocked into a cocked hat." I got it from context, but was not familiar with it.

Also, the Mansfeldt family imploded in only a matter of days. Those poor kids' entire world shattered in no time.

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

Listen Monday thru Friday to "Our Gal April.."

I'm standing by my call, other than Cheery – who is actively written to be unappealing – April is the least appealing of all of Caniff's women.

 

[LizzieMaine]

I was actually reading about "cocked hats" yesterday after encountering a Napoleonic-era example of one at work. The world is very small.

And speaking of which, there was a woman named Mansfeldt who lived on my block when I was growing up, and ever since this story popped up I've resisted checking to see if there's a connection. I'd rather not know.

There is no possible future in which any of this ends well for April. It feels like Caniff is setting us up for something.

 

[Trenchfriend]

@LizzieMaine

Ha, "Mansfeld"!
The "Mansfelder area" in the south of the Harz was very prominent over 800 years for its copper slate and silver ore mining.

Mansfeld-Südharz - Wikipedia

en.wikipedia.org

 

[LizzieMaine]

("HAH!" yelps Sally, bouncing up and down on her seat. "MACPHAIL GAWT ARRESTED! F' sluggin' a guy! HAH! Soives'a bum right! Who'see t'ink'ee is, Durocheh???" "Yawr in a betteh mood'n'ya was t'is mawrnin'," chuckles Alice. "Ahhhh, I ain' worried 'bout'tat strike mess," scoffs Sally. "Ain' gonna be no vote f'two weeks, you hoid what'ey said. An' by t'en t' NLRB willa tol'at buncha fakehs t'get lawst an' we'll get t' CIO inneh." "I dunno, Sal," warns Alice. "T'em comp'ny guys din' soun' like..." "HAH!" roars Sally, slapping the newspaper against the back of the seat ahead, startling a soporific World-Telegram reader. "HAH!" repeats Sally, her pupils dilating into wide black dots. "An' t't'ink t'at bum useta hang up awn me aft'ree traded Petey! HAH!" "Hah," sighs Alice, as the train rolls on toward home....)

("Hey!" demands Miss Kaplan. "Yawr'spost'a be flooeh WAWKEH, nawt a flooeh LEANEH! So WAWK awready!" "Ah," glistens Inky Quinlan, moistening his moustache with the tip of his tongue. "I merely paused," he purrs, "to admire your attire today, Miss Kaplan. Such a delightful ensemble. A Mozelewski original, I have no doubt, and you do it such justice, my dear, such justice, arrayed as you are in splendor as to shame the lilies of the field themselves..." "Yeh," nods Miss Kaplan. "I t'ought it come out awright. But lissen, I wawned t' ask ya. You ain' seen'at shoplifteh in'eeh again, t'at Sally Petrauskas." "Pardon?" pauses Inky. "Sally Petrauskas," repeats Miss Kaplan. "T'at'seh name. Married t' t'is guy Joe, swellest guy you eveh met, t'pooeh man." "This would be," stammers Inky, "Mr. Leary's -- ah -- stepdaughter?" "Ehh," shrugs Miss Kaplan. "Pooeh, pooeh Joe, havin' a nut like t'at f'ra wife..." "Hmmm," hmms Inky, as he fingers his gardenia and ponders his course of action....)

("Nahh," nahs Bink Scanlan. "I dowanna see no pitcheh t'night. Les' jus go fr'a wawk, 'long Flatbush Aveneh, do some windeh shoppin'." "Long's it's jus' windehs," sighs Solly. They stroll under the garish canopy of the Dragon's Den, past the brightly-lit facade of the Patio, and as they pass the tasteful display window of Mozelewski's of Brooklyn, Bink raises her handbag to cover her face. "Whasswitt'at?" questions Solly. "I t'ought you wawned t' windeh shawp." "My credit," sighs Bink, "ain'no good inNAT windeh...")

("Now, your keys please, and security will ****** you out.")

(An appropriately eccentric Series for an equally eccentric season.)

(Whadja expect, it's FALL.)

("Oh probably. Bootlegging, cigarette smuggling, plumbing...")

(If lightning is going to strike these two, it better hurry.)

(Just in time for our world of postwar automation!)

("No, I don't think so." **CHOMP**)