The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

("I'm tellin' ya, it's t' oppehtunity of a lifetime," declares Solly Pincus. "I dunno," shrugs Morrie Schreibstein. "Joe was tellin' me he t'ought it'd be a good deal, but I dunno...' "Whatta ya got t'lose?" insists Solly. "Look, y'awready gotta grill, right? Y'awready sell san'wiches, right?" "Well, yeh," admits Morrie, "but - well, it ain' 'zackly big business. I mean, we got Moskowitz's up t' street, an'na Maneh Cafehteria downa street..." "Awright," argues Solly, "but I'll tell ya what neiteh one'a t'em places is got. T'ey ain' got Big Joe's Beefwiches." "Big Joe?" blurts Morrie. "He ain' so big..." 'No," concedes Solly, "but he's gonna BE big. He's got t' bes' beef sanwich in town, an' once people catch awn, t;ez gonna be no stawppin'im. An' YOU, Morrie, YOU c'n be in onna groun' flooeh." "He's gotta pernt, Morrie," argues Lil Schreibstein. "An' it ain' like you'n me an'na kids can't eat what don' sell." Morrie ponders, stroking his moustache in careful thought. "Tell ya what," decares Solly. "What if I bring oveh t'meat an'na bread, an' a trained Big Joe's cook, an' ya put'm awn special f'ra trial run? You on'y pay t'pc'entage on whatcha sell. Howzat soun'.?" The Schreibsteins look at each other, as Sammy approaches. "Do it," he advises. "Ev'ry kid inna neighbehood'll be in'eeh, wit' money inneh pawcket." His parents exchange another look, and turn back to Solly. "Awright," nods Morrie. "T'marra. We hawrdly do any business New Yeeh's, but awla kids is outa school. So let's try it t'marra." "Deal," declares Solly...)

("I dunno, Joe," sighs Sally. "I mean, we oughta be happy, 'nawlat, but I sweahtagawd I neveh been so glad t'see t'enda t'yeeh in awl my life." "Yeh," sighs Joe. "Yeeh'rago t'night we din' have no ideeh what was comin'." "Ain' like New Yeeh's Eve useta be," laments Sally. "R'membeh t'at time we wen' oveh't City, seen Benny Goodman inna Madhattan Room..." "An' spen' awla money we had," sighs Joe, "an' hadda hitch a ride awnnat beeh truck t'get home..." "Jus' a coupla young, dumb kids," exhales Sally. "It was fun," chuckles Joe, "Bein' young an' dumb." "Yeh," agrees Sally, as 1946 draws nigh....)

("Misses Ginsboig sen'nis down," announces Alice, carrying a steaming bowl to the bedroom, where Krause lies in post-fever exhaustion. "Real soup, nawttat kin' comes out t' can." "Yeh," whispers Krause, as Alice offers a spoonful. "Happy annehvoisehry," sighs Alice. "Two yeehs t'night." "Yeh, murmurs Krause, taking the spoon and bowl. "I dunno what annehvoiserhy is chicken soup," Alice chuckles, "but I guess'is one's as good as any....")

(Oh, wait a few months, you'll get your chance.)

(There really ought to be a movie about Bert Shepard. His story should be better known than it is.)

("He's only my stepson, so I really don't care what he does...")

(Whatever became of Vitamin Flintheart?)

(HEY KIDS COMICS!)

(Just how tall is Miss X?)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG CAN NOW GO HOME WITHOUT GUILT. But he won't.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

All right, Colonel, tell us what really happened...

He'll need it.

D I C K Tracy resents being brought down here when he could be eating.

You can't reach a sociopath. But you can certainly arrange for him to "fall out of the plane."

Wilmer plays bridge? I see him more as the gin rummy type.

Careful what you wish for, kids.

Good old Andy, always looking on the bright side.

Pioneer of graffiti art.

"I'll have the tomato juice and worcestershire sauce ready when you get him home."

Figures Warbucks would hog the window seat.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

I wouldn't mind seeing BC versus Girls Commercial High.

 

[Fading Fast]

"I dunno, Joe," sighs Sally. "I mean, we oughta be happy..."

Is Lenora going to have 100% hearing out of that ear?

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

"I dunno what annehvoiserhy is chicken soup," Alice chuckles, "but I guess'is one's as good as any...."

Again, Alice is the best.

Separately, I don't know what version of "The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry" Cohn saw, but for my money, Ella Raines owns the scenes she's in and drove the movie as Tolstoy's "a stranger comes to town."

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

Three-plus years after he passed and Barrymore is still a cultural touchstone even in an obscure comicstrip.

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I'm sorry, but that's funny.

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

All right, Colonel, tell us what really happened...

Or at least make up a better story than this.

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

You can't reach a sociopath. But you can certainly arrange for him to "fall out of the plane."

Or be tried for treason.

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

 

[Harp]

Captain Miller's brief column leads speculation as to whether he's retained counsel.
As to the fortnight adjourn, the DA office will consider its options inherent the merge of an assault
within the felony murder doctrine, which it earlier withdrew. Because the underlying felony itself was
demonstrably intended to inflict death, the prosecution must now proceed with a murder accusation
pitch to the grand jury, or opt for the lesser charge of manslaughter with offer to defense counsel.
Miller was obviously distraught, and while the slaying of Eugene Dale is tragic, attendant circumstances
mitigate murder and defense avail of passion will impact a jury. Of interesting jurisprudential note, should
Mrs Miller, hospitalized for shock, inexplicably expire, the felony murder doctrine accusation would be
open against Miller since her death could justly be considered an independent collateral occurrence
of the actual deadly attack on decedent Dale.

In reading these past several dailies, and seeing the photos of the lovely distraught Mrs Wallis,
it's impossible not to feel sympathy for these defendants and the internal hellish anguish infidelity
has inflicted upon them. Adultery is cruel and heartless that can have quite unintended repercussion.
The Law delves inside this hades to delineate the mindset of the accused however, and resultant calculus
can be equally cruel.

 

[LizzieMaine]

The Eagle doesn't publish today, but at Lieb's Luncheonette a dramatic scene plays out as 1946 dawns...

("Whatta YOU wawn'," yawns Bink Scanlan, "at t'is time t' mawrnin'...?" "It's seven t'oity," snaps Solly. "Rise 'n shine, drainplug. We gawt woik t'do.' "Ma said I din' hafta woik t'day," dismisses Bink. "You c'n woik if YOU wanna, apron's oveh t'eh onna hook..." "Wheh y'keep t' meat?"demands Solly. "I need twenny-five poun's. An'na dozen loafs'a bread. C'mon, le's move!" "As ya weh, Sawrgeant." sneers Bink. "Whassis awlabout?" "Ya comin' wit' me," declares Solly. "I gotta jawb fawr ya." "I don'even want t' jawb I got," shrugs Bink. "Getcha coat," insists Solly. "Ya gonna cook Big Joe's Beefwiches f' t' Schreibsteins. T'eh t'inkin'a signin' up wit' Joe, an' we'eh gonna make soit'n'ney do." "I should go out on New Yeehs," gapes Bink, "an' go awlaway acrost town, ta BENSONHOIST, an' stan' behin' a GRILL? Awn my DAY AWFF?" "Yeh," nods Solly. "At'sa size'v it." "Cause you say so?" retorts Bink. "Get'oveh yaself!" ""No," counters Solly, "'cause Joe needs ya to.' "T'en," snaps Bink, "Joe c'n ask me." "Joe don' know," returns Solly. "But he will." Bink glares for a long moment. "Meat's inna 'frigehrateh t'eh," she exhales. "You ain' gonna carry'at onna subway, awr ya?" "I got Frank's truck outside," explains Solly. "We betteh," eyerolls Bink, "take t' subway...")

And in the Daily News...

"You awake, Sal?" whispers Joe. "Yeh," admits Sally. "I been awake awl night." "I know," sighs Joe. "Happy New Yeeh." "Do I hafta get up?" murmurs Sally. "No," suggests Joe....

Some people don't need to drink to wake up hung over.

Share and share alike.

Punj in panel three will haunt my dreams...

Novelty pajamas, Walt? Ahh, why not.

Serves ya right. Next time, try drain cleaner.

Cokes and cake? That'll fatten him up.

Better sign up for college first. You were going to do that, right?

Who's this guy "Sisyphus?"

Ready or not....

 

[Fading Fast]

"Rise 'n shine, drainplug. We gawt woik t'do.'

Perfect.


"I don'even want t' jawb I got," shrugs Bink.

Also perfect

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


"...two of his men friends happen to be temporarily housed in another room."

I hate when that happens.


Mama said, "No Can Do..."

Here's a shocker, this was Jeanne and Paul's first marriage each and it lasted for fifty-eight years until his passing. Very un-Hollywood-like.

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

Punj in panel three will haunt my dreams...

"A slinky person watches, Sahib." Punjab is the guy you want on your team.

 

[Harp]

Mrs Dunnell and lawyer have agreed with her husband's counsel to skip the State of New York entirely
because she wears ''unclean skirts,''and marital assets with alimony and child support would be better
decided outside the Empire State. Interesting that he brought suit, which is indicative strong evidentiary
reason. Et ************** offers gist to grist mill, and there's probably more iceberg beneath fine print newstype. And she is the mother of a three year old. Sounds like family assets dangled lure compliance.

Jeanne Crain as Pinky. I fell in love with her when she played opposite Dale Robertson in a postwar
college romp and An Apartment for ****y with William Holden. But Pinky rightly is her career crown jewel.
Elia Kazan apparently considered her of limited depth and range, and remained unsatisfied with her
performance. Apparently he considered Linda Darnell the more plausible but Darryl Zanuck overruled.
All leading to a snide snippet...Mario Puzo. I've wondered whether Ms Crain was Jeanne Lord in The Godfather.
I don't mean to be crass but all the puzzle pieces are there.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I still can't b'lieve t' crowd inneh," marvels Alice. "I wen' oveh t' buy a magazine f' Siddy, an' y'hadda fight y'way t'ru a mobba kids. Y'da t'ought Sinatreh was playin' inneh. He wasn'no." "Joe was pretty happy 'bout it," nods Sally. "Morrie an' Lil gonna sign a contrack. We get a penny apiece on ev'ry one'y sell." "Keeps up like yestehday," grins Alice, "y'l be inna chips in no time." "Coupla bucks a week, maybe," sighs Sally. "But like I was tellin' Joe, it'll get t' woid out, maybe get s'moeh places t'sign up. He ain' no good at t'at salesman stuff, but Solly onna ot'eh han'..." They ride on in silence for a while, as New Jersey draws near. "I bet t'ez gonna be a deal," exhales Alice. "I bet t'eh'rain' gonna be no strike." "T'ez gonna be a strike," declares Sally. "T'at negotiateh don'know what'ee's doin'." "Maybe," suggests Alice, "t' union oughta hiehed Solly...")

(His collar raised against the late-afternoon cold, and his cap pulled down, Joe strides briskly out of the 18th Avenue BMT station and heads up the block toward home. "Hiya, Misteh P," comes a voice as he passes Ebinger's Bakery. "Oh," he nods. "Hiya Sammy, how'za woil'?" "Pretty good," grins Sammy Schreibstein. The youth indicates the large cardboard box before him. "Ma sen' me down t'get some dessoit. Lottie din' wanna eat no moeh Jell-O. Blackout cake! Y'eveh eat t'at?" "Oh yeh," nods Joe. "T'at'll stick t'ya ribs." Sammy falls into step beside Joe as they head toward 63rd Street. "We sol' a lottaya sanw'iches," continues Sammy. "Seems like ev'ry kid goes t' New Utrick was inneh." "Funny," chuckles Joe. "Howza buncha kids in Bensonhoist eveh heeh'rva san'wich y'c'd on'y get in Eas' Flatbush?" "Ohh," demurs Sammy. "Woid gets aroun'. Y'd be s'prised." "Yeh," laughs Joe. "Happy New Yeeh, Misteh P," nods Sammy, as he heads into the intersection. "You too, kid," waves Joe...)

("Is there anything left to us but to organize and fight...")

(But does O'Dwyer get the Car?)

("Golden year of sports?" Ask us again in October.)

("He's YOUR brother." "No, he's not. He's YOUR brother.")

(Does Gould know Vitamin Flintheart has a new job?)

(SO I'LL JUST GET MY FINGERPRINTS ALL OVER IT LIKE THE SAP THAT I AM!)

("You know I don't like that. Do it again.")

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG didn't know Trix could drive!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

No words.

Please don't talk to me about defective eyes on Easy Kredit Terms.

Show-off.

I used a pillowcase. You didn't have to worry about the handle breaking off.

You have these guys and you never let them have any fun.

Oh yeah, there was a reason for all this.

Jon doesn't even need a match to light his pipe, the heat of his seething is enough.

Skeez got novelty pajamas for Christmas too? Somebody must've gotten a deal.

They won't last six months.

And you really have to squeeze to fit in one of those lowers...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Happy New Year.

Of all the performers I've seen live, the one I'll never forget is Pete Seeger, sitting on a stool in a high school cafeteria...

 

[Fading Fast]

"Morrie an' Lil gonna sign a contrack. We get a penny apiece on ev'ry one'y sell."

I get that this is an embryonic franchise model, so if Joe keeps a penny a burger, that means the store buys the meet, bread, etc., usually supplied by the company (Joe in this case) or at least up to his standards and, usually, the company makes a profit selling those supplies (meat, bread) as well. How's Joe's model (with Solly figuring it out) going to work?

Separately, kudos to the battling-back priest. He's no "please take the silver" priest from "Les Misérables." He's more of a "you'll get my wallet over my dead body" kind of priest.

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

But does O'Dwyer get the Car?

A generous city would gift LaGuardia the mayor mobile as a parting gesture of good will — that is if anyone knows where it is.

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

"You know I don't like that. Do it again."

"Whaps!" and "whacks!" are having a busy week in comicstrip land.

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

Please don't talk to me about defective eyes on Easy Kredit Terms.

I've worn glasses for over twenty years now and have worn mainly rimless or thin wire frames and in that time, the last ten years has seen a complete shift away from them. Every eyeglass store used to have a good selection, now they all have a few at best and they all tell me no one wants rimless or thin wire frames.

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

Show-off.

Doesn't he mean "hunted" not "haunted" man? He might be haunted too – must people are in some way – but that's not what I think he means here.

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

Of all the performers I've seen live, the one I'll never forget is Pete Seeger, sitting on a stool in a high school cafeteria...

Showing how little is new, Mike Gold would like Mayor Zohran Mamdani. This is from Mamdani's inaugural address yesterday: "We will replace the frigidity of rugged individualism with the warmth of collectivism." Gold could have written that line.

 

[LizzieMaine]

I think what Joe has been figuring on here is the same model that Colonel Sanders will start out with -- licensing his recipe, his cooking method, and his trademark for a percentage, while the franchisee supplies the raw materials. The recipe, in this case, would be the specific meat formula and the specifications on the bread, but Morrie and Lil will have to buy those from designated suppliers on their own.

Joe really doesn't have a lot of models to follow on here, the existing restaurant chains that he would know about in 1946 -- H&H, Bickford's, White Castle, Waldorf Lunch, Childs, etc. -- are all company-owned rather than franchised. It remains to be seen what he can do with this vague idea, and whether Solly will take a more active role as matters develop. I think Sally is right in pointing out that the main thing at this point is simply to build awareness of the product, in hopes of building momentum for volume sales.

As for rimless specs, I've been wearing them for a very long time, and the great advantage is that I now have a drawer full of spare parts salvaged from worn-out mountings, and also lenses in a wide range of prescriptions. As my vision has deteriorated, I've been doing a lot of swapping of lenses to get the combination that works best on any given day. All you need is a screwdriver and a steady hand. I do, however, have to get them online, becaue none of the optical shops around here carry the style I wear (Artcraft Rim-way, unchanged since 1935...)

 

[Harp]

William Joyce, aka ''Lord Haw Haw''is set to swing tomorrow inside Wandsworth Prison.
The hangman I believe will be famed Albert Pierrepoint, Nuremberg preferred gibbet master,
and arguably the best ******* since Tarzan. Although conservative, I generally oppose capital punishment
as barbaric, and Joyce's execution seems quite unnecessary and overly vindictive.

The Pearl Harbor boards are also in full swing. I wrote my thesis on Pearl Harbor, and the Army-Navy inquests
were essentially scapegoat expeditions intended to validate public fed perception against former Hawaiian
commanders Admiral Husband Kimmel and General Walter C Short. Although both men were derelict to
certain extent, it remains arguable fact that overall ***ulative responsibility for 7 December 1941 was shared
in Washington DC by top brass and civil leadership. Ladislas Farago's The Broken Seal and Gordon Prange's
At Dawn We Slept are both excellent winter night reading.

 

[LizzieMaine]

(Tension hangs heavy over the factory floor in the vacuum tube division at the Western Electric Company's Kearny Works. Rows of women bend over their benches, among them Alice and Sally. Squinting thru her magnifier under the harsh glare of a work lamp and the grinding drone of an exhaust fan, Sally applies a uniform coating of a strontium-barium oxide mixture across a rack of thin nickel sleeves capped at one end by a tiny strip of mica. One after another, dozens by the hour, passng thru her jig and into a rack of partioned trays to Alice, who examines the coating for flaws, and then, with a quick, nimble motion, inserts a folded thread of tungsten, scarcely wider than a hair, into each sleeve across the mica strip. As they work, the hands on the factory clock draw toward eleven. As the second hand sweeps past 12, from somewhere at the far end of the floor, a sharp whistle sounds. Along bench after bench, the women push back stools. Sally raises her magnifier, places her tools carefully in their drawer, and snaps off her work lamp. "Awright," she declares, glancing at Alice. "Le's go....")

("Are you happy," queries Mr. Ginsburg, as the BMT Broadway train clatters across the Manhattan Bridge, "to go back to the clinic?" Leonora, seated to his left, and wearing a bonnet to conceal her shorn hair, makes no reply. He repeats his question. The car sways along the curve off the bridge toward Canal Street, as its cargo of practiced straphangers leans in unison, in anticipation the turn. With a sad sigh, Mr. Ginsburg gently taps Leonora's coat sleeve, and leans toward her. "Leonoreh, mine lameleh," he addresses her good ear, "Perhaps you would not mind to change seats with me. It is not so easy, at my age, to talk from this side." Leonora looks up, and nods. Mr. Ginsburg helps her down from the seat, and holding onto its edge as the train rattles onward, they exchange positions. "Don' feel bad," whispers Leonora. "I know how it is....")

(You tell'm Doc!)

(Someone is putting Mr. Lichty's name on a list.)

(Oh, so now Cookie's gonna play third base after all? HOLD OUT FOR A RAISE!)

(Kayo Mullins better look to his laurels. We have a new King Troll in town.)

("It's a Gentlemen's Abdominal Support!!!!!")

("Let's wait till the fingerprint expert gets here...")

(Oooh, non-linear storytelling!)

(It's a good thing AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG never stoops to chasing cars.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"A family newspaper."

"How CAN you be? When *I* am!"

"Howard Hughes? Never heard of him."

I mean to be fair, this is a woman who was once married to Bumley Gump.


Do my driveway next.

You know, I always thought Ma Lovewell's view of Harold was a bit jaundiced, but I'm beginning to see her point.

"Why, I used to be able to play four sets of tennis a day, but now I strain to finish three!"

She does a "talking act."

"All right, Punjab, get the rug."

Not enough is said about Mr. Willard's skill as an artist. The angle on Plushie in panel three is just about perfect.

 

[Fading Fast]

Myrna Loy is shockingly the less interesting of the two in this marriage. Her new husband was practically the John Derek of his day: Joan Bennett, Hedy Lamarr, and now Myrna Loy. I guess Rita Hayworth was never free at the same time he was.

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

"It's a Gentlemen's Abdominal Support!!!!!"

And if this evening goes where he hopes it goes, it's going to prove embarrassing. She's certainly dressed for the part.

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

It's a good thing AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG never stoops to chasing cars.

I think I saw this scene in "A Touch of Mink" when Doris Day was playing Bo to Cary Grant's Trix.

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

"How CAN you be? When *I* am!"

Good one, Lizzie.

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

Do my driveway next.

These boys have not really thought this through as, right now, they are all excited that they basically set up a business that every 14-year-old runs out of his parents' house.

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

She does a "talking act."

One assumes she'd be less sarcastic if she was aware of the Japanese record with female prisoners in WWII.

Also, we've seen the sit silent, let the stupid American mildly insult me, and then reveal that I speak English a few times recently.

 

[Harp]

The Cannon-Walker nupitals are prone dissolution. I would advise Ms Cannon to have her family
assets placed within trust and studiously avoid any marital joint or tenancy by the entirety contract.

The Betty Grable New Year smash and grab failed to include her, quite inexplicable she wasn't grabbed.
Her million-buck legs... left untouched. And none of the guys asked for her autograph...or telephone #....

Later today the Kentucky Derby three-year old 2026 qualification trials begin with the Jerome at Aqueduct,
race #3; and later at Oak Lawn with the Smarty Jones tenth heat. However, due a short bill and scratch,
the Jerome has been effectively neutered from a professional's betting interest with only four entrants.
Balboa is the likely best there; although the card's overall parity reflects a latrine **** shoot odds.
This, and a low emasculated handle creates an orphan even track crows and rail birds eschew.
A better draw is the Jonesy, where Universe, breaking from the rail is the pedigreed graded stakes veteran.
Dropped in lower class, he has the wherewithall to stalk the pace to the Winner's Circle; albeit at definite
low odds, advising exotic betting play. This Jonesy is open bar and any of a handful can walk up to the betting window with Oscar's Hope; Strategic Risk; Rancho Santa Fe; and Boca Beach all inside straight wildcards.
Professionals will shoot ALL for trifecta and superfecta hits. Hell, even a good exacta here is arguable.
I will run with a dual lead, yet undecided whom to pair with Universe and go #3,4,5,7,9 zip code.
Yesterday, I played percentage racetrack poker keying off the pools at several tracks nationwide to pick
up a few bucks to pay my intuition in the Jonesy today.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Tell ya one t'ing," sighs Sally, gazing out over the throngs of pickets outside the plant gates. "T'is ain' nut'n like it was at Woolwoit's." "I wish't we had sump'n t' eat," grumbles Alice. "I t'ought you said t' strike c'mittee was springin' f' cawfee n' donuts." "'We on'y had about a dozen people innat stoeh," recalls Sally, "when we sat down." "You wasn' out'na cold t'ough," notes Alice. "T'ey shut awff t' heat," retorts Sally. "It wazza mid'la Mawrch. An' it was col' out t'at night, I r'membeh when'ey t'rew us innat p'trol wagon..." "How'dat gal oveh t'eh," complains Alice, "get a donut? Sal! Look oveh t'eh, s'a truck!" "T'at's jus' some guy sellin' papehs," dismisses Sally. "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....)

("Aaaahl Oi'm sayin'," frowns Ma, "is she bettarr not git'aaarself aaaaressted! Not agaaaaain!" "She tol' me," replies Joe, "t'ez gonna be t'ousan'sa people'eh awna line. What'sa odds?" "Ye knoo bettar, Joseph," headshakes Ma, "thin t' aaaask ME thaaat..." "I'm jus' jokin'," chuckles Joe. "That Miss Kaplan was in 'eer aaarlier," grumbles Ma. "Oi give'aaar two-ta-woon aaahn 'th' waaaalkin' mooth,'" "Y'didn'," gasps Joe. "Oh, Oi knoo..." sighs Ma. "Really shooda bin even mooney.")

("How come," protests Bink Scanlan, "we neveh go downtown no moeh." "Eh," ehs Solly Pincus. "Who wawnts t'go downtown?" "Me," declares Bink, "f' one. I ain' been t' Loew's Met since las' yeeh!" "Hmph," hmphs Solly, his face clouded. "Hey, Flappy," demands Bink. "What's wit'choo?" "I got a lot awn my min'," mutters Solly. "T'ezza lawt goin' awn. I gotta go t' Chicageh nex' week, an' go oveh stuff wit' Lowrey. An' gawdon'yknows what Frank'll get upta while I'm gawn." "Fatty?" scoffs Bink. "Heh. You leave Fatty t'me. I'll keep 'n eye awn 'im." "Who'll," challenges Solly, "keep 'n eye awn YOU?" "Y'know," frosts Bink, "t'eza good wes' wind comin' up -- you lean oveh'ra bit, 'n take ya hat awff, y'c'n fly right awff t' Chicageh. An' WHATT"L I CAEH!")

(You ain't seen nothin' yet.)

(Florida? What's wrong with Havana? Or is Hemingway still sore?)

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

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

("And the killer is -- Charlie Chaplin??")

("I can't stand these Ursula Parrott books!")

("What's that they say about the Lord helping those that help themselves...?")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

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

"Seven'ny five cents'n houeh I make," scoffs Sally, crumpling the paper and dashing it to the cold pavement. "Roonin' my eyes squintin' inta t'at damn jig day in an' day out! An'neh ain' a woman awnat flooeh makin' moeh'r'n eighty. Fifty-t'ree dollehs a week?? Sueh, y'figyeh'r in awlem engineehs 'n 'nem people. But you'n me? Afteh t'ey cut t'em Satehday houehs las' summeh, we get t'oity bucks a week! An' even befoeh t'ey busted you down fr'm supehviseh you wasn' makin' no moehr'n seven'y eight cents! BUT T'EY C'N AFFOEHD T'SPEN' MONEY T'PUT ADS INNA PAPEH!" Sally gives the wadded-up News a vicious kick, skidding it into a dirty puddle. "NOW whatcha doin'?" growls Sally, as Alice bends to pick it up. "Um," ums Alice, "I on'y bought it so I could read 'D i c k Tracy...."

That's not much of a mansion, looks more like a duplex.

"All right, but at least let me take my benzedrine..."

"Man could disappear in this country and never be seen again. Think about it, Jon..."

We know that necessity is the mother of invention, but who figured Wilmer for the father?

Wouldn't it be better to sign up with "Big Joe's Beefwiches?"

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

Wheels within wheels within wheels....

Job's not over till the paperwork's done.