The Era -- Day By Day

[Harp]

The Blossfield disappearance is disturbing. I recall seeing something on the Net a few years ago
about a New Jersey hiker fatally mauled wild bear. I didn't know NJ had bears or other deadly significant
sylvan predators.

Betty Morritt lacks standing with barren womb plea; which fact her lawyer should be cognizant.
Were she my client, more reasonable cause solicit would have led suit.

Brooklyn College. Wheelock was there. Had I been a Second World War vet, I'd enroll at Brooklyn and Columbia
for Wheelock's Latin advance classes with econ Columbanus. Stayed Columbia for grad and law then
Wall Street blue chip firm. Marriage. Westchester. Have it all worked out.

The nascent hedonist play here with Ian is a menage a t...s exacta splurge offer, obviously disgusting;
yet, not without plausible credence maternal past performance and daughter preliminary revealation considered ticket. Mea maxima culpa. I strongly suspect Chicago Irish Southside, Ian's already busted flush.

Terry doesn't play it cool, calm. collected cards held close vest, poker faced into the bargain.
And whatz this de Plexus known before the Fight jazz? Milt's tipping his hand. Later gators.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I neveh set foot inna jernt like t'is in my life," sighs Sally, squinting into the smoky murk of the Old Reliable Tavern. "Hey," shrugs Solly Pincus. "Yawr t' one din'wanna meet anywhez inna neighbehood." "People been tawkin'," frowns Sally. "An' I don' like what'eh sayin'." "Well, you ain' gonna see nobody ya know innis place," promises Solly. "Alice useta come in'eeh sometimes," notes Sally. "When she was goin' out wit' Koiby Higbe." "Well, nevehmin'at," dismisses Solly. "Wait, Koiby Higbe? Awna Dodgehs?" "Lawng stawry," sighs Sally. "She slugged 'im wit' a pot roast. But unlike SOME people, I don' gossip." "Ah," ahs Solly. "Annnnyways, heeh's s'moeh papehs t'look oveh. Contrack b'tween Jacleen En'nehprises an' Joe Petrauskas. We need t' be ready whenna deal wit' Snodgrass is closed. Which remines me. Gelman cawled me t'day, wants t'know if we c'n do t' closin' awn Friday. C'n you get awffa woik?" "T'eh askin' me questions," frowns Sally. "Alla absentee'in I been doin'. I keep tellin'm Leonoreh's got apperntments, but I can't keep t'at up f'reveh. An' I do'wanna lose my jawb." "Jus'is one las' time," promises Solly. '10 AM Friday, be in ya city clo'es, meet me at t' corneh'a Montague an' Fulton." "Well as I live an' breat'e!" interrupts a beery gentleman sauntering over from the bar. "Solly Pincus!" Solly looks up as Sally hides her face behind her palm. 'R'membeh me?" continues the interloper? "Hawrvey Stopak? We useta woik t'getteh onna brine tanks at Crown Pickle!" '"Awwwww yeh," sighs Solly, not relishing the memory. "Howya been?" "Aw, can't c'mplain," snorts Harvey. "I done'anuffa t'at inna Awrmy! HAW HAW! Hey, Sol, r'membeh t'at bohunk wit' t' coily haieh, useta be a skimmeh out t' Crown? An'nat time ya pusht'im inna vat! HAW! Whatta chummp!" "Yeh,' scowls Solly. "Hey," continues Harvey. "I ain' metcha goilfrien'. Din' catcha name, honey..." "I din' t'row it," glares Sally. "Oooooooh," inhales Harvey in mock terror. "Hey Sol, you gotcha some t'mateh heeh," he burbles. "Bet she's a lookeh when y'get t' glasses awff, but youuuuuu know bette'n I do...." "T'at's ENOUGH!" bellows Sally, her Irish rising. "Awright," snaps Solly, glaring murder at Mr. Stopak. "Awnya way." "Huh," scoffs Harvey as he retreats. "Look whooza big shawt now..." "Fathead," growls Sally. "Anyways," sighs Solly....)

("Oi doon't b'lieve a warrrd of it," declares Uncle Frank. "Ye been sayin' that since yestarrday," snaps Ma. "Boot it doon' change noothin'. Ye harrrd what th' Chestarrr woman said." "Ruuuumors an' gossip," snips Uncle Frank, "fit oonly faaaar an' oold washarrwoman." "If yaaar lookin' farr trooble, Francis Xavier Leary," glares Ma, "yaaaar ooonly two stops away. An' that daughtaaaar 'a moine is on th' express." "Yarrrr naaaht gooin' t' intarfere..." insists Uncle Frank. "Oi am NOT," agrees Ma. "Oi'm goin' t' tell 'ar t' stop roit now what she's doin' aaaar Oi'm goin' t' tell Joseph ivvry thing Oi know. That is NOT intarrrferin', that's pootin' a stop." "Ah," sighs Uncle Frank. "Oi moosta been misinfaaaarmed...")

("It wouldn't be so bad, except every hour on the hour I have to sing the jingle...")

(Don't get too comfortable, Cookie -- you're 34. Ask Camilli about that.)

(Better turn it over to the UN.)

(While you're at it, get an ash tray.)

(Do you REALLY want to know?)

(Dogs Going Their Own Way.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Lassie?" "Candy?" Aren't there any models named "Ethel?"

Do they even have poolrooms in Westchester?

"Well, my ma don' like me stayin' out late!"

You gotta give him credit for knowing how to ad-lib.

"Fortunately land values here are very low and my briefcase is very large."

Ever notice how Una always plays these kinds of parts?

"Let me put it another way. Your partner's a little sh*t."

Reputation is the driving force in the success of any enterprise.

They grow up so fast.

And you can see where Kayo gets it from.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

This is what they meant when they said he fights for the "American Way."

And in the Worker...

Bink picked a good time to retire.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Solly Pincus!" Solly looks up as Sally hides her face behind her palm. 'R'membeh me?"

It almost never fails. I've never cheated/had an affair/etc., but I have looked for work while I have a job and wanted to be discreet, but there is no place that is safe if you don't want any rumors.

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

"Lassie?" "Candy?" Aren't there any models named "Ethel?"

"She and Harry spent numerous weekend at the ranch."

Yet not one word about a chaperone.

Re the betting rake of 15% of every dollar: the state take 11% and race track 4%. Once again, as with lotteries, the state ends up being the biggest and piggiest bookie.

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

You gotta give him credit for knowing how to ad-lib.

Agreed. He's got more game than I thought he had.

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

This is what they meant when they said he fights for the "American Way."

So, obviously, neither of our papers carry Superman, but I assume he's a daily strip too?

 

[LizzieMaine]

So, obviously, neither of our papers carry Superman, but I assume he's a daily strip too?

Yep, very much so. His New York outlet is the Daily Mirror, the Hearst tabloid rival to the News. The Mirror is also Walter Winchell's home paper, so there's two good reasons to pick it up and take a glance when you find it under your seat on the subway.