The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

"how do those runs SCORE?" "Luck,"

Some bosses exist simply to exhaust you.

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Well, that's OK. Maybe you can catch on with Annie. I hear that dog is fussing about his contract again.

"You'd 'fuss' too if you were the main attraction and made a very reasonable request but they wouldn't change the name of the strip to "Sandy and that Curly Haired Kid."

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And only one of them will come out of the mountains alive....

Chaz has some good one-liners again today.

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Bix will make a fine partner in the firm...

There is no good outcome here.

 

[Harp]

The fence line for homicide unfortunately runs through adolescence as sixteen years old has seen reason
sufficiently so to be held heinous account. The James Post leniency tendered Judge Goldstein unfortunately
erred grievously though his sentiment obviously noble.

Coney Island apparently offers more than cotton candy.....

Mary Worth portends tragic culmination of the evening events and closure upon two individuals.....

And Terry tracks terrain paw prints like an 11 Bravo infantryman. Slits and Dragon Gal are a definite match.

Today's Stephen Foster has seen several scratches leaving an abbreviated five entrants. A decidedly slim
field; however, filled some of the finest thoroughbreds in the world. Favorite Sovereignty is vulnerable, and, I
believe Magnitude can best him. Magnitude; Sovereignty; White Abarro; Baeza fill reasoned superfecta.
Magnitude defeated Japan's Forever Young in the Dubai World Cup; consequently is the probable finest dirt track race horse on this planet. Some defensive stud poker tablestakes wagering with a split ticket or two may occur angle-dangle, but this is the essential play.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Yep," flexes Willie, basking in the first-afternoon-of-summer-vacation sunshine. "Monday me'n Pap'll be gett'n awna bus an' head'n up t' good ol' Camp Ching-Ach-G ook. Up inna mount'ns wit' t' good clean aieh." "Camp is f' babies," sniffs Leonora. "I got too much goin' awn 'eeh t' go. My Pa's buyin' a restr'ant, an' I gotta help out." "Ya pa's buyin' a doity ol' shack out by t' racetrack," sneers Lottie. "But I can't be bot'ehed t' tawk about it 'cause *I'm* goin' t' camp too!" "You ain' neiteh," scoffs Willie, kicking a bottle cap into 63rd Street. "I am an' I tol' my ma an' she said I'm goin'!" "T'at ain' what *I* hoid'eh say," smirks Leonora. "She hadda windeh open an' I hoid 'eh say..." "She on'y said t'at," snorts Lottie, "cause she knew you was lissenin'! B'sides, t'marra, my ma is takin' me t' Sergean' Solly's Soiplus an' I'm gonna get awla stuff I need f' camp." "You ain't goin' awla way t' Flatbush," dismisses Willie. "Shows what YOU know," retorts Lottie. "Sergean' Solly's got a whole new stoeh, right 'eeh on 18t' Aveneh down by Sevenny-Fois' Street! He tol' me he was gonna do it when we was havin'a quarantine, an' now he done it, an' it's t' Gran' Openin' t'marra, an' I'm goin' an' I can get anyt'ing I want! So T'EH!" Lottie spins on her heel and flounces away. Leonora reaches for a flattened tin can to scale in her wake, but Willie stays her hand. "Don' do t'at," he admonishes, pointing to the rusty, jagged edge. "You hit'eh, she might get lockjaw!: "T'at's t' ideeh," protests Leonora....)

("Yeh," sighs Rosa Capiello. "T'ey laid me awff. No meat t'sell, an'nat manageh says 'ey gotta cut back on help till t'ings toin aroun'. Five yeehs I been'eh. Five yeeh'sa my life t' H. C. Bohack. An' whatta'w'I get? Laid awff wit' no notice. Y'know whatt'at's like?" "No," shrugs Bink. "I neveh been laid off no jawb in my life." "You neveh hadda jawb," scoffs Rosa. "Did too," snaps Bink. "I woiked f'ra week inna De-Bunk-eh at t' Woil's Faieh. You know, t'at t'ing wheh joiks t'rew baseballs at goils in bed, an' if t'ey hit t' tawrget, t'bed tips oveh an y' fawl onna flooeh. I had a good t'ing goin'eh, t'em joiks couldn' hit t' tawrget t'save t'eh life. I got paid t' lay in bed all day in p'jamas read'na magazine. But t'en'ey foun' out I was on'y sixteen, so I hadda quit. But I wasn' laid off, I jus' din' wan'no trouble wit' t' lawr." "Yeh," nods Rosa. "Gawd fabbid....")

(Where's the fun in that?)

(I didn't realize Dixie used to run into walls. Maybe Reiser can pick up some pointers.)

(All right, that was easy.)

(And whattaya bet she didn't even have insurance.)

("Silhouettes? They're stealing our act!" -- Kay and Mae)

(Ahhh, throw him back.)

(Ever know somebody who always just seems to fall into situations?)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

New York's Picture Newspaper.

Well, Artie, the solution's easy. Stop talking.

From the "Lady Shoulders" collection...

And now we'll spend the next two weeks on Mr. Gray's crusade against age restriction in contract law.

"You've got to let a kid find his own pace."

"Anybody know a good press agent?"

Confession is good for the soul, if you have one.

Point of Order: I refuse to believe that a declared oaf like Slits can climb a tree.

"This opportunity has been reserved for YOU!"


When you're rich like Moon, you can dress however you want.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Well, at least there's no fish shortage. Oh, and for the good of all humanity, Bilbo should drop dead.

 

[Fading Fast]

I had a good t'ing goin'eh, t'em joiks couldn' hit t' tawrget t'save t'eh life. I got paid t' lay in bed all day in p'jamas read'na magazine.

Truly the perfect job for Bink.

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"Hubba-Hubba." Dear Lord.

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And whattaya bet she didn't even have insurance.

When did they start installing those little insurance kiosks you used to see in airports?

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Well, Artie, the solution's easy. Stop talking.

Eight months is short even by Hollywood standards, heck, even by Page 4 standards, heck, even by Tommy Manville's standards. And my God, you got tired of Ava Gardner after only 8 months. Hmm. She lasted a full year and a half with Mickey Rooney, who has to be laughing his *ss off right now.

 

[Harp]

Artie Shaw is my favorite big band leader, though post war he seemed more scrambled than set directed.
Ava followed Lana, undoubtedly a tough act; yet this lifelong bachelor often wonders why some folk do the banns at all, especially the previously wed whom should presumably know better.

Mary Worth tragically ends this chapter in Selene's life. I frankly doubt her relationship with Ian will last long.

Terry's tactical read fails to account his primary objective. However, should he rescue Dragon Gal and kill
Slits into the bargain, the payback would probably be worth the ***ulative risk. A good soldier adjusts and adapts circumstance and makes the terrain work to his advantage.

Yesterday's Stephen Foster collapsed as a bettor sometime in the afternoon most likely; after my morning
Super Five fifty bucks were placed and spread out X ambush style. When I checked back last evening, my account had been refunded wagers, so apparently the betting public held back the race despite its entrants and two million dollar purse. All S/Fs were subsequently canceled and a winner superfecta only paid a scant twenty-nine bucks per dollar bet. Not much of a payout. I fault the track stewards for allowing the last two trainer scratches absent veterinarian decree. Magnitude indeed proved Sovereignty vulnerable; while Baeza stepped up to also best him, which frankly surprized me. I failed to give beeswax sufficient consideration when I should have, so the race proved instructive if not profitable.

 

[LizzieMaine]

With a clarinet in his mouth, Artie Shaw was a genius. When he took it out, that's when his troubles began....

 

[LizzieMaine]

("It looked betteh," sighs Joe, surveying a certain roadside establishment out in Ozone Park, "t' fois' time I was out'eeh." "Whezza restr'unt?" frowns Leonora. "An' whazzat shack?" "Shhh," shooshes Sally. "It ain' awlat bad." She kicks at a fragment of shingle blown loose in the most recent storm. "T'at ain' nut'n t' fix," she dismisses. "I can still back out," jitters Joe. "I ain' s'posta sign t' final papehs till We'nzday." "It'll be fine," assures Sally. "We'll round up some stuff, an' come out'eeh nex' Satehday." "Krause ain' gonna be aroun'," reminds Joe. "He's gonna be a couns'leh at t'at Camp Chin-Ach-Goo k." "Camp's f' babies," observes Leonora, exploring a promising gap beneath a rusted tin Coca-Cola sign hanging from one nail under a serving window. "Alice'll be aroun'," declares Sally. "An' Sammy Schreibstein. An' maybe y'can get t'at kid woiks f' Ma, t'at Heckie Capiello. An' Danny Leary." "An' Solly," adds Joe. "Leas' 'ee said 'e would. I hadda tawk wit'im, y'know." "Yeh," hesitates Solly, "Hey!" interrupts Leonora, her head thrust into the dark opening. She withdraws and dashes over to her parents. "Pa! Ma!" she yelps. "Tezza cat inneh! A big blac k cat!" "Um," ums Joe, cautiously approaching the hole. "C'n we take 'im home?" requests Leonora. "He c'n keep Stella comp'ny!" "Um," repeats Joe, his head entering the hole. "I don' see no..." "MA!" gasps Leonora as a villainous odor spreads. "T'at ain'," coughs Joe, advancing in the midst of the noxious vapor, "no cat....")

("How d'ya use 'is?" queries Lottie Schreibstein, holding up a folded olive-drab object. "T'at'sa m'skeeteh bawr," replies Solly, anxious to resume meeting and greeting the customers of his new Bensonhurst store. "Don' unwrap it 'lessya gonna buy it." "Leave t' man alone," sighs Lil. "Let'im do 'is woik." "But how d'ya USE it?" demands Lottie. "Y' stuff it in ya mout'," snaps Solly. Lil glares and takes her daughter's hand. "I mean," shrugs Solly, "ya hang it up oveh ya bunk an'nit keeps t' m'skeetehs from IRRITATIN' ya." "I wan' one," demands Lottie. "T'ez m'skeetehs at t'at camp t'at could fly awff wit' me." "Well," shrugs Solly, returning Lil's glare, "maybe y'don' want one afteh'rawl....")

("Just don't let him find out your brother lives in jail...")

(Let's hope nobody hits Medwick in the head this time.)

(You must admit it's an ingenious job.)

(Isn't there some paperwork you need to fill in?)

(Must be one of those ultrafundamentalist sects.)

(That's what worries you? Have you ever taken a good look at Andy Gump???)

("He'll do a fine job pulling my plow!")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Ew.

Ew, squared.

You knew the answer to that question five years ago.

This is why we need campaign finance reform.

How do you think Pop manages to stay in business?

"Hey, did I ever tell you about the submarine?"

The Code Of The Streets.

Time seems to move slower when you're young.

Vengeance shall be swift and sure.

"Don't get involved."

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker....

There's a New World Coming...

 

[Fading Fast]

"T'at ain'," coughs Joe, advancing in the midst of the noxious vapor, "no cat...."

JFC, this poor dude cannot catch a break.

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"Just don't let him find out your brother lives in jail..."

Had I asked that question, my dad, without skipping a beat, would have said, fine, go live in a Quonset hut.

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"He'll do a fine job pulling my plow!"

You'd have to look far and wide to find a dog less suited to farm work (or any work).

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Bette Davis will play her in the movie.

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Vengeance shall be swift and sure.

Where in God's name did she find this guy?

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There's a New World Coming...

It took another 20+ years to really end all this hateful garbage.

 

[Harp]

A maternal granduncle Chicago Tribune reporter covered the Degnan homicide and was present when
William Heirens was taken to the crime scene building recreating his murder date activity. Heirens convinced
all present of his guilt.

Selene is a most sympathetic figure, and her guilt over Binnie will likely last her lifetime. Ian's own conscience
probably burdened lesser extent, still capable of inflicting guilt due his vacillation, will likewise pursue him for the rest of his life.

Aggrevating a broken limb threatens marrow arterial occlusion and possible cardiac arrest Slits.
I'd have thought by now the deed done, Slits would be somewhat sated; although cruelty takes precedence over mere carnal desire masquerading Eros. Tarzan and Jane, treetop lovers remain bifurcated souls.