The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

"Youd'a been real good at camp, Sal," she comments. "I bet t'ey could heeh you yellin' awlaway t' Peekskill...."

You cannot not love Alice.

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Get it in small unmarked bills. Just in case.

Somebody's been watching her film noir ransom movies.

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At least she doesn't smash up police telephone boxes.

How bizarre was that?

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Don't forget to tip the baliff on your way out...

Will they actually serve jail time or appeal until they get a suspended sentence? It will probably come down to if they have money left for lawyers.

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Gawdawmighty, it's the Old Bible sc*m.

A special place in hell.

 

[Fading Fast]

Should be OK now. A confluence of weirdness on my end.

Yes, all is good now. Thank you.

 

[Harp]

The Furness article made interesting read this morning; although as a son who inherited
a shaving mug, I suspect the kid will ultimately be severely disadvantaged by such largess.
And that Oechsner silver spoon oil scion born with a derrick shoved up his ***, is already a wanted man whom will never be assured a woman's genuine love. Ms Briston-a Honolulu Hotel Street
songstress-is the first of many chasers he'll likely contend with. Were I his family counsel, I'd advise at least the nominal GI Bill college route, anonymity, and part time employment.

Terry needs to deliver a coup de grace ******, grab Dragon Gal, and fly straight to Hong Kong
where she can be hospital placed for recovery.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("So t'way it looks," explains Joe, consulting his notes, "is I'm gonna be out t' Ozone Pawrk from 10 inna mawrnin' t' 7 at night." "Hawrse racin' is f' suckehs," observes Bink, drawing a glare from Ma. "T'at means," Joe continues, "t'at yawr gonna hafta keep t'ings goin' heeh wit' t' san'wiches. T'at means ya gotta have t' meat made up inta t' patties an' stacked inna tubs wit' t' wax papeh between 'em, an'na bread ready an'na grill hot at 11 AM shawrp. Bink, ya gonna do t'at. Ev'ry day." "Yeh," Bink acknowledges. "Heckie," continues Joe, "yawr gonna be heeh t'ween noon an' one t'oity f' t' lunch rush." "I gotcha," nods Heckie. "Y'each get one reg'leh f' y'self f' lunch," Joe continues. "But jus' one, an' y'gotta put a ticket inna draweh fawr it. An' Ma, yawr gonna be in chawrge an' keep'n eye awn t'ings, an' coveh t' grill when Bink hasta go look afteh t' baby." "Oi'll have 'im in th' back room with me," declares Ma. "Whoile Oi'm waarkin'. An' Hector's little sister is goo'in t' be here t'' help with'im too." "Awright," sighs Joe, his eyes surveying the group. "We'eh hopin' if we get t' meat, we'eh gonna op'n up a week fr'm t'marra. An' look, t'ezza lawt ridin' awnis, OK? I ain' sayin'ez anybody gonna make a lotta money out'a t'is a' nut'n, but -- well, t'ezza lot ridin' awn it. So...." "We getcha," nods Bink. "Yeh," agrees Heckie. "Indeed," adds Ma...)

("I'm tellin' ya," gasps Miss Kaplan. "I seen it! I seen it wit' me own eyes!" "Calm yourself, my dear," purrs Inky Quinlan, gently releasing her grip on his immaculate lapel. "I do not question your veracity, merely your -- ah -- interpretation." "I seen 'eh big as brass," repeats Miss Kaplan. "A streetwawkeh! A common floozy! Goin' inta t'at stoeh Joe's mot'ehr'in'lawr runs! She's toin't t' jernt int'wa denna ill r'pyoot! A bawdy house! I see it awl now, she's t' Polly Adleh a' Rogehs Aveneh!" "Ah," eyerolls Mozelewski. "She had awn," pants Miss Kaplan, "a skoit upta HEEH! An'neh haeih was awl done up fancy, an'eh face awl painted up! An' y'know what ELSE she had awn??? ROLLEH SKATES!" Inky's eyes flare, as Mozelewski palms his forehead. "I do'wanna IMAGINE," quavers Miss Kaplan, "what kin'a AWRGIES t'ey got goin' awn inneh! I bet t'at wife a' Joe's is backa t' whole t'ing, t' HEAD MA'DAME'a t' whole opehration. An' right undeh pooeh Joe's nose! We gotta do sump'n!" "I -- ah -- may I be excused from this meeting?" queries Inky. "I must wait on a customer." "We ain' got no customehs," frowns Miss Kaplan. "We betteh get some," grumbles Mozelewski. "Lissen, you know how t' rolleh skate?")

(A nice lean-to in the park can be very romantic...)

(If you really want to rile up a Cubs fan, disdain Wrigley Field.)

(This is why I never mow mine. Just in case.)

(Confidential Lodgings.)

(Ah, so it's going to be THAT kind of wedding.)

("Ploop.")

(You never want to know how your food is made.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Soon after, they separated." He's lucky he was able to walk.

And nobody even tried to throw an eephus pitch.

"But first, another round of drinks. It's your turn."

KIDS TODAY

CANE HIM! CANE HIM! CANE HIM!

Fish in a barrel.

Out of your league, kid.

Optimists.

This would be a good time for Aunt Pruny to pay a visit.

If more than one person knows a secret, it isn't a secret.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Coming events....

 

[Fading Fast]

"We ain' got no customehs," frowns Miss Kaplan. "We betteh get some," grumbles Mozelewski. "Lissen, you know how t' rolleh skate?"

Good for Mozelewski for reminding her to worry a bit more about her own living and less about a guy who married someone else.

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"Soon after, they separated." He's lucky he was able to walk.

He had quite the nerve. Wow, just wow.

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Fish in a barrel.

And still, a special place in hell.

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Out of your league, kid.

"...little Yankee."

She is the best.