The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

("Th' naaaarve oov that little snip oov'a garrrl," sputters Ma. "Talllin' me me children coo'da cooom oot bettar if Oi'd BAAARP'D 'm roit!" "Eh," ehs Uncle Frank, frowning again at eggs with no bacon. "Oi've seen waaarse." "An'd YOOOU, Miss Barbara Scanlan!" fumes Ma. "Oi give ye a hoose an' hoom, an' ye repay me by cuttin' me t' pieces behoind me back!" "Eh," shrugs Bink, not minding the absence of the bacon. "Consid'rin' what Mickey give ME. Anyways, I keep tellin'ya I din' say it like t'at." "Well hoo DID ye say it?" demands Ma, slamming her glass of tomato juice down on the table. "I jus' said," elaborates Bink thru a forkful of eggs, "f'zample, neveh min' Mickey. C'nsideh t' wawkin' mout'. Would she be like she is if she din' grow up fulla gas?" "Well," hesitates Ma. "It's loike I say," inserts Uncle Frank, "Ye ain't joost what'chee eat. It's hoo laang ye carry it aroond." "Ye say that," scowls Ma. "whoile ye carryin' it aroond on ye vest!" Uncle Frank looks down, spears the offending speck with a tine of his fork, flips it into his mouth, and punctuates the performance with a deep eructation. "Oi'll be booond..." sighs Ma...)

("We gotta lot ridin' awnis," sighs Sally. "Like Joe's been sayin'. An'ee's right. Even wit' allayez helpin' out, fixin' up t'at place cleaned out what we had lefta t'em bonds we had. An'nez gonna be a lot moeh bills comin' in..." "Yeh," nods Alice, glancing down at the paper with a sigh. "I hoid t'ey laid off some people at t' plant las' week," she continues. "Oveh weh t'ey put phones t'get'eh, y'know? Till'ey c'n get t' pawrts." "T'at ain' gonna do nut'n t' us," denies Sally. "Makin' tubes don' need any'a t'at stuff. Long'seh ain' no tungsten shawrtage. We'll be fine." "Yeh," nods Alice. "We'll be fine...")

("Why Women Cry...")

(WHY IS IT ALWAYS SLAUGHTER????????)

("I wish y'd take'em stupid skates awff," frowns Bink as she and Rosa proceed along Midwood Street toward the Patio Theatre. "People's lookin' atcha." "I gotta practice," insists Rosa. "If I c'n skate awnis rotten sidewawk wit'out fallin' on me can, skatin' awnat new concrete's gonna be a piece'a cake." "When we get'teh," snorts Bink, "ya betteh not skate aroun'at lobby. Ya fawl innat pool wit' t' gol'fish t'ey'll t'row ya out!" "Wouldn' hoit'choo t' take up rolleh skatin'," taunts Rosa. "Ya gett'n milk legs!" "I AM NOT!" roars Bink, as an elderly couple sitting on their stoop exchanges pointed whispers. Rosa sweeps around in a graceful arc and skids to a stop as they approach the intersection of Midwood and Flatbush. "FLOOZY!" echoes a piercing shout emanating from somewhere between the Dragon's Den and Mozelewski's of Brooklyn. "T'is neighbehood," scowls Bink, "is goin' t' t' dawgs." "I don' t'ink," replies Rosa, peering into the distance to locate the voice, "t' dawgs will take it...")

(I bet Ursula Parrott had more fun.)

(This happened to me once, and I had to pay an emergency room $4000 to find out why. WHERE THE HELL WAS MARY WORTH WHEN I NEEDED HER?)

("The mules are raunchy." Oh you romantic devil.)

("Positively Mister Roebuck? Absolutely, Mister Sears!")

(Who needs canaries in a coal mine when you've got chickens in the cow barn!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

The tick has a better chance of being convicted than Imogene.

Nobody cared about the 100,000 seat stadium in Flushing, or the metric system. But this, this has got to catch on....

You should read that book. Learn the ways of Molech.

See? It's already catching on!

Oh, they'll find a way. They always do.

Oh well, back to mooching.

Deep down, Jessica knows exactly what she got herself into...

Victor Mature plays for keeps.

Chuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuump.

Money doesn't go as far as it used to.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...


He won't bunt, you know.

And in the Worker...

There's A New World Coming...

 

[Fading Fast]

C'nsideh t' wawkin' mout'.

Perfect.

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"Makin' tubes don' need any'a t'at stuff. Long'seh ain' no tungsten shawrtage. We'll be fine."

Didn't either of them see "Gilda?"

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

I bet Ursula Parrott had more fun.

We kind of know cougar Parrott did.

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This happened to me once, and I had to pay an emergency room $4000 to find out why. WHERE THE HELL WAS MARY WORTH WHEN I NEEDED HER?

I had a similar experience and the thing that really gets you, at least in NYC, (beyond that fact that my Obamacare insurance covers nothing) is not simply that one day (not overnight) in the ER cost so much, but that I was basically lying on a gurney unattended for the bulk of that time. On an hourly basis per actual work done, ER billing has got to be the highest of any billing anywhere.

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

The tick has a better chance of being convicted than Imogene.

She absolutely got away with, well, murder.

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

There's A New World Coming.

And thankfully it's here, but now the City itself is the worst offender as no housing is more dilapidated and in violation of more codes than the buildings owned by the City's Housing Authority which houses a disproportionate number of lower-income and minority residents. It's an absolute disgrace, but nobody in government wants to address it other than to scream "we need more money," but that isn't even remotely true. The corruption (no-bid contracts, kick backs, no-show jobs,) and incompetence (records missing, accounting unaccountable, etc.) is staggering. The city housing regulators – who are ready to ding our coop for the slightest violation of the always changing eight billion rule, regs, and codes we have to conform with – all but ignores the city buildings. It makes honest homeowners, like me, furious.

 

[Harp]

The Chabarek death sentence looks sufficiently tenuous to recommend recourse.
The fatal ****** trajectory might evident truth, still mitigation towards exoneration seems unlikely.

Ms Leary is an emancipated minor, and, a woman entitled societal norm to wed.

The Kovacks homicide is replete error; leaving accused Ms Stevens an exceptional chance of acquittal with miscarriage attendant.

As to Dragon Gal's libidinous leaving, such a leap over difficult terrain and with broken arm is nothing short of Icarus waxen winged serendipity. She had more cause to remain onboard for the flight out of Dodge and subsequent hospitalization. And Milt's deliberate redundancy disclaim adds critical comment towards plot credibility. China is embroiled civil war as the American Marines capture report clearly showed, and Caniff needs to color crayon within picture lines.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I dunno," sighs Joe, gazing up at the garish double-sided sign rising from wooden posts at the edge of the lot. "I still don' like t'is 'Big Joe' jazz." "I keep tellin' ya," exhorts Solly. "Ya gotta make'n impression. Y'tink I din' have enougha 'Sawrgean' Solly' inna Awrmy? But it sells, people r'memebeh t' sign. Y'know t'at guy up awn T'oid Aveneh, Eddie t' Pastrami King? You t'ink he's a real king? Awr t'at guy ovehr'in Brownsville, t' Kishke King. You eveh seen'at? Whole side'a t' buildin' it says KISHKE KING. You t'ink he gets invited t' jern t' United Nations an' rep'ehsent, I dunno, t' Kingdom a' Kishke? Coehse nawt. Butcha *remembeh* t'em guys 'causey put'eh faces out'eh. Lawrgeh'rn life. An'nat's you. Big Joe. Up'teh onna sign. People gonna see t'at face up t'eh an'neh gonna say, 'whoa! Lookitat, it's Big Joe! Less go in an' meet 'im, an' grab a bite.' An'befoeh y' know it, you'll be right up t'eh wit' t' King a' Kishke." "T'at pitcheh don' even look like me," grouses Joe. "Well," admits Solly, "none'a t'em pitchehs Sal give t' sign guy woiked out. So I took one'a t'em movie magazines, an' giv'm a pitchehr'a Jawn Gawrfiel'." "Sueh ya did," sighs Joe. "Right up t'eh," reiterates Solly, clapping an arm around his pal's shoulder, "wit' t' Kishke King...")

("I dunno why you wanna lissen t' t'is," grumbles Sally. "H. V. Kaltenbawrn is fulla..." "Shhh!" hisses Leonora, transfixed by the voice rasping from the radio. A knock at the door interrupts the conversation, and Sally steps to the door. "Hiya, Missis P," greets Sammy Schreibstein. "Um, t'is is my -- uh -- frien', Shoiley. Shoiley Blick." "How do you do, Mrs. Petrauskas," nods Miss Blick, extending a hand in greeting just so. "I do awright," nods Sally, accepting the grip thru narrowed eyes. "C'mon in," she offers. Leonora looks up with a frown as Sammy and Shirley enter. "C'mon out'na kitchen," Sally sighs. "Do'wanna distoib heh'self t'eh." Shirley casts a mystified glance behind as they enter the kitchen. "Have a seat," shrugs Sally. "Y'wan' sump'n t' drink? I got plenny'a t'mateh juice..." "Please," nods Shirley, as Sammy fidgets in his chair. Sally produces a can from the icebox, fills three glasses, and takes a chair herself. "So ya gonna woik f' Joe," begins Sally. "I hope to," agrees Shirley. "She'll do a swell jawb," declares Sammy. "She's got brains." "Whatcha need t' stan' behin'at grill," frowns Sally, "ain' brains. It's feet, big strawng feet." Sally glances down at Shirley's well-polished loafers. "Eh," she shrugs. "You eveh have a jawb befoeh?" "I worked for my father last summer," reports Shirley. "General office work." "Yeh," nods Sally. "I din' t'ink ya pul't t'eet'. You eveh do any cookin'? Joe's pretty p'ticuleh 'bout how 'e wants 'is san'wiches cooked." "I've watched Mrs. Schreibstein prepare them," declares Shirley, "using his method. I believe I'm familiar with the technique." "Shoiley c'n do anyt'ing she puts'eh mind ta," affirms Sammy. "This is very good tomato juice," inserts Shirley. "Bohacks," shrugs Sally. "Sammy tells me," continues Shirley thru another sip, "that you're a graduate of Erasmus Hall. That's a very fine school. You should be proud." "Well," nods Sally, "yeh. Now t'at'cha mention it. 'Couese, New Utrick's awright, I mean'at's weh Joe is right now, doin' 'is night classes." "A man with the strength of character to acknowledge weaknesses," offers Shirley, "and to take the steps to correct them, is bound to achieve his goals. "Yeh," grins Sammy. "Ah," nods Sally....)

(You ain't seen nothin' yet.)

(There's a New World Coming, with a waystop in Havana...)

("Great, now I'll have to rewrite the last chapter!")

(Radio Annual? STAY AWAY FROM HER, SHE'S BEYOND HELP!)

(Go ahead, tempt fate...)

("To say nothing of three months without a paycheck!")

(Well, I dunno, I imagine the chickens would have a different view...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Oh give me a home, by the Capitol dome, where the lobbyists and Congressmen play..."

"And the papers never print a little arrow to point out the ball..."

Try leaning out a car window like that sometime. She must be eight feet tall.

Now who could THIS be.....?

Now now, let's not be cynical...

Easy credit, until it comes due...

There's that one downtown, in front of Woolworth's. Got a dime?

That's a mighty big phone booth.

"You've got to have a Slick Stranger permit!"

There's no point in picking up a job halfway thru.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Having a bad day, Bill?

 

[Fading Fast]

"...You t'ink he gets invited t' jern t' United Nations an' rep'ehsent, I dunno, t' Kingdom a' Kishke?"

LOL.

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"A man with the strength of character to acknowledge weaknesses," offers Shirley, "and to take the steps to correct them, is bound to achieve his goals.

This kid should be doing something more than standing behind a grill all day.

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

"And the papers never print a little arrow to point out the ball..."

What I think about every time we pick on poor Mickey is that it's 80+ years later and he's still being made fun of. Life really is very unfair.

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

Now who could THIS be.....?

That blunt haircut and blunt way of speaking has to make you wonder: could it be? I don't want to get my hopes up only to be disappointed, but at least we know that ain't Cheery.

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

There's that one downtown, in front of Woolworth's. Got a dime?

"Harold Teen" written by Carl Ed is not where I'd expect to see "oiy."

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

Having a bad day, Bill?

He does seem quite cranky today.

 

[Adman256]

I wonder what kind of hat is worn by the KISHKA KING?

 

[LizzieMaine]

We should go there for lunch and ask him.

 

[Harp]

Everyday Legal Advisor sounds practical. And our gal Mary knows when to stop the sleuth.

Dragon Gal copped a cocaine bag feel after she was lifted aboard the ship; knew our guy
had the locker keys; and knew the parachutes were stored inside. It's reassuring to read Mary Worth stumbling about her snoop. And, last but not least, Terry is too tired for any witties....
Clued-on-cues, Caniff shoots straight pool corner pocket.