The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

And so did Ms Ruth Phelps; whom, had she been male, wouldn't have gotten off scott free after serial bigamy conviction.

I had a similar thought.

 

[Harp]

^ The Law often lacks objective consistency, recalling the Dickensian quip: ''The law is a ***, a idiot!''

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Joe's pretty serious 'bout t'is t'ing in Ozone Pawrk," reports Sally. "Hoishkewitz give 'im t' name'a t'is lawyeh downtown, handles real estate stuff. He's goin' down'eh day afteh t'marra." "I meant what I said, y'know," nods Alice, "'bout awluvvus helpin' fix it up. We could go out'eh onna weekend, get some paint 'n mops 'n wood 'n stuff, get it right in shape." "You ain't seen it yet," sighs Sally. "Well," shrugs Alice, "you ain'neit'eh." "I t'ought maybe t'marra," suggests Sally, "you'n me might go out'eh. We ain' gotta go t' woik, an' I t'ought we could kinda size up t' place." "You ain' gonna go t't' pr'ade?" questions Alice. "Leonoreh wants t'go," shrugs Sally. "But Joe -- no, y'know? I t'ought she might go wit' Misteh Ginsboig. But Joe don' t'ink too mucha pr'ades an' speeches an' flags an' awlat stuff. Not afteh -- you know.""Yeh," nods Alice." Sally sighs again as the train rattles onward. "I got a look at t'at contrack, y'know," she resumes. "T'at one he brung home. I looked it oveh. Pawrt of it looked like it was, you know, like when ya sign a lease? Awlat fine print? But t'eh was pawrts of it -- I mean, it was so fulla twists an' toins it's like -- I dunno, it's like a plumbeh wrote it!" "Ahhhhhh," nods Alice. "Huh?" "Ohh," ohs Alice. "Just 'ahhhh...")

("Well," exhales Joe, sliding the beefwich across the counter, "t'at's t' enda t' meat." "You ain't found no suppliehs?" frowns Solly, taking a bite of his lunch. "Nobody," sighs Joe. "I even tawked t' Shaughnessy. He said 'e could get me a coupla goats. Ground goat." "Bahhh," bahhs Solly. "I'm glad you c'n laugh about it," mutters Joe. "Ahh," ahhs Solly. "T'ez gotta be a way. Lissen, I tell ya what, I'll call Lowrey out in Chicageh. Meat packin' capital a' t' woil'. He can pack some meat in ice an' put it awna plane, havit'eeh Friday." "Yeh," snorts Joe. "I'm serious," insists Solly. "I ain't got no money, Solly," insists Joe. "We'eh livin' on what Sal brings home. We'eh onna cuff wit' t'' iceman two weeks, let alone buy ice t'put meat awna plane." "T'is ain' gonna last f'reveh," assures Solly. "Lissen," injects Joe. "You wanna go downtown wit' me on Friday? I gotta 'perntment wit'a lawyeh t' tawk about'is jernt out by t' racetrack." "Yeh," nods Solly. "T'at hokey contrack you showed me, I don' like it." "Sal don' like it neiteh," agrees Joe. "She says it looks like a plumbeh wrote it." "Ahhhhhhh," ahhs Solly. "Ohhhhhh," nods Joe...")

(America's Biggest Small Town remembers.)

(You ain't seen nothin' yet.)

(No satin? What's the point of a night game if they don't shimmer?)

(Dumbest corrupt gambler ever.)

(Well isn't HE fickle!)


("Cmon back to the city with me! You can hang around drugstores!)

(Say that again, slowly.)

(A pet can help bring a family together. Unless it's Trix.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Poor Bummy...

Straighten up and fly right...

Oops.

If this ends with Andy being investigated by the Office of the Alien Property Custodian, I for one will laugh and laugh.

Dents give a car character.

Well I guess HE got told.

Says the guy who spent the whole war on KP.

"Pant ywaist."

It's always the import-export business...

Nice d oggie...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Pennant fever....

 

[Fading Fast]

Re the contract. Not only do they need a lawyer, but they need to be their own lawyer, too, and go through it line by line and question their lawyer about anything they don't understand or like and about every move he makes. Lawyers are like everyone else: some are good and some aren't, but few will care about you as much as you care about you.

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

Straighten up and fly right...

I don't understand the question.

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

Well I guess HE got told.

Fred should have made a will before he went off to war; a lot of men did.

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

Pennant fever....

Never seen it go wrong when it starts in May.

 

[Harp]

While not conversant Francis case fact, I am hearten by the Baton Rouge gubernatorial review of capital sentence after electrical chair failure. Surely, there is ample latitude circumstantial occasion for clemency.

Back in Brooklyn, Davis presents the learned trial judge with a Gordian Knot problem following verdict return
recommendation. Within the Felony Murder Doctrine equivalent guilt ascribe allows no deviation for subjective mitigation pursuant irrelevant, or, indeed germane factors upon physical death occurrence. All defendants are conspirators and acceptance such consequence follows linear reason. Severance individual state belies core jurisprudential settled practice. Jury nullification or deviance instruction requires strict address.

I fully concur with Mrs Story as to her husband's brazen callousness. Trois dans a lit sans femme.

Slits buys into de Plexus' spiel without reservation. And our gallant lad isn't chomping on the bit to get back stateside, a discharged civilian not a dog soljer no mores. Unbelievable.

 

[LizzieMaine]

(The Eagle, as is its custom, doesn't publish today, as our friends in Brooklyn observe Memorial Day 1946. As Sally and Alice prepare for their trip to Ozone Park, we turn our attention to a bench in Grand Army Plaza. "A while yet before the parade is coming," sighs Mr. Ginsburg. "But a nice morning to wait." "Ma tol' me once," declares Leonora, tipping her good ear toward her companion, "t'at when I was a lit'l baby she an' Pa brung me t't' bigges' pr'ade t'at eveh was, f' t' Dodgehs. Ma says a million people was'eh." "That parade," nods Mr. Ginsburg, loading his pipe. "A million and then some. Baseball I don't know so much, but a big parade, that I know." "I don' r'membeh'rit," sighs Leonora, watching the blue cloud drift upward as her companion takes a puff. "I wisht I could." "Just a baby you was," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "When very young, you don't remember. And when, like me, very old you get -- sometimes again, you don't remember. But in between, you see, that is when you remember." Leonora reflects on this for a moment. "Ma says Pa do'wanna come t' t' pr'ade," she relates. "He's jus' sittn' out onna fieh s'cape, chewin'at stuff he chews." "He is -- remembering," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "In his own way." "He don' like t'remembeh," sighs Leonora. "I heeh him an' Ma tawkin'. He remembehs t'ings he dowanna remembeh." "Sometimes," notes Mr. Ginsburg, "those things you remember the most." Leonora considers this thought. "If y'remembeh enough t'ings y'wanna r'membeh," she ventures, "maybe ya c'n make y'self f'get whatcha do'wanna?" Mr. Ginsburg takes a slow, contemplative puff on his pipe. "Many," he shrugs, "have tried. But sometimes, the things you wish not to remember are the things that you must never forget." "Izzeh t'ings," asks Leonora, "you wish you could f'get?" Mr. Ginsburg takes a long, thoughtful puff. He glances down and takes his companion's hand. "Come along, mine lameleh," he concludes. "I am hearing the parade...")

And in the Daily News...

Smile and the world smiles with you...

Poor Butch. Welcome to commercial broadcasting.

Yeah, but the tree rots from the top down.

"Watch for my cue, and then kick him!"

On the other hand, think of what you'll save on castor oil.

It's a pity they couldn't take him in the Army.

Molech is not to be mocked.

That's why you should always use a double stitch.

The Baron does hire a much better grade of sycophant.

Childless couples often find a way to compensate.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Back on the bus....

 

[Fading Fast]

Poor Butch. Welcome to commercial broadcasting.

Considering the medical knowledge at the time, the paralyzed mother giving birth is pretty impressive. Also, it's amazing that so much of her body was paralyzed by brain injuries, but she could still digest food, keep her baby alive, and give birth. Jesus.

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

Molech is not to be mocked.

It s*cks, but Fred should have made a will. It's not like he didn't know he might die when he was drafted.

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

Back on the bus....

When I commuted in from NJ to NYC, I took a train to the tubes and then had a ten-minute walk (as I moved, it changed, but this was the first one). When the tubes went on strike, my commute became over a half hour longer yet the walk all but disappeared as there was (I kid you not) a subway station stop in the basement of the building I worked in (120 Broadway, the first building in NYC to take up a full city block - it was and is a behemoth).

 

[Harp]

The Rhoda Wengler and little Sandra Dildine stories are tough early morning fare.
And also remind this lifelong bachelor that there are more important and meaningful aspects in life
found beyond irresponsible self centered bachelorhood.

de Plexus, like Dragon Gal, needs sycophantic underlings. Still, it's a wonder Slits ever found himself so
enraptured employ this heartless marble daughter of Venus.

Eschewed today's track card since my focus is set next week's Belmont Stakes. And haunted like Banquo's ghost by the 2016 rendition with Creator; whose bad Kentucky Derby run I should have simply drawn a pencil line through for wager the Belmont as key horse win. Bet my *** off too. Bologna sandwiches; just beer, the sports page, and no skirt chasing purgatorial penance. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Still hurts like hell.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("We'd hafta make some kin'a screen f't'at front windeh," sighs Sally, swaying as the Bell System bus jostles toward Jersey City. "Keep t' flies off t' meat, assumin' we get any. Is Krause got any'a t'at screenin' left downa basemen'?" "Nah," shrugs Alice. "We used awlat up fixin'a windehs, r'membeh? But I bet Solly Pincus c'n get some'a t'at Awrmy m'skeeteh nett'n." "Hm," hms Sally. "I s'pose it's Awrmy coleh too. Joe won' like'at." "Oh," ohs Alice. "Yeh, I f'got about't'at." "He'd been doin' betteh," exhales Sally. "He ain' had one'a t'em spells in a while. But yestehday when we lef' he was sittin' onna fieh 'scape. An'ee was still'eh when we got home. Awl'is Memorial Day stuff inna papeh t'ot'eh day, you could see..." "Yeh," nods Alice. "An' evr'y't'ing else," continues Sally. "Awla trouble wit' t' meat, Leonoreh's eeh, his back still achin' from t'at snow shovel -- an'now try'na figyeh out t'is Ozone Pawrk deal. I'm worried 'bout 'im. He ain't sleepin', he's hawrdly eat'n, an'nen chewin'at t'bacceh. It makes'im twitchy. An'ee's goin t'see t'at lawyeh, t'at Misteh Gelman downtown t'day. It ain'a good ideeh t'see a lawyeh when ya twitchy." "Solly's goin' wit'im," replies Alice. "An' if t'ez one t'ing HE ain't, it's twitchy." "No," agrees Sally. "Not twitchy. Pushy. But not twitchy...")

("Huh," huhs Joe, stepping into the elevator in the lobby of the Mechanics' Bank Building on Montague Street. "I din'know he was inNIS buildin'. Y'know, t' Dodgehs got t'eh offices in'eeh. Sal useta -- um -- come down'eeh a lot." "I hoid'em stawries," chuckles Solly. "Hold the door, please," calls an imposing bushy-browed gentleman wearing a stained suit and a rumpled bow tie. The operator complies. "Good morning, Mr. Rickey," he nods. Joe inhales, and holds up his arm to obscure his face. Mr. Rickey glances toward him, squints briefly, and then shrugs as the elevator begins its ascent....)

("Oi'd be prood t'saaarve as a block captain," declares Shaugnessy the Butcher. "Oi still got me waaarden's helmet an' ivvrything." "Nivvar moind that, ye plank," snaps Uncle Frank, dashing the newspaper off the counter. "What have ye doon about gett'n Joe some meat??" "Oi offarred th' boy two goats," Shaughnessy sniffs. "An'ee joost walked away!" "Goats!" roars Uncle Frank. "Ye bettar coom acraaas with beef, an' GOOD beef, wi' noon'aar ye saaaarrdoost ground in, aaaahr ye'll foind'yarr liquid refreshmints droyin' ooop." "Ye get me reaaaal beer," scowls Shaughnessy, "an' Oi'll getchee real beef!" "Th' NAAARVE!" sputters Uncle Frank. "Ye haaard me," declares Shaughnessy. "Noo moor'a that pootatarr brew! An' tell Quinlan tharr's noo 'A' in 'Rheingold!'")

(Don't worry kid, at your age, you'll be fighting it.)

(C'mon, Leo -- letting Reiser play at this point is like driving a car and hoping the knock will stop.)

(Are cowboys really like this?)

(What a suave, classy guy.)

(Ohhhh, Janie. If only the Inspector could see you now.)

(Well, there are quite a few answers to that question.)

(What's that definition of insanity again?)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Unwanted Wife?" Isn't that a new soap opera?

Cause, meet effect.

YOU have nothing to say? This must be serious.

OK, you can kick him now.

Don't lose the riding crop, you'll probably need it.

Ew.

You can only take a day off if you have a job to take the day off from.

You used to cut tongues out for less than this.

"But he was a lieutenant colonel!"

Trolling the phone company? NO FEAR.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Coming events...

 

[Fading Fast]

"An' if t'ez one t'ing HE ain't, it's twitchy."

I'm really glad Solly is going with him to the lawyer's.

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

"...An' tell Quinlan tharr's noo 'A' in 'Rheingold!'"

Perfect.


Re the street cleaning. NYC has a program today:

From AI:
The Doe Fund and its famous Ready, Willing & Able program.
Known citywide as the "Men in Blue," the organization hires formerly homeless and incarcerated men to clean over 115 miles of NYC streets every day while providing them with transitional work, housing, and career development.

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

"Unwanted Wife?" Isn't that a new soap opera?

On Page Four, it's a very convenient shorthand.

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

Don't lose the riding crop, you'll probably need it.

"Need" or "want?"

 

[Harp]

RJ Reynolds is receiving bad legal advice, if indeed any counsel at all.

The New England prep school memoir, John Knowles' A Separate Peace, recounts Second World War service academy draft dodging practice. Thought about this reading the West Point June Week article. Early Sunday morning cynicist moi. Johnny Lattner, Heisman Trophy 1953 winner told this fellow Edward Hines VA Hospital
patient that during the Korean War Coach Leahey assembled his Notre Dame football team and warned the consequence wrought academic dismissal. Make grades or die. Nobody on the team flunked out during Korea.

Dragon Gal exhibits a remarkable complacency over Slits' tortious battery, seemingly unsuspecting betrayal.
I wonder if an Ides of March incident awaits villainess.

 

[Fading Fast]

...

Dragon Gal exhibits a remarkable complacency over Slits' tortious battery, seemingly unsuspecting betrayal.
I wonder if an Ides of March incident awaits villainess.

Possibly, or she knows exactly what he's done and is doing and is just lulling him in. Right now she's coming across as foolish and we know she isn't.

There is, though, another variable at work as Caniff will soon cede control of T&TPs, so maybe he want to kill off the DL so that nobody else can write/illustrate her. Lizzie will know exactly, but I think (I could easily be wrong) it's the end of this year that he moves on to Steve Canyon and someone else starts writing/illustrating T&TPs.

 

[Harp]

^ No, she's certainly not foolish, though Slits' incongruity her employ as junior level executive with responsibilities tied interior shipment certain goods puzzles a pragmatist.

Terrence looks stuck China. Another oddity. Strip needs and all aside.
Milt could kill off Dragon Gal quite plausibly given current storyline prospectus. Too bad he got pulled off Terry.

 

[LizzieMaine]

The final Caniff Terry will go out on December 31st, so assuming his usual lead time, he'll be drawing it around the end of October. Not a lot of time at the usual pace of his storylines, so I expect it to be a very fast-paced summer. I hope we'll at least get a farewell tour with a lot of old friends showing up. Raven and Dude, alas, will not be possible, although I do hope at least for a mention. And then there's Pat, Connie, Stoop, Burma, Cap'n Blaze, Normandie and Merrily, April (if she gets off that island) and of course, Hu Shee. I'd even settle for seeing Johnny Jingo again...

 

[Harp]

Terry and The Pirates, appearing circa Depression and through the Second World War, had an unusually strict editorial proctor. Caniff created a superlative strip however restraint, yet its chaff is always evident, remarkably so that I wonder if any public explanation ever showed print as to whys and wherefores this occurrence was deemed necessary. All the more so when news content ran blood red with other strips more markedly adult level right besides Terry.