The Era -- Day By Day

[Harp]

British war bride Caroline Postner, 16 is a runner. She angled a ride to America, spent arrival night with spouse,
then next day gave her ex GI husband the slip. I imagine this happened occasionally, and, on the whole the foreign spouse story is heartfelt testament of the human side of war. Congress, however, placed legal encumbrance upon the marriage phenomenon; so that fraudulent deception played blind eyed Cupid would
be addressed forthwith. Still, bridal audacity chutzpah skillfully acted, nevertheless evokes a certain awe at such cold blooded ruthless deprave heart indifference.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Ye haaard me," repeats Ma. "Oi'm takin' ye oota cirrrrculation till th' heat's aaahf." "But -- " buts Heckie Capiello. "And yaaaaar t'stay OOTA BROWNSVILLE!" commands Ma. "But Shoiley Han'macheh!" pleads Heckie. "She'll waste away wit'out me! She tol' me!" "Browwwwnsville's laaass," snorts Ma, "is th' rista th' waaarrld's gain." "I betcha din' treat'cha son like t'is," mopes Heckie. "Oi DID," insists Ma. "An' look how he toint out!" jeers Heckie. "Shutcha yap," growls Bink, staggering into the store from the back stairway. "Goo back oopta bed this instant," orders Ma. "Ye knoo what th' doctaaar toold'jee." "I don' caeh," sniffs Bink. "I wanna b'nana split, an' I'm gonna HAVE a b'nana split." "Hey," injects Heckie. "How 'bout t'em two clams ya owe me. You ain' made no payments." "I ain' USED it yet," growls Bink, her eyes murderous. "Now GET OUTTA MY WAY!" "Huh," huhs Heckie. "What got inteh --- oh. Neveh min'....")

("So she says I otta spend moeh time wit' Leonoreh," explains Sally. "It is good advice," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "Sound advice. Your daughter is a remarkable child, but she is at an age..." "Yeh," Sally nods. "T'at she is. But what I wawn'ed t'ask is -- I mean, you ride inta t' city wit'eh onna subway ev'ry day she goes t't' clinic. What's she like t' see t'eh?" "In the subway?" chuckles Mr. Ginsburg, lighting his pipe and puffing a cloud of Half and Half. "What is to see?" "I don' mean'at," replies Sally. "I mean, inna city. I mean, ya takin'eh t'eh t' N Y U, an'nezzat pawrk wit' t' awrch, an'nem statues --is she innehrested innat stuff?" "She has wondered," smiles Mr. Ginsburg, "why General Washington is making such a face. And when I explain to her about the teeth, of wood, she tells me 'you are misinformed,' with such a serious expression." "So I guess museums is out," sighs Sally. "She'd be awrguin' wit' t' guides." "If I may suggest," offers Mr. Ginsburg. "The library." "We gott'at liberry oveh t' Mapleton," notes Sally. "T'em liberrians don' like 'eh inneh, she won' stay inna kids' section." "I mean the big library," explains Mr. Ginsburg. "In the city. On Fifth Avenue. Surely she has seen the lions. Take her there. Spend a day. She will never forget." "I useta love goin'a liberry," sighs Sally. "T'at ol' one on Linden Boulevawrd. When I was a kid. I'd go oveh t'eh an' get locked inna stacks afteh closin'. Ma'd sen' Uncle Frank t'come get me an'nee could'n get in." "And," notes Mr. Ginsburg, "you never forgot." "Yeh," nods Sally. "I neveh f'gawt...")

(I bet you can get a slot machine cheap...)

(I have always felt sorry for Mickey Owen, and I really feel sorry for him now. Get over yourself, Mr. Rickey, or we might think Jimmy Powers is right about you.)

("A pinup of Chili Williams? He'd never fit in that bathing suit.")

(WE'LL SOON DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT!)

(Hmph. That donut-head hairstyle is so 1945.)

(WORST. DAD. EVER.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

New York's Picture Newspaper.

"I never heard of the guy." -- God.

"I might want to wear it again later."

If this leads up to an epic week-long death struggle between a giant snake and a chicken hawk -- we won't see any of it, because Grampaw will spend the week telling us about the harmony of nature.

Does D ick Tracy listen to "D ick Tracy?"

"Still, the money woulda been nice. Oh well, there's always Uncle Bim."

Sergeant Superhuman.

180 Proof.

Hey, you wanted to work in Intelligence.

It takes real skill to pull off a job like that.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker --

The "Great Kilgrapp:" a dime-store thug in a pi**-stained bedsheet.

 

[Fading Fast]

"So I guess museums is out," sighs Sally. "She'd be awrguin' wit' t' guides."

Oy.

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

I have always felt sorry for Mickey Owen, and I really feel sorry for him now. Get over yourself, Mr. Rickey, or we might think Jimmy Powers is right about you.

It's also interesting that we've seen a few of these Mexican-bound players shoot right back home. Something down there – weather, process, culture, etc. – is turning some of them off quite quickly.

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

WE'LL SOON DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT!

Isn't that how Andy Gump partly started the current mess they are in?

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

No Jane Arden? She's probably taking all her furs in for storage today.

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

Did we know that barbers and beauticians had a union? Do they still today? In my four-plus decades in NYC, I've easily had over ten different people cut my hair and not once did anyone ever mention a union. Nor do I ever remember reading about one. The one exception is a friend who works in TV and she said the hairdressers there have a union, but I thought that was specific to that industry.

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

"Still, the money woulda been nice. Oh well, there's always Uncle Bim."

If this were the real world, I think they'd have a shot at getting the money back.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Janie had to step to the rest room for a sec. It gets tiresome listening to these birds chatter...

 

[Harp]

After the Second World War end, the Sanhedrin convened inquiry for Pearl Harbor punishment,
and both the Army and Navy drew investigative boards to assess blame for the attack and abject failure
that still surrounds December 7th, 1941. Franklin Delano Roosevelt was dead, so too was the then Secretary of the Navy, Frank Knox; however, General George C Marshall and Admiral Harold K Stark were alive-and vulnerable. What followed behind the scenes became the most intricate Chess match ever played this
planet, which included Fleet Admiral Ernest L King and the Hawaiian principal commanders, Husband Kimmel
and Walter C Short. Added pawns were cryptanalysts Captains Joseph Rochefort and Edwin T Layton.
A villain, Admiral Richmond Kelly Turner, ignoble black knight is loosed upon the board, and unconstrained
by any set rules other than dictated arrogance.

Mrs Pisanti is sane and subject trial rule; wherein the trial judge will insist her counsel put up
a meaningful defense, which it frankly hasn't. This farce should have adjudicated itself earlier
but for its defendant, Pisant; whom has lawful right to demand counsel defense, despite her obvious
guilt.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("So yeh," nods Sally. "We'eh goin' inna city Satehday, jus' me'n Leonoreh, we'eh gonna get oueh good cloes' awn an' we'eh gonna do t' town. It was Misteh Ginsboig's ideeh." "Ya gonna see a show?" queries Alice. "Go t' museum an' see t'em dinehsoehs an'nem 'Gyptians, 'nawlat?" "Fois' we'eh gonna have lunch," declares Sally. "We'eh gonna go t' Schrafft's. Like reg'leh ladies." "Din' you say you useta woik t'eh?" queries Alice. "One day," corrects Sally. "One day. When I was nineteen. We hadda disagreemen'." "T'ey fin' out what happn't at t' Paramount, huh?" snickers Alice. "I wisht I neveh tol' you about'tat," growls Sally. "Anyways, afteh t'at, we'eh gonna go t' liberry. T' big one. Fi't Aveneh. An' we'eh gonna look awla'roun'." "I neveh been inneh," admits Alice. "T'em steps, t'eh whatchacawl intimidatin'. 'Slike ya goin' t' coeht. Um -- if you eveh hadda go t' coeht, I guess, uh, it'd be like t'at." "I on'y been'eh'ra coupla times myself," notes Sally. "One time when Mickey an' me was kids, Uncle Frank took us oveh t'eh, an' toint us loose. He hadda go do some buisiness, 'e said. Hadda fix a terlet 'a sump'n. Magine'at, somebody on Fit' Aveneh sendin' awlaway t' Brooklyn f'somebody t'come fix'eh terlet." "Frank awrways was," nods Alice, "a good plumbeh...")

("Nice place y' got heeh," nods the tall man in the tan overcoat, finishing the last crumb of his Big Joe's Special. "Yeh," nods Joe. "S'a nice location. Six blocks from Ebbets Feel. We getta lotta people come by'eeh inna summeh. We'eh gonna do some special pr'motions if t'ey win some games, get people excited. Might be a lotta action." "Lissen, pal," continues the man, parking a toothpick against a back molar, "that remin's me. I hoid t'is is a good place f'ra a guy might be lookin' fawr some -- ah -- action." Joe's eyes lower into a subtle squint as he carefully examines his customer. The man regards him back, the toothpick oscillating against his lower lip. "I woul'n know," replies Joe, in a slow, even tone, "nut'n'about nut'n like'at...")

("I seen'at pitcheh 'My Repyehtation' oveh t'Kenmoeh las'night," relates Rosa Capiello, perched on a chair beside Bink's bed. "Whattalotta bunk. T'at George Brent's about nine'y yeehs old. Y'c'n see awla wrinkles even'ough t'ey put about nine pouns'a makeup awn'im." "You go wit' anybody?" queries Bink without much interest in the answer. "Neh," dismisses Rosa. "Hey, t'ough, y'know who I seen inneh? Ya boyfrien' t' Sawrgeant. He was inneh awl by'im self eatn' candy bawrs. I don' t'ink'ee seen me t'ough." "Huh," huhs Bink. "Who caehs, 'ee'sa bum." She exhales and leans back against her pillow. "You -- um --sueh'r'it was 'im?" Rosa snickers, and pulls at her ears. "Howcome you gotta stay in bed, anyway," she inquires. "Docteh said I oughta stay awff my feet," shrugs Bink. "Won't make t' kid come any sooneh, but at leas' it's a strain awff my ankles. He was awl by'im self, huh?" "Yeh," nods Rosa. "I mean," snorts Bink, "who'd have a funny-lookin' monkey like 'im anyways?")

("Caramba!!")

("An Election Of Professions.")

(Ignore your public and someday you won't have one.)

("Ew, I just stepped in something. Can you bend down and check my shoe?")

(Cici n'est pas une pipe.)

(Worst-Dad-Ever will end up in jail, and Junior will have to thumb a ride home...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Um...

"Hey lookit!" snorts Jimmy Leary. "T' justice'a t' peace t'at married us!" "Hmph," hmphs the former Widow Ten Eyck. "You still owe me two dollars for that."

You need to read the whole book first.

I wish I had "Brilliant" on *my* office door, if I had an office door.

The Harmony of Nature will only take you so far.

Everybody was in the resistance.


Hey, just like Mrs. Pruneface and the refrigerator!

I don't remember that you ever went on the first one.

You could understand every word? Then he hasn't got a chance.

Learning how to take a fall is a valuable life skill.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And also...

You ain't seen nothing yet.

I'm surprised Rickey pays Leo that much. Guess he doesn't want him doing any more guest shots with Fred Allen.

 

[Fading Fast]

"One day. When I was nineteen. We hadda disagreemen'."

"Disagreement" is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence.

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

Um...

Normally I'd say there's no way this story is over, but sometimes they come and go. I assume Harp will weigh in later with the civilian and military legal angles.

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

"Hey lookit!" snorts Jimmy Leary. "T' justice'a t' peace t'at married us!" "Hmph," hmphs the former Widow Ten Eyck. "You still owe me two dollars for that."

I had all but forgotten about those two.

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

Everybody was in the resistance.

Not one former N*zi in Germany after the war.

 

[Harp]

A noose tightens daily around Mrs Pisanti's neck as her trial farce proceeds with incriminating testimony.

Little is known about the late Mrs Virginia Kristoff's husband, but Lieutenants Ondrusek and Blankenship
are in civil jeopardy for tortious negligence in the apparent ******* scalene triangle. Blankenship is more
imperiled, though Ondrusek's involvement is plainly drawn conspiratorial participant.

The Lexington Stakes is featured tenth race tomorrow at Keeneland, and though ostensibly a Kentucky Derby
prep, none of its entrants are qualified for Churchill Downs. Consequently, the race is seen for the Preakness
and Belmont Stakes Triple Crown contention slots with #10 Confessional; #9 Ezum; and #11 I Did I Did leading
the pack. The Lexington is another wide open race so my handicapping past performance is skewered pace
probability over a mile 1/16th distance on dirt. I tend to eschew turf and synthetic surface features whenever
possible; preferring to stick to betting solid dirt runners over hybrid horses. I like Confessional to win but his
outside post draw concerns me a bit. Still looking for a solid underlay to play against him. I need a pony
and a price here.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Ye say he was in here AGAIN?" frowns Ma. "Yeh," nods Joe. "Same guy. He had awn a diff'nt coat, but it was t'same guy f' soiten." "Now, Francis," snaps Ma. "Whaaaat d'ye say t' THAT?" "Hmm," exhales Uncle Frank. "Soomthin's raaaaatten. Doyle toold me they laid awf innis neighbarrhood." "Um," ums Joe, "if y'don' min', I'm gonna -- uh -- go oveh t'eh, by t' magazine rack -- uh --- f'ra while." "Thankee, Joseph," nods Ma. She returns her gaze to her husband. "Oi doon't loike th' looksa this AT AAAHLL," she resumes. "Tharr's been crackdoons, but they nivvar coom in here. Now twoice in two days. We're bein' waaaatched. Has soombody been taaalkin'?" "It ain't loike," sighs Uncle Frank, "ye been roonin' in secret. Th' whool neighbarhoood cooms in here, an' it ain't joost farr th' hambarrgars an' egg creams." "If that Hector's been taaalkin'," vows Ma, "Oi'll wring 'is fool neck." "Hey," interrupts Bink, staggering up to the counter. "Gimme a b'nana split." Ma shoots her a look. "You ain't been talkin', have ye?" "I ain' much f' tawk," snorts Bink. "I'd ra'teh lissen. Wha's goin' awn? Why's ev'ybody actin' so fishy?" "She doon't know noothin'," dismisses Uncle Frank. "Leave 'arr be." "You tell'eh, Fatty," agrees Bink. "Hey, how 'bou'ttat b'nana split....?")

("So yeh," nods Sally. "I tol' Leonoreh what we was gonna do, an' y'know what she says t'me? 'I ain' gonna weah no white gloves.'" "Hawrd t' toin'a pages inna book wit' white gloves awn," snickers Alice, jostling as the train sways around a curve. "Hey," she continues. "Ain' yeh boit'day comin' up?" "Yeh," frowns Sally. "Sat'ehday. What of it?" "Din'choo jus' say," questions Alice, "you was gonna take Leonoreh an' spend ya day inna City?" "Yeh," acknowledges Sally. "T'at way I don' hafteh worry 'bout no pawrties. I do'wanna t'ink 'bout my boit'day. Who wants t'be toity-tree?" "I remembeh t' sistehs said Jesus was t'oity t'ree," offers Alice. "Whassat got to do wit' anyt'ing?" challenges Sally. "I dunno," admits Alice. "Maybe I oughta ask Fat'eh Kelleheh. I betcha he's good wit' t'at r'ligious stuff." "You do t'at," sighs Sally, as the train rolls on toward home...)

("Won't they want their helicopters first?")

(Memphis Engelberg? Hey Leo, you know this guy?)

(You can't be too particular.)

(Babe in arms in 1914? Hey, you're almost as old as Sal!)

(I still say this would have been a better story if they had a real chimp.)

("Yeah, yeah. Hey, drop this in the mail on your way out.")

(Proceeds to lose the picture.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

There is something funny going on with the Lounge today -- the servers are very intermittent about allowing me to upload images. I usually stage each day's Eagle post the night before, and last night it took me about three hours before it finally let me upload the files. It's now balking at letting me upload the News and the Worker. Please stand by.

 

[Fading Fast]

Babe in arms in 1914? Hey, you're almost as old as Sal!

And not half as angry.

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

Yeah, yeah. Hey, drop this in the mail on your way out.

I promise to pay attention when they start the new storyline.

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

Proceeds to lose the picture.

You really dislike this man. Very far from the best father, but at least he can be prodded into doing the right thing.

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

 

[Harp]

A belated plea arrangement occurred betwixt prosecution and defense in the Pisanti case; although
subsequent defense chair disclaim and bench contradiction leads conclude that passion had indeed
served aisle solicit grounds. Judge Leibowitz committed error by allowance passion outside marriage within
ostensible hetero***ual orientation for plea instead of trial before jury. Such avail should have remained on
court floor; whatever embarrassment accrual defendant. And I suspect double sawbuck sentence tender
in lieu of defendant cop. Absolutely ridiculous and more reflective gender than justice.

The Lexington Stakes offers a wedge wager with #7 The Hell We Did (8-1) to beat #10 Confessional (7-2),
followed Ezum #9 (2-1); Enforced Agenda #4 (10-1) for a reasoned superfecta. And trainer Doug O'Neill who likes
to bluff and overplay his cards has a 15-1 longshot, Decisive Win #3 entered bereft rhyme or reason. I am suspicious of O'Neill's perceived inside straight and will call him with a ticket or two bet low. And a safety win superfecta
given Confessional and Ezum for a few bucks snapped off bankroll.
My superfecta is tightly reasoned cogent poker and certainly worth a dime, dollar, fin, or sawbuck if you've mind to wager today's Tenth at Keeneland.

 

[Harp]

Nota bene amici, Enforced Agenda #4 and Decisive Win #3 have scratched. As a look at handle shows Corono de Oro #1
is receptive public, I included him on several superfecta to win, place, show, and finish to accord this
and his rail place following Agenda's scratch. The betting crowd vote is thirty-six percent or so correct
with opening wager, and I like to read table play to assess all viable options against my stringent selectivity.

Good luck with the Lexington. The first several races show wallets are out and window traffic healthy.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Well, that was worth waiting for...

The fine print doesn't mean a thing...

She majored in English Lit at Vassar.

I hope he hasn't forgotten how to fox trot.

Oh, there's ways...

What's with the neckerchief? Scoutmaster Andy?

Well, this looks easy enough.

There has to be a reason why this wouldn't actually work.

You know, Sinatra's voice will improve tremendously once he has a throat hemmorhage. Just a thought.

"I'd like to join a club and beat you over the head with it."

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

They say Richmond is a genteel, civilized place. Coulda fooled me.

 

[Harp]

As remarked earlier, Mrs Pisanti reached plea agreement with prosecution on passion pretext,
admitting deliberate intent however lacking requisite elements for passion, and as a married woman,
ostensibly hetero***ual, her bi***ual inclination is germane her mens rea; or what the law terms evident depraved heart indifference. The trial judge erred in allowing this as such criminal intent cannot be resolved
within passion but solely as ancillary fact to deliberate intent. Otherwise, this matter should be jury presented
at trial with resultant verdict determinative sentence. Judgement should therefore be remanded 1st degree murder with full life floor in acceptance honest plea, or capital punishment upon jury guilty verdict.

And, speaking of verdicts.... The Lexington Stakes saw a below radar horse, Trendsetter kick over my
estimated superfecta finish, though several selections, The Hell We Did and Corona de Oro hit the board
place and show. Resultant payday takeout was huge with $1 on the fecta returning $10,000.
I dropped a few bucks on the fillies Apple Blossom romp over at Oak Lawn, hitting a superfecta; so I saw
a profit that diminished my Lexington angst somewhat, but another blindsided race result after the last
fortnight frustrates.