The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

I bet he hasn't got the guts to kick the bookies.

Pat Seerey, the Indians' left fielder, is a man of rather elephantine proportions, and we all know what Ted Williams' physiognamy is like. I leave to your imagination the spectacle that this play must have offered...

There's a valuable lesson to be learned here.

"Hey, this kid's good." -- Dr. Levine.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to do it ourselves. You look pretty buoyant..."

Everybody's depressed these days.

What could happen?

C'mon, kid, the plot's moved on.

And let's not even get into your immigration status...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

"Merde." Slipped that one right by, din'cha?

Hig gets his brains beat out on Thursday, and the very next day comes back to win in relief. It's like he owes Leo money...

 

[Fading Fast]

"Anybody's gonna pull'eh haieh, it's gonna be ME..."

Absolutely perfect kid logic.

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

The Eagle has been doing itself proud with its Daily News-quality photographs of the Dodgers. (The Eagle sports-page editor kicks the trashcan hard against the wall once again.)

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

Let's get right to the heart of the issue...

Good for him.

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

I bet he hasn't got the guts to kick the bookies.

Of course not - what a scumbag.

BTW, the two girls who spent a day in jail, used the "It Happened One Night" defense.

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

"Merde." Slipped that one right by, din'cha?

I have no one to blame but myself, as I know reading him is bad for my mental health.

 

[Harp]

I thought Betty Black was Muriel Deutsch, and thought her quite attractive, wondering why
Seymour would stray. Discovered my error subsequent. Muriel's petition and her alimony ask
with legal retainer reasonable. And she has Seymour by his short and curlies.
Her lawyer will absolutely nail Seymour's azz to the wall.

Huey helicopters aren't available post Second World War China; so the Dog Crate triple needs
do. Medevacs are always a mother, but the DC-3 doesn't have a starboard door M-60 ***ner,
which is bad**** beaucoup VC bigtime. Ain't no escape when caught inside X. Just roll up n' die.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("T'at was some kin'a bawl game," declares Sally. "T'at Branca, he's a kid 'at's goin' places. Leonoreh, awna ot'eh han'..." "Uh oh," chuckles Alice, gazing across 63rd Street as Leonora and Lottie argue over a game of potsy. "Awl durin'a game," continues Sally, "she's standin' up awna seat an' yellin' stuff." "Ain'at whatcha sposta do at a bawl game?" questions Alice. "She don' get t' pernt t'ough," shrugs Sally. "Ya yellin' atta bawl game, ya gotta get in ya dig fast. You know, "YA BUM YA," stuff like'at. She don' get it. Like when Musial come up, y'know how he stans'eh awl twisted aroun' funny, lookin' oveh'is own shouldeh? Well, Leonoreh gets up awna seat an' yells 'YA POSTCHA IS RIDICULOUS!" "Postcha?" gapes Alice. "Yeh," marvels Sally. "Like 'e's a debutante loin' t' wawk wit' a book on 'eh head." "He'd neveh hit nut'n," declares Alice, "wit' a book awn'is head." "An'nen Hilda, gawblesseh," headshakes Sally, "she has t' go down undeh, y'know, t' t' can, an' she says t' Leonoreh, 'heeh, kid, you ring t' bell.' So she gives 'eh t' bell, an'na kid don' jus' get up awna seat, she runs down t' railin' an' jus' about climbs up awna edge, ringin'at damn bell like it's an aieh raid a' sump'n! An' befoeh I c'n get down'eh an' grab'eh, t'at big special shows up, y'know, t'at big cop t'ey got oveh t'eh? Mooeh?" "Ain'ee t' one," gasps Alice, "t'at broke t'at guy's jawr?" "Yeh," nods Sally. "An' Leonoreh toins aroun' an' sees 'im an' she staehs 'im right inna eye an' says 'you can't do nut'n t' me! I'm GIFTED!' An' Mooeh jus' looks at'eh, an' sweahtagawd, t'at big g'rilla bus ts out laughin'. An' 'ee picks 'eh off t' railin' an' carries 'eh back t'w'eh seat an' says 'Betteh keep'n eye on'eh, I heeh she's GIFTED!' I mean, whattaya s'posta DO wit' a kid like'at? I ask ya!" "Ask ya ma," snickers Alice. "What?" "Nut'n....")

("Nex' yeeh," declares Bink, "I'm gonna put Frankie innat Baby P'rade. Y'can win a big silveh cup, an' I bet anybody in town'll give ya ten bucks awn it." "How can ye staaand," eyerolls Ma, "t'be so sentimental..." "It's cute," snifs Bink. "Babies awl dressed up in cawstumes. Ya just jealous 'cause none'a yawr kids woulda won." "Well," exhales Ma. "Woon year, Michael DID bring home a cup." "Mickey?" scoffs Bink. "T'at rat couldn' win nut'n, c'ept a prize f'bein' a rat." "Oi nivvar said," sighs Ma, "he WOON it...")

(Remember this day, Mr. Branca. Remember it for the rest of your life...)

(Red's so heroic no single panel can contain him!)

(Mike Jacobs doesn't think this is funny at all.)

(Look, shut up allayez. This looks like a good movie!)

(Yes, but did the British make the sun stand still?)

(YOU CLOWN YOU!)

(Maybe Margaret should study with Ethel Merman.)

("Woo Woo!" Hey, Hugh Herbert built a whole career on that line...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

If a Cuban millionaire can't hire a decent hit man, who can?

We don't see anywhere near enough of that dog.

Prepared under the most sanitary laboratory conditions...

"Grampaw, what ever happened to Grammaw?"

"Did I ever tell you about the last volcano I explored? The one where I showed them my flashlight and they worshipped me as a god?"

Always remember your debits and your credits...

"Hulahip Henna??"

Can you swim?

If all else fails, they could start a synchronized dance team...

Fun is still on the ration.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Ask ya ma," snickers Alice. "What?" "Nut'n...."

Alice is still the best. Oh, and good luck raising that kid.

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

Maybe Margaret should study with Ethel Merman.

One assumes that clanky juxtaposition wasn't accidental.

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

"Woo Woo!" Hey, Hugh Herbert built a whole career on that line...

True, but that also explains why he hasn't aged as well as other character actors. His whole bumbling shtick wears thin quickly. That said, when they let him act, he a fine actor, it's the bumbling thing that will kill you.

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

Prepared under the most sanitary laboratory conditions...

I know we've noted this before, but it has to be freakin' exhausting drawing that herringbone suit's pattern in so many panels.

 

[Harp]

Billy Anderson and Nathan James are de facto legally emancipated minors eligible
execution; so defense counsel after severance will approach prosecution for plea however
due heinous nature and deliberate intent within conspiracy to commit murder, such approach might be declined. The law treats criminal conspiracy much more harshly than individual
mens rea culpability; perhaps more immediate than premeditated, and Miranda is twenty
years into the future. If plea denied, defense will file for Anderson's confession withdrawl,
which seems unlikely. James' counsel would need attack Anderson and somehow mitigate
his client's homicidal action. A hangman jury awaits with sufficient rope length only needing
a prosecution noose wound knot tie.

No Cuban cigar del Monte's botched Martinez hit. Good help is evidently hard to find.

Off Topic: With all these murders plastered across the newspapers....
I recommend The Jackal cover series of the acclaimed Frederick Forsythe novel
originally filmed 1973. I believe the series is a Paramount offer and it's quite exceptionally done.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Thim bloooody gnats are aaaaal ooover th' place," fumes Ma, snapping her cleaning cloth around the fountain spouts. "Got aaaall oovar th' newspaparrs, aaall oovar th' windarrs, an' all oovar ivvrything ELSE!" "I din' notice," mumbles Bink, her mouth full of ice cream. "Oi did," glowers Ma. "Isspecially whin they got in th' cooolarrr!" Bink looks down at her little tin dish. "Oh," she gurgles. "I t'ought t'at was'em lit'l sugeh sprinkle t'ings....")

("I gotta run oveh t' t' collitch afteh woik," sighs Sally, biting into her toast. "You sign up at New Utrick yet?" "Ahhhh," sighs Joe. "I dunno, Sal. I jus' dunno, wit' t' stand an' awll, if I'm gonna have time t'is yeeh." "What???" gapes Sally. "Joe, y'on'y got five moeh credits t' getcha diploma! Awlem yeehs y'been goin', awlat woik y' done..." "Does any of it matteh?" sighs Joe, his eyes closed. "I can go broke sellin' chicken an' fish wit' an eight' grade edjehcation jus' as well's I can wit' a diplomeh..." "Now lissen..." begins Sally. "I don' like t'is kinda cereal," frowns Leonora, taking her seat at the table. "You go right back inna bedroom," commands Sally, "an' put a dress awn. I tolja a hunne't times y'can't weah t'em ovehrawls t' school!" "You weah ovehrawls t' woik," observes Leonora, shaking the box of Rice Krispies into her bowl. "An' bs'ides," she continues, "I ain' goin' t' school. I wen' las' week. I seen awleh was t' see. An' what'sa pernt? Even Pa says so." "Joe...." squints Sally. "Ah," nods Joe. "Like I was sayin', I'm gonna go right down'a New Utrick an' get signed up f' t' fawll." "Hmph," hmphs Leonora, poking at the bowl. "Y'don' make HIM weah no dress...")

(Wait'll you see the rent.)

(Never mind this, bring on the Phillies!)

(This apparition is one of Ma Cinders' own daughters, as opposed to Ella, who is only a stepdaughter. Genetics will tell.)

(That's what you get for trying to stiff her on the tip.)

(On the other hand, this leg makes a swell desk.)

(It's impossible to get any more meta than this.)

(Hey, how do THEY have meat???)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Ew.

Bad career move, Dix. You can hold out, you can talk back, you can stand on the wrong side of history -- but when you endorse a rival cigarette...

Shouldn't you all be bringing in the harvest? Molech demands his fall sacrifice.

"Very funny. Now where's the can opener?"

Can you swim?

"And one of those rights is to have my hat back!"

Shadow's an annoying little twit, but he has great taste in music.

Let Wilmer do it, after all, it's his uncle.

Good to see those war surplus pumps are being put to good use.

Always have a fallback plan.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

"Nut'n but chicken an' fish?" frowns the customer. "I went t' t' Brass Rail las' night, t'ey had PLENNY a' beef." "Go oveh t'eh now," shrugs Joe, "an' get me fifty pounds..."

 

[Fading Fast]

"I t'ought t'at was'em lit'l sugeh sprinkle t'ings...."

Oh, Bink!

BTW, Bink is going to weight 300 pounds if she only eats ice-cream all day.

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

"I can go broke sellin' chicken an' fish wit' an eight' grade edjehcation jus' as well's I can wit' a diplomeh..."'

Joe channeling my father from his grave. Except Joe is living in 1946 and my father didn't die until 1990. It pays not to think too hard about any of that.

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

Wait'll you see the rent.

The irony is today you can easily rent an apartment (although, not cheaply), but try staying an extra hour in the hospital and they'll all but forcibly throw you out.

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

It's impossible to get any more meta than this.

Agreed, it's folding in on itself. I think the number one lesson I've taken from reading these Day By Days all these years is how little we think is new today really is.

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

Sure, Raymond Moser could have amnesia or he just said "too much, I'm out of here." It does happen.

 

[Harp]

Wheellock taught at Brooklyn College. I should have gone to Columbia. The guys enrolled
at C after the war could have cross registered for Wheellock over at Brooklyn. Geez.
Foster retired from Rome, then relocated Milwaukee where he offered instruction; however,
I was chained to a desk in Chicago.

Herb over in Mary Worth cannot charm a hat check girl. Me Irish charm crashed at the Crestwood,
Illinois off track betting paddock with a race form gal. Think it might have been the same day
I saw Burma in the payout line. I know it was Her.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Not much, huh?" sighs Joe. "Ohhh, Oi wouldn't say thaaat," replies Ma. "We get a few a' th' loonch crowd farr th' chicken an' th' fish, but..." "Morrie Schreibstein says'eh havin'a same story oveh t' Bensonhoist," exhales Joe. "An' I ain' doin' half t' business out t' t'stand t'at I was befoeh -- an' right inna hawrt'a t' racin' season." "Y'otta sell ice cream," suggests Bink. "Jus' in time f' winteh," snorts Joe. "B'sides, 'at'sa next shawrtage t'at's comin'." "Noo thanks t' Barbara," glares Ma. "I'm tellin' yez," laments Joe, "if I don' get some meat pretty soon..." "Ohhhhh," ventures Uncle Frank, "doon't letchee'self get discaaaaraged now, lad. Tharrr's ALWAYS a way." "Shaughnessy," growls Ma, "is waaarse thin noo way at aaaaall." "Well," mutters Uncle Frank, "tharr's ooothar ways.....")

("I t'ink it's betteh," hopes Rosa, as Shirley winds elastic tape around her ankle. "Ow, 'at's too tight." "It's got to be tight," declares Shirley. "My father says..." "I t'ought he was a dentist," hmphs Rosa. "He was the trainer of the football team in college," shrugs Shirley. "He knows teeth, he knows ankles." "I jus' hope it holds," nods Rosa. "I gotta do t' show again t'is week, an'ney want me f' rehoisal oily t'marra. T'ey want me t'do anot'eh bit wit' Mayehoff, apologizin' f' knockin'im oveh. An'en I gotta put onnat cawfee can again f' t' commoicial." "Here," offers Shirley, offering a pocket knife. "Hey now," hesitates Rosa. "Mayehoff's a joik, but I ain' gonna..." "Use this," instructs Shirley, "and cut a bigger hole in the can. So you can SEE." "But.." injects Rosa. "Do it right before the show," continues Shirley. "They won't see it until it's too late." "What about t' rehoisal?" challenges Rosa. "Stall it," directs Shirley. "You don't need to rehearse the commercial anyway, all you do is go around in circles, right?" "Unless Mayehoff gets inna way," grumbles Rosa. "You'll be fine," assures Shirley. Rosa finishes lacing on her skates and rolls tentatively into the lot. "I t'ink I can do it," she nods. "Now awl we need's some customehs....")

(Well, whattaya expect for thirty cents an hour?)

(Play nice, boys...)

(MUTTONHEAD! MUTTONHEAD! MUTTONHEAD!)

(Picked the wrong neighborhood, pretty boy?)

(Look, don't you have a lovelorn column on this paper?)

(Wet cotton gloves? Don't lose your grip!)

(There is no loyalty like the loyalty of a fine dog.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

When you've been married 4 times, and Dan Topping isn't the worst of the bunch, you really need to question your judgement.

May I suggest Matthew 18:6?

The light of Molech's sacrificial fire?

"Well, we do have this one little girl who comes in here who really enjoys 'New Masses.'"


There's such a thing as "cutting your losses."

RADIO TALENTS CAN ACCOMPLISH ANYTHING

I'd love to get a look at Wilmer's combat record.

"Even if it costs Bim and me our last cent!"

A good musician throws himself into his work.

...easy go.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Use this," instructs Shirley, "and cut a bigger hole in the can. So you can SEE." "But.." injects Rosa. "Do it right before the show," continues Shirley. "They won't see it until it's too late." "What about t' rehoisal?" challenges Rosa. "Stall it," directs Shirley. "You don't need to rehearse the commercial anyway, all you do is go around in circles, right?"

I love Shirley. It's people like her that make the world work day to day.

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

I'm just guessing, but I think their idea of "work" and most everyone else's is a bit different.

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

When you've been married 4 times, and Dan Topping isn't the worst of the bunch, you really need to question your judgement.

Her total would eventually be seven marriages, seven divorces, two kids, and dead at 61. It was a shortish but full life.

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

May I suggest Matthew 18:6?

To be fair, NYC always experiences a mini baby boom nine months after a blackout.

"Can't read, can't watch TV, can't even listen to the radio."
"You, umm, well, uh, you want to?"
"Sure, what the hey."

"What's the son? Oh come on, who are you going to believe some random kids at school or your mom and dad. Of course, we wanted you. We planed for [mumbles the next word] minutes before we decided to have you."

 

[Fading Fast]

​

The below is from an online New York City paper, "The City Reporter." It puts some color and numbers around present-day lottery and gambling in NYC that shows something we talk about here regularly: the government is against vices until it can profit from them. Poor Ma would have to find some other way to make a living if she were alive today unless she could get Bink to pay her for all the ice cream sundaes she eats. New York Cashes in on Sports Gambling​

​

Fast-growing sports gambling provided $1.23 billion in tax revenue to the state in fiscal year 2026, second only to the New York Lottery, according to a new analysis released Wednesday by state Comptroller Tom DiNapoli. In all, gambling tax revenues exceeded $5 billion.​

​

More money is bet on basketball than any other sport, with bets during the first two weeks of June — when the New York Knicks were winning the NBA title — topping $1 billion. But the online bookies actually lost money as their payouts exceeded the amount gambled.​

​

The rapid rise of prediction markets, which involve sports bets but do not pay any such taxes to the state, showcases how much gambling has spread. Attorney General Letitia James has sued prediction market Kalshi, accusing it of running an “illegal gambling operation” without proper state licenses. Meanwhile, calls to New York’s problem gambling hotline have increased 8% since 2000.​

 

[LizzieMaine]

What gambling has done to baseball shouldn't happen to a dog. All this push for robot umpires, the whole replay thing, is being driven not by any interest in the purity of the game, but by the kind of people who use apps to bet on individual pitches and plays and go into a purple-faced rage if they lose a call.

If I could work my will, Judge Landis would rise from the grave and nail Rob Manfred to a Draft Kings billboard.

 

[Harp]

Took a glance at Ms Arline Judge's story over her transitional or rehabilitative alimony-whatever- and wonder why her payor(s) hadn't petitioned severance, or court affirmation plaintiff remarriage obligatory cease.

Bet Opal Mae is a lovely lass. Nothing like a fetching ******** Bathsheba. Reverend Payne is a real Bible thumper. Put to death therefore what is earthly in you.===Colossians 3;5

Tomorrow's Jockey Club Gold Cup Belmont inaugural is a millionaire run. Fifth race with five
entrants; all of whom comprise the finest thoroughbreds in the world. Reading Equibase past performance for this squad pops eyes out over Beyers and killer fractions.
Bet Forever Young; Phineas Fog; Baeza; Stars & Stripes straight superfecta; although the day's
price play is Phineas Fogg to wire. The only way to score the jockstrap is a fence swing hit.
I want to nail a strait score and my only real concern is youngster's layoff. This is a Breeder's Cup
prep and he should have raced Japan before the trip to Belmont.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Ye knoo," observes Uncle Frank, casting his eyes around the upholstered dining room of the Tuckahoe Country Club, "if ye tuck a napkin intee yaar shaaart, ye should let it hang free doon th' froont. It woon't catch mooch soup if ye tuck doon insoide in that way." "Don' be vulgeh, Pop," snorts Jimmy Leary. "T'is is whatca cawl a ascot. It's whatcha weah when ya playin' gawlf." "Since whin d' YOU," scoffs Uncle Frank, "play gaaaaalf?" "Since Isabel tol' me I needed a hobby OUTA t' house," shrugs Jimmy. "I'm pretty good at it. I got a hunnet'n t'oity yestehday, an'na pro says if I keep up playin' like I'm playin' I might make two hunne't!" "Oi'm happy farr ye," eyerolls Uncle Frank. "Anyhoo, yarr -- ah -- woife," he sighs, "is th' reason Oi coom up here. Oi need ye t' ask harr t' do me a favarr. Now, Oi've knoon Izzie a laaaaang toime, an' woon thing Oi knoo aboot'arr is that she knooos how t' get things. Now, ye look loike ye ain't been missin' noo meals -- ye gettin' plenny a' meat in ye doiet, an' Izzie's th' woon that's gett'n it. An' Oi waaant YOU t'get haar t'get some meat farrr Joe." "Oh," ohs Jimmy. "He still try'na sell'em hamboigehs? I hoid'ee bought a racetrack." "Noo, noo," headshakes Uncle Frank. "He caaan't get noo meat, an' things is gett'n desp'rate. An' Oi need YOU t'get Izzie t' pool some strings with wharivvar she's gettn' HARR meat an' send soom down t' Joe." "Waitaminute, Pop," frowns Jimmy. "T'at rat Pincus ain' mixed up innis, is'ee? Because if..." "No, no," hastens Uncle Frank. "Solly ain't in th' pitcharr. This is farr Joe. Yaaar broother in laaaarrr, an' th' laaaang sooferin' hoosband a' yarr stipsistarr." "Hmmm," hmms Jimmy. "I guess I c'n see what I c'n do." "An' lissen," warns Uncle Frank. "Don't let aaahn that Oi'm invalllved. She moit - ah - remimbarr a few things Oi -- ah -- once said...")

("Hey!" yelps Joe, watching a car pull out of the lot "Din'at guy awrdeh anyt'ing?." "He din' give no awrdeh," sniffs Miss Kaplan. "I tol'im t'eh wasn' no meat an'ee said ' tough luck toots," an' drove awff. Soives 'im right f'bein' a fathead." "I tol'ya," insists Joe. "Y'gotta SELL'em. Y'gotta tell'm 'bout Big Joe's Chickwich an' -- ahh -- Cap'n Joe's Fishwich!" "Yawr a CAP'N?" gushes Miss Kaplan. "When'dAT happ'n?" "You tawk to 'eh," sighs Joe. "Ahhh," exhales Shirley...)

(Um, shouldn't there be a -- um -- joke here?)

'
( "Yarr futcharr," frowns Ma, "will catch oop with ye soonar thin ye think!" "Ehh," ehhs Bink. "Hey, we got any'a t'at cherry flaveh?" "Nooo," glares Ma. "We do NOT." "Oh," shrugs Bink, followed by a sharp popping sound and a loud tinking sound as something ricochets off the mirror behind the counter. "Hmm," hms Bink. "Oi'll show ye," growls Ma, "how t'sew aaaahn a button...")

(Musial should take some time off to recover. Ten games would be about right.)

(If you're going to stick with this racket, you've got to work on your pre-bout interiews...)

(Schlemiel? I should say not. Much more of a schmendrick.)

(Good thing somebody around here remembers how to be a reporter...)

(Plus she really took care of that sticky damper...)

(Actually, Trix should fit right in with these two...)