The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

"Gaaah annything in a 9-E? Oi gaaht boonions."

Freakin' perfect after she gives Bink s___ about the size of her feet. And why the hey did they take Bink with them anyway?

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"Well," relates Uncle Frank, a flush creeping across his face, "Oi was a yoong man in th' fool vigarr oov me yooth, an' Bridget -- that was harr name, gahhd rest'arr sool -- Bridget was -- ah -- wel, that is to say, ahh -- her faaatharr -- ah -- well, ye moit say it was whatchee cahhl a mattar of -- ah -- immediate necessity."



"Frank McHugh," oh, Uncle Frank!

 

[LizzieMaine]

("...A'nen he says," continues Sally, reading from Joe's latest letter, "..an'nis pawrt I don't get, 'if you c'n get any choo'n t'bacceh aroun'neh, please sen' it to me. I can use it heeh.' Choo'n t'bacceh, c'n ya beat t'at? He mus' be wheelin' an' dealin' oveh t'eh to get stuff he needs. Who'da t'ought? Hey, you got any choo'n t'bacceh back onna shelf t'eh?" Ma shrugs and scans the tobacco display, severely denuded of cigarettes save for a few oddly-printed cartons. "Well," she replies, producing a dust-covered, unopened display box of Tucks 5-cent Plug, "I gaaaaht this, moosta been here since Mistarr Lieb was aroodn. Oi ain't evarr goona sell it, so ye moit as well send it aaahn t'Joseph." "Awrful stuff," frowns Sally. "I see Dixie Wawkeh sta'nin' inna outfiel', spittin' it awlaroun' inna grass. Disgustin'. Hey," she continues, shifting the topic, 't'at wa a lotta fun las' night. T'at Bink Scanlan's OK. Bowlin' a 270, who'da t'ought." Ma scowls. "Doon'chee think," she ventures, "that she's a bit -- ah -- roobust farr a garrl?" "What??" laughs Sally. "T'at litt'l t'ing?" "Ye'vaar look at th' soize of 'arrr hands?" continues Ma. "An' those FEET." "Hones'tagawd, Ma," chuckles Sally, "t't'ings you come out wit'. Well, I'll go upstaiehs an' get Leonoreh, we betteh get home." She heads for the stairway door, and pauses. "Oh," she recalls. "I mean'ta ask. You ain' seen my billfold aroun' have ya? It was in my poise when we was at t'bowlin' alley, but when I got home it wasn' inneh. I hope I didn' lose it awna subway a'nut'n." "Ah," scowls Ma....)

Economic Stabilization director Frederick Vinson warned today that rationing must continue and that any wage increases must wait until Germany is beaten. The message was seen as a discouragement to Organized Labor in its push to revise the "Little Steel" formula to permit general wage increases now, based on the 44 percent increase in the cost of living since 1941. Mr. Vinson did pledge that the Bureau of Economic Stabilization and the Office of Price Administration will continue to exercise "firm vigilance" to keep inflation down.

(And nertz to you, Noel Coward.)

(It's like Mr. Lichty is looking right in my window.)

("Misteh G," begins Alice, clearing away the supper dishes, "c'n I ask ya a faveh?" Mr. Ginsburg nods in assent, as he fumbles for his pipe. "I need a white dinneh jacket, size foehty-eight stout." "Hmmm," Mr. Ginsburg acknowledges, packing a load of Half and Half into the bowl. He pauses, and brings his expert eye to bear. "One I got," he notes. "A little tight though in the shoulders, it might be." He rises, pipe in mouth, and reaches into his vest pocket for a tape measure. "If I may," he continues, unrolling the tape across Alice's back. "No, no," corrects Alice. "I don'need no white dinneh jacket f'me!" "Ah," pauses Mr. Ginsburg. "It's f'ra frien'," Alice continues. "Who's gonna take a lady out f' T'anksgivin' to a nice jernt." "I see," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "And where...""He dunno yet," replies Alice. "I ain' decided." "Ahhhhh," chuckles Mr. G. "But Misteh Krause, is I should say it, a 38-slendeh." "It ain' f'Siddy," flushes Alice." "Ohhh," ohhs Mr. Ginsburg, puffing a blue cloud as he awaits further explanation. "It is not for me to interfere," he frowns, "but..." "It ain' like'at, neiteh!" flusters Alice. "If ya mus' know, it's f' Frank Leary. An'na lady is Ma Sweeney!" Mr. Ginsburg lowers his pipe and marvels at this revelation. "I mean," stumbles Alice, "if I c'n swing it.")

(Why don't they just admit that pro football in Brooklyn is finished, and get going with field hockey before it snows.)

(Either Evans Krehbiel is so deeply penetrate into hepcat circles that he's coming up with slang that nobody else has ever heard, or he's making it up as he goes along. "Dracula's Doll!")

(Well, at least they're not going by bus.)

(Sheffield Farms is proud to serve an auxiliary arm of your Federal law enforcement!)

(AND SHE ROSE FROM THE DEAD...)

(Believe me, Kitty, I know exactly how you feel.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Famed borscht bazaar." Hey, that's Fred Allen's line.

And the winning team will beat the Tigers.

Revenge is a dish best served in a cold bath.

Well, at least she can follow the plot.

Never mind "Daddy," you need Punjab.

See kids, you don't even need steam.

"Fuzzy?"

"But I thought EVERYBODY mouths off to lieutenants!"

Wait, let's hear more from the cat.

Well, if there's pigs jumping on your bed in the night maybe you do need to sleep with a gun.

 

[Fading Fast]

Just when the story stated to heat up, the Daily News goes two days without anything about Puk Paaris – does Page Four understand its own mission?