The Era -- Day By Day

[Harp]

Dunno Ian's quandry. Understand jilted state but his feelings for Binnie now look a bit too soon before
the dust had settled over Selene crash and burn. And now no crash just dash.

And Terry's always in a fix, so nothing new here. Dragon Gal really owes this kid what Slits craves, though
doubt he'll ever collect.

The Catanias wedding pix is sweet. And the Davis story about his returning to England to marry his girl.

 

[Farace]

"Take me advoice. Doon't look'a gift haaaarse..." "Ohhhhhh," exhales Joe. "Ohh," inhales Uncle Frank. "That ain't what Oi meant...")

I remember there was a big beef boycott here in the early ‘70s, and a local meat market was selling horse meat. My mom was buying it, but didn’t want to tell us. Somehow we found out, but we weren’t bothered. It was actually quite good. And it has nothing to do with why I’m a vegetarian now.

 

[LizzieMaine]

I had relatives who called it "Jersey beefsteak."

 

[Harp]

When Lewis&Clark reached the Pacific Northwest, they bought tribal dogs to sate Caucasian appetite
for meat, buffalo being indigenous Plains territory. Horses presumably were scarce and far too valuable
to consume.

And speaking of horses, Emerging Market looks prime NYRA Belmont Stakes meat on the hoof alongside
Renegade, back from rest after his Kentucky Derby pin ball romp. There's not much pace in this edition for back closers such as these two to adroitly vantage, but after Churchill Downs' first Saturday, this Saturday should be a breeze.
A forward runner in the mold style favored Powershift can theoretically lead to wire the Belmont, and after a whackjob Derby cautious tablestakes stud poker is advised.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("In twinnty-foive years," sighs Ma, "Oi've nivvar had t' waaarrry 'boot no plainclothes d'tectives. Noo, evr'yboody comes in th' daaarr here wearrin' a Sears 'n Roobuck suit Oi give'm th' woonce-oovar." "Oi talked t' Doyle," assures Uncle Frank. "Tharrr's noothin' t' waaarrry aboot." "Hoo mooch?" scowls Ma. "Anoothar fifty," sighs Uncle Frank. "We'll be in th' poorhoose ," groans Ma, "befaaar this is oovar." She looks up to see a truck pulling up at the sidewalk outside. "What's this noo?" she demands. "That's th' meat Oi got farr Joe," declares Uncle Frank, rising from his stool. "Didjee get some bread too?" glares Ma. "Bread?" gapes Uncle Frank. "Ye can't have a saaaandwich," headshakes Ma, "with noo bread." "Oi thaaat you an' Bink," sputters Uncle Frank, "warrr gooin' t' BAKE bread with that p'taatarr floour Oi give ye." "Th' less said aboot THAT," exhales Ma, "th' betttarr...")

("I don' like sneakin' aroun' like t'is," mutters Sally, stepping into the Manor Cafeteria, just around the corner on 18th Avenue. "Jus' two ol' friends havin' a snack," dismisses Solly. "Cool, calm an' c'lected." They select their items and proceed to a small aluminum table. "I got t'ese papehs drawrn up," announces Solly, thru a mouthful of coffee cake. "Look'm oveh, lemme know if y'see anyt'ing y'don't like." Sally pokes at her slice of cheesecake as she examines the documents. "I don' like none of it," she sighs. "But'cha said y'self," reminds Solly, "he wasn' gonna go fawr it by 'imself. Well, t'is way he c'n do it wit'out eveh knowin'ee done it. An' he don' eveh have t'know t' whole stawry." "Jacleen Entehprises," frowns Sally. "Whassat?" "My middle name's Jacob," explains Solly. "An' you said yoeh middle name's Aileen. Jacleen Entehprises. We gotta have some kin'a name t' put awna papehwoik. I get t' VA loan in my name, transfehr'it t' Jacleen Entehprises, we buy t' prope'ty, an'nen Joe makes a deal wit' Jacleen Entehprises at cawst payin' outta what'ee makes. He don' hafta deal wit' t' V-A, Snodgrass is outa t'pitcheh, an' he ain' even out a down payment." Sally taps her fork on the edge of the chipped china plate. "An'nis is gonna woik?" she exhales. "I'm gonna go see Gelman t'marra," declares Solly, "an' run t' ideeh by him. We'll be a legal comp'ny, t'ez nut'n wrawng wit'tat. An' you got yoeh name awn it too, so t'ezza connection t' Joe, even if'ee don' know it. An' when I go see t' V-A, you come alawng as repr'sentin'at half'a t' pawrtnehship t'at's gonna run t' business. You can tell'm awlabout Big Joe's, 'cause you seen it awl fr'm t' beginnin'. Y't'ink you c'n handle it?" Sally hesitates. "Yeh," she finally nods. "C'n you absentee offa woik on Friday?" "I guess so," she shrugs. "Be at t' subway station," he directs, "inya city clo'es, at 9 AM shawrp." Solly crams the last crumb of his cake into his mouth, and drops his fork on his plate. "Awright," he chews. "Oh -- an' lemME do awla tawkin'." "Hmph," hmphs Sally...)

(Every promotion comes with its own gold-plated bottle of milk-of-magnesia.)

(Who did Dixie hit this ti-- oh, wait, never mind.)

("You better win this fight! We paid ten dollars for that silk robe!")

(MARY DOES NOT APPROVE OF YOU.)

(Well, she's got enough to buy a dyed muskrat on time from Namm's.)

(What an irony.)

(Never name your kid something you'd be embarassed to yell out the back window.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

The things that go on on the Upper East Side.

"Hmph," hmphs Mr. Rickey. "Maybe next time," shrugs Mr. Parrott.

"And if you make one wrong move, you'll never walk again. We clear?"

Counting those chickens...

Does Petrillo know about this kid?

At least with the farm, you'd be eating. Don't you pay attentio to Grampaw?

The Gumps join Willie and Mamie Mullins as the only comic strip couples who sleep in a double bed.

Does this airline ever get thru a single flight?

Isn't there some kind of "boy code" against this?

Moon used to be a prizefighter too. He's looked up at the ceiling of some mighty fine arenas.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Coming events...

 

[Fading Fast]

"Oh -- an' lemME do awla tawkin'." "Hmph," hmphs Sally...

That would never please her. I like the plan though, all things considered.

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

Well, she's got enough to buy a dyed muskrat on time from Namm's.

"It's sable." — JA

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

The things that go on on the Upper East Side.

And even with John Barrymore gone.

Plenty of women are thinking, "Six is a lot. Take a few off honey, but six was pushing it."

 

[Harp]

Sleep spanking mixed May-December homicide place Mrs Worth's dislike of Ian McLane and his
mother-daughter quandry into perspctive. A crash and burn is a crash and burn. It is what it most certainly is.