The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

"Wha'ssis --" repeats Solly. "Just a few routine questions,"

"If we are doing this 'voluntarily,' I'm gonna need more or get a warrant and I'll get a lawyer: your choice."

Separately, there are some great economic lessons in the meat article. One, in particular, is called "substitution" and forms a core tenet of how they calculate inflation. It's cool to see it in action even if, like me, you think it’s far from a perfect solution to a complex-as-all-heck problem.

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"...Sell 'im some p'tection."

What a scumbag.

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They can say "D i c k" all they want and the censorbot can't touch them!

Only a few days ago, I wanted to make a somewhat similar point and I had to take a screenshot of the name that I wanted to use as, obviously, the bot doesn't censor within pictures. It's all so stupid, especially since it could easily be improved with some free, i.e., open-sourced programming, but of course, somebody, somewhere would have to care enough to do that.

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

Well, well, well.

Could our boy Nick be just around the corner?

Also,

"What's a pro-tee-jay?"
"Dat's th' brat, Annie."

Charming.

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

Once again, Mr. Rodney is ahead of his time.

He is indeed. I like the little tidbit about the Soviet lifting team. I'd bet you they get all the food they need.

 

[Harp]

I tried the circuitous Goelet article but one-and-a-half cups of coffee proved insufficient
to the task of comprehension. I also noted and recalled Murray; wherein wife's lover slain
and Murray legally passed, but now accused of cruelty by spouse...

The Chicago Stockyards/meat markets fluctuation article recalled childhood reminiscence
of being with my dad, a local cattle buyer, and walking through stockyards muck and mire.
He'd dropped out of high school during the Second World War years to work the Yards,
drafted Korea, returned and went back to the Yards. He married my mother and fathered
four children. He was killed in a car accident at thirty seven. I never saw him with a book but
he respected schooling. I sometimes wonder what he would have thought of me since my
childhood had been rebellious and scholastically erratic. I was a bad apple fell far from the
paternal tree; almost forgotten distant memories trip wired by a newspaper cattle commodity
report. Cattle, pigs, horses, sheep, and Judas goats that led livestock to slaughter pens.

I wouldn't mind seeing Ms Allen and Terry wed before returning back home.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("It's getting late, Bill," observes Detective McManus. "Almost 2 AM. Think we've got all we need?" "Just a couple more questions," continues Detective Brosnan, as the door to the interrogation room opens and a patrolman hands in a paper bag. "Got some sandwiches," continues Brosnan, opening the bag. "You like cheese?" "Meat's hard to get," nods McManus. "Like to have some coffee with this," adds Brosnan. "Pete, why don't you run down the hall, bring the pot in here. How 'bout you, Pincus? Sandwich?" "I'm fine," glowers Solly, sitting back in the hard wooden chair with his arms folded in front of him. "Don't mind if I eat, do you?" continues Brosnan, unwrapping the wax paper. "Whateveh," sighs Solly. "All right," resumes Brosnan, thru a bit of sandwich. "Just a couple more things. We talked to a few people around your neighborhood, and it seems that last December you were seen around town a bit worse for the wear. Black eye, cuts on your face, that sort of thing. Mind telling me how that happened?" "You know how it is," shrugs Solly. "I don't, Mr. Pincus," replies Brosnan. "That's why I'm asking you." "Nut'n to it," insists Solly. "Jus' one'a t'em t'ings." "Mm," nods Brosnan, taking another bite of his sandwich. "You deal in g uns, don't you? At your shop, I mean, surplus g uns?" "Yeh," acknowledges Solly. "I got awla poimits an' licenses f't'at too." "What kind of g uns?" presses the detective. "Depends," shrugs Solly. "Whateveh I can pick up." "Ever pick up any .45s?" questions Brosnan. "GI pi stols, that sort of thing?" "T'em are hawrd t'get," declares Solly. "Do you own a g un yourself?" continues Brosnan. "Bring one home from the war, maybe?" "I toined in awl my geah," declares Solly, "when I got out." "I see," nods Brosnan, making another note. "On the night of December 26th," exhales Brosnan. "Do you remember where you were?" "I tol' ya awready," frowns Solly. "I drove out t' Joisey in Frank Leary's truck t' look oveh some moichendise." "On the night after Christmas?" interrupts Brosnan. "Chris'mas schrmismas," retorts Solly. "Y'gotta do whatcha gotta do when ya gotta do it." "Mm," mms Brosnan, carefully evaluating the man across the table. "All right, Mr. Pincus," he concludes, closing his notebook. "I think we have everything we need for now. If we need anything else, we know where to find you." "Ah," glowers Solly, rising from his chair. He buttons his jacket and steps toward the door, pausing only to select a sandwich from the paper bag. "Guess I'm hungry," he notes, "aftehrawl." "Mm," acknowledges Brosnan. "Oh, and one more thing, Mr. Pincus. We'd appreciate it if you'd stick close to town...")

("YOU ARE A MOST INTRIGUING PERSONALITY, MISS SCANLAN," rumbles Zeno, his eyes glowing thru the smoke. "I hoid'at one befoeh," smirks Bink. "NONETHELESS," intones the prophet, "IT IS TRUTH, AND TRUTHS MUST BE SPOKEN LEST THEY BE FOREVER LOST." "Huh," huhs Bink. "I neveh t'ought'uvit t'at way." "YOU CAST A RARE LIGHT UPON THE WORLD OF MAN," continues Zeno. "AND THAT LIGHT MUST NOT BE EXTINGUISHED, OR, YEA, ALLOWED EVEN TO BURN LOW." "Zatso?" questions Bink. "IT IS THE TRUTH," thunders Zeno, his breath stirring the incense cloud. "I SEE YOU CASTING THAT LIGHT ON THE UPTURNED FACES OF A BEAMING THRONG. I SEE YOU RECEIVING THE PLAUDITS THAT ARE YOUR DUE." "Huh," huhs Bink. "Plawdits, huh? I neveh had no plawdits. Whatt'v I gotta do?" "I SEE DESTINY, CIRCLING, CIRCLING YOU," proclaims the wizard. "AS A PLANET MUST CIRCLE ROUND ITS SUN." "Y'don't say!" gapes Bink, her attention riveted....)

(You know a faster way to dry 'em?)

(See, the football Yankees are owned by Dan Topping, who also owns a third of the baseball Yankees, and are actually the old NFL football Dodgers, relocated to the Bronx and transplanted into the AAFC. And the new football Dodgers are an expansion team owned by the guy who used to own the baseball Phillies but got thrown out for betting on his own team. So when the new Dodgers play the old Dodgers, it's hard to say who's actually dodging what, and why. Make sense?)

(These ghost ships can be so exhausting.)

("Seems I used to read like this to my own grandchildren. What were their names again? Oh, never mind.")

(Snafu is one of those great multipurpose words that can fit just about anywhere.)

("Look down, you'll see him!")

("Woulda been nice if there was some actual meat on the bone...")

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania?"

Hey, Gould -- when you get done with the mouthwash guy, here's your next story.

They've certainly done a good job keeping the bomb out of the papers.

Well, there were no three-yard penalties at Anzio.

Cheer up, maybe the doc can fix you up with a new car.

We've been following you for a long time, and have we ever once seen you go to the office?

Yes indeed, with this kind of ambition, you boys will go far.

Good luck...

Y'got me. Who haven't we seen in a while that we want to see one last time?

Get his good side.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Just about sixteen weeks till pitchers and catchers report.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Y'don't say!" gapes Bink, her attention riveted.

Oh, Bink, do you have to be stupid in this way?

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

So when the new Dodgers play the old Dodgers, it's hard to say who's actually dodging what, and why. Make sense?

Are either or both teams the antecedents to any pro football teams today?

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

"Woulda been nice if there was some actual meat on the bone..."

"You can always tell if someone owns a restaurant or not." — Big Joe of Big Joe's

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"Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania?"

Does he possibly have a girlfriend there?

Every so often, we encounter the combination story of parents who don't trust banks so they keep their life savings at home, and a kid who steals it from his parents for some sort of rumspringa. I bet you this is the sixth or seventh time we've read a story like this. I'd like to believe I'd never steal, period, but I know I'd never steal from my parents.

Very good Page 4 today.

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

Y'got me. Who haven't we seen in a while that we want to see one last time?

April? Burma? And of course Hu Shee.

 

[LizzieMaine]

If you squint a bit, there's a train of history connecting both the original NFL Football Dodgers and the new AAFC Dodgers to the Dallas Texans/Baltimore/Indianapolis Colts.

And of course, Mr. Topping will continue to own the baseball Yankees into the 1960s, and will directly influence the move of the Philadelphia Athletics to Kansas City. The A's of course, are presently on their way to Las Vegas by way of Oakland, and Topping's partner in owning the Yankees, Del Webb, is, in 1946, intimately connected to Bugsy Siegel and the construction of the Las Vegas Strip.

The past is never dead. It isn't even past.

 

[Harp]

^ Da Bears are leaving Chicago. My psychological goal posts are staked Soldier Field
and Notre Dame, which have been life-long coordinates fixed through thick and thin,
rain or shine. Period end-of-discussion. I better understand the grief stricken anguish suffered
Dodgers fandom when that snake in the grass azz leprechaun O'Malley tore their hearts out
for Los Angeles. May his larcenous soul be staved Lucifer's pike.

Anyway. Reginald Wright has lawful claim against Cornelia pursuant their divorce, but only
if said agreement was put down written specified with signatures, duly notarized; which is
doubtful wherewithal newsprint. Were he my client, and all the particulars in order, I'd recommend
suit against his rival gigilo, Joseph Wahl; whose keister I would nail to the wall starting with
criminal conversation. And Cornelia for damages pertaining to the marital institution. Her felicitous nature,
res ipsa loquitar is plainly scrawled out indelible scarlet red ink. And this entire case demonstrates absent counsel. Cornelia quite evidently sought competent legal advice a bit too late as the damage she inflicted upon herself is damning.

Now Milt's confused the tarmac strip. Dunno whose who there.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Be too cold t' sit out heeh," sighs Sally, cinching her sweater tight, "f'oeh too long." "It' ain' so bad," shrugs Alice. "You got moeh insulation t'n I do," chuckles Sally. "Hey," she continues, tilting her head toward the other side of 63rd Street. "What's witt'at cop? Downa cawrneh t'eh, stan'in' outsidea Schreibstein's. Inna gray suit." "Him?" squints Alice. "How ya know he's a cop?" "Y'c'n smell it awn'im fr'm 'eeh," scoffs Sally. "Who else but a cop would weah T'AT suit, inNIS neighbehood, awna SUNDAY mawrnin'? I ask ya!" Sally follows his movements closely. "Hey," she frowns. "Whyz'ee keep lookin' up'eeh?" "Jeez, Sal," wonders Alice. "I wondeh if he's t'guy was nosin' 'roun'eeh Friday?" "Whatchamean?" halts Sally, going on the alert. "Missis G tol' me," continues Alice. "T'is plainclo'es d i c k come aroun' askin'a buncha questions..." "About me??" glowers Sally. "T'at Rankin C'mittee is way outta line." ""No, no," continues Alice. "Bout Solly. She says he ast how lawng 'e lived heeh, an' what he does, who's his friens, stuff like'at. An'nen a bunch a stuff 'bout t'at business las' winteh, r'membeh? When'nat rat cop Flannehry framed up on Sammy? An' what was Solly's angle awnat? Well, Missis G din' like t' sounda t'em questions so she stawrted ansehrin' in Yiddish, see, pr'tendin' she don' know no English, an'nat got rid'v'im. So he come downstaiehs an' tried t' pump Siddy. An' awl HE said was, you know, neh." "I don' like t' sounda t'is," frowns Sally. "R'membeh when Solly was sayin'ee was gonna go afteh t'at guy t'at was woikin' wit' Flannehry? T'at big monkey t'at mugged me inna subway? An'nen we neveh hoid nut'nabout it? Maybe t'at guy ain' no cop at all, maybe he's mixed up wit' t'at hood, an'neh gu nnin' f' Solly!" "I don' like t'sounda t'at," declares Alice. "We gotta do sump'n," announces Sally. "I was afraid you'd say t'at..." murmurs Alice...)

("Oi think Oi could taaaaahp that proice," declares Uncle Frank. "Two hoondred an' sivventy noine dollars, Oi imagine Oi could get woon faaaar two hoondred an' fifty easy." "Blinky'll build ya one," snorts Heckie, "f' a hunne't bucks. Be it's gotta be cash up front so he'cn get t' pawrts." "Hmmm," hmms Uncle Frank. "What if Oi could get 'im th' paaarts --- ah -- whoolsale, an'..." "Doooooon't ivven THINK oov'it," injects Ma, entering at just the right moment to enforce her new authority. "Ah," ahs Uncle Frank. "Well, tooo hoondred an' sivventy noine ain't THAAAT bad...")

(The first week after baseball is over is always the hardest...)

(Saloons are the candy stores of the Old West...)

(Mr. and Mrs. Sprat, I presume...)

(Panel 9 is just about the funniest thing I have seen in a very long time. Gawblessya, Ernie.)

(I wonder how long it's going to take for Mr. Hix to get all the way thru "1001 Strange Bible Facts.")

(I remember when Erich von Stroheim would never consider taking a part like this...)

("Even Congress is better than this." In what way?)

(Hey, I'll read to kids for money. Any dialect you want. Extra charge for multiple characters.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

The biggest problem with those garter p istols is that they make it really uncomfortable to cross your legs like that...

Silently, Prince plots his vengeance...

That's right, kid. Be relentless.

KIDS TODAY who can't let go of their feckless youth.

Yes, that giant is a very tough character.

Never mind the plot, why does Hula Hips insist on wearing her u nderwear on the outside of her dress?

This doctor will soon be able to retire, assuming he ever gets paid.

If I had to predict which of our strips would take a sudden turn into hard sci-fi, it wouldn't be this one.

Which was her plan all along.

I let my bushes get all overgrown like that every election year to keep the out-of-state canvassers away.

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

Wait till next year.....

 

[Fading Fast]

As the saying goes, nature is healing. Markets really are wonderful things.

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

"We gotta do sump'n," announces Sally. "I was afraid you'd say t'at..." murmurs Alice...

To the Bat poles, Robin.

And, yes, they have to help Solly as he went to bat for Sammy.

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

"Doooooon't ivven THINK oov'it," injects Ma, entering at just the right moment to enforce her new authority. "Ah," ahs Uncle Frank. "Well, tooo hoondred an' sivventy noine ain't THAAAT bad..."

He really loves stupid small-ball angles versus seeing the bigger picture.

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

The first week after baseball is over is always the hardest...

It is indeed. I'm still following 2026, but the Yankees (unsurprisingly) departed pretty quickly, so now I'm just watching the game as an impartial observer, but dang, despite all the excess hype, playoff baseball is still a treat.

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

"Even Congress is better than this." In what way?

That line confused me too.

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

Which was her plan all along.

It seems Chopsticks should have been happy as she is making his pilots more productive, but yes, we all know where this is going.

And presented without comment:

 

[Harp]

Justus L Barker, bigamist. Have *** Will Travel. Wire Dufus, Hackensack.
All in state, so the prosecution is a tenancy in the entirety affair.

Jane certainly qualifies as wife grade A material with looks, culinary skills, and smarts.
Terry seems aware but not necessarily willing.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("We can't hold him," concludes Detective Brosnan, "if we don't have anything to hold him on. Doesn't even have an unpaid parking ticket. If those birds in Jersey want him, they'll have to wait for him to go over there." "I don't see why they want him in the first place," shrugs Detective McManus, sipping a cup of coffee. "Some hood ends up in the Raritan River a year ago, and they're just getting around to it now?" "Election year," shrugs Brosnan, lighting a Chesterfield. "You know how it is." "I suppose," nods McManus. "This is interesting, though," he continues, handing his partner a folder. "Now, Pincus admitted he was in Jersey that night, in Leary's truck. Had a thought about that, so I had R&I run it thru the Hollerith and pull the records on the truck. Sho t in the dark, but look at that top sheet." "February 1938," Brosnan reads. "Woman named Alice Dooley arrested in Long Island City for illegal transportation of liquor, possession of an unregistered gu n, resisting arrest, and assaulting a state trooper." "Some baby," chuckles McManus. "Now read down, see there? She was driving a 1924 Chevrolet panel truck, registered to Francis X. Leary of Brooklyn." "Hm," hms Brosnan. "Same truck all right. What's Leary's story?" "Clean as a whistle," frowns McManus. "No priors." "Hm," repeats Brosnan. "S'pose this Dooley woman could have borrowed the truck. What's her story?" "Did five years at Westfield," reports McManus, "released 1943. Works for Western Electric out in Kearny. But there's a couple of things. Look at this." "Hm," studies Brosnan. "Conviction vacated in 1945 on new evidence, a confession from a Michael P. Sweeney." "Do you know who Michael P. Sweeney is?" interrupts McManus. "He's Leary's stepson. Record a mile long, mostly smalltime stuff. Gambling, petty larceny, malicious mischief. Kid's mother runs a candy store in East Flatbush or something. And there's more. This Dooley woman, you know where she lives? Same building as Pincus. She's married to the super there, that baldheaded guy that didn't say much." "Guess we know why," nods Brosnan. "And there's even more," continues McManus. "You know who else lives in that building? Leary's stepdaughter, woman named Sally Petroo--Petrauskas, I guess that is. And *she's* got a record you won't believe. Arrested 1926, vandalism of a church wall, charge dismissed. Arrested 1931, causing a disturbance at the Paramount Theatre, charge dismissed. Arrested 1937, labor riot at the Woolworth store on Fulton Street, charge dismissed. Arrested 1937, throwing a brick thru the screen at Loew's Oriental Theatre, charge dismissed..." "Some baby," marvels Brosnan. "Now, get these," injects McManus. "1944, arrested *with Alice Dooley,* near Camp Upton, suspicion of bootlegging. Driving that same Chevrolet truck, with a big load of empty liquor bottles. Charge dismissed. And again in 1944, arrested for assaulting a Penn Station railroad guard, and confined in the psychiatric unit at Bellevue Hospital. And then -- charge dismissed." Brosnan exhales a thick plume of smoke. "I think," he frowns, "there's a lot more to this than some hood in a river..."

("Because I changed my mind, t'at's why!" huffs Bink Scanlan. "Zeno tol' me I'm gonna make a lotta money an' yawr gonna be t' planet soiclin' roun' t' sun, an'nat's ME." "You could lose t'at weight," snickers Rosa Capiello, "if ya really wan'ned!")

(Makes perfect sense to me.)

(The thing that's always bugged me about football is that it just doesn't look like they're having much fun.)

(There's always a stowaway...)

(Let's see if the censorbot will let us say "*****.")

(Two things: this guy looks exactly like Lowell Thomas, and I don't think Lowell Thomas would ever do this.)

(Give'm a grin, kid, this is your big chance.)

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG HAS ALL THE REWARD HE NEEDS IN THE GRATITUDE OF AN ADORING PUBLIC.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Private party ornaments?" "Date bureau?" Yeah, we had an agency like that around here.

"You're right. I'll send you out to be dry-cleaned."

"You were a little flat there, Smart. Let's take that again, third measure..."

Whatever happened to "no money down to qualified vets?"

You better duck.

Whereya been, pooch?

You'd think the poor guy could at least get a big piece of plywood...

Lovable old extortionist, you...

Of such opportunities are real estate fortunes made...

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Worker...

It's going to be an interesting election...

 

[Fading Fast]

"I think," he frowns, "there's a lot more to this than some hood in a river..."

We know what we know, but you can blame them for being suspicious. And it's always that stupid effin' truck.

Now that it can breathe, the meat market continues to improve. Joe should be getting supplied today or in a day or two

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

Makes perfect sense to me.

To me too. And at least with the tenant, you're getting paid to have someone you don't want live in your house.

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

Let's see if the censorbot will let us say "*****."

Apparently not. I keep coming up with 4-, 6-, or 8-letter word responses, but not a 5.

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

Two things: this guy looks exactly like Lowell Thomas, and I don't think Lowell Thomas would ever do this.

"Fluffy Ruffles."

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

Give'm a grin, kid, this is your big chance.

Dane Clark never really made the big time consistently. I could see him grabbing the extra paycheck.

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

I believe the English girls call them knickers.

"Boy you been a naughty girl,
You let your knickers down."

— "I Am the Walrus" by Lennon-McCartnehy

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

Whereya been, pooch?

Technically, faith hasn't paid off yet, Annie

Also, you always picture hoods growing up in inner cities, not sleepy farming communities

 

[LizzieMaine]

The word is s p u n k. If some old rich lady can say it in 1946, I don't know why I can't...