LizzieMaine
Bartender
- Messages
- 33,732
- Location
- Where The Tourists Meet The Sea
Snooks crossed with Little Iodine. Obnoxious little girls were very much a trend in the mid-1940s.
("T'is is a swell room, Mrs. G," declares Alice, surveying the surroundings with satisfaction. "Four boys lived in this room," nods Mrs. Ginsberg. "It ought to be plenty big for one young lady. Just put your things in the bureau there, and supper we'll be having soon. And enough with Mrs. G. Call me "Mame." "Mamm?? Like 'yes ma'am?'" "No, no, like this -- mahmm," explains Mrs. Ginsberg. "It means, as you would say, 'Ma.'" "Mahhm," repeats Alice. "Hey, t'at's pretty good. Y'know, I neveh had no ma of me own -- I got left at t'owrph'n asylum when I was jus' a baby. Awrways wondehed what it'd be like t'have a ma. T'em sistehs run t'place din' seem t'know too much about it." Mrs. Ginsberg gives Alice a sympathetic pat on the arm. "Go on and put away your things, now." "I ain' got much," shrugs Alice. "I hadda much smalleh room'n'is when I was livin' upstate." "Upstate?" inquires Mrs. Ginsberg. "Um, yeh," mumbles Alice. "F'me healt', y'see." "Ah," nods Mrs. Ginsberg. "You're a little pale," she observes, as they walk into the parlor. "We're having prokes tonight. As you would say -- stuffed cabbage. It'll fix you right up, you'll see. You'd never know Mr. Ginsberg is almost 80 years old, all the prokes he eats. Hello, Zippy! Who's a good bird! Hello Zippy!" The little green head bobs curiously, but the bird remains silent. "Ah, poor Zippy. What he's been thru. Hello Zippy." The bird twitches again and flaps his wings. "H'lo Zippy," he squawks. "Ah! That's a good boy!" declares Mrs. Ginsberg. "But - 'h'lo Zippy?' Now he has an eksent???" "Musta picked it up f'm Joe," shrugs Alice. "He's a swell guy, but he ain' so hot wit' his diction." "What?" squawks Zippy. "Nut'n" replies Alice.)
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Seven radio transcription companies today sought the intervention of the War Labor Board in their dispute with the American Federation of Musicians, after AFM president James C. Petrillo declared that union musicians "are not going to make transcriptions at any cost or at any price." The fiery union president denied that he is at war with the transcription firms, declaring that "the guy really getting rich -- it isn't the transcription company -- is the radio station that's using the transcriptions and he's the guy we can't reach. We've got to go to the source. We've got to stop the transcriptions." Labor Department efforts to end the dispute, which stems from the union's argument that transcriptions take radio jobs away from musicians, failed at a conference in Washington yesterday. The AFM has refused to make either commercial phonograph records or radio transcriptions since August 1, 1942, but Petrillo yesterday offered to allow his members to make records to be used in army camp juke boxes -- but only if the juke boxes are made available to soldiers for free.
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(Poor Charles Laughton. And I will say for the record that Mr. Robeson's performance of "Ballad For Americans" is nothing short of spectacular, whenever and wherever he does it.)
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Women have been appointed to managerial positions in 11 of the 18 Loew's theatre's in Brooklyn. Most of them have "grown up" into their jobs, rising from usherettes to assistant cashiers to cashiers, and finally, when all the men were drafted, to assistant managers. Executives in charge of theatre operations for the chains say that the women are making a real success and are quite as capable in their duties as the men they have replaced. Anna Sweet, recently appointed assistant manager at Loew's Palace in Brownsville, had once aspired to become a nurse, but now declares that after getting a taste of theatre management, she can't imagine ever doing any other sort of work.
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(The Dodgers lead in the win column, the Cardinals lead in the loss column. It's gonna be that kind of year.)
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("Nice physique, but he really needs a shave.")
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(Will it work? Who knows. But I can tell you this -- there are going to be a lot of jacked-up crows.)
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(THAT"S RIGHT AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO -- OUCH!!!!! WATCH THE CLAWS!!!!)
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And in the Daily News...
"Pshaw!" pshaws the Baron. "Just because there is snow on the roof, dear boy, doesn't mean there's no fire in the furnace. Now if you'll excuse me it's time for my blood transfusion."
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"Zo -- ven do ve eat?"
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You'll survive, kid, but you'll never throw another curve ball.
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I think those WWII diesel subs can stay submerged for, maybe, two days, but not weeks.
We should ask our "Das Boot" expert @Trenchfriend to opine on this.
VII A/B/C 150 to 170 km submerged.
Thank you, but your answer is beyond my technical knowledge, so allow me to ask the question this way: how long in hours or days could a regular WWII diesel submarine stay submerged?
VII C theoretical 72 hours.
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(Guess who’s sleeping on the fire escape tonight.)
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("Huh," huhs Joe, scanning the paper spread before him on the counter. "Hig is t'rowin a knuckleball now. Afteh what he done t'Alice Dooley, he's nut'n but a knucklehead I know Alice ain' no prize package, but only a real louse acks like he done." "Mr. -- ah -- Fitzsimmons, " begins Ma Sweeney, "throws a, what did you call it, Joseph -- a knuckleball?" "Yeh," says Joe. "An'nees got t'is twoily rouna-bend kin'a wineup he does alawng wit'it. Twists awla roun, shows t'batteh t'at big numbeh 14, an'nen spins aroun' an' lets it go. Makes t'is loud noise like a moose when he does it, too -- y'c'n heeh it up inna stan's! Hig don' do none'a t'at, t'big fakeh." "I haven't been to a baseball game, oh, in more than twenty years," reflects Ma. "Francis took me to see the Waarlds Series, ooh, must've been 1920. Thaat oother fat fellow, Mr. Robinson, was the maanager then," "Good ol' Uncle Robby," chuckles Joe. "One time I tried t'sneak inta Ebbets Feel t'eh, t'ey lef' t' centeh fiel' gate op'n, an' I got in, anna pawrk special seen me an' was haulin' me out, an' Uncle Robby seen it an' says 'ahh, leave t' kid alone. He might be a payin' customeh some day.' Howcnya not love a guy like t'at." "Mr. Fitzsimmons, fraam what I ooonderstand," continues Ma, 'is to pitch tomaarow, is he naat?" "Yeh," nods Joe. "Against'a Cawrdnals. Doubleheadeh. We was awl plannin' t'go, if we c'n get tickets. Prob'y gonna be a sellout." "I c'n promise," declares Ma, "thaat ye'll have noo trooble with tickets." "Really?" grins Joe. "T'at's swell! When c'n we..." "IF," continues Ma, "ye have me coom with ye." "Ahhhhhhh," nods Joe. "You wanna see t'game because...." "Mister Fitzsimmons is pitchin'," nods Ma. "You know he's married, Ma?" "Thaaars noo law," smiles Ma, "against brooowsin'.")
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(“AMERICA’S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG IS NOT SCARED. I AM FOLLOWING CIVILIAN DEFENSE RULES ABOUT TAKING SHELTER. That’s not gonna happen again, is it?”)
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And in the Daily News…
MUSICIANS.
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What’s going on here – and why does Mr. Slice look like a Dr. Seuss character??
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SANDY! WHERE’VE YOU BEEN!
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It was onlting opposite Barbara Stanwyck in the classic "Ball of Fire."
Man how did I miss this Barbara Stanwyck snippet. She had ''it'' in spades. A woman who possessed charisma,
talent, ''it'' and even more. Perhaps it's me but when Barbara Stanwyck, Ava Gardner, Loretta Young, Heddy Lamarr,
Ingrid Bergman are compared with today's crowd, well they were women in the fullest sense. The today crowd look
like girls and immature brats.
What 87-year-old wouldn't be happy to pay that $2000.
Man how did I miss this Barbara Stanwyck snippet. She had ''it'' in spades. A woman who possessed charisma,
talent, ''it'' and even more. Perhaps it's me but when Barbara Stanwyck, Ava Gardner, Loretta Young, Heddy Lamarr,
Ingrid Bergman are compared with today's crowd, well they were women in the fullest sense. The today crowd look
like girls and immature brats.
This is cinema long gone and never equaled in modern film where sexuality speaks or whirls like SalomeI think you'll enjoy this one too: