LizzieMaine
Bartender
- Messages
- 33,755
- Location
- Where The Tourists Meet The Sea
And finally...
"HEY!" yells Tommy.
"HEY!" yells Tommy.
("Jus' make up ya minds!" fumes Joe, slapping at the paper in frustration." He sips his egg cream and sighs. "But anyways, rate weeh goin' it'll awl be oveh by Chris'mas." "That's roit, Joseph," nods Ma, as she quickly pulls the pouch full of little paper slips out of Leonora's inquisitive reach. "Ahhhhl ovarrr by Chris'mas.")
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The Red Army today is racing the autumn rains toward Kiev in the Ukraine, main Nazi base in occcupied Russia, after smashing the last formidable German outpost to the northeast at Nehzin, just 72 miles away. Military observers in London predicted that Soviet forces will throw the Germans not only back to Kiev and other points along the Dnieper River, but possibly as far as the Polish border, 150 miles further west.
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(Least imposing gangster since The Skull.)
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"Only one thing to do -- start commandeerin'!"
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"Oh, and the Lee kid has been bumming around China since he was 12, and he picked up a few words along the way..."
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("At'tis pernt," sighs Joe, "I mize well go down'n enlist. An' ya know what? I would if t'ey'd let me. But t'ey say I'm in whatchacawl a 'sential job. So I gotta stay t'eh 'til t'ey cawl me." "Avvr'ything in its oon toime, Joseph," assures Ma, tucking the pouch full of little slips of paper behind the counter as Leonora fusses in protest. "I can't sleep at night f'worryin' 'bout it," continues Joe. "Lookit undeh me eyes, I look like Fred Allen. An' look heeh inna back, I'm losin' me haieh. See t'at? T'at's a bawld spot. I'm on'y t'oity! A bawld spot!" F'm worryin'! An' me on'y t'oity! Sal loves me haieh, y'know, she says it's one'a me best featchehs! An' I'm losin' it f'm worryin'!" "Well, me boy," shrugs Ma, "thaar's no sense waarryin' 'boot things beyaand ya controol. When ye go, ye go, an' what's gonna haap'n's gonna haap'n, so ye shouldn' spaaand aal ye energy waaryin' 'boot it. Remember, 'sufficient unto the day is the eevil thar'of." "Yeh," nods Joe. "Hey, who said t'at sayin', anyway." "It's the Boible, Joseph," says Ma. "The book 'a Job." "Really?" queries Joe, his eyebrow cocked with surprise. "Really," declares Ma. "Huh," shrugs Joe. "I coulda swoeh it was Chawrlie Chan.")
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In Manhattan Supreme Court, Justice Benedict Dineen has before him today a motion to allow the name of Magistrate Thomas Aurelio to remain on the November ballot as both the Republican and Democratic candidate for the Supreme Court bench, arguing that it was not inappropriate for him to express "his undying gratitude" to Frank Costello, so-called gambler and underworld character. Ever since Magistrate Auerilio acknowledged that Costello had aided him in securing the Democratic Party's nomination, both parties have been working to strike his name from the fall ballot. Aurelio's counsel, attorney Robert Elder, argued that his client's statement was merely "an acknowledgement of an obligation in consequence of a friendly act," and asserted that, had such an act come from a businessman or a clergyman, such support would not be seen as a disqualification. The attorney further noted that if Costello himself were a member of the bar, as well as a gambler, there would be nothing to disqualify him from nomination to the bench.
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A mysterious blood-soaked sweater found in the midget automobile owned by actor David G. Bacon is being examined by police as a clue in the so-called "Masked Marvel" murder case. The actor, who recently finished filming a role as "the Masked Marvel" in a motion-picture serial, was found dead in a roadside cabbage patch, half-dressed and pierced thru the back with a stiletto. His widow, concert singer Greta Keller, told police the bloody sweater found in his car was not his.
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("Whatta ya want for ten cents an hour!")
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(Handsome? Well, I suppose, in a Raymond Massey kind of way.)
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("Well, how 'bout your horse then? We're not particular!")
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And in the Daily News...
Fifteen packs of Greek cigarettes? You couldn't just buy two cartons?
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Ceiling Limited.
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And also...
I always enjoyed seeing the annual update on Mr Summers, but this day had to come eventually...
"Midget auto," in this context, would be a small sports car, probably an imported English model of the sort you see Jeeves driving Bertie Wooster out to Aunt Agatha's estate in.
("HAH!" hahs Alice with a triumphant hah. "A BLONDE! Ain'NAT AWRWAYS T'WAY! Wheneveh t'ez som'p'n doity goin' awn, back'v'it is AWRWAYS a blonde!" "Ahhhh, I dunno," sighs Sally. "I mean, how many blondes you eveh known? I mean, f'real blondes, not t'p'roxide kind." "Well," puzzles Alice. "Awright, not too many, but inna movies..." "Well, how many'a t'em dames inna movies," challenges Sally, "you t'ink is REAL blondes? Y't'ink V'ronica Lake is a real blonde? I read inna magazine heh real name's 'Ockelman." You eveh heah of any blonde named 'Ockleman?" Nah. Y't'ink Alice Faye is a real blonde? Nah. I know somebody went t'school wit'eh -- heh name was "Alice Leppeht," an' she wasn' no moeh blonde'n I am. Nah, t'at movie stuff izza bunk." "Oh," exhales Alice. "I guess t'at makes a diff'nce, t'en." "Y'can't assume stuff 'bout people f'm what coleh t'eh haieh is, awr junk like t'at," declares Sally. "T'at's awmos' whatcha cawl ya Nazi way'a t'inkin', y'know t'at?" "Jeez," shrugs Alice. "I neveh t'ought'v'it t'at way." "Well'en," declares Sally. "Ya loin't sump'n today t'en." "Ya know," continues Alice, "I jus' t'oughta sump'n. Siddy showed me a pitcheh a' him when he was a lit'l baby. An' HE was a blond. Back when he had haieh, I mean. He ain' a blond no moeh t'ough. Well, I mean, what haieh he's got ain' really blond no moeh, but he showed me t'is haieh his ma saved inna env'lope. An' it was blond. So I guess ya jus' can't tell." "No," sighs Sally, sinking back against the seat with her eyes closed. "Y'really can't.")
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View attachment 546915
(WAIT TILL NEXT YEAR! Honestly, though, I'm surprised it took this long. What a disappointing anti-climax of a season. GO BUSHWICKS!)
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OH SURE MAYOR BALDY MCJERKFACE BLAME THE KIDS
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Gawdawmighty. Skeez just can't catch a break.
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quod apud Latinos non addices, Grecia facunda docebit.What I learned in my dating years is there is a codicil to the "real blonde" definition that says if a woman was blonde as a girl, but her hair darkened in her teens, then even though she now has to dye it to be blonde, she is still a "real" blonde. This might not sound logical, but if you want to have sex with her, it is usually a good idea to just agree with the argument and move on.