The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

"Coffee!" snorts Mildred Kelly, as Miss Kaplan and Mozelewski wonder if they could find other seats without looking too conspicuous. "Such a waste of time! If you just take one of these wonderful little tablets, you'll never need coffee again!"

Kids Today.

Pssst, she knew you when you were twelve years old...

Maybe they'll get him so drunk he'll pass out and miss the wedding.

"Oh! So you mean a WRECK-reation room!"

Not yet, gooseface, wait'll you see the balance sheets.

Watch it kid with the lippy lip!

KIDS TODAY!!!

It's nice to see someone so proactive about alimony.

WELL THAT'S CERTAINLY SOUND BOATBUILDING DESIGN

 

[Fading Fast]

"This is a very offensive portrayal of writers. No writer I know would ever tear up a $25 check."

I agree, especially since it's worth about ~$450 in 2024 dollars. But then again, I do know of one writer who let a $200 check go uncashed for so long it expired.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

I realize that fighter's cockpit is a tight squeeze and all but it wouldn't be impossible for a slip of a lass
like Burms to wiggle herself in, and ah you know the rest eh what?

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Mrs. Petrauskas," begins Dr. Minkoff, "Permit me to introduce Dr. Harvey Zorbaugh." "Howyado," nods Sally, suspiciously eyeing the lean, balding newcomer. "Dr. Zorbaugh," continues Dr. Minkoff, "is the founder and director of the Clinic for Gifted Children at NYU, and he's taken a personal interest in your daughter's case." "Yeh," nods Sally, flicking a quick glance at Leonora, who is reaching for Dr. Zorbaugh's briefcase. "Your daughter is a remarkable child, Mrs. Petrauskas," declares Dr. Zorbaugh. "We t'ink so," nods Sally. "Leonoreh! Leave t'man's bag alone." "Wanna see!" demands Leonora. "Sawry, Docteh," apologizes Sally, "she t'inks y'got papehs inneh she c'n read a' sump'n. Awrways readin', 'nat kid." "As I say," acknowledges Dr. Zorbaugh, "she is a remarkable child. Dr. Minkoff has shown me the results of his preliminary tests, which confirm very advanced reading skills, rarely *encountered* reading skills for a child of her age..." "Yeh," nods Sally. "We know. She's been doin' it since, oh, las' summeh -- she stawrted noticin'nem billboehds onnem roofs 'crawsta street t'eh, an' it's jus' been buildin' fr'm t'eh. 'Couehse, I was'n oily readeh myself, an'..." "Mrs. Petrauskas, I'll come to the point," interrupts Dr. Zorbaugh. "We feel that your daughter would greatly benefit from the programs we offer at the Clinic, and..." "Yeh," nods Sally. "Me'n Joe -- t'at's my husban', he jus' lef' t'is mawrnin' t'go t' Cooks 'n' Bakehs School, he's inna Awrmy -- we tawked it oveh an' weeh ready t'sign 'eh up, jus' t'see how it woiks out. Docteh Minkoff says we c'n stawrt off wit' jus' a coupla days a week, izzat awright?" "Oh," replies Dr. Zorbaugh. "Well, we do recommend a full five-day program, but..." "Reason is," explains Sally, "I do'want my mot'eh t'ask too many questions. She's against it. She don' b'lieve innis psychology stuff, she says it gives kids too many ideehs. But me'n Joe tawked it oveh, an' -- well, Leonoreh's oueh kid, an' it's upta us. But we don' wanneh t'know 'bout it. I know it's awrful t'keep secrets fr'm ya ma, I mean, we neveh been'at kinda fam'ly, but, y'know, Leonoreh comes foist." "Ah," nods Dr. Zorbaugh. "Well then, I do have a few registration papers to..." He trails off at the sight of Leonora absorbed in a comic book she has pulled from his briefcase. "If I could have that..." he begins, reaching for the magazine. "I'm working on a study of the comics as, uh, an educational medium," Dr. Zorbaugh explains, "for a professional journal. It's a research specialty of mine." "Yeh," replies Sally. "We like ''Terry anna Pirates." S'on'y reason we buy t' Daily News. Heeh, Leonoreh, give t'man his funny book." "Not done yet!" Leonora snaps, pulling the magazine away and throwing the two doctors an angry scowl. "Oh my," comments Dr. Zorbaugh. "Ah," agrees Dr. Minkoff. "Yeh," nods Sally. "Jus' so y'know whatcha gett'n inta.")

Powerful Japanese forces fought their way into the junction city of Chengsien last night, climaxing a whirlwind advance along the south shore of the Yellow River that threatened to collapse the Chinese hold on a 160-mile section of the Peiping-Hankow Railway. A Chinese communique revealed the central column of a three pronged Japanese force smashed into the outskirts of Chengshen under cover of a savage air and artillery bombardment. Martial law has been proclaimed in the besieged city but the communique stated that "peace and order were maintained as usual."

("I don' put up wit' nonna t'at!" declares Alice. "I run me a tight ship oveh't' plant. Sal was takin' too long inna terlet yest'day, an' I wen' right in an' gotteh! An' y'know what she was doin'? Read'n some love letteh Joe stuck inneh ovehrawl pocket. An' ya know what I did?" "What?" replies Krause, threading a straightened coat hanger down a clogged vacuum cleaner hose. "I -- um -- let 'eh finish it," continues Alice. "An'NEN I wen' BACK in an' gotteh! I'm a tough bawss," asserts Alice, "but I gotta hawrt.")

The exiled President of Czechoslovakia expressed his belief today that Nazi Germany will collapse within three months after the Allied invasion of Western Europe. "I think," declared Dr. Edouard Benes, "the Germans will never permit fighting on their own soil. When the American and British forces reach the western German frontier, and the Russians reach the eastern German frontier, Germany will crack wide open and refuse to fight."

(The 1944 Dodgers might not be much, but at least we've got "The Leaning Tower of Flatbush.")

Actual jumping frogs play key roles in Warner Bros. upcoming "The Adventures of Mark Twain." Forty-seven leaping amphibians were recruited for the picture by frog trainer Alfred Jenny, who cajoled their on-screen performance by dangling flies just out of view of the cameras.

Famous advertising character Phoebe Snow, who "all dressed in white found delight upon the road of Anthracite" in ads for the Lackawanna Railroad forty years ago will return soon updated for modern times. Miss Snow is no longer "all dressed in white," but instead will wear the Lackawanna Railroad's own service uniform, and will present such verses as "Ah, here she is, our Phoebe Snow, reminding you supplies must go. Says Phobe, 'we have made a date, with Victory, and can't be late.' Because we see the urgent need to move the freight with care and speed, we've set ourselves a clear green light -- along the road of Anthracite!"

("Innocent looking beaver homes!")

(Movie cartoon Bugs would beat the carrots out of Newspaper Strip Bugs.)

("Cliona the Burrowing Sponge." Ah, my favorite children's book.)

(Fritzi is a moderator at the Picture-Hat Lounge.)

(Look, it's no crime not to know what you're doing...)

(Ah, Buncombe Bob Reynolds. mouthpiece for Gerald Lucifer KKKodfish Smith. Hey, at least his wife has finally reached adulthood.)

(Ah, the eternal struggle. Arts vs. STEM.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

They're missing a trick if they don't make her the poster girl for the Stop Measles! campaign.

If Flip Corkin knows what's good for him he'll stay FAR AWAY from Burma.

"Hey!" snorts Hops Gaffney. "Whattabout ME?"

"Not even a radio?? I MUST MISS STELLA DALLAS?" OHHHH CALAMITY!"

Well, at least he didn't become a syndicated cartoonist. Oh, and Shadow, have you seen page four today? That Chili gets around.

I once had a friend who actually did department-store show-window modeling when that was a thing. She didn't say it was like this.

Oh yes, Joy is rich. Remember? I gotta say, I admire Mr. Mosely's ability to keep track of all his plots.

"Get me two coconut shells and some wire!"

IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHO RUNS THIS NEIGHBORHOOD YOU'LL SOON FIND OUT

All right, now what?

 

[Fading Fast]

Gray just wants to get into trouble.

Caniff is still the master - I'm so nervous for Burma.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

Col Corklin has Taffy and Terrence has Burma. Things will work out in time.
I'd thought our lad might have played out the hand Cherry Bomb dealt and might unwittingly
fallen victim to Eros' entrapment by lighting her fuse.

 

[LizzieMaine]

Meanwhile, an acquaintance passes along this double-page spread from a 1943 issue of Look magazine showing an assortment of prominent comic-strip personalities doing their bit on the homefront.

Most of the heavy hitters are absent -- after all, Terry, Pat, Skeezix, and even Daddy Warbucks are off in the thick of the fighting -- but there are plenty of familiar folks taking care of business back home. Hey, I even see Jane Arden Girl Reporter!

 

[goodolddays83]

Thanks for the tip.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Yeh," sighs Sally, "Leonoreh's gonna stawrt goin' t't'is clinic nex' week. Misteh Ginsboig is gonna take'eh up'na mawrnin' an' bring 'eh home inna aftehnoon, an' she'll stay wit' him an' Mame G until I get home at night." "Does ya ma..." begins Alice. "NO!" snaps Sally. "An' don' YOU let nut'n slip in fronn'v'eh! She'll go off on a rampage about how it ain' a good idea t'fill a kid's head fulla stuff about bein' special'nawlat. Anytime when I was a kid an' a teacheh told'eh I was special, she'd have a fit an' yell an' holleh. You know she didn' ev'n want me goin't' Erasmus? She said I'd loin t'put on aiehs inna school like t'at. Aiehs, she said. T'eh wasn't 'nough aieh innat place to take care'a Kilgallen, let alone me. So don' say nut'n t'Ma. Don' say a WOID." "How ya gonna keep Leonoreh fr'm sayin' nut'n?" queries Alice. "'Cause you know she says whateveh comes in'neh mout'." "T'at's YOU t'at does t'at," frowns Sally. "An' y'betteh stop it." "What's she gonna do t'eh?" queries Alice. "What's it, like school a'sump'n? Ain' she young f'school?" "Docteh Minkoff says it's 'a challengin' play envira'ment' f'kids her age," replies Sally. "I ain' sueh what t'at means, but he says it's scientific. An'nis Docteh Zorbaugh t'at runs t'place, he's got awl kindsa ideehs. He reads comic books." "G' WAN," snorts Alice. "He does," nods Sally. "Supehman, Captain Mawrv'l, Batman, awlat'em t'ings. He says it's a good way t'teach kids about read'n, an'nit's 'a outlet f'ra healt'y inneh fantasy life.' T'at's zackly what he says." "Annis guy," gapes Alice, "is a p'fesseh?" "He is," nods Sally. "In a collitch?" challenges Alice. "He is," repeats Sally. "He -- um --" stammers Alice, her eyes narrowing, "--uh --don' read no awrt magazines, does he?" "Nah," dismisses Sally. "But he does like 'Wondeh Woman.")

An "early speedup in the tempo of the war against Germany and Japan" was promised today by Admiral Ernest J. King, commander of the United States Fleet, and member of the Allied High Command, as he revealed that 20 battleships and more than 50 aircraft carriers of all types are now operating in the fleet. In his first comprehensive public report to Navy Secretary Frank Knox on the progress of the war, Adm. King declared that "the encirclement of Germany is in sight." He further stated that Japan's intermediate defenses have been penetrated, and that "the Allies are determined to travel far and fast to victory."

Senator Clyde M. Reed (R-Kansas) today accused the Administration of "spreading hogwash" and "engaging in persistent deception" in an effort to convince the public that there is a Congressional push to abolish price controls. Testifying before the Senate Banking Committee, Senator Reed took issue with comments made by Price Administrator Chester Bowles, War Stabilization Director Fred Vinson, War Mobilization Director James F. Byrnes, and War Food Administrator Marvin Jones, whom he accused of complicity in promoting a "sham battle" against Congress. Reed asserted that there is no substantitve opposition in Congress to the present price control program, and that Congress not only supports its present operation, but for "some time after the war." The present authorization for the price control program expires on June 30th.

Seventy percent of wartime marriages are "headed for trouble" after the war, predicts Dr. Eduard C. Lindemann, professor of Social Philosophy at Columbia University's School of Social Work. Dr. Lindemann notes that wartime conditions have broken "the normal period of marriage adjustment, and the new husband and wife do not have the time to learn enough about each other's traits."

(Upper East Side? Yeah, that's where you find the princes and the princesses.)

In Hollywood, Errol Flynn combed clumps of raw egg out of his hair today, as he pondered the advantages of spending a quiet night at home with his door locked. The actor was dining at the Macombo nightclub with friend Fred McAvoy the other night, when a woman at the next table leaned over and smashed an egg over his head. The woman, identified as statuesque film actress Toby Tuttle, who claimed to have been insulted by "a woman companion" who scratched her face and bit her on the neck. "I thought Mr. Flynn should do something about it," declared Miss Tuttle. "I got so mad I grabbed an egg from a passing waiter and let Flynn have it. I think I even rubbed it in a bit." The incident is the latest nightclub fracas for the trouble-attracting Flynn. Earlier this month, he and Football Dodgers owner Dan Topping exchanged punches at a birthday party for Topping's wife, skating star Sonja Heine.

("Orson Welles' Mercury Wonder Show" is an act the Boy Wonder put together for a tour of army camps during 1943, in which he performed as "Orson The Magnificent," master of the magical arts, supported by various of the Mercury Players as his assistants. The act culminated with O the M sawing Marlene Dietrich in half, which is quite a feat if you can do it.)

The Eagle Editorialist takes issue with the Brooklyn-Queens Barbers Union on the issue of gabby barbers. While the union has taken a stand discouraging small talk with customers as a way of speeding up the haircut process, by avoiding arguments and making most efficient use of the barber's time, the EE declares that a straw poll should be taken to determine whether barbers are any more argumentative than mothers-in-law.

("Harumph! That's fine, that's fine that is! Now, about Dewey..." "Ah yes. Well, first, we suggest you grow a moustache...")

(You can tell none of this is going end well when we aren't even out of April and already they're talking about football.)

Forty-one year old Al Simmons is back where he started twenty long years ago with the Philadelphia Athletics. Ol' Bucketfoot will step up at Yankee Stadium today as he continues his quest for his 3000th Major League hit.

("You're right. I leave for the Army Medical Corps tomorrow.")

("So you can sit and look at each other again!" "Well, that's all WE ever do!")

(Are you sure you even LIKE him? Because I CERTAINLY DON'T.)

("My hand! It's shattered! I'll NEVER BUTCHER A CARCASS AGAIN!")

(When the magic of motherhood wears off...)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Here ye go, Nora," chortles Uncle Frank, tossing the News across the breakfast table. "Ye fav'rite actarr!" "HAH!" exults Ma. "Eggs aaaahlways DID goo well with ham!"

All in a night's work.

It pays to have connections.

At the offices of the News Syndicate Co. Inc., a certain editor's head sinks to his desk, and a heavy sigh is heard...

Hey, don't you people read "Little Orphan Annie?"

Von Stroheim? NEVER HEARD OF HIM!

Or, for that matter, anything.

Do you have any idea how many deaths are caused by slipping on a wet cigar butt in the bathroom?

They'll be delivering the slot machines first thing in the morning.

You'd think a FINE HIT MAN could at least hide out on a real boat.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

As much as I admire the American Volunteer Group for being Second War toppers, if Terrence had been a para
he'd have conquered both Burms and Bomb both with aggressive personal initiative. Definitely.
And Bombs isn't bad. Love me some Starbucks.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("So, ah..." begins Sally, pushing aside her empty Coke glass, "I wawn'ed t'tell yeh, um, me'n Joe tawked it oveh bef'oeh he lef', an' stawrt'n nex' week, Leonoreh's gonna spend Mondays an' Wednesdays wit' -- um -- t' Ginsboigs, 'steada me bringin'eh oveh heeh." "Ah," ahs Ma. She gazes carefully at her daughter. "Are ye feelin' ahhl roit? Ye look aaahl flooshed red in th' face." "T'at ain' -- um -- nut'n," stammers Sally. "It's t' pollen, I'm alloigic." "Pollen," snorts Ma. "In THIS neighbarhood." "It's blowin' oveh fr'm Prospec' Pawrk," counters Sally. "Awrf'l'is time'a yeeh. Anyways, yeh. She likes t'Ginsboigs anna Ginsboigs like heh, an' it'll let me sleep in a bit lateh onnem days. Y'know, I ain' gett'n any youngeh. I mean -- um -- didja know I jus' toint t'oity-one..." "Oh yes," nods Ma, a suspicious frown clouding her features. "I recall bein' tharr at the toime." "But anyways, me'n Joe t'ought t'is would be a -- um -- nice change'a pace f'Leonoreh," flounders Sally. "I mean, it might -- ah -- give 'eh -- um --- a challengin' play envir'ament -- um -- an' awl." "I see," nods Ma. "And you an' Joseph..." "Yeh, t'at's right," affirms Sally. "We tawked it oveh. An' we awlso -- um -- figyehed it'd give YOU a rest." "An' who said *OI* needed a rest?" huffs Ma. "Well, I mean," stutters Sally, "You ain' gett'n any youngeh neit'eh. An' it wasn' so lawng ago you had t'at stroke, I mean, you oughta be takin' it easieh, awla time you spen' runnin'is stoeh'n awl, an' takin' caehra Willie, an' -- um -- I mean.." She is interrupted as the door jingles open to admit Jimmy Leary. "Hey Ma," he bustles. "We got t' truck out back wit' t' sl..." "OH THAT'S FOINE, JAMES," shouts Ma, cutting him off. "Joost unload it 'round th' back." "Whassat awl about?" queries Sally, watching him exit. "Ah, um," stammers Ma. "Tharr draaaahpin' aaahf a sl... a sl...um -- a SLICER. A meat slicer, one'a thim electric meat slicers, yes indeed. Oi'm thinkin' of -- ah -- addn' a sandwich d'parrtment here, soomthin' t'go with the sodarrs an' oice creams, a loight lunch depaaartment, an' I ordaaared a meat slicer so I could -- um -- practice on it beforre we staaart it oop." "Baloney," exclaims Sally. "Wh-what's that?" gapes Ma, clutching the counter to calm her shaking. "Uh, whoi d'ye say THAT?" "I love baloney," sighs Sally. "A nice baloney san'wich wit' must'ed. Can't wait till ya get it goin'.." "Ah," gasps Ma, catching her breath. "Indeed.")

Virtual all travel overseas from Great Britain was prohibited today under what the London Daily Express explicitly referred to as "invasion eve regulatios." The Home Office last night announced that only those engaged in business "of urgent national importance which cannot be postponed" would be permitted to leave Britain until further notice. The Ministry attributed its action merely to military consideration, but the travel ban was obviously another step to prevent invasion secret from leaking to the Axis in the critical days or weeks before Allied armies land in Western Europe. Nazi-controlled radio in Europe continues to speculate that the invasion will come this week, and Berlin was heard to broadcast that "every member of the German western army knows that the big test lies ahead."

Meanwhile, reports in Stockholm state that Germany has also taken steps to safeguard their counter-invasion preparations. All passenger traffic between Sweden and Denmark, whether by ferry or plane, was suddenly halted yesterday, presumably by German order, and authorities in Copenhagen notified the Swedish telephone company that no more calls for Denmark will be accepted until further notice. Sweden, for its part, is reported to have banned the travel of German mail trucks across its territory, probably due to the discovery of German military maps of Sweden in a shipment intended for the German army in Norway.

The new 30 percent cabaret tax, which supplanted the former rate of 5 percent as of April 1st is hitting members of the armed forces harder than anyone else, argued Hotel Commodore president Martin Sweeny, head of the Hotel Associatioon of New York City. Noting that men in uniform are now taxed so heavily they cannot enjoy a pleasant night out, Sweeny argued "the hotels give them a 25 percent reduction in room charges, and then the Government charges them 30 percent to eat. How do you figure that out?"

("Just The Way You Like Him!" At least just the way you liked him IN 1935!)

(Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick...)

The Eagle Editorialist also congratulates the workers of the Sperry Gyroscope Company for the development and manufacture of the new "invasion gyro-compass," which figures to be another important addition to the list of Brooklyn's contributions to the war effort.

(War Is Hell.)

(No power, shabby defense, and a dime-store payroll. I hope Mr. Camilli has a great year in Oakland.)

NIght ball may be coming to Boston after the war. Red Sox owner Tom Yawkey has applied for permission to install lights at Fenway Park, but he may require permission from the Braves in order to go ahead with it. Neither Boston field is equipped with the arcs, and an agreement between the two clubs predicates that if one team wants lights the other will have to give approval.

(Hey, you knew what you were signing up for.)

(Careful what you ask for...)

("HEY NOW JUST A MINUTE!" -- Pvt. J. Petrauskas.)

("EVENTUALLY.")

(You tell'm, Kitty!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Dr. Shekel and Mr. Hyde-the-Ceiling-Prices." All right, that's funny.

From out of the past...

The Chief FINALLY GETS HIS REVENGE.

If there is anyone here now who knows of any reason...

Some old lady really ticked off Mr. Gray.

"Oh, hell, I'll just put Shadow in charge. WHAT COULD GO WRONG?"

"Never mind, that's just Lionel Atwill."

"Did you...?" "No, she can also punch from a sitting position."

Say what you will about Moon, but he's very clean.

Oh come on, Burms -- you're smarter than THIS.

 

[Fading Fast]

Glad the slot machines are coming back - Ma can't make a living running a candy store.


Agreed, Burma is much smarter than that. Also, if Burma is doing what I guess she has to be doing in the town's water tower, ew.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("What a louse!" snorts Alice. "'Magine a supeh cheat'n'a tenants outta money like t'at." "T'ey oughta t'row t;'book attim," agrees Sally. "Someday t'tenants innis city is gonna do sump'n 'bout t'at, put awlese crooked lanloehds an' doity supehs inneh place." "Siddy neveh done nut'n like t'at," protests Alice. "He's t'mos' hones' man I eveh met. Y'know, t'oteh night we was playin' M'nop'ly, an' I hadda get up'n go inna terlet, an' he neveh oncet touched t'bank." "How'dya KNOW?" challenges Sally. "Well," explains Alice, "I took it inneh wit' me!")

U. S. Navy heavy bombers pounded an enemy aircraft plant and two big railroad bottlenecks in Northern Italy yesterday, it was reported in a commmunique, while a coordinated American aircraft-artillery assault pushed back Nazi lines on the Anzio beachhead. FIghter-escorted Liberator bombers carried out the north Italy attacks, striking at Turin, Parma, and Ferrara, breaking thru considerable fighter and anti-aircraft opposition.

A gigantic strategic plan for the mobilization of an estimated 12,000,000 guerilla patriots to harass the Germans behind their anti-invasion defense lines from Norway to the Balkans has been placed in the hands of guerilla leaders, Allied sources indicated today. The plan awaits only the signal that Allied troops have landed on the western shores in order to go into effect. For the last eight weeks, Allied headquarters has beamed coded instructions to the continent day and night in a dozen different languages, and supplies for guerilla units have been pouring into secret underground caverns for weeks, but the arrival of spring has escalated the tempo of the preparations. When these millions of patriots go into action, there will arise the greatest armed revolt in history, with the activities of Marshal Tito's Yugoslav partisans and those of the French Maquis in the Alpine borderlands offering a foretaste of what lies ahead for the German occupation forces in Czechoslovakia, Belgium, Norway, and Holland.

(Are you seated comfortably, Mr. Avery?)

In Washington, D. C., defense attorneys promised to make public the names of prominent men who had patronized the swank Hopkins Institute, a "massage parlor" which, the Government charges, was the front for a call-girl scheme that promised to send "shapely girls" to swank hotel parties on five minutes notice. Registration records for eight plush hotels were subpoenaed yesterday shortly after the trial of eight women accused of violating white-slavery laws opened in Washington District Court. Chief Defense Attorney Edward Buckley indicated that he plans to comb those registers to find out who occupied certain specific rooms on certain dates, and bring those men to the witness stand, where he will ask them point blank if they indulged in "any entertainment of the Hopkins Institute variety."

("Oi thaat Aaaaarson Welles was in this picture," protests Ma. "They mention a daaaahg act, boot they dooon't mention Aaaarson Welles?" "Maybe," chuckles Uncle Frank, "his maaagic act is soo good he made 'IMSELF disappear!" "Oh, I hope naaaht," comments Ma. "He's sooch a foine lookin' yoong man. A bit thin, mind ye, but he haas th' look of a man who'll fill oot noicely with age." "Really, Nora," eyerolls Uncle Frank. "Th' way you taaaaahlk." "Wouldn't haaaart YOU t'put on a few poonds," adds Ma. "If yaaar pal Mistarr Fitzsimmons c'n lose weight," sniffs Uncle Frank, "sooo c'n Oi." "What?" "Nooothin'.")

The Eagle Editorialist admonishes Brooklyn residents that they have nothing to fear from the establishment of a hostel on Clinton Street for Japanese-American evacuees sent here as workers. "It is something in which the community can take pride," emphasizes the EE, noting that the only offense for most of these evacuees is that they happened to be living on the West Coast when the war broke out. The EE concedes that it's easy to understand why some people may oppose the arrival of these Japanese-American citizens. But "we have come along way since 1918. We no longer kick dachshunds, and there are many natives of enemy territory who are accepted every day of the week as loyal Americans. American citizens of Japanese descent are fighting for all of us in Italy. Brooklyn should be proud to take its place among the other adult communities in the United States."

(Infinity.)

(And yes, while the Dodgers flounder, how 'BOUT those Browns? Even the linotype guy setting the standings can't believe it.)

As the Dodgers continue their Boston series, new Braves manager Bob Coleman faces the future with a fearful frown in the direction of the draft board -- six members of his current roster have been classified 1-A, including three of his pitchers.

(Well, back to smoking cigarette butts in that pipe.)

("I'd show you the book but somebody seems to have stolen it.")

(THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH COOKS AND BAKERS SCHOOL)

(Ah, the old Floating Gun trick. Gets 'em every time.)

(Poor, poor Kitty.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Miss Grosvenor and Mr. Sullivan are already negotiating how they'll split the Pulitzer money.

"Your Loving Mate?" Clearly not an English major.

Lt. Grogan and Uncle Frank are old pals.

STEP ON IT CABBIE THIS IS AN EMERGENCY

Awwwww.

"AND THEN I'LL *NEVER* GET MY NEW SUITCASE!"

"Rewrite men? We'll NEED 'em!"

Gum chewing always was an awful habit.

Isn't this where the Slither Sisters perform?

"Big hunk of stuff." Well, she's not wrong.

 

[Fading Fast]

"The siege of Burma is on!"

She's a pip. She is a girl who does not want a safe boring life.

 

[FOXTROT LAMONT]

She's a pip. She is a girl who does not want a safe boring life.

Burma is more Cockney tart than sagacious wench, and she speaks of herself in the third person which approach character affectation Mr Caniff erred. Such mannerism is idiosyncratic and often indicative of high
intelligence; however our lad's lass is compulsive rather than cerebral.
Now she is surrounded, a tenuous position allowing death but not escape. Will she die? Doubtful, although I tend favour comic strip licensure if not license, and coital consonance between her and him is scene seared
in male readership mindful glare. We cannot be denied voyeuristic gaze and Mr Caniff undoubtedly intends
to sate his fanbase carnal instinct. Besides, Burma is beloved as gallant Flying Tiger Terrence.

 

[LizzieMaine]

If Burms can survive a final showdown with Captain Judas, while wounded, in the back of a speeding truck on a mountain road, she can survive this. (And I bet Judas didn't.)