The Era -- Day By Day

[Fading Fast]

"Oi should caaahl aahn Mistar Billingsley. We did soom business in th' oold days."

No doubt they did.

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

"Hmph, she thinks she's SO SMART." -- O. DeHavilland.

Perfect, Lizzie.

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

There is no girl on planet earth in 1944 who is better skills to grab her dog, hop a freight train and start life anew in another town than Annie, what in God's name is she doing staying here?

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Now don'chee stawrt in, daaaghter," warns Ma. "Oi'm soo bloody sick an' toyred'a politics Oi could scream." "Look," plows Sally onward, "how lawng ya been innis country? Foehty yeehs? Foety five?" "Soomthin' loike that," growls Ma. "An' you ain' become a citizen yet," laments Sally. "Don'cha t'ink ya OWE it t'yaself to get involved? I mean, lookit, when you come heeh, right? Women didn' have t'right t'vote, ain'at right? You couldn'a voted if ya WAN'ED to. An'nen when I was bawrn, women STILL didn' have t'right t'vote. An' awlese women, 'nese suffragettes t'eh, was out t'eh fight'n an' scrapin' an' raisin' hell about it, an' now women DO have t'right t'vote! Y'know what? If you was back in Iehlan', you could vote right now, if t'ey was havin' an election. But heeh, cause y'ain'a citizen, y'can't! Don'cha feel like y'awrta do sump'n about t'at?" "Ye soond like Francis," fumes Ma. "All he c'n taaalk aboot now is bein' a citizen, f'soom reason, 'cept when'ees troyin' to -- ah..." "Tryin' t'what?" queries Sally. "Never ye moind," flushes Ma, snapping her dishcloth. "Drink ye drink an' stop aahskin' all these fool questions." Leonora looks up at her mother from her stool at the far end of the counter, smirks, and makes a distinct kissy-face. Sally frowns...)

("Misteh G," sighs Alice, as Mr. Ginsburg contemplatively lights his pipe as she takes the dinner dishes away. "Lemme ask ya sump'n. Ya'wra smawrt man, an' I wan'cha advice." "Ah," nods Mr. Ginsburg, puffing a cloud of Half and Half. "S'pose y'hadda situation," proponds Alice, "sp'ose y'hadda situation weh y'had sump'n y'didn' wawn nobody else t'fine out about, because it'd hoit'm, I mean, hoit'm real bad if t'ey did. But t'keep'm fr'm findin' out, y'hadda do sump'nat wasn' zackly right wit' t'lawr, even'ough you was tryin' t'live ya life right t'resta t'time. Izzat wrawng?" Mr. Ginsburg is quiet for a long moment, drawing thoughtfully on his pipe as Alice waits expectantly. "Which," he finally replies, exhaling another blue cloud, "would cause the greater harm?" Alice lets this sink in. "Ah," she nods. "T'at's pretty much what Siddy said." "Yeh," nods Mr. Ginsburg.)

("Oi joost don't know," sighs Uncle Frank, munching aggressively into a Toomey's Diner bacon-lettuce-and-tomato sandwich. "Oi'm troyin', Tommy, haaaahnest t'gaaahd Oi'm troyin', boot she joost don't seem t'get what Oi'm troyin' t' do!" "Ya problem," analyzes Sergeant Doyle, "is how I see it, twofol'. Foist, ya ain' goin' at it whatcha cawl subtle. When I was coueht'n Mavis, why, I was reeeeeal subtle. I jus' kin'a wen' inta t'at beanery wheh she was woikin' an', y'know, I'd lean agains'ta counteh t'eh, an' I'd jus' kin'a push me cap back so t'fron'a me haieh kin'a stuck out an' I'd kin'a smile an' say, 'whatcha say, toots?' Don' come awn like, you know, Jawn Gilbe't a' nut'n, don' ack like t' great loveh. You know, jus' kin'a make whatchacawl casual convehsation like." "An'nat waaaarked?" scowls Uncl Frank. "I got six kids says so!" smirks Doyle. "Anyways, ya secon' problem. She takes ya f'gran'ned. You been aroun'neh f'twenny-five yeehs, y'said so y'self, right? She knows y'ain' goin' anywheh. But look heeh -- what if ya DID?" "Oi don't fallah," winces Uncle Frank, attempting to quell a protest from his ulcer. "What if," ventures Doyle, "y'jus' take a powdeh? You know, disappeeh f'r, I dunno a few days, a week maybe -- whattaya t'ink she'd do?" "Hmmm," ponders Uncle Frank, peeling the foil from a half-roll of Tums. "Y'really think so?" "I know so," declares Doyle. "I betcha haffa t'em missin' poisson cases we get oveh't'a precinct is jus' guys taken f'granted." "Ah," nods Uncle Frank, working up a relieving belch. "T'ot'eh half," sighs Doyle, "well, neveh mine about t'em...")

("...or if we can just run out without paying.")

(Look, why don't we just have the Tigers play Erasmus next week. At least somebody'd CARE.)

(Clearly the Brain has never done business from a Coney Island storefront.)

("Drop dead." -- Dale Connor.)

(Art, a savage business.)

(I too have been licked by a kind cow, and ever since then whenever I eat a hamburger I feel a twinge of conscience.)

(Yes, and Sgt. Doyle can help Uncle Frank with his romance.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Ahhhh, civility.

You ain't seen nothin' yet.

Well, at least it cured the shakes.

I can't wait till this little dink runs into the Dragon Lady.

"The house burned to the ground with her in it? Hm, somebody must've left the gas on."

Coming events...

Training is all well and good, but you DO have to have aptitude.

If only.

Oh well, back to fake fortunetelling...

Even better, he swallowed his chaw!

 

[Fading Fast]

I like Bo the character a lot, but he needs a better comicstrip around him.