The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

And may we add..

(All right. Get busy.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

A novelist AND a practitioner of Yoga? Let's see Ursula top that!

"Flat feet," sneers Kay. "And he SMELLS," adds Mae.

I acted once with a guy exactly like this. I wonder if Vitamin carries a sword-cane?

Who's up for a new strip,"The Mama DeStross Mysteries?"

Somewhere north of Strasbourg, Joe shivers in the back of a truck and wonders if, back home, Sally and Leonora have enough heat.

"Why do you think he's always the Dummy?"

What ever became of Giggles Dewberry?

"Hmph! That's MY nickname!" -- Mel Ott.

Hu Shee would know how to deal with this.

Whew, they didn't eat him after all.

 

[Fading Fast]

Three million dollars worth of surplus property and equipment from the Sperry Gyroscope Company is to be auctioned off by the War Department next Monday. The surplus materiel includes tools, six-watt lamp bulbs, radio tubes, and similar articles, many of which have not been available on the civilian market for the past two years. The auction contstitues liquidation of a War Department contract with the Sperry company for 60-inch searchlights that are no longer in production, with proceeds from the sale intended to reimburse the company for its manufacturing costs. Regulations are in place to prevent bulk purchases of the articles sold, so that, for example, radio supply dealers cannot purchase all of the commercially-rare tubes, leaving none for the individual user.

Quietly, the wind down has begun.

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If I were you, kid, I wouldn't let that goose out of my sight. Poultry shortage is getting pretty desperate.

That thought's been kicking around my head since this stupid strip began. The kid should keep an eye out for Uncle Frank with Christmas dinner coming up.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("With his maaany chaaaritable acts farr the community," reads Ma, "aaand his suppaaaart oov maaany waaarthy caaauses, Mistar Leary haaas toime an' again provoided oootstandin' evaaardence oov his high principles an' soond beliefs in the Amaaarican way of loife." Ma pauses, chuckling heartily, as Uncle Frank blushes. "He didn't haaavta paaar it aaahn soo thick," she suggests. "Thaaar ain't a waaard in that lettar," affirms Uncle Frank, "that's naaaht th' gaaahd's aaahnest truth." With a skeptical nod, Ma reads on. "His leadarrrship in th' bond sellin' campaigns in East Flatboosh, his in-de-fa...' What's this waaard here thin?" "In-de-fatigue-able," replies Uncle Frank. "Wharr'd th' loikes a' Doyle larrn a warrd loike that," Ma snickers. "He said Coomissionar Valentoine poot it in a memo," chuckles Uncle Frank. "'His id-de-fatigue-able supaaaart far th' waaar effort," continues Ma, "aaand aboov aahl his spaaahtless marral charactarr move me with noo hesitation t'nominate Mistarr Francis X. Leary faaar citizenship in th' Unoited States oov America. Yarrrs sincerely, Sgt. Thomas H. Doyle, Siventy-Farrst Precinct, New Yaaark Police Depaaartment.'" "Tharr now," nods Uncle Frank, looking immensely pleased with himself. "That's th' saaaarta man ye married." "Oi don't know," shrugs Ma, "if Oi should kiss ye arrrr salute ye. 'Nominate farrr citizenship.' Maybe ye can use this t'get intarr the National Geographic Soociety, too." "Woon thing at a toime," nods Uncle Frank, raising his glass. "To the Unoited States, wharr a poor boy from Oireland can becoom a solid citarzen..." "In joost fifty easy yarrs," adds Ma....)

German battle lines across southwestern Hungary buckled under a succession of Red Army blows today as Moscow dispatches stated that 40,000 newly arrived Nazi reserves were being cut to pieces in efforts to stem dual Russian advances on Budapest and the Austrian border. Both Soviet and German reports agreed that the battle for Hungary was mounting in fury hourly as both sides threw in more and more men and armor, with Soviet commanders striking with everything at their disposal to force a quick decision.

("Yarrrr bloofin'," frowns Shaugnessy the Butcher. "You gahht noo pool with th' OPA." "Oh, I dunno," shrugs Jimmy Leary. "D'pends on howya d'fine 'pull,'" adds Danny Leary. "Sometimes it's 'pull,' submits Jimmy, pausing to light a cigarette. "Sometimes it's 'push'," nods Danny. "Sometimes juuuuuusta lit'l -- push." Shaughnessy's frown deepens. "Ahhhl roit," he sighs. "Tell yar oold man Oi'll do th' best I can. One tarrrkey farr Christmas dinnar, if Oi gaaahta taaarn th' hool East Coost oopside down." "An' no goose," warns Jimmy. "We hadda goose las' yeeh," declares Danny, his face bilious. "Too greezy." "We gawt whatchacawl delicate digestions," notes Jimmy. "Ah," sighs Shaughnessy, considering the impossibility of his task...)

("Hmph," hmphs Sally. "You eveh heeh Noel Cowehd tawk?" She pinches her nose, and assumes a fluty tone. "Oi say, oold fruit." "Heh!" snickers Alice. "T'at's pretty good, Sal. I din' know you could tawk like t'at." "I done actin' at Erasmus," Sally declares. "I was inna Dramatic Society 'n everyt'ing. I"da hadda lead inna seenyeh play if Kilgallen had'na queehed it f'me. 'N I'da been good, too." She slips into a honking impersonation of Katharine Hepburn to add "Rally I would." "T'at's swell!" laughs Alice. "Do ano'teh one!" Sally cogitates for a moment. "Moithy mee," she lisps. "Have you no thithter of your own?" "Huh?" huhs Alice. "Whozat s'posta be?" "C'mon," scowls Sally. "Dolores Costelleh!" "Who?" replies Alice, utterly baffled. "Dolores Costelleh!!" repeats Sally. "You know, useta be married t'Jawn Barrymoeh?" "Ohhhhh yeh," recalls Alice, reaching into the dim recesses of twenty years ago. "She tawked like t'at?" "Well," shrugs Sally,"she mostly made silent pitchehs, but when she made, you know, tawkies, she soun'ed lilke t'at. Din'choo eveh see t'at pitcheh t'eh, I f'get what it was cawled, she was innis gangsteh pitcheh, right whenna tawkies fois' come out? She said t'at 'Moithy me' t'ing t'eh, an' ev'rybody busted out laughin'. I seen it happen." "Ah," ahs Alice. "I di'n see too many pitchehs in'nem days. I was -- uh -- woikin' nights..." "Have you no thither of your own?" snickers Sally. "Oh, moideh...")

("Now that the good Judge has passed on to his reward," muses Mr. Rickey,"my plans may soon proceed to fruition." "Nine farm clubs," whistles Mr. Parrott. "That's a lot." "Farm clubs?" replies Mr. Rickey. "Oh yes, those plans, by all means. Those plans.")

(Grampa Teen could lay this monkey out without breaking a sweat.)

("Nosey Mailman?" C'mon, Bill, we know it's you in disguise.)

(I mean, it's not like you tried to cut off his nose with a broken bottle...)

("Oh yes, I have a super power. Maybe I should use it now.")

(Next -- AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG confronts the housing shortage!)

 

[LizzieMaine]

Well yeah, what WAS there to say?

Keep 'em flying!

"Besides, all I did was copy it from your Ursula Parrott books!"

I bet it's on the same page as "Mary Worth."

Look, at least give the poor kid a spent shell.

I imagine Annie knows how to deal with private school twerps/future serial killers. But I'd rather see Punjab do it.

"Gee, maybe we shouldn't?" Seriously, kid, did you learn nothing from Pat Ryan?

Poor Shaky.

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact, my name happens to BE 'Alec Smart.' But why stand on formality? Just call me.." "Pantywaist!"

OK, so I have become quite fond of this little pig, and Mamie had better not do that again.

 

[Fading Fast]

..."Dolores Costelleh!" "Who?" replies Alice, utterly baffled. "Dolores Costelleh!!" repeats Sally. "You know, useta be married t'Jawn Barrymoeh?" "Ohhhhh yeh," recalls Alice, reaching into the dim recesses of twenty years ago. "She tawked like t'at?" "Well," shrugs Sally,"she mostly made silent pitchehs, but when she made, you know, tawkies, she soun'ed lilke t'at. Din'choo eveh see t'at pitcheh t'eh, I f'get what it was cawled, she was innis gangsteh pitcheh, right whenna tawkies fois' come out? She said t'at 'Moithy me' t'ing t'eh, an' ev'rybody busted out laughin'....

Sally and Alice don't know it yet, but Dolores might be one of the actresses who contributed to the Lina Lamont composite character in 1952's "Singin' in the Rain.' All still in the future in 1944.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Get t'at!" fumes Sally. "T'rowin'a guy inna jug f't'ree mont's f'makin' a touch. What kin'a country is t'is?" "Shoulda known betteh," shrugs Alice, "t'an t'put t'bite awna cawp." "Yaaaaah," dismisses Sally, "whatta you know about it? You on'y had dealin's wit' cawps t'at one time, when ya t'rew t'pot roast at Higbe." "Ah," ahs Alice, forcefully preventing an eyeroll. "Well, okay," acknowledges Sally, "t'at one ot'eh time t'eh, r'membeh, when we borreh'd Uncle Frank's truck an' you was drivin' me out t'Camp Upton t'see Joe, an' we gotta flat tieh, an'nat monkey onna motehcycle run us in 'cause we had awlem empty bot'ls inna back. WHO KNEW y'could get run in f'nawt retoinin' ya empties! See, t'at's what I mean! T'ese cawps is gett'n outa hand!" "Uh-huh," agrees Alice, as there is nothing more that she can do. "B'lieve me, I know awlabout cawps," nods Sally. "I had dealin's wit' cawps. T'em ones come inta Woolwoit's when we was havin'a sit down strike t'eh. T'em ones t'at tried t'say I was crazy whennat railroad gawrd fell off t'platfawrm, t'rew me in Bellevue f'NO REASON." "T'em ones t'at come t' t' Paramount T'eayteh," nods Alice. "Nevehmine' T"AT!" growls Sally. "You get me pernt. No, t'on'y cawp I eveh had any use fawr izzat Doyle, up t'eh t' Empieh Boulevawrd. Awrways treated me'n Mickey right when we was kids." "Ah," ahs Alice. "Pity t'eh ain' moeh like 'im aroun," sighs Sally. "Woil' would be a betteh place. "Yeh," snickers Alice "What's so funny?" demands Sally. "Ohhhh," sighs Alice. "Jus' t'inkin' of a joke -- um -- Siddy tol'. Y'know, if he had a moustache, he'd be a reg'leh Jerry Colonna...")

White House opposition was reported today to be holding up a Senate Foreign Relations Committee resolution advocating unlimited Jewish immigration to Palestine. Jewish immigration to Palestine has been prohibited since April 1, 1944 by a British White Paper. Britain governs Palestine under a mandate issued by the former League of Nations. Congressional sources also point to the White House as responsible for the failure of a similar resolution passed by the House Foreign Affairs Commitee to receive a go-ahead from the House Rules Committee. One Senator, who declined to allow the use of his name, speculated that the reasons for the White House opposition lay within political and economic ties to Saudi Arabia.

("Poot that back, daaarlin'," directs Ma, noticing Leonora immersed in a copy of "Amazing Stories." "Leemee 'lone," protests Leonora, clutching the magazine, its cover showing a Marine in dress blues defending a WAC from a small bald-headed creature with pointed ears who has evidently just emerged from a space rocket. The creature brandishes a futuristic six-shooter as the Marine manfully attempts to wrest it away. "SOOCH naaahnsense," frowns Ma. "Hops Gaffney," insists Leonora, pointing to the space being. This observation brings Ma up short, as she squints at the cover. "See??" repeats Leonora, as Ma erupts into a rare belly laugh. "Ahhhhhhhl roit," she beckons. "Gooo aaahf 'n read ye book." "What's soo foony," queries Uncle Frank as he jingles in the door. "Oi think Oi know," laughs Ma, "whaaat becoom'a th' Hoppar!" "They ain't let 'im oot, have they?" sputters Uncle Frank as Ma draws him a two-cents-plain. "He's been soited," Ma snorts, beckoning for Leonora to show him the cover. "Oi'll be boond," sighs Uncle Frank. "Soomtoimes, Nora, Oi see wharr ye daughter gets it froom...")

(Tsk. Proverbs 21:5.)

(Indoor softball at Erasmus in December? Hey, the only home run I ever hit in any kind of a game was in an indoor softball game in high school! Hey, Sal, you ever do that? "HMPH!" hmphs Sally.)

("Goetterdammerung?" A little early, but we'll take it.)

("The icks are clickin' an' tickin'!" Yes, yes they are.)

("We call to your attention that POPSICLE, along with CREAMSICLE and FUDGICLE are registered trademarks of the Joe Lowe Corporation, New York 1, New York, and may be utilized only under terms of an appropriate license. Which, we must emphasize, would never be granted to the likes of you.")

(Doesn't this studio have a fixer? Where's Eddie Mannix?)

(Dumb. BONE dumb.)

(And poor Kitty? Out in the rain, again.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Ew.

("I dunno," winces Joe, gritting his teeth at the not-so-distant rumble of artillery. "I dunno's I c'n take too much moe'hra t'is." "Ahhhh," dismisses the Corporal, turning on the gasoline valve and applying a match to the stove burner. "Maybe thet Noel Cowuhd was raht 'bout'choo Brooklyns." Joe is about to issue a barbed reply when a sudden boom, closer than the others, sends the Corporal sprawling into a snowbank. "Ah meant t'do thet," he frowns, brushing the crust of ice off his field jacket. "I wondeh," snickers Joe, "if Noel Cowehd eveh went down Sout'....")

Always check the license plate first.

Don't forget the mosquito bars.

Hey, maybe he'll run into Skeez.

Write HER a note instead.

"Cistern out back's mighty deep. Mighty cold this time of year too. Lid's not on too tight, wouldn't take much to push it off.."

1944 DIVORCE RATE HITS ALL TIME HIGH

Hey, he really IS a senator.

"I HAVE AN INVENTION THAT WILL PREVENT THIS!" -- Larry MacPhail.

 

[Fading Fast]

T'em ones t'at tried t'say I was crazy whennat railroad gawrd fell off t'platfawrm, t'rew me in Bellevue f'NO REASON."

"fell?"

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

White House opposition was reported today to be holding up a Senate Foreign Relations Committee resolution advocating unlimited Jewish immigration to Palestine. Jewish immigration to Palestine has been prohibited since April 1, 1944 by a British White Paper. Britain governs Palestine under a mandate issued by the former League of Nations. Congressional sources also point to the White House as responsible for the failure of a similar resolution passed by the House Foreign Affairs Commitee to receive a go-ahead from the House Rules Committee. One Senator, who declined to allow the use of his name, speculated that the reasons for the White House opposition lay within political and economic ties to Saudi Arabia.

What is that expression you use, Lizzie, I believe it goes something like, "Coming Event Cast Their Shadows Before..."

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

"Cistern out back's mighty deep. Mighty cold this time of year too. Lid's not on too tight, wouldn't take much to push it off.."

Must remember The Fedora Lounge Rulebook for Killing a TV, Movie or Comic-Strip Enemy, which states: "Always kill your enemy as fast as you can and, then, check carefully to make sure he or she is dead."

Annie doesn't want this happening to her as happened in 1950's "This Side of the Law:" "Cagle pushes David into the cistern and leaves him to die.... [later] Meanwhile, David has managed to crawl out of the cistern, and hearing Evelyn scream as she struggles with Calder, hurries to her rescue."

 

[LizzieMaine]

("I jus' dunno how much moehr'n I c'n take," sighs Sally, fidgeting on the couch as Dr. Levine peers across the tops of her glasses. "I mean, awright, r'membeh I tol' ya las' Sunday my ma run awf'n got MARRIED? T' PEEKSKILL?" "Oh yes," nods Dr. Levine. "You were very agitated when you came here." "I don' mean," interrupts Sally, "she married PEEKSKILL, she married Uncle Frank. She run AWFTA Peekskill. Who goes t' Peekskilll?? She'sa one had a fit 'cause me'n Joe gawt married at Borra Hawl wit'out tellin' 'eh, whe's she get awff runnin' awfta PEEKSKILL wit'out tellin' ME?" "Well," shrugs Dr. Levine, "you know your mother better than I do..." "I t'ought I did," frowns Sally. "Now I dunno. An' awn tawppa awlat, right? I ain' hoid fr'm Joe in weeks. I dunno we'hr'ee is. Awl I got f'ra 'dress is APO 758. An' whas'sat tell me? An'nen I see inna papeh, right, 'foehr'a come oveh 'eeh, t'at te'h gonna stawrt draftin' upta t'oity-seven again, right? Uncle Frank's got t'ese two boys, right, an'neh, I t'ink, t'oity five, t'oity six. Coupla fatheads. Didn' get took be'foeh 'cause t'ey gawt flat feet a'sump'n. Now t'eh my STEPBROT'EHS, right? Joe's oveh t'eh gett'n shawt at an' I got fatheads wit' flat feet f'STEPBROT'EHS. Will'ey get DRAFTED t'is time? YOU TELL ME." "I can't tell you anything about that," sighs Dr. Levine. "But does it really matter? I mean, does it really change anything in your own life? "Yeh," fumes Sally, "it does! It makes me MAD. My husban's gett'n shawt at, my real brot'eh's in a Goiman prison camp, an'nese two monkeys'eh flouncin'awl oveh town in Loeseh's ovehcoats smokin' cigarettes an' havin' a high ol' time. I'm t'inkin'a writin' a letteh t't'draf' board. Me'n Alice, we'eh gonna woik awn'is guy we know t'at's awna draft boehd, he'eza manageh atta Patio T'eateh, oveh'n Eas' Flatbush." "You and Alice?" queries Dr. Levine. "Yeh, Alice Krause," nods Sally. "Guess she's my bes' frien' She's gonna help me." Sally pauses, marshaling her racing thoughts. "She don'zackly KNOW yet," she acknowledges. "But she's gonna." "Ah..." sighs Dr. Levine...)

Critics of Prime Minister Winston Churchill appear unsatisfied by his latest speech and are demanding a full-dress conference of the Big Three leaders to establish a firm Allied policy toward the liberated nations of Europe. Even the conservative London Times, ordinarily a strongly-pro-Churchill paper, criticized the British government for taking an "interventionist" attitude in the matter of Greece, where, it asserted, the Churchill government is in league with local factions working to maintain the Greek monarchy. Despite press demands for a conference bringing together Mr. Churchill, President Roosevelt, and Marshal Stalin, however, there appears no indication that a such a meeting is likely in the near future, with Stalin busy with plans for a major Russian winter offensive, and Roosevelt preparing for his upcoming inauguration.

(Well, Mr. Currie isn't exactly Walter Winchell, or even Clifford Evans -- but I'm a sucker for a monkey story.)

It is rumored that Noel Coward's recent apology to the soldiers of Brooklyn and their families for his intemperate remarks in his "Middle East Diary" came as part of a carefully-orchestrated publicity campaign. In addition to the apology, it is said by informed sources, further efforts to restore the British author-playwright to the good graces of the borough will come thru favorable mentions to be salted in selected newspaper columns and apperances by Coward on popular radio programs. A "good sized bankroll" is said to be financing the campaign.

("Awlem bums," sighs Alice. "Phelps, even! But no Petey. Sal's gonna have a fit." "Yeh," acknowledges Krause, reassembling a disassembled steam valve on the kitchen table. "She's nuts," whistles Willie, handing his pap a fresh washer. "None'a t'at," snaps Alice. "Maybe she is, maybe she ain't. But she's ya a'nt. An' my frien'. An' don'cha f'get!" "Yeh," directs Krause, regarding the boy with a firm gaze. "Sawry," shrugs Willie, fiddling with a screwdriver. "But she is," he mutters. "An' Leonoreh is too." "T'at's ENOUGH," growls Alice, her eyes hard. "Sawry," whispers Willie. Krause glances at Alice, who exhales deeply. "T'ing is," she declares, holding out her hands, "t'ey really SHOULD get Petey back...")

President Roosevelt has been declared the World's Outstanding Personality by the graduating class of February 1945 at Brooklyn College. The seniors also followed a school tradition of choosing their favored companions on a desert island by selecting Humphrey Bogart and Paulette Goddard for that honor.

(Sorry kid, you won't be able to get a looser fit till after the war.)

("The sap wanted to play Rudolph, but he's under contract to Montgomery Ward.")

(How do you think Fritzi raised the money to buy that television set??)

(Good idea to file away in case you ever need to impress a jury.)

(I guess it really isn't breaking and entering if nobody sees you do it...)

(Won't be much good to science with a hole in it.)

(Mary has engraved stationery? And it doesn't say MEDDLER AT LARGE? Missing an opportunity there.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Foul play or amnesia? That narrows it down.

"The Bronx? Never heard of it." -- Noel Coward.

"Dog?" huffs Mr. Rickey. "We HAVE no dog!" "No, sir," nods Mr. Parrott. "See that this woman is corrected at once," demands Mr. Rickey. "I'll send her a free pass to opening day," suggests Mr. Parrott. "Let's not be hasty," admonishes Mr. Rickey.

DICK Tracy brings Christmas cheer to all!

Better Living Thru Chemistry!

I dunno, Moon, you won't have to worry about getting drafted.

Actually, Shad looks a bit like Sir Harry Lauder there.

"Heh!" -- Bink Scanlan.

"And now," declares Judy, "I'm off to Washington to lobby for my postwar corn subsidy!" And -- um -- "Miss Walkie Talkie?" Does that outrank Miss Rheingold?

OK, fine, but I still want Charlie to get fifty years in the stockade.

 

[Fading Fast]

It is rumored that Noel Coward's recent apology to the soldiers of Brooklyn and their families for his intemperate remarks in his "Middle East Diary" came as part of a carefully-orchestrated publicity campaign. In addition to the apology, it is said by informed sources, further efforts to restore the British author-playwright to the good graces of the borough will come thru favorable mentions to be salted in selected newspaper columns and apperances by Coward on popular radio programs. A "good sized bankroll" is said to be financing the campaign.

I never thought this story would have the legs it has had.

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

President Roosevelt has been declared the World's Outstanding Personality by the graduating class of February 1945 at Brooklyn College. The seniors also followed a school tradition of choosing their favored companions on a desert island by selecting Humphrey Bogart and Paulette Goddard for that honor.

Sinatra can't be happy about Bogie, and Goddard, quite an attractive lady, would not have been one of my first ten guesses as to whom a class in '44 would have chosen.

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

"WAC Missing, 9-State Hunt On"

Headlines ripped from the comicstrips.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("Yarrr gooin' t'get'chee tarrkey, Frank," insists Shaughnessy the Butcher. "Oi tol'jee boys, an' I'm tellin YOU, ye'goin' t'get'chee tarrkey. This -- caaaantravarrsey -- with th' OPA's gaaaht noothin' t'do with that." "It bettar not," frowns Uncle Frank. "Nora's coont'in aaahn havin' a taaarkey. An' Oi joost caaant get th' caaartridges t'go shoot anoothar goose." "She coold go shoot'it 'arself," mutters Shaughnessy, scooping a withered-looking pair of pork chops out of his display case, and slapping them down on a sheet of parchment. "Wood'n ev'n need noo boolets, joos' roon'ar mooth, it'd faaahl roit ovarr." "Moind'jee tone," warns Uncle Frank. "That's me woife ye'taaahlkin' aboot." "An' that's anoother thing," inserts Shaughnessy, plopping the chops onto his scale. "Ye married th' ol' lady aaaaftar aaahl this toime. What's ye angle?" "Tharrr IS," insists Uncle Frank, "NOOOO angle." "Daaancheee palaver me noon, Francis Leary," snickers the butcher. "Yoo withoot an angle is loike.." "..Is loike YOU," interrupts Uncle Frank, "with'oot'chee thoom aaahn th' scale!")

"Several hundred thousand" New York men between the ages of 26 and 37 who are not engaged in essential industries will be inducted into the Armed Forces, declared city Selective Service director Col. Arthur V. McDermott today, following a request by War Mobilization Director James F. Byrnes for additional manpower. Colonel McDermott stressed, however, that men in that age group will not be officially reclassified until more definite instructions have been received from Washington.

("Izzis trip," snickers Leonora, "reaaaaaaly nec'ssary?" "''Ere now," admonishes Ma, leading her granddaughter by the hand thru the Namm's toy department. "That's noo way t'taaalk, doon'chee waaana meet Santy Claus?" "Sppppppt," sppts Leonora. "Met 'im las' yeeh. Heeza FAKE. Unca Frank dessed up inna suit. An'nen met 'im again, an'nit's it's -- An't ALICE dessed up inna suit." "Well look now," insists Ma. "Look over thaar on that big chair tharr, that ain'chee Onkle Frank aaahr ye -- uh -- Annt Alice." Leonora gazes carefully at the bearded figure, and ponders. "Too skinny," she concludes. "Mus' be Unca Krause." Ma exhales and shakes her head, resigned to the cynicism of modern youth. "Whezza books?" demands Leonora. "Joos' loike ye' moothar," mutters Ma...)

(Never mind that, where'd you get those turkeys???)

(The alarm clock reads 2 AM as John McDonald's eyes snap open to the sound of a ringing telephone. His nerves quaking, he reaches for the receiver knowing instantly who must be on the other end. "THAT'S RIGHT," comes the expected bellow at the other end of the line. "I'M BUYING THE YANKEES! I'M THROUGH WITH THE NATIONAL LEAGUE, DO YOU HEAR, THROUGH. NO MORE DOUBLETALK FROM FORD FRICK!" "Ah," sighs Mr. McDonald, his head falling back on the pillow. "NO MORE BACKTALK FROM THAT WHITEHAIRED OLD GOAT IN CHICAGO! HE'S DEAD NOW YOU KNOW, DID YOU KNOW THAT? HE'S DEAD, THEY TELL ME, HE'S DEAD. AND I'M NOT." "No, sir," mumbles Mr. McDonald. "YOU'RE NOT DEAD EITHER," declares Mr. MacPhail. "AT LEAST THEY DIDN'T TELL ME SO." "No, sir," agrees Mr. McDonald. "THAT'S GOOD!" bellows the voice. "YOU CAN'T OWN THE YANKEES IF YOU'RE DEAD AND YOU CAN'T WORK FOR THE YANKEES IF YOU'RE DEAD." "That's true," concedes Mr. McDonald. "GET MY MOOSEHEAD READY!" commands Mr. MacPhail. "AND DON'T BE LATE!" The phone clicks silent, as Mr. McDonald quietly weeps...)

("Howcome we gotta come awlaway oveh heeh jus' t'see a pitcheh," wonders Alice, as she and Sally walk up Flatbush Avenue toward the ornate Moorish exterior of the Patio Theatre. "I don' even know who Lee Bowman is." "Neveh mine'at," dismisses Sally, leaning forward in a purposeful march. "I hoid t'eh's a swell show back in Bensonhoist," protests Alice, "at Loew's Orien'al. In Technicoleh, yet." Sally's mouth sets into a hard line, as Alice realizes her gaffe. "Sawry," she sighs. "I f'gawt you ain' allowed inneh." "When we get inneh," commands Sally, "lemme do t'tawkin'. You jus' nodja head, right? Ya'ra consoined citizen. Try'n look like one, huh?" "Howzis?" offers Alice, cocking one eye into a squint. "Yeh," nods Sally, stepping up the box office. "Two," she declares to the disinterested young woman in the ticket cage. She hands Alice a ticket. "Y'c'n pay me back lateh, she adds as they step into the lobby. "I hate t'is place," frowns Alice., shooting a glance at the burbling fountain feeding the pond in the middle of the floor. "Awrways smells like, I dunno, wet fish." "Hey," declares Sally, tugging her friend's sleeve. "T'at's t'guy I want, right oveh t'eh. HEY MISTEH, you t'manageh?" "I am," acknowledges a slim young man in a tasteful navy blue suit and a sincere necktie. "Max Schechter. How may I help you?" "T'ey tell me yeh onna draf' boehd," continues Sally. "I am," nods Mr. Schechter. "Ain'choo a bit young f' -- " observes Sally. "Hey, wait, don' I know you?" "Well, I don't know," shrugs Mr. Schechter. "Do you?" "Did'ja go t' Erasmus?" queries Sally, as Alice attempts to look concerned. "I did," acknowledges Mr. Schechter. "Class of June 1930." "I remembeh you!" exclaims Sally. "Yeh! T'ey cawlt'cha 'Mack.' Yeh! You was inna Dramatic Society, you done'a stage managin'!" "I still don't..." puzzles Mr. Schechter. "Sally Sweeney!" declares Sally, flaring her eyes. "OH!" exhales Mr. Schechter. "Oh yes, I - ah -- remember you. Weren't you the one that pushed that girl down a flight of stairs?" "IT WAZZA OT'EH WAY AROUN'," erupts Sally. "Anyways, neveh mine'at. Ya onna draf'boehd f' Eas' Flatbush, right? Well, t'ez 'eeze two guys I know, t'ese two -- hey, wait a minute. Um, look, I hope I ain' gett'n too poissonal, but -- uh -- how come YOU ain' inna soivice?" "Ah," shrugs Mr. Schechter. "I'm 4-F, if you must know. Flat feet." "Oh," frowns Sally, as Alice's concerned face begins to twitch...)

(Well, fine, but where's the goose?)

("There's Something About A Soldier.")

(Empty chamber? Sure, because he used an old gun without a hammer block and keeps one chamber empty so if he dropped it accidentally it wouldn't go off. DIDN'T YOU PEOPLE EVER TAKE A CLASS?)

(POINT OF ORDER: If the paper turns invisible when you pick it up, how can you read it?)

(SOMETIMES THERE IS JUSTICE AFTER ALL.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News..

Adds a whole new meaning to "clip joint."

Coming Events...

YES, WHAT IS THAT?

Well, at least it'll take care of your corns.

"Amatchoor," snickers Bink Scanlan, pocketing another pack of gum...

"Amateurs!" sneers Captain Judas.

And it certainly isn't over you.

And there I was, paying rent at 14.

Don't get too comfortable.

Too many spoons in the pot.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Wood'n ev'n need noo boolets, joos' roon'ar mooth, it'd faaahl roit ovarr."

"Oh yes, I - ah -- remember you. Weren't you the one that pushed that girl down a flight of stairs?" "IT WAZZA OT'EH WAY AROUN'," erupts Sally.


"It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood / A beautiful day for a neighbor / Would you be mine? Could you be mine?"

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

I'm with her and boy would she hate social media.

 

[LizzieMaine]

("How much closeh y't'ink we'eh gonna get?" mutters Joe, clutching the bench as the convoy bumps over a road dug deep with shell divots. "Ah dunno," acknowledges the Corporal. "Ah don' evun know wheh we ah now." "We ain' in Goimany yet," notes Joe. "I seen a sign layin' awna groun' back t'eh, t'ink it said 'Bettvilleh 10 K-M.' I t'ink t'at's French, whas' 10 K-M in American? Five miles? I dunno why t'ey can' jus' put t'at onneh." "Ah dunno why they cain' put a heatuh in'neese truhks," shivers the Corporal. "You shouldn'a betcha ovehcoat innat crap game," shrugs Joe. "Ah'da won if'n'nat sawrgen' had'na been usin'nose loaded daahce," frowns the Corporal, firing a jet of brown juice out the back of the truck. "T'at froze befoeh it hit t'groun'," chuckles Joe. "I'm gon' do thuh same," laments the Corporal. "Heeh," sighs Joe, wriggling out of his coat and tossing it to his comrade. "Take t'is. I'm fr'm Brooklyn, I'm useta bein' cold...")

Thousands of Brooklyn and Long Island men over the age of 30, assured months ago that it was all but certain that they would not be drafted are now back on the eligible rolls at their local draft boards unless they can prove employment in a field deemed essential to the war effort. The situation is now similar to what it was a year ago, when men over 30 were uncertain of their status, and were receiving draft notices into the early months of 1944. According to city Selective Service Director Col. Arthur V. McDermott, any now-deferred man who leaves an essential job without permission is subject to immediate conscription and induction. Men over 26 are now being called to replace men now being released from the Army and Navy to fill essential civilian jobs. So far the only clarification of the present draft situation to come from the War Manpower Commission is a statement that temporary post office employees taken on for the holiday rush are considered essential workers. How long they will retain that status, however, was not made clear.

("If t'eh's no letteh fr'm Joe inna mail t'day," frowns Sally, kicking a chunk of brick off the sidewalk as she and Alice walk up 18th Avenue toward home, "I'm gonna scream. I dunno weh'ree is, I dunno nut'n." She shoots a foul glance at a seedy-looking Santa standing on the corner of 18th and 63rd Street. "An'ney wawn I should have a merry Chris'mas." Alice exchanges a look with the Santa, and silently flips a dime into his pot. They turn down 63rd in silence, feeling the bite of the early evening air, and climb the stoop at number 1762. Sally pauses before the mailboxes, fishes out her key, and freezes at the sight of a V-mail envelope. "AH!" she blurts, thrusting the key into the wrong lock, cursing under her breath, pulling it out, and plugging it into the correct box. "Awright now!" she enthususes. "Now we'eh....oh." "What?" whats Alice. "Whassamatteh?" "Fr'm Solly Pincus," sighs Sally. "Oh," ohs Alice. "Well, you ain' hoid fr'm him inna while neit'eh..." "No," sighs Sally, pocketing the letter and turning to mount the stairs. "Look, I'll tawk to ya t'marra. G'night." "Yeh," exhales Alice, watching her go...)

("I ain' harrrd from Michael gooin' on foive moonths now," sighs Ma, closing the newspaper and tossing it into the wastebasket under the counter. "I wroot to th' Red Craahs an' they said they'd do what they coould, but.." "Mickey's nivver been mooch farr wroitin'," reminds Uncle Frank. "He was marrr for *dooin'** Oi bet roit now he's gaaaht soomthin' gooin' ahhn there in that camp, an' ye'll hear aboot it in good toime." "Good time," sighs Ma. "Well, that'd be a first farr him." "What?" "Noothin'...")

The Eagle Editorialist endorses War Mobilization Director James F. Byrnes's "Work or Fight" order issued this week for men between the ages of 26 and 37. "More than 2,000,000 men over the age of thirty years of age are now serving their country in the Armed Services. Hence it is not too much to expect that all other men in this age group not in the Armed Services are prepared to contribute to the war effort by working in those industries which are essential to the war effort."

(Either the linotype guy messed up or Mr. Lichty didn't proofread. That should be "to" instead of "from.")

(Oh, Connie Mack *ran* a football team. I was hoping he'd actually played.)

Pete Gray, one-armed outfielder who starred with the Bay Parkways before the war, has been signed to a 1945 contract by the American League Champion St. Louis Browns. Gray won the Southern League Most Valuable Player award this past summer with the Memphis Chicks, batting .333 and stealing 68 bases. Gray was selected by local fans as the Bay Parkways' Most Valuable Player in 1939.

(Yes, and all of those books are sold thru little tiny ads in the back of Popular Mechanics.)

(Rattle-brained hepcat!)

(Oh yeah? Now imagine her turning around and laying you flat on your fat behind.)

(EVERYBODY'S AN ART CRITIC)

(She's gone up a tree, the better to lurk and wait for you to walk under so she can jump on your back and CLAW YOUR SKIN TO THE BONE. Okay?)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

Good luck, Gyps!

Best advertising angle ever.

Don't be so smug, toots, that's the oldest trick in the book.

Yeah, and if you expect him to shovel, the meter stays on.

"And don;t any of you make fun of him, or he'll start chewing it again!"

And after the war you can get a job driving one in parades.

"K.M." -- "Kitchen Mechanic." Right off the cob, son.

Relax in the safety of your own delusions.

Sure, Elmo's an idiot, but he's a good-hearted idiot.

Caniff figures if Willard can have a pig in his strip, he can too.