The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

("Thaaat's soom pitcharr," whistles Ma. "I wen' out wit'ta Marine oncet," offers Bink Scanlan. "Well, moeh'n oncet. Well, oncet'oo awffen. An'..." But Bink's epic tale of romantic betrayal will have to wait for another time, as the door forcefully jingles open. "I gawt it awl wrote!" declares Sally, gasping for breath as she rushes up to the counter. "Ye didn' bring Leonora?" queries Ma, looking around for her granddaughter. "She was downstaiehs playin' wit' Willie," pants Sally. "Alice gonna take caeh'r'veh. I gotta show ya t'is letteh." "What's aaahlt this now?" Ma requests. "T'letteh I'm writin' t' Solly Pincus t'get 'im t'look f' Joe! Now I stawrt out'eeh wit' some reg'leh stuff about, you know, neighbehood stuff, an'nen..." "Hey," interrupts Bink. "Izzeh'ra cawp 'roun' Bensonhoist t'eh, name a' Flannehry?" "Useta be," snaps Sally. "We gawt ridd'vim, he's outt'n Staten Islan' 'a sump'n." "I t'ink I wen' out wit''tim a coupla times," frowns Bink. "Whatta dope. T'em han'cuffs I give ya whlle back? T'ey was his. Whatta dope." "Whateveh," glares Sally, and Bink retreats to her broom. "Now," she resumes, "afteh I get done wit'tat, we get inta t'meat'a t'discussion. An' I say 'it's like t'is, Solly, Joe has been wounded an' 'e won' tell me nut'n about what happn't, an' I need ya t'do me a faveh. Y'need t' fin'out weah'ree is an' fin'out what happ'nt. Now, t'eh censeh prob'ly ain' gonna letcha put it awl in a letteh, so heeh's what we'll do. We'll use t'is code, awright, an' if you write 'how do t'Dodgehs look t'is yeeh," t'at means he was shawt inna right awrm. If y'say "I wisht I had a cheese knish," it means he got shawt inna left awrm. An' if ya say "r'memembeh t'at time Joe fell inna brine tank," it means he got shawt inna chest. An' if ya say..." "Daaaaaughter," interrupts Ma. "Sally. Hoold aaahn. Ye can't send a lettar loike that, taaaalkin' aboot secret coods an' all sooch. Ye'll end oop in jail, an' poor Solly moit end oop in froont'va foirin' squad!" "Oh," ohs Sally. "Y'tink?" "Oi do," nods Ma. "Insteada ahhl this foolishment, wroite a lettar t'Joseph! Tell'im yarrr aaahl roit, an' Leonora's aaahl roit, an' ye ain't waarrryin' an' ye know he'll be coomin' hoom soon." "I can't write t'at," declares Sally. "It ain' true, I AM worryin'." "It doon' hafta be true," insists Ma. "What it HAS t'be is a coomfort t'th' poor man foor thoosan' moiles fr'm hoom." "Oh," ohs Sally. "Oh." "Oh," nods Ma. "Hmm," hmms Sally, as Ma sighs and slowly shakes her head....)

("Ye surrre," queries Uncle Frank, "ye surre ye gaaaaht ridda aaaahl'v it." "Oh, indeed," affirms Inky Quinlan. "All th' wrapparrrs an' cartons?" interrogates Uncle Frank. "Aaahl th' stamps, an' aaaahl th' printin' plates?" "Ahh," hesitates Inky. "AH noothin!" thunders Uncle Frank. "Oi caaan't afffard noo slip-oops! We are oota th' cigarette business. It's too hot. An' Oi ain' saaaarvoived as laaang as Oi have withoot I knoow whin it's too hot! Now you take thim plates an' ye take that taaaarch there an' ye melt'm down an' Oi'm goona stand here an' see that'chee do it!" '"Must I?" pleads Inky "Some of my very finest..." "Staaaaaaaaaart meltin'," commands Uncle Frank. " "Very well," mopes Inky, reaching for the smoked goggles. "But allow me, at least , a moment of contemplative silence to reflect on the impermanence of art..." "Soilence?" guffaws Uncle Frank. "Take as laaaang as ye waaant...")

(At this rate it'll be October before we know if there'll be a season in April...)

(Which one is the dummy again? I lost track.)

(I dunno, Ernie, I think the gag works better if you don't see the pot roast, and just assume someone is really selling pot-roast-scented perfume. Because, y'know, I think that'd be a big seller!)

"New types of grass." You and Gene Krupa, huh?

(Sure, why not?)

("More Brass Than A Set Of Gongs!")

Um.

(If there is one fundamental moral principle that defines Bugs Bunny, it's that he does not strike unless he is first provoked. This is NOT Bugs Bunny. This is Woody Woodpecker in a rabbit suit.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

What else is there to say?

"Now ya in for it," sneers Miss Kaplan, as Mozelewski pins up her hem. "T'eh gonna take ya! Ya t'oity-t'ree, ain'cha? Well now te'h gonna take ya jus' like'ey took Joe! An'en ya gonna get it -- t'eh gonna have ya hemmin' gen'ral's pants!" "T'ey won' take me," dismisses Mozelewski. "I tol' ya, t'ey won' take a man wit' six toes awn each foot!" "Pretttttttt c'nvenient YOU gawt six toes on each foot!" scoffs Miss Kaplan. "Pretttttty c'nvenie---OW! WAWTCH WEH Y'STICK T'EM PINS!"

Or you could just go to the Old Reliable and hope for the best.

I keep tellin' ya -- Tootsie Rolls.

So I guess that rules out spiking his whisky with Tetra-Ethyl Lead. Pity. Worked so well in that Ellery Queen book.

I wouldn't touch those pants with neoprene gloves. And poor Wagon-Wheels, musta flunked sixth-grade cipherin'.

Time is just an arbitrary concept anyway. And at least I care more about Eric and Helen than I do those stiffs in Mary Worth, for what little that's worth.

No matter what the season, Goofy's still an idiot

"But Hu Shee took his gun away!"

Today You Are A Man!

 

[Fading Fast]

"...But allow me, at least , a moment of contemplative silence to reflect on the impermanence of art..."

Poor Inky, he wants to be so much more in life than he is.

So what happens to the 1,015,000 cigarettes seized - do they sell them back into the legit wholesale market?

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I dunno, Ernie, I think the gag works better if you don't see the pot roast, and just assume someone is really selling pot-roast-scented perfume. Because, y'know, I think that'd be a big seller!

Joe, who has probably never spent $25 at one time in his entire life, would probably buy some for Sally.

In college, I dated a girl who worked in a pizza parlor who would come by my apartment after her late shift. Nearly forty years later and the smell of a pizza place still brings back memories of those late evenings.

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Huh? "Joan of Ark" or "Jane Arden," sure, but who is "Joan Arden?"

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What else is there to say?

How many mothers/wives studied that picture to see if they could recognize their sons/husband?

 

[LizzieMaine]

I'm assuming Joan Arden the 1910s-20s poet, known for ladling on the schmaltz.

True Fact -- when movie actress Lucille LeSeuer was looking for a stage najme, she wanted to use "Joan Arden," until she found out that name was already in use. So she settled on "Joan Crawford" instead, which, when you think about it also fits this scene...

I imagine every single Marine who ever let it be known that he was at Iwo Jima was asked at least once if he was in that photo.

I'm not sure what they'll do with those cigarettes -- which figure out to be 5075 cartons -- but I hope they plan to post a guard on the evidence room.

 

[Fading Fast]

... known for ladling on the schmaltz...

LOL. You have a way with words.