Clambake: Hey, narrator box, I’m just called “Clambake!” And what’s with the “holds court” nonsense? I aint no king, dagnabit, just an old feller in backwards sweats. Don’t make me come up there!
Narrator Box: Sorry. How about “Meanwhile, at the Bucket, where the only thing in the parking lot is bushes, an old feller in backwards sweats reminisces about the good old days, when he was allowed to play in the Negro Leagues despite possibly being white…”
Clammyhands: That’s better…Now where was I? Ah yes. The year was 1950. I was on a secret assignment from President Truman to infiltrate Joseph McCarthy’s secret underwater base just off the North Korean coast…
Ken: OK. This is total crap…I’m outta here.
Jim Gross: Wait, Ken! He’s almost to the part where he encountered Aquaman fighting Poseidon and taught them how to properly toss a trident using his home-grown recipe of fish oil and pomade. Then Clammy here is gonna help me write the essay for my application to the Milford Pantheon of Hair!
Ken: No I don’t care about that. I care about the fact that it’s 2007, and I’ve been in this comic for somewhere between two and twelve years and never had a plotline devoted to me.
Gross Hair: Wait, it’s 2007? Gil told me it was 1962. Why the hell are we wearing these shirts? Do people in 2007 still like to dress like Beaver Cleaver?
Ken: No time for that…The weird guy who jumps in front of our panels is back. Quick get a broom, maybe I can swat him out of the way!
Old Man Sweatbake: I remember the time I taught the cartoon version of Elizabeth Montgomery to ride that broom in the opening credits of “Bewitched.” The first time I told her to lock onto one hole, swing, and keep doing it, she slapped the spit right outta my mouth, by crackie!
I don’t know what it is with all the random faces in GT. I suspect that Frank McLaughlin is taking kickbacks: “Have you always wanted to be in the funny pages? Well, now you can! For the low, low price of $199.95 plus shipping, handling, taxes, fees, and carrying costs, YOU can appear in America’s leading comic strip about small-town high school sports!”
Tomorrow: “Clambake” picks up his guitar and plays some down-and-dirty blues. “Goin’ down to the Bucket, gonna get myself a fresh, hot jelly roll…Gonna brush the dirt on my follow-through, an’ keep my eye locked on one hole…”
Comment by johnw — May 4, 2007 @ 9:36 am
I’m glad of the last few strips for finally explaining Clambake’s “White Negro” status. He’s always been white; he just played in the Negro leagues after integration. “But only the major leagues got integrated,” you say? Not after one Otha Yancey sued the Negro leagues for racial discrimination.
Comment by Cash — May 4, 2007 @ 11:02 am
I see parking spaces but no cars. I guess everyone walks there.
Helps Rick lose weight.
Comment by Rob — May 4, 2007 @ 5:24 pm
That random face looks like Steve Boone, lineman from fall 2004.
He could still be in school, as that was 3 seasons ago.
Comment by Rob — May 4, 2007 @ 5:30 pm
Boone looks a little heftier, but the point stands. Could be a younger brother.
Comment by Ennui Willie Keeler — May 5, 2007 @ 4:38 am
[...] anymore. Will all these hideously dressed teenagers end up wearing a case of Nutboys? Perhaps. When Clambake starts making more sense than the current plot, you know it’s time to pack it in… [...]
Pingback by Worst…Swimsuit Competition…Ever. « This Week in Milford — June 2, 2009 @ 10:41 pm