Win a date with Neal Rubin!

7/27/10

“We all hit occasional bad shots. And I do it way more than that!”

Later:
“Thorp said that? No wonder he’s just the title character in this comic. I’m going to have your mother poke you with this spoon and yell ‘Loser!’ at you until you win something. Or  until you become a character in a less awful comic. So…. pretty much any other comic. Except Marmaduke.”

7/28/10

So not only is Mr. Peake a pushy jerk…he’s also one of only two spectators at the match today. And he’s able to outwit Marty Moon’s cousin with the missing chromosome to find some kid’s ball and kick it behind a tree. What a stand-up guy!

7/29/10

First, what the hell is “Position Z”? I did my requisite 4 seconds of research and didn’t find any evidence of anyone in the history of Earth having uttered such a phrase in casual conversation. Anyone heard that one before?

Meanwhile Carl Peake is cheating.

Bored? Want to complain to someone who has something to do with this? Well now maybe you can! Alert reader jvwalt just told me about this exciting opportunity: A contest at the Detroit News, where you can vote for the experience of playing golf (yeah, really) at Plum Hollow Country Club (yeah, really) with Neal Rubin himself! If you win, you can ask him where he gets his ideas for the comic.

The top vote getter wins $500 for his or her charity, and one of the entrants who voted for him will win that experience. So I think it’s imperative that we stuff the ballot box with Gil Thorp readers…Gotta get Neal to be subjected to 18 holes of complaints about his comic, right? Currently Neal is in third place, but far behind the top two folks. But with some help from us…and now that Comics Curmudgeon fans behind this too, we could pull it off. Let’s go folks!

OK, sorry. As the motto of this comic goes: “No coaching allowed!”

Summer plot lands in the water. No chance for recovery.

7/24/10

Welcome to another episode of “Tales…of Predictability!”

In our last episode, Kemper was stroking it well after 17 holes…But his obnoxious dad explained to Gil that Kemper sometimes choked it while he stroked it. So what happens today? 18TH HOLE CHOKE. “Tales…of Predictability!”

7/26/10

So you continue to push an overbearing parent story? Yawn. I’d hope for a boxing match, but realistically, I’m just counting the days until Gil asks Carl Peake what size shoes he wears. (WHAT?)

Earl Woods does not endorse this comic.

7/22/10

The Ghost of Earl Woods: I want to find out what your thinking was. I want to find out what your feelings are. Did you learn anything?
Tiger: No.
Kemper: No.
Torrey: No.
Brimley McMoustache: No. Hey, pull my finger!
Gil: No. Which way to the bar?
Carl: HRONK!
Nike Executive: Yes! I learned it’s more profitable to put dead celebrities in my commercial because I don’t have to pay them.
The Ghost of Earl Woods: OK, fine. I’ll just go back to spinning in my grave.

7/23/10

I imagine some of you like golf. I can see how it would be fun to play, but when it comes on TV or people start talking about it, I pretty much just space out.

Here’s how to make it a sport I’d care about: First guy to finish 18 holes wins. Everyone starts the course at the same time. No caddies. Full contact. Oh and fans can scream all they want, like they do in nearly every other sport. That would be awesome, wouldn’t it? And it’s bound to happen right around the same time this comic gets interesting again.

Cue the Kenny Loggins Music

7/20/10

It’s time for the Great Summer Douche-Off 2010!

Our next competitor: “Kemper” who feels the need to loudly barge in late, announcing he had to meet with a sports shrink. Nice hair “Kemper”.

Not to be outdone, Gil jumps into the Douche-Off by instantly suspecting the two junior douches were named after slightly famous golf courses. Douche-point, Gil!

But the Douche-Off is won by the Peake parents, who apparently did name their children after slightly famous golf courses. (Too bad we haven’t gotten to meet their other kids, Augusta, St. Andrew and their very special youngest son, Pitch n’ Putt.)

If I were Gil, I would have said “Torrey and Kemper? Like the Torrey Canyon supertanker that shipwrecked and caused an environmental disaster and Edmund Kemper, aka ‘The Co-Ed Killer’?” But in that case, Gil’s talking crotch would probably not have responded “You got it!”

7/21/10

“You idiot, ‘Beach’ isn’t a golf course.”

Later…

“Most of the kids went home once I ignored them completely in favor of talking to those two douchy teens. I wonder why douchy teens alwyas want to talk to me.”
“Ummm…because you’re the biggest douche in town. No surprise there.”
“Hronk!”
“Aw crap. That goose is back. Gil, I want you to kill every golfer on this golf course!”
“Correct me if I’m wrong Sandy, but if I kill all the golfers, they’re gonna lock me up and throw away the key…”
“Not if the Peakes are on the course!”
“What does any of this have to do with that goose?
“Nothing, I just figured a good Caddyshack reference would help liven up this snoozefest.”
“Hey everybody, we’re all gonna get laid!”

Peake of Boredom

7/17/10

Yes, Torreys Peak is a mountain in Colorado. Yes, I have climbed it. But to me “Torrey Peake” just sounds like a bad porn name. I wonder if she’s as popular a climb in Milford as her namesake is here?

7/19/10

“I’m good? Really? I haven’t heard that sentence in 23 years.”
“Yup. My dad taught me to be a bratty diva to everyone I meet. Then I’ll learn that anyone doesn’t walk away from me in thirty seconds is good at tolerating whiny bitches.”
“Well, I do put up with Steve Luhm.”

The joke stops here

7/15/10

…and Gil tells a “joke.” With his horrid sense of humor, I can never really tell, until he outright announces it. I ‘m feeling like I’m at the same level of Gil comprehension as the kid who wears a hat with a picture of a golf ball on it to a golf camp.

As for the recent plot developments, let me quote Ned Ryerson, occasionalback-up blogger here, who sums it up pretty well:

“Oh man, this thing went from zero to stupid in one day. There’s an entitled golf phenom in the midst of the other golf hobos. Why oh why did entitled golf phenom’s parents send her to Don’t Give A Shit Gil Thorp’s Court Ordered Charity Golf Camp?”

7/16/10

Watching golf = boring
Learning golf from Gil = mega boring
Watching kids learn golf from Gil = some incalculable level of boring that should bring tears of boredom to all who masochistically attempt to follow along

Sound effect factoid o’ the day: What’s the difference in sound between a golf ball being hit and a baseball being hit?
Apparently, there’s an extra “C” in the “KRAK“.

Tomorrow I will announce that I told a “joke”.

There’s no running in golf!

So many questions today!

First, what sort of dirt does Wilford Brimley have on Gil? Because clearly there’s no way he would just plain volunteer to run a junior golf program. He doesn’t even coach a team when he gets paid!

Or maybe Wilford is bribing Gil to do this by giving him an open seat at the 19th hole? He’s already been banned from every other bar in Milford, perhaps the local clubhouse is Thorp’s last resort?

In any case, I love that Wilford must have told Gil to go stare stupidly out the window while he has secret foreshadowing thoughts about some evil golf parents.

On to the course, where Gil does the only thing he remembers how do as a “coach”: make kids run in circles for hours! His only decision now will be whether he decides to sneak in a quick 18 holes himself, or whether he just brings in Kaz so the two of them can sit on their asses, eat chicken and drink “lemonade” while everyone else runs.

Final question of the day: What the hell is that giant “M” box? Was it the trailer that all the junior golfers were hauled in, like horses? Or is the great Milford magician (the elusive Mr. Bakst, who pulls off the greatest disappearing acts!) going to put on a show later?

Missing Links

I don’t know about anyone else, but I find Gil’s particular brand of smug dickishness to be particularly chafing today. After clearly throwing away his chances at playoff-downs by shipping his star player 400 miles away the day before the game, he proceeded to ignore tensions amongst his players after the game…preferring instead to run home to go make a pitcher of lemonade.

It used to be that a) Gil cared whether his team won or lost, b) Marty Moon would ride Gil’s ass for questionable decisions and c) the citizens of Milford expected their teams to not suck. But now that the highest level of apathy has set into the entire town, Gil can consider himself  “born lucky”, sport a shit-eating grin for his epic failure as a coach, and go down to the links for six weeks.

Fabulous. Just what I wanted, a damned golf story. Unless there’s some Tiger Woods-themed shenanigans, or Marty Moon gets hustled out of his life savings again, I’m afraid this is gonna bore our collective golf balls off. To quote Lanny Penn, who appears to have taken up permanent residence in this blog’s sidebar…

(And for those trying to find irony in my discussion of apathy, while at the same time not caring enough to update the “Random Amusing Panel o’ the Moment”…that’s not a fair comparison, because I never stopped caring. In fact, I never cared one bit in the first place.)