Brody and Gil save up to 90% of the day on Black (as Gil’s liver) Friday!

11/23/11

Milford’s off-panel losses pile up so quickly and nonchalantly, the season’s gotta be over soon, right? But not without li’l Brody thinking his kicking skills will save the day! (Exclamation shoulder pads!!)

“I’m ready to play, Coach.”
“Great, you mean basketball, right? I’m pretty sure we’ve lost enough football games. Also where the hell are you standing? Are you in front of me, or behind me?”
“I don’t know, I just want to wear my Exclamation shoulder pads!! some more.”

11/24/11

“Come again?”
“I don’t want you to get fired for gross incompetence, Coach.”
“Come again?”
“I’m the only one who can save you…Didn’t you know that in addition to my other social issues, I also have a God Complex?”
“Come again?”
“Quit saying that. My Asperger’s is about to make me respond to you extremely inappropriately.”

11/25/11

Hooray! Gil’s off to confront the jerk who says true things about his incompetent coaching, but who acts like such a jerk, nobody is supposed to like him. (So….what happens pretty much every season at this point.) You know you’re in trouble when Kaz is the one going along as the supposed sane witness.

And then we have the dramatic barge-in to the apparently never-ending Booster’s Club Meeting! (OMG! Lines of surprise from our heads!!)

“…And he’s wasting time with some half-wit!”
“Brody has Asperger Syndrome – and we’re changing his life.”
“Uh, Brody? No, we were talking about you and Kaz, ya half-wit! And changing his life? Now who has a God Complex?”
“Come again?”
“According to this post, both you and Brody.”
“Oh yeah, true. The only thing more swollen than my ego is my enormous liver.”

From all the exclamation shoulder pads!! here to all of you, Happy Thanksgiving weekend everyone!

Shaw’s Rank Redemption

11/21/11

As horrible, Deke-angering, buried-in-narration-box losses continue to pile up, headway is made in one area: The issuance of a snapper holder to the team’s current  non-kicker!

Stay tuned to see how many games Milford can lose in the time it takes Brody gets a physical!

11/22/11

…and while Gil tries to explain the apparent connection between Asperger’s Syndrome and the inability to put on football pads, Milford loses another 3 games by the combined score of 92-6.

Later, Coach Shaw shatters his record for number of lines spoken in one season. (He was excited when Gil told him that keeping a giant loser front and center all season would  make the kids feel less awful about their own current losing streak.) Though Shaw’s still not allowed to look Kaz directly in the eye or make comments about his Wonder Woman bracelets. Meanwhile, while Shaw was busy keeping his eyes shut, the Mudlarks just dropped another game.

Don’t Leave Abro Hangin’ or How To Lose Friends And Alienate People

11/17/11

All right, another loss smashed into one panel along with another injury and the appearance of a cool cart to remove wounded players from the field. (Apparently, the Milford schools aren’t suffering the same financial shortfalls as the schools in the Funky Winkerbeaniverse, where they’re pulling the plug on athletics.) At first, I thought that cart was some kind of John Deere boombox in the foreground.

Taken as a whole, it’s a Dork Dangler Dickishness sandwich.

11/18/11

Now Gil is going to mentor Dirk Dinkly in some good ol’ Dale Carnegie winning friends and influencing people clap trap? Kind of late for that, isn’t Gil? Nobody’s gonna buy it coming from coming from you anyway Gil. You wear your shallow self interest on your sleeve.

I don’t even want to know what Dink is doing back in his man cave, watching ESPN and chatting with Wildcat while sporting weird pants bulges.

11/19/11

And it’s another Sunday in the park with Brody and a couple of Milford leaf peepers. I don’t get it. I mean I get that Brody is supposedly developing an awareness of idiomatic expressions so that he doesn’t always take every word literally, but nothing prepares you for people who just babble incoherently.

What, he worry?

11/14/11

Panel 1 horrific-looking attempt at a hand-off could only be excused if the usually-concussed Chip Visci accidentally made eye contact with the creature sometimes known as Mike Hayes. “Sorry Coach, I lost it in the glare off his giant tooth gap.” Meanwhile at least one fan has decided to throw himself twelve feet over the edge of the bleachers to sweet, hopeful death, a viable alternative to sitting perfectly still and watching this game in utter horror with the rest of the Milford drones.

Panel 2, featuring the Luxury Moon Box, shows us that when you’re 600 feet above the action and drunk, that even the word’s most awful-looking handoff can appear “simple.”

Panel 3 is just chock full of bizarre sports “action.” What to like best? The Central’s receiver’s awkward dive into the corner of the end zone despite the nearest defender being seven yards away? The Milford player sliding sideways and falling over himself (or perhaps preparing to curl into a fetal position ad cry for his mommy)? Or the complete absence of any other players for several miles? Marty Moon just described this as a “simple” touchdown.

11/15/11

“Relax, kid, that wasn’t your fault…Augh, but for the love of God, put that helmet back on! Why the hell did I just insert Alfred E. Neuman as our quarterback? Ah, what, me worry? Now get back out there and be edgy and ineffective. And remind the wide receivers that it’s time to do their testicular cancer self-exams at the start of the fourth quarter.”

11/16/11

Hey look at that: Just part of a Milford football season has caused Deke Davey to go grey, (or blond or whatever) since he had dark hair as recently as a couple weeks ago, didn’t he? Someone  needs to either pour some booze in that giant horse mouth or punch the crap out of it. I know a qualified coach for either of those options.

Plan C From Milford

11/12/11

Trainer Rick Scott and Coach Shaw in the same strip?! This is unprecedented! (I think, but who has time to research such claims? Instead let’s go to Goshen to the Bottom Dollar saloon and see Derek Tolan and his Bad Shoulder Band. After we get loose, we’ll all do the latest country line dance, The Hamstring Pull.)

It’s a good thing Gil keeps the JV team suited up on the sidelines, just in case. Is this allowed under high school football rules? Again, couldn’t do the research because the length of Coach Shaw’s thumb distracted me, not to mention Loosen Up Mike, who was assembled from parts of David Letterman, Howdy Doody and Liza Minnelli.

Yet it’s all dancing shadows on the wall of Marty Moon’s crate, filtered through his pinhole pupils, his prolonged psychotic break playing out on the funny pages. Gathered here are we, forty-five to fifty strong, in our own crates, tickita-tapping (except for mr120ozcan, who I think has a google voice app in his beer can) our fevered variations. Beep. Advance filmstrip now.

Meanwhile, in the mannequin storage locker at J.C. Penney…

11/9/11

Booster Club president  WildHorse’s-Ass Maris passes along the latest intel to his collection of wax dummies. He’s been so busy gathering gossip, he only had time to change the shirt on one of them since the last meeting.

Someone seriously questioning Gil’s infallibility as a coach? If Wildcat wasn’t such an over-the-top douchebag, this would actually be a reasonable idea for a plot. Hey, remember when Marty Moon used to do that? Nah, neither do I. Oh and remember when their football team didn’t start 0-4? Yeah, as far as I recall, that’s never happened either.

11/10/11

Speaking of emasculated lapdogs, who left Marty’s crate unlocked? Now he’s out and about sleep-interviewing again. Hope he wanders back to his shanty soon, as I’d love to hear his take on how a concussed Chip Visci just outran a tire billboard to take it to the house!

11/11/11

…and with nothing discernibly interesting occurring, the plot hobbles back to the Milford bench. Time to call in the subs…Aspberger’s? Creepy narc Coach Deke? Angry Booster Club? Any of you still here? No? OK, then let’s cut to Marty enjoying his nonsensical IKEA Flöörp chair.

Also OK: The finest Plurbing shop in town.

11/5/11

First, I guess it’s pretty cutting edge to use the word ‘tard in a newspaper comic. Perhaps Rubin told his 85-year-old comics editor it was short for leotard.
Second, way to stand up for yourself, little buddy.
Third, oh great Derek’s on your side. Gosh, I sure hope Derek thinks you’re OK. His opinion really matters to me.

11/7/11

“I know this kid just stood up for himself, but that part doesn’t matter. His self-esteem and budding social skills are way less important than my opinion as a popular yet injured kid. And whatever I say is OK goes. So, Brody is OK, OK?”

Later:
“Do you think Brody is OK, jerk kid, (son of jerk dad)?”
“Sure. the cool kid said he’s OK, so, OK, he’s OK. But you know what’s not OK? You invading my personal space, weird blond sidekick kid. OK?”
“OK.”

11/8/11

Hey great, instead of a series of boring-as-hell comics, we’ve gotten a completely confusing-as-hell comic! So, who the hell is Junior Bobcat talking about in the first panel? And what the hell are Senior Bobcat and Deke the Snitch talking about? Dissension? Threats? Whatever that’s all about, it sounds a whole lot more interesting than anything we’ve been seeing. Maybe Deke wandered over to Mark Trail and is trying to spice things up by providing plot points from a punchier, less yawn-inducing comic.

The only mystery solved today is how Maris made his money: Plurbing. It’s all about the plurbing in this town.

Aint that a kick in the crotch?

11/3/11

Derek Tolan finds a convenient way to get the hell off the field,and Marty is shocked to learn that people can make a trip to the hospital for reasons other than getting one’s stomach pumped.

Meanwhile, Whigham doesn’t read the narration text either.

11/4/11

“So what’s the deal, Abro, you gonnna kick for us?”
“Your intricate crotchal pattern appears to be designed to match my backpack.”
“What the…?! I’m going to beat the shit out of you, Abro!”
“That’s not possible, as I’ve just voided my bowels in fear. You may feel free to beat the piss out of me though. There’s still a little of that left.”