The Color of Flub

As crack* field reporter Ned Ryerson recently reported, the Seattle Post Intelligencer (official motto: “We’re intelligencer than you!”) has a color monkey decorating our glorious episodes of the Thorpster. Today, I’m running those fine color versions…the down side is that these are smaller size than the ol’ black and white ones. Be sure to vote at the bottom of today’s post to let me know which fancy-pants version you prefer!

8/6/12

“Hope it’s okay that Steve is using the driving range.”
“For a wounded vet, no problem. If he was an unwounded vet, or just some armless dude, I’d tell him to go to hell.”
SHANK!
“And since he’s not hitting any balls on the course anyway, what do I care? As long as there’s no foozling going on out there.”

8/7/12

Do you think Molly’s sexy advance of removing her (cardboard?) underwear in panel one makes up in any way for her insensitive second panel question? Everyone who knows Steve is aware that he lost the arm in that wacky but tragic lima bean cafeteria food fight at Fort Benning.

8/8/12

To blur the lines of reality, Gil steps away from Milford to bring in real-life Michigan golf pro John Jawor. He’s an expert at bringing out the best golf sound effects in his students. Steve will progress from FLUB! and SHANK! all the way to MIGHTY-ONE-ARMED-BALL-SMACK! in just a few short lessons.

*On crack.

You Can Be Replaced By Golf Carts.

7/13/12

Cameo Alert: It’s Lou Loomis,  the Caddy master from Caddyshack.

Molly’s more than happy to caddy for Dr. Scavuzzo (who golfs with pigs). She’s going to fleece him for everything he’s got. She’s also putting one over on Noah Boone. Mr. Padgett tips with pocket change and Certs (also from his pocket).

Meanwhile, back at the Boone house, it’s week two of What the Hell is Wrong With Steve? We don’t know, but we do know that he’s heard of Molly Kinsella, most likely thanks to the cardboard bikini picture.

7/14/12

Oh yeah, her name was in the sports section. So memorable. Who could forget? Bub-bye now Steve.

“Mom, what do we do about Steve?”
“I don’t know, Kenny. I’m out of ideas.”
“Why did you call me Kenny? My name is Noah.”
“Oh right. Kenny was the loser kid in last summer’s story, with the lush for a mom, which isn’t me. I’m the mom with a hobo son hiding out in the bedroom and another son getting fleeced down at the country club.”
“What are you talking about, mom? What do you mean summer story?”
“Oh, sorry Norbert. Mrs. Lark came by earlier and we had a few hard lemonades and I’m a little mixed up. Plus I found your brother in here earlier drinking all of my fabric softener.”
“You look a little tired Mom. Why don’t you take it easy for a bit?”
“I can’t take it easy! Between washing your brother’s gamey sheets everyday and trying to keep up with all the ‘dirty socks’ I find under your bed, I’m working my freaky fingers to the bone.”
“Okay, Mom. Maybe I’ll ask Coach Thorp to see if he can figure out What the Hell is Wrong With Steve?“
“Well, okay Niles, but I think he’s scheduled to stop by sometime around the middle of August to look into that.”
“Mom? Have you been taking your medicine?”
“Run along Nelson. Mommy’s busy. Have fun with your FOOZLE.”

Welcome Back, Parker. Now Beat It.

4/19/12

For those of you just joining us, lets interrupt the jackasses inhabiting this spring storyline and return to the jackass from the winter storyline. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Parker Bowen, locker room exhibitionist and inked up furburger. But now he’s marginalized to the degree that random gents are giving him crap about his poor decisions.

4/20/12

Okay, three panels of Parker Bowen reminding us how the Uberdick of Milford, Gil Thorp, ran a shady tattoo parlor out of business (which shouldn’t have required any intervention at all, what with the idiotic business model which sounded like something my state legislature would dream up). Yes, it’s 4/20 and some of us struggling with our memories right now, but give us a break, if not from underestimating the imprint of the shitty prior plot (we all bear black marks on our souls, okay??), but from showing us Parker Bowen in a freaking towel. Now hang on, I think I left something on the stove.

I’m back, I did indeed leave something on the stove. It was a beanbag chair. Now where were we?

As does Sasha Mercer? Oh, reminders. What reminders will she have? Did that Valley Tech infielder give her a pat on the rump? Is it the awakening of the blossom that is her tragic softball sexuality? Oh man, I don’t want to go there. Let’s go to The Bucket instead. Oh no, that’s not sweetening the pot.

Check out who’s in the girls clan, it’s Dawn Wiener Dog from Welcome to the Dollhouse. Okay, maybe a stretch. Hey, here comes Darby!

4/21/12

Darby makes her first trip to The Bucket? Are you kidding me? If she gave birth to that beast, this ain’t her first trip to the Bucket. Let’s listen in on some Bucket girl talk:

Chad Geiss?? Ewwwwww! I heard some old, fake negro leaguer exposed himself to him and now he goes around asking everybody to “lock in on the hole and swing”. EWWWWWWW! Did you hear about Parker Bowen, the one that got all the tattoos? I heard he’s already planning on moving in with that tattoo guy. He’s got a  studio apartment in Sewickley. Sewickley? EWWWWWWWW!

Yeah, that was fun, but what’s really fun is this last panel. Whatever are you hinting at, Amanda? Oh, I don’t care. I want a shake. I want a delicious, creamy shake, and that requires a trip to the Bucket, but you won’t force me to the Bucket, you foul temptress! 4/20 is over for me and I want this all to be a dream that I will wake up from tomorrow.

Have a great weekend, everybody.

Pokin’ Some Holes in Sucko and the Capp

4/9/12

Sorry, I kinda spaced out last week…First I thought I’d traveled back in time to 2008 with a visit from Sacko and the Hatt! Then when I realized it was merely the cheap 2012 knockoff of Sucko and the Capp, I got super-confused why Darby’s giant man-baby had put on an ill-fitting suit and started hitting on her. And then…I realized, that can’t be her giant man-baby, because Jaxxx-on is at least 3 inches taller than this schmoe.

4/10/12

“Men aren’t my favorite people right now. Well, except for my 17-year-old freaky midget child.”
“Speaking of poking holes in things, let’s go put some speed holes in my SUV.”
“Speed holes?”
“Yeah sorry, I got nothin’ else to talk about today.”

Short And Sweet Holiday Roundup

12/21/11

Sweet tattoo. That will be perfect when your pumping gas at a Marathon gas station!

12/22/11

Sweet warmup gear. Is that from the Charlie Brown collection? Sweet Jesus! Is that a magic marker or are you glad to see me?

12/23/11

Sweet Merciful Crap! Is Kaz giving an in-game shocker?

12/24/11

Sweet Spirits of Camphor, what’s more jarring? Referee Kenny Rogers or the further erosion of the annual Christmas greeting into a tossed off aside! (Did Kenny just bash Gil across the back of the head with a folding chair?)

12/26/11

Yeah yeah, I heard the first time Coach, did someone hit you over the head with a chair?

So let me get this straight. The opponent is the Putnam Vo-Tech Beavers? (Featuring Travis Bickle) Sweet Georgia Brown, this is painful.

The Feel Like I Got WAPPED! By Rudy Na Blues

6/29/11

My foremost concern about this denouement is not the completely inane tyranny of Hobart, but the hair on the guy KRAK!ing the gavel. He’s the same half glasses on the head guy who we’ve been referring to as Jean Luc Picard, captain of the USS School Board, right? Is there another half glasses on the head guy, you know, with hair? There’s Hobart, Fat Albert, Sonya and Jean Luc Picard (and maybe some other people whose fat asses fill chairs and serve on subcommittees to determine the proper height for school flag poles). Glad to get that off my chest.

Now, as to Hobart, I think he’s about to be banished t0 the forbidden zone for having a restraining order against him or he has to jump off a ledge or something codified in the horrific practices of the Milford School Board. Maybe Sonya will grant him lenience and let him off with a purple nurple. Whatever his punishment is, Fat Albert back there is gonna damn sure enjoy it!

6/30/11

See look, no hair! Make up your damned mind! Oh, sorry…

So thanks a lot Gil. Your bluster and a chance visit to ‘S HARDW to get the skinny from the guy you buy all your pipe screens from turned this whole movement upside down. Three cheers and a tiger for you, buddy. Just look at that smug narration box in Panel 3. Yeah, that worked out  great, you outed an asshat in local politics. And you snuck in Charlie Sheen to pitch against Valley Tech. WINNING!

I didn’t forget you Al-Jo B. Toklas. I’m digging your funky ventriloquism act there. Did you make a wood replica of your mother or did you just hollow out your actual mother?

7/1/11

Poor Jeff, afraid of BOOing from steamed Al-Jo and drilled by Rudy Na. Rudy Na? Okay, Marty Moon is officially joining the ranks of newscasters spontaneously speaking gibberish.  Of course, those people have all had strokes or migraines or something and Marty is just trapped in that crate using his improvised filtration contraption so he can drink his own urine. Who knows, maybe this whole storyline is a figment of his fever dream imagination.

7/2/11

What are you two talking about? You’re making some stupid For Better or Worse pun joke? Just stop it for a second and explain how the rally helped the the teachers. It caused Asshat Hobart to say some asshat jibba jabba about a NEAR RIOT! which Gil masterfully refuted between swigs out of his flask of Canadian Club? Oh, well that’s the least of their problems. Al-Jo is about to suck Jeff’s innards out and add him to her act. Say hello to the nice people, Jeff!

So on this the eve of Independence Day here in the states, I urge all you ‘Murcan Mudlarks to head down to Home Depot and see if you can dig up any dirt on a member of your municipal planning commissions. I hear the guy in the paint department has some serious dish on that head case (his kids got sent home from school with lice!). Then you just drink a couple appletinis and blurt it out at the next public meeting and you’ll get that busted up sidewalk in front of your house fixed in no time. This is after all the way they by God get things done here in Milford.

Real Geniuses of Milford

6/8/11

Jeff must be pretty desperate for tail if he’s trying to talk his friend into attending some lame rally during the important work of Real Genius reenactment class. Hey real geniuses, the laser is supposed to go horizontal, not vertical:

(Alpo-Jo isn’t allowed in that class by the way, they don’t have a set of goggles large enough to cover those giant eyeballs.)

6/9/11

Good luck convincing the masses of Milford morons to do anything, Kibbles…these kids don’t even realize theirs is the only school around that drags into mid-July every year. At least you should already know the best way to take care of that Bieber idiot in the second panel.

Later, on the ballfield…Jeff calls time on the creepy peder-ass ump troll and his wandering hands.  I don’t think we need to see any more of that, thanks.

Gil is just excited because he gets all the leftover beer…

5/16/11

This potential conflict would be awesome if something were to come out of it…but unless those Wonder Woman bracelets that Horseface McSkoal-Bandit is sporting can repel Kaz Fists o’ Justice (TM)*, it doesn’t appear there’s gonna be any sort of rumble. Besides, Meth-head McRedneck is missing enough teeth and brain cells that a royal ass-whupping by Kaz wouldn’t even make a difference, really.

*Note: Nothing can repel Kaz Fist o’ Justice (TM).

5/17/11

And now,  because you can’t stick with one plot for more than a few minutes, how about…a police raid at the speakeasy! (Starring everyone’s favorite new character, Officer Gus “Unnecessary” Exposition!)

Gus: Hello, I’m now going to announce who you are, Coach Thorp from Milford, in case you forgot.
Gil: Wait…who am I?
Gus: Did you know I played three sports here, inside the Bottom Dollar?
Gil: Do beer pong and flip cup count as sports? If so, I’ve played two sports tonight myself. Oh and don’t arrest the lead singer, he’s my drinking buddy.
Gus: No problem, Coach Thorp from Milford. We’re just here to haul away the ugly meth-head rednecks.
Ugly Meth-Head Redneck: Join the century, will ya, pig! <is tased to death. Audience applauds uproariously.>