The Rube has better things to do.

Somewhere in Detroit:

Neal: Sorry. Had to go write today’s Gil Thorp.
Chief: Not that you actually need to do anything.You could just recap the same awful story. Then I’ll draw prisoners in tight pants for some disturbing reason. I mean really, who cares about this comic?
Neal: A comic? The Rube has better things to do.
(An awkward high five is exchanged.)

It’s also lunchtime at a certain minimum security blog, where one particular blogger is into the third year of his life sentence:

Jason: I sure hope everyone notices my Izod shirt and extra tight pants! Otherwhise I’ll have a beef with them. Or wait…will they beef me? In any case, I’ll beef sure to beef the beef beefingly beefore beef-o-clock. BEEEEEEF!

Today, Big Z burger. Tomorrow, hepatitis.

Woohoo, I made it back to post again in less than a week. Good thing I didn’t miss anything interesting, well, except one panel of freakish screaming Kaz.

To recap:

10/27/09

The locker room does seem remarkably loose for the fact that Duncan is about to crush a shirtless 18-inch-tall teammate. I guess he needs to be relaxed in order to successfully mount and rape his opponents on the field.

10/28/09

Now we know why Marty keeps showing up for football games: Free wi-fi connection for fast porn downloading! Certainly it’s not to pay any attention to Charles Bloom, recent inductee into “Milford’s most boring quarterbacks of the twenty-first century” club.

10/29/09

Marty’s portable shanty was the perfect spot to witness a fan get stabbed in the side of the head. Unfortunately, he was too busy watching porn to notice.

10/30/09

…and here we have the only interesting comic of the last six days or so. Let’s just look at Kaz and bask in all his freak hand glory. Then wonder why the field exploded as a result. Then feel sad that Jamarr appears to have survived the blast. Then take a well-deserved nap.

10/31/09

“Happy Halloween! I dressed up as a midget asshole!”
“You look the same as always.”
“Ah, touche.”

11/2/09

We interrupt this awful story of the lying midget asshole to let you know that today at The Bucket you can purchase a Big Z burger for only $3.99! Made from 100% Nutboys*, it’s guaranteed to not make you vomit for the first five bites, or your money back**.  Hey, that skinny band geek Deion likes ‘em! (At least he did, before his unscheduled one way trip to the morgue.)

Now back to the dialogue…wait that chick walked off already. Nevermind, there wasn’t really a story today anyway.

*Well that, plus a bunch of sawdust. Oh and rat droppings.
**Not a guarantee.

Catawba Prison Blues

10/23/09

Yeah, Gil.You should have told him to start drinking and getting into fights. Mimi’s idea is much better than whatever your bad advice was.

10/24/09

Discussion of bowling, boy scouts, square dancing and croquet by hideous scar-faced teens is about to be interrupted by A PRISON FIGHT. Woo-hoo!

10/26/09

Minor beef? Lame. Or is that just what’s for dinner? Looks like whatever they’re serving is getting washed down with yummy Sticks o’ Lard*.

Meanwhile, something that is apparently hilarious at practice, though the only funny thing I can make out is that Gil is in attendance. And that’s not ha-ha funny. At least now we know massive psychological problems can be easily swept under the rug by having your friends take you for some occasional croquet. Rockin’.

*Now 93% Nutboy free!

Game occurs. All three fans can’t bear to watch.

10/16/09

Valerie reacts to this game the same way we all are. Though in fairness to Jam-Jar, the only other person he could have dedicated the touchdown to was the weird in a suit with a bucket on his head.

10/17/09

Poor Murph “Wolfman” Wolman. He had to play the whole game behind a guy who snaps the ball out of the back of his skull. Who know back-ass-wards Pez dispensers could play center?

But wait…the game will go on into next week. Cry quietly to yourselves.

10/19/09

Hooray for the Wolfman! Despite his Mr. Potato Head arms, he holds onto the ball for the score and wins the game! Thanks a lot, Dumkin. Trees of Milford beware the post-game rampage.

The Wolfman Cometh

10/13/09

As Bart Simpson once said, “George Burns was right. Show business is a hideous bitch goddess.” And by that I clearly mean “Keeping this damned blog up to date is hard. Especially when I care more about what ever happened to Mr. Bakst than anything that’s happened in the last two months time.”

Speaking of not that, it appears Wee Jam-Jar Jamkins is only about 12 inches tall and about to have his leg torn off by his giant stalkee! Look out Wee Jam-Jar!

10/14/09

“Wait, you mean to tell me he’s not drinking heavily AND not punching strangers in the face? I’m glad you saw me about this, kid. I’ll take care of the first problem, and my fine associate Kaz will take on the second.”

Later:
Kaz and Gil get bored at practice, because well, they’re actually at practice for some reason. So they decide to make stroke faces at each other until PUB opens.

10/15/09

Wait. You’re shittin’ me. The quarterback of the Jefferson Jeffs is named Murph Wolfman? MURPH WOLFMAN?? Why do recent storylines revolve around tools named Shep and Elmer and sometimes even Casper, and the quarterback who we’ll never hear about again after this game (so the next two days, two weeks, who knows?) has the most awesome name this side of Chest Rockwell?

I demand a spin-off comic involving wacky opposites Murph Wolfman and Mr. Bakst, as they track professional criminals through the mean streets of Charleston. And who knows? Maybe our old friend Kaz will stop by with a case of Nutboys! Perhaps then I’ get back to updating this hideous bitch goddess of a blog every day.

[Update after a few hours sleep: Yep. Apparently I read Wolman as "Wolfman". Wolman is really not as funny. So let's all agree that they said "wolfman", OK?]

Slammin’ one out in my office

10/10/09

Oh, good. Everything’s fine. Glad that’s resolved. Except is Robb seven feet tall, or merely driving a midget car? If you don’t care, say “SLAM!” (Or are you just angry that someone stole your front porch?)

10/12/09

Jam-Jam Giddy would like to remind you that when you’re not busy wondering what’s wrong with that sociopath Duncan, that you can be amused extremely irritated by his wacky antics borderline sexual harassment of a chick with a moustache.

Meanwhile…

“Got a minute coach?”
“Can’t you see I’m in the crapper?”
“Isn’t this your office?”
“Same thing now. Budget cuts.”

Lighten up, Jamarr

9/18/09

Everybody’s favorite “party favor”, Jamarr Gaddis, is still annoying teammates with his nickname requests. Is this really a plot thread for this season? It’s not like I need another excuse to start drinking at 6:30 in the morning, but this slop makes last season’s identity switcheroo look like The Godfather.

Milford apparently is pass happy this year, what with all the targets QB Charles “Dead Lift” Bloom has to choose from. He’s got Jamarr “Shut the Hell Up” Gaddis, Deonte “Don’t Call Be Conrad” Baines, Paul “Remember Me?” Diehl, and TE Dylan “I Paid For Those Nutboys!” Bauza. Perhaps Neal feels like cooking up a successful season for a change. Hold on to your hats, folks (and give yourselves some catchy nicknames, why dontcha).

Ned “Beer Belly” Ryerson

More Bored-er With Less Border

So I actually like Whigham’s experimental borderless first panel. That leaves Midget Gaddis free to roam the comic pages, to hit on Cathy or get unsolicited advice from Mary Worth (who will no doubt also throw him over her shoulder and give him that spanking he sorely deserves.) But he best watch out to not get mistaken for an extra in Family Circus and beome trapped in that circular ring of Hell forever. On the other hand, that would be a fitting punishment for 4′6″ Jamarrrrr, seeing as how he’s already severely agitated us in just a few days of appearances.