Now this is more like it! Marty Moon gets wind of the dopey squabble among the Mudlarks and races back to the station (HA! HA! HA!) to dish the dirt for all the Milford shut-ins who turn to the radio for their infotainment! Classic! Boy that Marty can sure turn a phrase. A rocky place? Like Edwina McDunnough’s insides in Raising Arizona.
Meanwhile, Gil makes himself a snack. Hmmm, going with a Mary Worth grip on that spatula?
Now I don’t know about the rest of you, but if Marty Moon had a radio show, I’d be tuning in, recording it, digitizing it and archiving it for posterity because I’m sure his paranoid ranting probably would make Art Bell sound like All Things Considered. But why would Gil bother? He’s generally dismissive of Marty and everything he has to say. Maybe Gil hasn’t figured out how to work his fancy Bose Wave radio and it’s been stuck on WDIG forever. Or perhaps Marty broke in to the regular Saturday afternoon Polka Show to deliver his late breaking news story.
What I can do is….
banish you to the cornfield with my ‘kids’?
drink until this problem goes away?
think of something to say that’s neither sensible nor realistic?
Run you like the Kenyan Olympic team? Clumsy, stilted and probably insincere. The Thorp coaching method in a nutshell.
Really, idiot? You want to drag the consititution into this? Clearly, Knox Foley really needs a dose of Professor Kingsfield:
Hart Douche, here is a dime. Take it, call your mother, and tell her there is serious doubt about you ever becoming a lawyer.”
Well, if Thorpean justice doesn’t do the trick, hand it over to the Council of Sadistic Morons.
Ease up and cut yourself a break, Jimmy JoJo. Now scowl for the camera and we’ll smash cut to the process server.
You got served!? There’s going to be a moustache battle? Oh wait, it’s that lawsuit thing!
When looking for a lawyer to represent your business in a premises liability lawsuit, it’s a bad sign when you have a meeting in law offices with huge puddles of liquid all over the place.
You know what they say, it’s not a high stakes legal battle until a moustache showdown breaks out. Ladies and gentlemen, Panel 3, an agressive Chaldean natural on Joe Joe Jarbo and the classic Gil Thorp dirty sanchez on Gina Nefertiti, counsel for the respondent.
Ha Ha, it’s hilarious because Jimmy Jojo Shabadoo Jarbo thought Knoxious Fartknocker Foley LLC was showing some signs of being not as douchey as all other observations up to this point seemed to have indicated, except NOT!
It’s also hilarious because it’s just more legal mumbo jumbo that seems completely misguided and begs the question of whether the Foley Law Group has any idea what it’s doing.
Yeah, Knocker, my address is 1000 Cramitupyerpooper Lane.
No Darbo, he wants to go out with you because he thinks you’re cute. Are you expecting more from boys your age? Perhaps you should date older, more worldly guys. Oh yeah, that didn’t really go the way you planned it. Well, get used to it. This same band of knuckleheads seems to have you in their cross hairs and it takes more than a stinging retort (and the patented Milford pointy finger of doom) to dissuade them.
Dinky and the Knob, ladies and gentleman, with the sad, bit player, schadenfreude high five.
Well, Foley, how do you feel about animal husbandry?
What’s this? Fartknocker Foley raising his hand to smash Dinky in his stupid face? No, it’s a Gil Thorp gesturing hand (now with nonsensical pseudo-legal babble). Yeah, tell ‘em Knocker! Objection! Out of order! I hear chicks really dig that shit!
Hey gang, did you hear the news? Fartknocker Foley is a slick fielding, shit talking, case trying, tail chasing, stuff strutting pork sword. The question is, is he ready to go the animal husbandry route to try and win over the warmed-over teen mom? Dinky and Stuff have been there, done that.
When Foley goes to the barber does he just say give me the Bobby Bittman?:
Oh, so Fartknocker is going to try and wow her with his ascendancy to prominence in the inner workings of the Foley Law Group LLP. This slip and fall thing is just a set up to give Foley a false sense of bravado about his role in his father’s professional law practice which, he calculates, will springboard him into the sliding shorts of Darby Kiser.
Ouch, feel the burn! Darby Kiser’s backside just issued a stinging retort! This has apparently become a fetish for Big Bob Stuff and his sidekick Dinky. For the record, Bobby is wearing a vest made of hoagie rolls and Knox Foley’s hair is courtesy of the Heatmiser.
When Darby Kiser squelches you, you stay squelched! Hey, did you hear that Darby Kiser squelched Know Foley? Yeah, right on the first base line!
Here’s hoping that the word squelch enjoys its new found prominence. Perhaps it will appear as a sound effect in this summer’s golf plot.
Wait, shouldn’t there at least be a BONK? Maybe a HRONK? Perhaps a new sound effect for the arsenal of tried and true gags around here? Come on, throw us a bone!
Hey Trainer Ric Scott, you should check Mia for signs of a concussion. Do you see tiny peacocks flying around her head? Hey, look for her eyeball while you’re crouching down there. It may have ejected on impact!