Quickly becoming one of This Week in Milford‘s least favorite annual traditions, it’s that day in early July that Gil makes hilarious jokes about just how damned tough it is to spend his summer teaching nimrod rich kids to play golf. Yeah, we get it. You’re a lucky bastard.
This year the Thorps up the ante a bit by friskily talking about their kinky S&M sex life that nobody wants to hear about. Stay tuned July 8th, 2013, when they try to top this year with a day of full-on bangin’ action that nobody wants to see! (Admit it, even if you were morbidly curious, the depiction of ThorpSex™ by Whigham would make your head do this.)
Last year’s golf plot was so forgettable, I had to look up what it was about. (Answer: FOOZLE and DRUNK MOM).
This year we can look forward to Fat Timmy, the kid with a starter mullet who talks to his front door and calls it “Steve.” I can’t wait! Can you, Lanny Penn?
…and with that, the Parker Brothers (built off Whigham’s same generic brunette guy template, oops…) force me to retire the ever-clever name of “Alpo.” Instead that odd guy with the folk singer names should now be known as “Kra-beez” (because hey, it’s funnier than “Kra-Baez”). If only Kra-Beez’ mom knew she had given birth to a boy, she’d have given him the much more appropriate name, like Justin Tim-Bieber-lake.
Batting practice! A school board meeting at the crazy M.C. Escher table! Possible budget cuts! The melting, pupil-less head of Fat Albert! How dare I give this post a “Boredom in Milford” tag. Ease up, blogger!
Hooray, a new plot! After reviewing the third panel, it’s clear it will involve a boy, his girl, her cleavage and the world’s biggest cup of coffee (a double C and double Ds?)…plus for comic relief: web-surfin’ Paul Prudhomme!
Oh wait, it’s gonna be about high-guitar-holdin’ Velma? Jinkies, nobody centers the plot around Velma!
“Al-Jo” Ames? Is she from the planet Krypton? Maybe she’d have better luck having people watch her act if she wasn’t performing during “Open Mire Nite” at the Coffee Craphole. Plus I imagine cleavage girl giving out free samples in the second row is getting most of the attention anyway.
Meanwhile, in a nearby basement… Someone is planning another Nutboy heist! After all, that professional criminal must be back on the street by now, right? Check that!
No seriously: Check that. Go on…start checking already. I’ll wait. I have nowhere to go.
Finally, something useful is revealed: The Key Club Cocoa Sale is ON! Which is about the only thing in this comic that makes any sense to me.
Wait a minute. He’s LINI Verde. Lini is Swahili for “when” as in “When will this plot make any damned sense?”
It’s the insanity of Green-sanity, where even the fat kid with his brain hanging out of his skull is convinced that this cause makes a shred of sense. The only person who didn’t get the word: Marty Moon, fresh out of the hospital after his neck-ectomy. Lucky guy. I think I’d rather have my neck removed than try to explain this story to anyone.
At last we have the answer to the question that nobody asked: What do you get when you fuse the DNA of Sacko and Hatt with an industrial drum of lard from the Milford cafeteria? The guy from panel one!
Meanwhile, sluttie Torrie wants YOU next (because after all, she may have let Gil have her sloppy seconds fifths, but she’d much rather go at it next with a Gil Thorp blog reader than the Gil Thorp blob eater behind her…)
“Oh wow…he’s got no shot with me now. Guess I better see what Daddy thinks when I sleep with Kemper instead.”
What a follow-up for Chris! That bank shot looks like it’s gonna go all of about three feet to his right. (Or about as far as this plot has taken us thus far into the summer…)
Again with the “ease up”, eh? I guess if it comes from a drummer who’s missing several fingers we should pay attention. Or maybe we could ignore him like Tuck does (who from what I can tell does not relieve irritation, no matter how far up our ass he gets…)
Hey Tuck, welcome to the 21st century! I’m pretty sure you can find a way to film, promote and distribute a music video without $100,000. Even as a 57-year-old man, you’ve never heard of hand-held video cameras and YouTube? What, did you just wander out of Pluggers?
Oh and to the rest of you….a video will be your band’s salvation? What is this, 1985? Unless this is your keyboard player, nobody’s gonna watch your damned video. “Bass-playing anal suppository!”: 6 views, 1 star.
Oh and one more thing: “bling, bling!”?!? I have a good idea for ur problem 2!: Buy updated ringtone.
I’m bored. Maybe I’ll go watch the only music video I can even recall from the past five years.
Well then…it seems we weren’t supposed to recognize the, um, whatever type of criminal this kid is supposed to be.
It turns out it’s Marty DeJong! You know, Marty DeJong? The guy recently retired as a popular Kalamazoo softball coach (word on the street is Elmer Vargas muscled his way into the job with his excellent bi-lingual marketing skills…)
No wait, that was the real Marty. The Milford Marty DeJong was in high school earlier this decade (thanks commenter billytheskink for the reminder of exactly when…), where he was a super-studly star pitcher who wanted to win State as a senior. He was good enough that creepy-looking pro scouts (are there any other kind?) took notice, and with Gil’s guidance, decided to skip college and go pro. Which was all well and good, except Brent Raptor, a fat freshman at the time, cost the team the State championship with a fielding error followed by the inability to get his lard ass to first on what should have been a deep single that would have won the game. Good times.
Back from reading all that back story? Good. You can tell that was a long time ago because A) Milford had a good team, B) Gil cared about coaching and C) Brent Raptor was only 350 pounds. So what’s Marty’s beef? That he went pro and failed miserably, thereby missing out on all the opportunities a degree from Shain Tech had to offer? That Gil’s starting a shortstop the size of Neptune cost him a title? That his first name steered him toward a life of Gil-Hatred, like all Martys? In any case, I’ll hold out hope that Kaz will eventually be punching the crap out of poor little Uncle Rico, who probably now lives in a van down by the river.
UPDATE: I also dug up Billy’s other DeJong reference, the time Gil golfed with Marty’s chain-smokin’ dad. Enjoy.
The plan to get Bryce to play on the basketball team in a nutshell: Have everyone at school tell him “You’re fat and you suck.” Nice.
Bryce’s current plan of counter-attack: Grow a curly moustache so everyone realizes he’s evil, and just might tie some poor girl to the train tracks.
Once he finds out the team has a 46-year-old balding guy and a dude with a detached right hand, the thrill Bryce doesn’t really have for playing for them might start to wear off. Hell, if we’re lucky, he’ll decide to tie them all to the train tracks, then go rob the local Swifti-Mart.