What DeJong strange trip it’s been…

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.

How to destroy the new guy’s self esteem for personal gain

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.

The Nutboy Professor

1/24/09

Brenda’s secret plan? Give her brother an eating disorder! That’ll teach him to be such a jerk!

But what did the picture look like you ask? Here’s a sneak peek:

1/26/09

Up next: Bryce is tricked into playing basketball with the use of flubber!

One story to bore them all…

Brenda uses her Eye of Sauron jacket to hypnotize Dylan into a trip to the Bucket. From his suddenly Jon Favreau (the fat version) face, I think he’s hoping that said bucket is full of fried chicken. But luckily for his cholesterol, the Bucket is now only serving half-drawn food.

Meanwhile, Brenda’s brother sits at home, angrily fondling the remote. If only he knew what kind of conversations he was missing, I bet he’d be a lot happier.

Because I got high?

Some of you may have wondered what the deuce I was talking about yesterday when I said “Meanwhile, Jimmy’s dad has a theory that actually makes sense: The Detroit Tigers were Method Man high when they drafted a no-talent pinkie-flapping retard like Jimmy.” If you were wise, you just ignored it.

Today I realized my error: my brain dyslexified the  word “46TH” into the word “HIGH.” So I thought Jimmy’s dad was referring to “the high round.” (c’mon…you can see how that happened, can’t you? No? Well then you try making sense of this comic every day, and see what it does to your brain. )

Speaking of stupid…Jimmy’s dad is sure stupid to think he can make his son not be stupid. Sure, some late rounders became stars in the majors, but Jimmy Hughes is no Mike Piazza. (Though he might be as brilliant as Jose Canseco.)

Meanwhile in Kalamazoo, El-Mullet is feeling rather uncomfortable, as he’s been forced to ride in Mrs. Benson’s one-seater with her AND her chins.

Kalamazoo-palooza!

7/19/08

Upon closer examination…

• There seems to be a small thermonuclear explosion happening in the Vargas front yard.
• Gil is being held hostage by Mrs. Vargas.
• Judging by the scars it leaves, Midget Mexican baseball is more dangerous than I originally suspected.
• Bugs McCoy has a portable toilet on his raft to nowhere, and enjoys using it while on the phone.
• Toxic fumes from Bug’s current activity are quickly destroying local trees.

Kalamazoo? Really? I just pulled the Kalamazoo River reference out o’ my ass (first mentioned on July 2nd). If I didn’t figure the lead time on producing this comic was waaay more than three weeks, I’d wonder what the deuce was going on here. So I’ll just chalk it up to Neal and I agreeing that “Kalamazoo” is an inherently funny word and should be used as often as possible. Now let’s just see if he’ll take it to the next level, and have the Kalamazoo Kings play their also-hilariously named Michigan rivals, the Traverse City Beach Bums.

7/21/08

“Yes, Elmer, the Kalamazoo Kings are a real team. In fact I already updated their Wikipedia page to reflect the fact that we just mentioned them. But it doesn’t matter, because they’re good. And you’re not. Bugs just called me because he wanted to say the word ‘Kalamazoo’ in a sentence. And have me contact you to remind you that you suck and got deported. And to rub it in that he got that schmuck Jimmy Hughes drafted rather than you. Hey, while you’re on the line, I also should tell you that here in America, we have the technology to use our toasters as telephones. So enjoy your squalid village where the internet access is still just a 56k dial-up connection! Oops, gotta go. Your mom just spilled coffee all over my pants and is insisting I take them off!”

A Very Rough Draft

Extended Dialogue from today’s comic:

Jimmy’s Dad: The Detroit Tigers? Sorry son, you know we’re a Cleveland Indians family. I can’t allow that to happen. But the army might be a good place for you anyway. I hear they’re pretty desperate these days, they might even take you. Let me drive ya down to the recruiting office now and we can forget this whole Tigers nonsense ever happened.

Jimmy: But Daaaad…

Jimmy’s Dad: Hey, look at this shiny wrench. Look, Jimmy…shiny! I’ll let you hold it if you join the army.

Jimmy: Neat-o! Let’s go!

Meanwhile on a raft floating down the Kalamazoo River…

Bugs: Hey Gil!…Yeah, well not so good. I’m kinda trapped out here. Say, can you send that Mexican kid Vargas over here? I figure he’d be pretty good at navigating across raging rivers…What? No I am not racist!…Wait, he’s where?…Damn it…Well give me his number anyway. I think I’ll be in the Gulf of Mexico by Sunday anyway. And I’ll be out of beer by then for sure. As long as he doesn’t bring me any of that Corona crap!… Hello?… Gil?

Fisticuffs afoot!

You got to hand it to those Valley Tech guys…They do enough research into their sucky victims to know exactly what they look like when encountering them on the side of a dark road. Unfortunately, however, The-Guy-Who-Used-To-Look-Like-Rob-Riggle is on a downward jacket fashion slope. He started off with that awesome bread-loaf number, then ditched that for the somewhat less awesome but still kinda cool weasel fur trimmed coat. Now he’s down to your basic thrift store special. Pimp-tastic Marty Moon would not be impressed. But at least Valley Tech punks have more style than to wear their letter jackets everywhere. That’s sooo Milford.

Enough fashion talk…there’s gonna be a throw-down! I kinda wondered if Bill’s “training” to be a “boxer” thanks to “Gil” would come into play here. Looks like it will! Glad to know that ol’ punching-bag Bill will throw himself in front of his monster friend who could easily crush all three opponents. But I guess that’s what true love is all about. That and calling some mean guy who doesn’t appear to be overweight “fat boy.” You go, Bill!

So will this resolve itself without any fisticuffs*? While I pray there’s some punch-tastic action coming, I suspect there’s a much greater likelihood of Franken-Cully just telling everyone to “ease up.” At the very least I hope that pizza vomit kid throws up on someone.

*I just want to point out that “fisticuffs” is an excellent word.