Reason for hospitalization….falling on a hot dog?

11/6/09

As comic voyeurs we should normally get any angle on a prison fight that would provide the most exciting view. But apparently today we got here late and some other dude is standing in our way. C’mon, move it #3128! I wanna see them whipping out their beef at chow time, and thwacking each other ’til somebody collapses on the floor. Hmmm, on second thought, whatever “drilling” is going on might be best blocked from view. (Aughh my eyes! The goggles, they do nothing!)

11/7/09

As is customary in the North Carolina penal system, rather than contacting any relatives directly, immediately after a prison fight the warden calls the high school coach of any family members, to let them know which hospital to visit. And then the loser assistant coach has to be their chauffeur. Just following standard procedure here, folks.

11/9/09

Since nothing new is happening here, why not look at some hospital comics from three years ago, when Bill Ritter chopped his own leg off? Remember when stuff happened? And the artwork was more insanely fascinating? Ah, the good ol’ days…

Gonna Need a Montage

Yesterday, alert reader Mike Barfet pointed out that Jam-Jar Lameass’s 98 yard punt return was really not a record. While this would first seem like a real error, we can chalk this up to Marty being a sloppy, careless, porn-addicted drunk who lives in his wooden broadcast booth shanty, at least during football season.

However, there are a couple other things bothering me about the current plot that DO seem like mistakes…or at least don’t make a lick o’ sense. First: Is Duncan now “cured” based on his idiot blond friends telling him they’d help him “be a Boy Scout”, going square dancing and to high-roller croquet tournaments and the like? [Pointless sidebar:] I joined the Scouts in order to start possibly dangerous fires in the woods and terrorize small wildlife, but I don’t think trees exist in Milford except for small children to be trapped in, so the whole nature aspect of the Boy Scouts must be lost on these guys.  [End pointless sidebar...]

So if participating in a few wacky-yet-lame activities is really all it took to turn Duncan from brooding violent loner to happy and lame as everyone else, I feel robbed that we didn’t get to see any of these exciting life-altering experiences. They really needed a montage for this.

Second thing that really bothers me today: What the hell is Gil doing in the third panel? If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was doing COACH WORK. But I do know better. So my guess is he’s figuring out how he can bet on 5-0 Madison to beat  his team Friday without getting busted. Plus drinkin’ Irish coffee. Your guess?

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.

One of these days…

One of these days I’ll have time to do another blog update, but today just isn’t it. Sorry…! Feel free to comment on what’s been happening in Milford lately. It does make me feel better that Gil Thorp hasn’t twittered in nearly two months so I’m not the only delinquent in this One-Curley-horse tank town…

Thanks for still reading and commenting, folks! Smell ya soon,

-Deadbeat Blogger

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!

Hell no, don’t call me Tim

10/20/09

10/21/09

10/22/09

Aha, we finally figured out what happened to the key character of the last few months. I’m talking of course about Mr. Bakst, who after booking a bus trip to Charleston, got confused (after all he was in the South, in a town starting with “Charl”…who wouldn’t get confused?) and ended up at some bar in Charlotte, whereupon he encountered Danny Daley. Mr. Bakst asked him if he was any relation to Tim Daly, which seemed quite odd to Danny as Mr. Bakst didn’t even know his name when he asked this question. Naturally a conversation such as this one turned heated, and one broken jaw and a concussion later Danny “not Davey and hell no, don’t call me Tim” Daley found himself in the Catawba Correctional Center. (Name dropped due to all Neal’s friends who live there.)

Up next (my imagination version): DannyDaveyDaley demonstrates how to make a shiv out of a straw, use it to escape, and exact bloody revenge on all idiots who ever mentioned Tim Daly to him.

Up next (boring actual version): Gil pretends to care about a player, at least to avoid having him murder anyone other than Marty Moon. Neal continues to write about high school students with hot tempers, big egos, or both, because hey, he’s only covered that about five other times recently so how could it get old, Tim?

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.”