So DP king, Knoxious Fartknocker Foley, eager young wannabe lawyer has been flubbing balls all over the place, and in a delicious twist, grounds into a double play to put the finishing touches on another season short of the title. Also, Marty feels free to rub his nose in it, which is probably not in keeping with standard etiquette for calling high school sports, but I guess we have to take Moon dickishness where we can get it.
OKay Gil, deliver the talk.
Hold your heads high boys. We win together, we lose together. Celebrate the moments of your lives. Life is going to deal you crap way worse than this, believe me, so wipe those dumb looks off your face. It’s not like you just lost a lawsuit or something. Oh sorry, Foley. Strike that part from the record. (See what I did there?) Why don’t you boys go watch the softball team play and cheer them on? I think they’re playing another game…maybe…who knows. Take some of those gals out for coffee or something. Jeez, cheer up would ya? The sight of ya is bringin’ me down! Smell ya later, boys.
Oh, so that’s how it is at the Foley Law Group. The shit does not roll uphill. Stan Foley will take none of the personal responsibility for putting his obnxiously eager son/colleague on the case. What about Geoff McKay? We only learned of his existence at the deposition where he introduced himself as an “associate”. That could mean just about anything. He could be the IT guy or the guy that delivers water, or some guy who wandered in off the street, Cosmo Kramer-like, and just started “practicing law”. Stan Foley obviously doesn’t give a crap, even if it hits him in the wallet.
Say, Mr. Jarbo. In lieu of a cash settlement, ya got anybody ya want me to sue? I’ll put one of my best men on it. Maybe even an actual lawyer!
Meanwhile, the clock ticking on baseball season, Kaz and Gil check in with a “power-moping” Fartknocker.
Power mopping?! Hold on a minute, that’s my department!
Ease up, Steve Luhm. I said moping!
Oh, never mind.
Is Marjie Ducey asking questions or is she there to bring Gil up to speed on the season (or is she just chatting and offering Gil a stick of gum)? At least Marjie hasn’t resorted to the lazy sports media trend of sticking a microphone in the coach’s face and saying, “talk about x”. Man, is that annoying. Recently fired New York Rangers coach John Tortorella took a stand against this practice during the Cup playoffs (why aren’t they Stanley Cup playdowns?) refusing to speak to reporters if they didn’t ask actual questions.
Meanwhile, something happened in a game that pretty much defies description.
Rodd Whigham, talk about what’s happening in Panel 3.
Marty Moon, talk about the world as you see it from your crate. Talk about your sippy cup and your IKEA prop laptop (SFÄKKEN SLÄPTÅP). Talk about how that little microphone windscreen ball just hovers magically right next to your mouth.
Marty, what are you doing down there?
Just talking about stuff, ma!
No fair, flying fielder! We can’t see any detail on that sign and thus have to resort to imagination to make up what’s on it. How about DIRTY’S: BEST DIRT AROUND?
What’s wrong with Scott Fowler’s release point? Has he forgotten it? More importantly, why does he need to be reminded to “let it fly”? Hahaha, so funny.
Oh yeah, that double play record that we’ve been building to has been achieved. So what happens now? Milford still needs the next game to go to “Districts”. Don’t worry Gil, you’ll be drinking lemonade with Mimi soon enough. We have a lawsuit (or two) to settle before tee time.
We’re down to less than three weeks to wrap this story up before we tee off at MCC. I wonder if Molly Kinsella is now assistant club pro yet. Sorry, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
Wait, Darby is giving serious consideration to Knocker’s proposal?! Has she been bellying up to the window sill to feast on lead paint chips along with her little bastard bonobo?
Who wants to squeeze in some “actual action”? See Big Bob stuff “making a case” for all-conference. Get it? Making a case!
Can we conclude from Panel 3 that Big Bob defeated the Jeffs? Possibly, but even if the presumed Jeffs couldn’t do much with Bob, did the Mudlarks score at all? Who are the shadow peopled locked into some sort of victory pose? What the hell is going on here?!
If the lawsuit doesn’t pan out, there’s always this:
My unplanned vacation couldn’t have happened at a better time, since these five strips bring us right back to where we were.
Let’s catch up:
Your dad uses bath salts, lots of it? Well that would explain a lot. Has he eaten anybody’s face off lately. What? Oh nevermind.
Freakishly long finger and a crotch frame around HOWARYA!
So, this mock trial is another venue for Stuff and Dinny to do their “Proctologist and Handjobber” routine?
Yes, Gil, call in the “bailiff” and have him do what? Put tape over the mouths of the disruptive jurors or just dispense with some suppressive violence? Maybe the bailiff should get his right arm of justice checked out. I think it deflated.
Okay, we’ve wasted a week sitting here, one more joke from Dinky and the Knob and then we can move on…
and now we’re moving on because this has been put to bed! D’oh! Wait, what? Tie goes to the douche, I guess?
aaaaand here we are. Okay Gil, what else ya got? We can hardly wait.
Well, holy crap biscuits, the whole day has gotten away from me, I’m staring down the barrel of a long weekend where I intend to probably go at least partially insane, and I haven’t come up with anything to say about this “court” for kangaroos with misshapen heads and weirdly parted hair.
I like Judge Gil: “Yeah, enough out of you, douche. Everybody here thinks you’re a douche so you pretty much know where this is going, so zip it. Jimmy, can you tell the court in your own words what kind of douchery this douche has been perpetrating?”
“Shaddap! What part of Knox talks, then Jimmy talks did you not get?”
“I know coach, but I mean there’s not even the slightest hint of impartiality…”
“You can’t handle the truth!”
“I said, ‘You can’t handle the truth!’”
“I heard you, but why?”
“I ask the questions. Over to you Jimmy. Is this the douche in question?”
“Uh yeah, coach, I thought I was going to tell my side….”
“I think we’ve heard enough. Jury, who here thinks this douche needs to shut his yap and play ball and if he ever mentions the SpeedCo or that yutz who slipped there last winter he should get stuffed in a locker until football season?”
“Huh? Sure, yeah. Uh huh, that’s what we’ve been saying! Yeah.”
“Alright, I’ve made my ruling. Rusty the Bailiff has some paperwork for you to sign. I’ll retire to my chambers to polish off some paperwork, then I’ll be be firing up the BBQ!”
Smell ya later!
So, Knocker, Mimi and Gil are all heartless jerks, thinking about themselves first. Darby’s the one with the broken wrist who still has to deal with Jaxxxon, who probably ate his weight in Gummi Vits before Darby could get any medical attention at the FoodCo. Arthur Ashe and his buddy look on with barely contained contempt at Foley’s fist pump of selfishness. But before Knocko can get a cast punch in the jewels….
All rise, court is in session, the Honorable Gilbert T. Thorp presiding. Hey Coach, can we discuss sentencing guidelines first? Is locking Foley in EQUIPMENT SHED under a pile of MRSA infested wrestling mats allowable? You said, whatever we decide.
Are you guys gonna be long? I have to strip and wax the court tonight.
Give us a second, Steve. This shouldn’t take long.