Alright Kaz, get out that bailiff outfit from your costume closet and I’ll get my air-conditioned robe. We’re gonna have us a little trial.
Bailiff outfit? What makes you think I have a bailiff outfit? And what do you mean air-conditioned robe?
What, you think I should go commando? Hanging judge?
Gil, what are you talking about?
I’m gonna settle the dispute between Johnny…
You mean Jimmy.
Yeah, Jimmy and Fartknocker. Approach the bench, Rusty. I’m like Roy Bean and Lance Ito and that guy jerkin’ it to Phoebe Cates in the bathroom.
Yeah, that guy.
Gil, that guy isn’t really a judge.
Whatever, are you gonna be the sexy bailiff or aren’t you?
Wait, I’m a sexy bailiff now? Gil, what exactly are we going to decide in this “trial”?
I dunno. Whatever dispute is going on between those two knuckleheads.
Gil, there’s some kind of real lawsuit involved here. I don’t think your jurisdiction extends to awarding monetary judgements in a premises liability case.
Wow, that sounded all official and lawyery! Maybe you should be the judge and I’ll be the sexy bailiff! Here come de judge! Here come de judge!
Gil, how much propane did you inhale from that grill?
You’re out of order!
Here comes Jaxon! He’s a Bozo, a hairless bonobo, creating havoc at the A&P, flinging poo like a chimpanzee. He’s Jaxon! A bastard in jorts, his mom’s into sports…He’s Jaaaaxxxxon!
Jaxxxon! Get away from that lobster tank!
Exciting haircut theater, featuring Marty “Circular Saw” Moon as the voice of action not shown and Terry “Superman” Gallagher as an Irishman whose participation in this game shows that Gil “Modified Devo Black Pomp” Thorp has really given no thought to fielding a credible team.
While the usual officials have been temporarily installed to screw up the NFL, Foot Locker employees are called in to referee Valley Conference games. “Wheeee! Watch me throw the bean bag up in the air. That kid hit that other kid after he crossed over that line thingee.”
“Hey, new kid! Wipe that Funky Winkerbean smirk off your face and remember your fifteen minutes of football instruction. Now get back out there and kill the guys in the dark jersey within those painted lines, okay?”
Man this game is taking too long. Abbreviate please. Irish kid, Asberger’s kid, other kids and…
Irish kid again and…back to this Doyle Dane creep spewing some kind of nonsense. What is he talking about? And who is he talking to? And why is Woody Allen in attendance? Find out this week and maybe we’ll talk about it next week. If you have a Doyle Dane moment, share it with us.
Time is getting away from the team here at TWIM, so here is as much random crap as we can throw at you 25 loyal readers:
Are those bootleg DVDs back there behind Terry Gallagher’s?
In case you’re wondering about the license plate, this isn’t the first MST 3K shoutout in Gil Thorp. The previous appearance of the license plate was on a totally different car, but to be fair, we couldn’t see the whole plate last time, so…oh my what a boring line of blogging. suffice to say, we are seeing Terry Gallagher getting drawn into football in some way.
Let’s recap: how can Terry get involved in football? What skills might he possess that will get him out onto the gridiron. We’ll put that on hold and focus on some odd language. What’s odder, the exotic foreign expression of Terry Gallagher: “Grand” or the home grown weirdness of Milford speak: “Buckos”?
On a positive note, it’s nice to know that Apex Industrial is hiring again, after the massive layoffs of 2009. Maybe they expanded into tattoo removal. What happened to Stefan’s ink?
Check out panel 3. Here’s one of the pitfalls of coloring this strip: Is that supposed to be Stefan Harvey’s hand or Chip Visci’s?
Is there another word to describe the Gallaghers’ accent other than “adorable”? Who are these two girls anyway? Just random Bucketheads who are a Milford Greek chorus singing the praises of Terry, announcing his hotness as perceived by Milford girls in general. Perhaps he has no sports skills, but will be taking ‘em to the Bucket with regularity.
His first victim just might be his new pal Chip’s girlfriend Cyndy Canty, brand new Grandma and world’s biggest Roger Daltry fan. She’s eying that adorable Irishman like a plate of peanut butter cookies!
The fall plot is in full swing now! Running Back Chip Visci’s mom Anita loads up a plate with her “peanut butter cookies”, aka miniature clay pigeons, to greet the new neighbors, who turn out to be an adorable Irish family whose moving boxes are all laying on their sides. (Seriously, what is up with the arrows, is that a symbol for “This End Up” that everybody has completely ignored or is it the corporate symbol for We Move You Over There Intercontinental Movers?)
Anita, aka the Damned Gladys Kravitz of the Neighborhood, pokes into the lives of the new neighbors, Maeve, Tom and their son Terry (none of whom are willing to risk their bad Irish teeth on Anita’s famous Spackle Discs). Terry volunteers that he is “what you call a ‘Jun-ior’ and thanks for the ‘Cook-ie’”. Terry retreats back to his room to resume his step dancing and Maeve invites Anita into the kitchen for a cup of adorable Irish coffee. (Gil’s liquor radar is pinging hard across town. Surely he will need to pay a visit to the Irish family for some reason or other to get his hands on some of that sweet double distilled, peated Irish malted goodness, mmmmmm.)
Two hours later, Anita stumbles home and finds that Running Back Chip Visci is still stinging because he was deprived of her Vulcanized Peanut Pucks. “Go play with that nicesh boy next door, Chip. Mommy’sh gotta go take a nap. Don’t you dare record me with your phone!”
Oh man, the exciting neighborly sharing of peanut butter cookies on Beech Street was interrupted to go back to this? So what are you gonna do Steve? You apparently have a few options that might put you back on track to rebuild some self esteem, earn some money, I don’t know, say, move on with life. Or…
Just hang around and be roped into doing Gil’s work for him. Well, think about it Steve. We’ve got to get back to those peanut butter cookies.
Oh, her name is Maeve and she calls cookies biscuits! She must be pretending to be Irish to sell more thick, frothy beer at Milford’s latest new establishment, Paddy O’Furniture’s Ol’ Milford Tavern! (or some other recycled development that’s sure to be stunningly banal)
I’m holding out hope that commenter Benjamin’s prophecy comes true and we deal with a peanut allergy plot. That is, only if we get to witness an episode or two of anaphylactic shock. That would be different.
Cameo Alert: It’s Lou Loomis, the Caddy master from Caddyshack.
Molly’s more than happy to caddy for Dr. Scavuzzo (who golfs with pigs). She’s going to fleece him for everything he’s got. She’s also putting one over on Noah Boone. Mr. Padgett tips with pocket change and Certs (also from his pocket).
Meanwhile, back at the Boone house, it’s week two of What the Hell is Wrong With Steve? We don’t know, but we do know that he’s heard of Molly Kinsella, most likely thanks to the cardboard bikini picture.
Oh yeah, her name was in the sports section. So memorable. Who could forget? Bub-bye now Steve.
“Mom, what do we do about Steve?”
“I don’t know, Kenny. I’m out of ideas.”
“Why did you call me Kenny? My name is Noah.”
“Oh right. Kenny was the loser kid in last summer’s story, with the lush for a mom, which isn’t me. I’m the mom with a hobo son hiding out in the bedroom and another son getting fleeced down at the country club.”
“What are you talking about, mom? What do you mean summer story?”
“Oh, sorry Norbert. Mrs. Lark came by earlier and we had a few hard lemonades and I’m a little mixed up. Plus I found your brother in here earlier drinking all of my fabric softener.”
“You look a little tired Mom. Why don’t you take it easy for a bit?”
“I can’t take it easy! Between washing your brother’s gamey sheets everyday and trying to keep up with all the ‘dirty socks’ I find under your bed, I’m working my freaky fingers to the bone.”
“Okay, Mom. Maybe I’ll ask Coach Thorp to see if he can figure out What the Hell is Wrong With Steve?“
“Well, okay Niles, but I think he’s scheduled to stop by sometime around the middle of August to look into that.”
“Mom? Have you been taking your medicine?”
“Run along Nelson. Mommy’s busy. Have fun with your FOOZLE.”
Hey! Look! This plot is still goin’on! SMAK!
Is there something I’m missing here? SMAK!
Yeah, a lot. Jaxxon is clinging to the side of the bus! SMAK!
Oh no, I just made my last payment. SMAK!
“Yep, they’d quit this awful team to support you. You’re the team MILF after all. Thanks for wearing the shirt we got you.”
“No problem. Say, let me go thank some of these hideous-looking extra players…I don’t know how to thank you…uh… (girls??) for what you did. Being elected the team MILF is all I ever dreamed of when I boarded this bus to escape my mutant offspring. And now I get to speak with what appear to be a couple of tranny Lady Gaga impersonators!”
“De nada. Besides, we did it for us.”
“Well, we’re not sure if we’re technically girls or not, as Whigham forgot how to draw females after the first panel today. We’re not only horrible at softball, we’re horrible to look at. So we’re on a bus bound for the nearest cliff. Good thing your demon spawn tagged along…we could stand to cleanse the earth of whatever he is too.”
“Yeah and as a special favor to the readers, we’ve also decided to blur ourselves out for the remainder of the season…”
De nada indeed!
Sorry for dropping off the grid for a while folks. I went on a walkabout in search of the plot, Mr. Bakst and Jaxxon’s 47-year-old backwoods inbred hillbilly papa. Alas, I came up empty on all accounts. Plus a bear ate my hat. But at least I didn’t miss anything in Milford in that span of time. And all we have today is a bit of a disappearing shoulder trick in panel two, book-ended by a couple of panels of insecure guys posturing over whose small dick is less tiny. Looks like it’s about time for me to head out on Walkabout part 2 (“The Walkening.”)
Say hot mama, does that butt crack go all the way to the top? (Answer: Yes.)
I’m excited that the Milford dolt boys have realized Jaxxxon can double as a piñata. Though I’m not sure I want to stick around to see what spills out when he’s cracked open with the bat. (Stale Nutboys perhaps?)
As for who’s not happy: Mimi’s eye realignment surgeon. He needs to get her in prior to game night, stat! Otherwise the left one could get sucked completely into that evil eyebrow of hers.