“That sort of thing” = “Your mom”

My internal clock has been thrown off since Thursday night into Friday morning thanks to something a drugged-out Strat-O-Matic player might have created. I’m sure some of us here might have enjoyed that, but I can’t count myself among you. Alright, now that’s off my chest, on from one slowly unfolding train wreck into another.

Seems like only about a week ago I was posting about a hideous scar face with a goatee. Uncle Gary kicks it up a notch with the creeper grin; all that’s missing is the handlebar mustache to twirl with a “Nyah-ah-ha!” Does it seem creepier still that he calls Rick’s mom by her first name when referring to her to Rick, instead of “your mom”? (I think it’s been established that they are siblings.)  “That sort of thing” includes playing father figure while watching your nephew and his teammates square off against a fairly decent team from Omaha and constantly suggesting he’s been concussed.

An oily, underemployed lawyer-cum-agent-wannabe seeking to exploit his nephew was bad enough: a possibly incestuous oily, underemployed lawyer-cum-agent-wannabe seeking to exploit his nephew is just piling on. Note to Rubin: Can we ever have a kid with talent in the Thorpiverse without having an adult there trying to make a buck off of them? That angle is as played out and tiresome as a Washington baseball team folding like a house of cards every October.