This Week in Milford

September 20, 2018

I Saw My Life Sail Through My Hands And Get Recovered At The 3-Yard Line

Filed under: actual action, football, Gil Thorp, Marty Moon, Pissy faced Marty — tdrewhardin @ 4:45 pm

Dad, you’re 80 years old today. You are a major reason for this blog. Thanks for all your encouragement in ANYTHING I’ve set out to do. I love you.

092018

P1: “Coach, remember the time when you said that if you had broccoli in your teeth, you’d want to know about it?”

Which typifies the aborted inspiration Coach Thorp attempts to instill in his players. The only problem is, and maybe it’s just me, but don’t you old-timers remember  when Gil was going the Dr. Norman Vincent Peale Power of Positive Thinking Route, the player(s) would perform something that may not have been drawn up in the playbook nor, really, went the way of the Thorpscript but turned out halfway decent? Now it just seems like every time Gil dispenses his Pearls of Wisdom, it reads like a bad Kung-Fu episode.

“Grasshopper, you have nothing to fear from the 458-lb. defensive tackle that you’re blocking this Friday. Just remember your technique, hit him low, and tell him his mother still reads him bedtime stories. Talk trash to him and you can take him out of his game.”

“Yes, Master.”

SQUASHHHHHHHHHHHH

“Watch where you’re driving that equipment truck. Now we’ll never find him in this high grass.”

And, again, maybe it’s just me(what happens when you develop writer’s cramp in your old age) but do we really need another Polygrip Moment as in P1? I know Gil is 60 years old but if he’s been drinking milk and eating his fruits and vegetables and, in general, been a poster child for the 4 food groups, then, unless his teeth were made out of balsa wood, they should still BE IN PLACE. Otherwise, why does he feel the need to flash those dentures to Freddy or the zombies in the background?

“He won’t suffer any more embarrassing incidents, such as watching his teeth pop out of his mouth and land on the sod when he jumps up and down after his place kicker sends the winning 69-yarder through the uprights. Try the new Polygrip with Fluoride. Occlusive seals never felt stronger and grass stains are a thing of the past. Only at Milford Pharmacy.”

 

The Milford Police are still baffled by WHO SHOT COACH SHAW. You’d think in a small town that’s been on the planet for 60 years where EVERYBODY KNOWS EVERYBODY in the same period of time that the culprit would have nowhere to run. Well, that’s not entirely true, if I were to shoot a man who barely shows up on the radar at football games but is a weather advisory at game film sessions (The National Weather Service has issued a Shaw Warning Advisory  in effect until 10:15PM this evening, Mudlark Standard Time. There are reports of damaging winds and BB-sized hail. Power lines, as a result of  multiple lightning incidents are down in parts of Oakwood, New Thayer, Lake Forest, as well as the Mudlarkland viewing area. Please seek shelter immediately…”) , I would head to the nearest skyscraper in downtown Milford and lay low on the 63rd floor of the Milford Mutual Tower until this thing blew over. And that’s probably what this psycho is thinking. No headin’ to the Milford Lounge for Miller time after the deed is done.

 

At the bar counter “Mr. Bates, wanna ‘nuther Bud before I close up?”`

Coach Shaw at the Bates Motel

The shower curtain opens

DINGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!! DINGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!! DINGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!

“NO GET AWAY FROM ME YOU GONNA PUNISH ME CUZ I MISSED A FILM SESSION I HAD TO GO THE DENTIST…”

“Honey, wake up, it’s me. You were having a bad dream. You’re fine, Dear, I’m here. Come, jump on me and let’s have snack to (talking sexy) chase away that leetle ol’ bad dreamie.”

DINGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!! DINGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!! DINGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!

NO GET AWAY FROM ME YOU CAN’T STICK ME JUST CUZ I CAN’T STICK YOU YOU GONNA PUNISH ME FOR GOIN’ LIMP JUST CUZ I CHOWED ON TOO MUCH ON 3 PASTA SALAD AT FAZOLI’S WISH I HAD MY WINCHESTER IN THE BATHTUB…”

 

And to address bathrooms in public buildings with stalls that have become as big as a dining room suite

“Gil, we can get a graduate assistant to work on Malouf’s hands. He’s definitely not hopeless.”

“I agree, Kaz, looking at the game film here, I saw a lot of positives. He and Finn-

FLLLLLLLLLLLUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Coach Shaw appears

“Oooooooooooooeeeeeeeee, man, was THAT a big-time load. Musta been the spicy parmesan in the Domino’s pepperoni.”

 

And what Gil Thorp strip in any sport, football, basketball, baseball, hockey, bowling, wrestling (HIGH SCHOOL wrestling, not the stuff you see down at the Milford Gardens, you Jerry Lawler freaks) track, X-country, volleyball, golf, curling (just seeing if you’re paying attention) , without Marty Moon enjoying his Lowenbrau Moment (take that over Polygrip Moment anytime) ?

I can see the commercial

“Here’s to good friends, tonight is kinda special…”

Marty and his old high school classmates cram into Marty’s broadcast booth. As long as nobody throws a quick elbow, the Lowenbrau won’t wind up in the cheese popcorn.

“Gentlemen, watching Gil get waxed just makes my night. It just don’t get any better than this.”

“That’s Old Milwaukee, Marty.”

“Don’t rain on my parade, Gene. Anytime I can stick it to Coach T with a kicker with a World Cup foot but Yogi Bear hands, it just makes the Lowenbrau that much sweeter.”

“Yeah, and it’s less filling.”

“Tastes great.”

LESS FILLING

TASTES GREAT

LESS FILL-

As Marty squeezes one of his classmates in a Sleeper Hold, we softly hear

“Toniiiiiggghhhhttttt, let it be Lowenbrau.”

 

Sent forth on a quest from TV Land

Bringing Truth and Justice in our hands

It’s Milkmannnnnnnnnn

 

Milkman walks into Milford Lounge. He just made a delivery of two crates of 2% and some Philadelphia Cream Cheese Raspberry and Philadelphia Cream Cheese Gooseberry. Happy Hour is never the same without something to top the appetizer, like pretzels or shredded black ham. He’s taking his 15-minute break.

Marty is submerged in his beer. Talk about Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea.

“Why are you drowning in your sorrows, Marty?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Look, I’m in no mood to talk to a guy who’s as out of place here as a stray dog in heat at the AKC International Dog Show. Take your milk and cookies and hit the road, Jack.”

“Actually, Marty, I did bring some Chips Ahoy and some egg nog. I’m still on break so technically the bartender can’t say anything.”

Tired of drinking after his 17th Bud Light

“I got suspended for swearing on the air.”

“Well, Marty, saying ‘Die, you gravy-sucking, testicle-licking, ass-kissing, pubic hair-combing piece of cow manure wasn’t the wisest thing to say. But I was once suspended for two weeks.”

Marty looks up. Milkman is winning him over.

“That’s right, I was released from my duties for telling the supervisor in front of several members of the 3rd shift crew on the Country Crock Cinnamon Butter production line that the milk  was so bad here, there was no difference between that and what came out of an elephant’s boobs in Rwanda at the Nature Reserve. I was young and stupid and without a paycheck for two weeks. Hard to pay the pawn shop for a Gibson Guitar, let alone buy Fruit of the Looms at K-Mart when you have no money. Marty, we’ve all put our feet in our mouths. Maybe you need a shoehorn every once in a while, oh, OK, every week, but we have all said things we wish we could reel back later. Yours is just a 60-lb. striped bass that requires a tow truck to haul in on The Fishing Channel. That’s the only difference. Plus, I don’t wear a goatee. Homogenized milk would look nasty on it.”

“Gee, thanks, Milkman. I’ll go get a gallon of regular milk and apologize to Gil for being such a nasty creep. I’ll even throw in that I shouldn’t have called Mimi a prostitute.”

“Aaaaaaaaa, Marty, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s taken 60 years to wean yourself from your SNAKE nomenclature. It might take 60 more ’til it’s out of your system but you’re getting the idea..

“Awright, Mister, you’re ruining business. Buy a Falls City or scram.”

“Sorry, bartender. Would you like some Philadelphia Cream Cheese Hazelnut before I go?”

 

 

Heard at the Milford Adult Book Store between two employees during a dead period (Mondays are always like that)

“You think it was David Greene?”

“He might have attacked Marty Moon that one time but Shaw’s performance was on the Sabbath.”

 

At the Milford Kohl’s, Marty Moon is trying on some Dickie pants. He’s attempting to find out if he’s gained any weight or grown any since he switched from WMFD to WDIG (“Marty, I swear, you’ve grown since you transferred. You ever think of trying out for the team?”) .

He is currently debating 42/32 or 40/38. His growth spurt perhaps out of control from all the Pabst Blue Ribbons at the Milford Lounge (Milford Enquirer, May 15, 2011 article: “Beer Drinking Stimulates Pituitary Gland, Releasing Growth Hormones, Studies Reveal at the Milford Community College!!!) . He tries on the 42.

There’s a hitch. The problem with dressing room doors is that they’re manufactured from the same company that produces saloon doors. Marty’s dressing room door is created from the same design of the door of the saloon Wild Bill Hickok died at from “Dead Man’s Hand”.

“PEEKABOO!!!!!!!!!!”

“Peaches, dammit!!!!!!! Can’t you see I’m dressing??

“Oh, you sexy tart, that’s THE IDEA. I thought we might get a little comfy before you try on any more Richards.”

“Dickies.”

“Whatever, same name, different sex organ, but gets us both erect, that’s all that matters.”

“Peaches, I gotta get my uniforms tried on before I hit the nightshift tonight. Can’t it wait until tomorrow morning? I’ll still have a little octane in the tank before I hit the sack.”

“But someone might sugar your engine, sweetie pie. Come, come, the clerk will understand two adults need for a little fun at the playground.”

“Doll, I’m not rumblin’ at the jungle gym where the kids can see me butt naked.”

“Oh, Marty, don’t be a party pooper. Life is more than Mini-bus manifests and beer nuts at the Milford Lounge, let alone going up and down at the teeter-totter with members of the same sex, even if you’re both butt-naked. Now drop ’em and let’s have a little fun,”

She rips the pants button off the unpaid merchandise only to find out that something else is unaccounted for.

“Ummmmm, never mind.”

“Peaches, you barge in like Jesse James holding up the Last Gulch Saloon and now you just pack u[ and leave with no loot?”

“I’m surprised he didn’t shoot you cold dead with no gold in the vault.”

“Honey, I’m harder than a rock and I’m not even trying. Why don’t you make yourself at home as long as you’ve wrecked my schedule.”

“Kinda hard when you’re not hard.”

“How dare you stiff me like that when I’m trying to do my job?”

“You could bust out of this saloon door and not only would no one notice the dearth of stiffness, you wouldn’t have ANY jobs, payroll or non-payroll.”

The manager walks by

“Is there a problem here? Oh, it’s you, Marty. I see that it’s nothing at all.”

“Rest my case.”

 

“When you can’t get embarrassed when you’re displaying nothing in your birthday suit, it’s time to hit the Milford Men’s Clinic. They have programs that work, now including Milford Men’s Clinic Quik-Fix Pump injections to avoid those awful surprises like the one I had. I’d rather spend a night at Peaches’ mother’s house. ALONE. Isn’t it time you filled your Dickie pants with more than just pants? So that it’s more than just a pun? Sure you do. My britches feel fine and I do do too. You’re gonna like the way you look. And pump. I guarantee it.”

 

Comment away, gang. Don’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Men’s Warehouse Sues Marty Moon Over Unlawful Infringement Of Their Slogan.”

sub headline

“Sharkey Refuses Case. Received a ‘D’ in Copyright Law and Patents at the Richard M. Nixon Law School at Milford Community College, According to a Report.”

 

TALK ABOUT THE SAME OLD STORY

TO EVERYONE THAT SHE KNOWS

SHE’S JUST SITTIN’ IN A ROOM

WITH BOOKS ABOUT UFO’S

In the den at the Thorp household

“Mimi, you didn’t tell me you were into Carl Sagan

 

Off of (warned ya, gang) Husker Du’s “New Day Rising”, in case anybody’s interested.

Thanks, timbuys, for the insert. You da Man. This just made my day. Enjoy, gang, and thank Tim while you’re at it. He’s VERY creative.

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6 Comments »

  1. I know I go to this well too often, but Marty is stone drunk.

    Comment by timbuys — September 20, 2018 @ 4:59 pm

  2. Looks like Beavis and Butthead vandalized the press box in P1. Nice!
    Marty says,”It’s still moving!” Well shoot it for God’s sake! Put it out of it’s misery!

    Comment by Jive Turkey — September 20, 2018 @ 6:02 pm

  3. So Gil made his best punter into a long snapper, and his reward is a bad snap? Priceless.

    Comment by jvwalt — September 21, 2018 @ 10:16 am

  4. Maybe “fuck-up the fumbler” needs this kind of motivation instead of Gil’s pussy-ass coddling.

    Comment by franku2016 — September 21, 2018 @ 11:48 am

  5. I just had the most awful thought. I have a feeling Tiki Tiddlywinks is going to turn out to be either a punter or a former center. “Never thought to mention it, coach– at New Thayer, our (punter or long snapper) was all-Valley and I never got to play.”

    Comment by vaganova — September 21, 2018 @ 12:34 pm

  6. Gang, great day for comments. Like Mr. McGoo, ya done it again. Franku, thanks for the hilarious video which drives home an excellent point. You da Man. But, in general, I can’t do it without y’all. Thanks for keeping Free Speech going.

    Comment by tdrewhardin — September 23, 2018 @ 2:43 pm


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