This Week in Milford

February 28, 2019

Will “The Hand” Of Fate Cost Marty’s Job?

Filed under: Bobby Howry, freak hands, Marty Moon, Milford Idiots — tdrewhardin @ 3:35 pm


You whippersnappers are WAY too young to remember but do you old-timers remember, if you watched Dark Shadows, The Hand? Remember how scary that thing was as it spread its venom in different scenes, from choking a victim to scaring the shit out of someone in a room, maybe studying, maybe knitting, suddenly this appendage appears out of the blue???? Really,I could be at The Bucket in a booth, downing my 6th Livercheeseburger and Liver ‘n’ Spam Fries, washing it down with a Fresca when The Hand comes out of the men’s room. I hope he had a hell of a piss, to quote Brad Hamilton from “Fast Times at Ridgemont High”. Still in shock as I wonder how it’s floating around, I swallow it. After all, if it’s hungry, there’s plenty on the menu. Try the Bucket Wisconsin Buttery Burger, Hand. Frightening the teenagers and causing them to crash to their deaths in their hot rods off the Mudlark Cliffs works up an appetite. Just don’t wear a cheesehead garment. Dark Shadows was SCARY but never asinine. Unlike some unnamed plots we know.

That off my chest, when I saw Marty attached to The Hand in P2, well ya know I got some inspiration. Plus, it was either that or Grandpa Jones’ Uncensored Hee Haw Humor. I flipped a coin.


And this is getting downright insulting. Anymore, the only time we EVER learn about Milford’s fate in basketball is through 2 guys determined to sink each other’s battleship. Are we going to find out about Milford’s score with Jefferson in “Life in These United States” in Reader’s Digest? Sure, the plot’s a joke but let’s not carry things to extremes(“…and my husband replied, ‘I’ve always used a clipboard when I coach. What do I need a Bounty towel for?'”) .  And if I browse through the pages of Popular Mechanics, it’s expected I don’t catch the line on Milford and Ansonia next to all the sockets the carpenters are using for the addition on Dr. Pearl’s house.

Bonus point: Maybe I’m going blind but in P1, I’m pretty sure Booby possesses a butt while Marty pursued the papier-mache route. Put it this way, The Hand is more than likely to give a pat on the fanny to which one? C’mon, this isn’t a Lady-or-the-Tiger question.


“SHIT!!!!!!!! That spells thorp. My Evinrude’s in Davy Jones’ Locker.”

Oh, I guess the consolation prize Pat and Vanna are giving us is a Netflix video, “Battle of the Sponges”, a 45-minute docu-drama of two sponges trying to sink each other in the bathtub, neither one succeeding, just floating around for days with the Rubber Ducky. Thank God, it’s 45 minutes. It was not for them to question why but simply do or die with their rubber ducky and their swords. So that’s how the Norman Conquest got to be a conquest. They beat back the Seljuk Turks with their rubber duckys. Deus lo vole. I’d go to  Vatican City and enlist for Pope Leo VI. Charge of the Light Brigade and Marty keeping his job. And you thought the Crimea was involved.

“Mimi, The Hand has me in its grip!!!!!!!!! I can’t breathe!!!!!!!! Quick!!!!!!! Get a fly-swatter!!!!!!!!! Or get some Roach Motel!!!!!!!! Or a broom!!!!!!!!!  Wait, my Colt .45 is in the spare closet under my baseball card collection!!!!!!!!!! And it’s registered!!!!!!!!!!!! Got it legal at Milford God, Guns, & Guts!!!!!!!!!! Take the safety off!!!!!! Hurry!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Barnabas Collins to Victoria Winters

“I knew some people were calling for Gil’s head after Collinsport High blew the lead with Tilden but The Hand needs to kick the cat next time. Or choke it.”

“…and the one cornstalk says to the other cornstalk, ‘Will you bend over and let me have my way with you?????’ The other cornstalk replies ‘Who do you think I am, Rindercella?”

The audience at the Milford Comedy Club are still watching the Netflix video, “Godzilla versus Barnabas.”



“Grandpa, Gil. Tell Archie Campbell the joke bombed. So what do I do now?”


P2 only gets worse. If you were playing “Battleship” with your neighbor in P1, you might have 4 pegs on your ship with one peg to work with, but in P2,



Okay, you smartasses, I agree, Marty’s hand also looks like Lurch’s. They must have been from the same lineage. And go ahead, say that Marty always wears Playtex Gloves when he’s on the air because he feels so sexy when interviewing sports celebrities, plus he doesn’t want to catch any germs. That’s right, Moon, when Sparky Anderson comes in with a Nacho and Velveeta Supreme when discussing the ’75 Reds, it’s important to be sterilized  when debating whether Ed Armbrister actually interfered at home plate.

Now that the pinpricks are satisfied, isn’t it interesting that Marty is establishing, RIGHT OFF THE BAT, who’s Jack Benny and who’s Rochester in P2? Is there a message here? You decide.

“Ummmmm, Rochester, I need a bottled water before I go on the air.”

“Yassir, Mister Benny, Bimeby, wouldja want me ta squirt sum lemon jooce in da concoction?”

“Naw, I start passing gas in the middle of the broadcast and I don’t like running off the sound engineer.”

“Okay by me, uh huh. How’ bout I serve it wid de pizza ya ate wid Peaches when her oven conked out?”

“Is that pepperoni and wild onion STILL in the fridge?”

“Yas Suh, Mr. Benny, next ta da Raspberies ‘n’ Cream.”

“Hell, throw it out. I don’t want to delouse dessert.”

“Yas Suh, Mr. Benny. Anyting you say.”


I have celebrated Black History Month for YEARS because I have ALWAYS admired people who choose to do the right thing against incredible odds and bigotry. One of my favorite movie lines comes from “He Got Game” when Jake Shuttlesworth says “Best get that hate out of your system or you’ll wind up in the gutter.” I agree. The people I’ve salute chose to do just that.

That said, P2 brought us back to the Feudal Days. And this time, Booby better keep his mule if he wants a way back home or go out and check out the handiwork of his billboards.


“Okay, Bessie, get along now. Let’s go home and don’t trip over the Bud cans.”


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Howry: I Want Luhm’s Job.”

sub headline

“The toilets weren’t even touched after the Holiday Tournament.”


“Peaches!!!!!! The Hand has got me!!!!! Quick!!!!!!!! Get the whip in my bedroom!!!!!!! It’s in the Milford Adult Shoppe tote bag!!!!!!!!! You’ll have to rip the plastic off!!!!!!!! Okay!!!!!!! Okay!!!!!!!! (choke) Booby can have my job!!!!!!!!! Just let me fill in when the Harlem Globetrotters come to Milford!!!!!!!! And I always wanted to get into Commercial Real Estate anyway!!!!!!!!!”

And it’s pretty sad how I spent pages upon pages reading the hilarity that was Mark Twain’s Puddn’head Wilson, only to see it condensed to a single panel in P2. The Battle of the Titans reduced to Babe Ruth and the bat boy. Geez, no wonder why the Cubs lost the Series in ’32. Babe could call The Shot because he had a go-fer with a bat ready to rock so Babe could make history. The bat boys for the Cubs were partying on top of one of the sun decks on Waveland Avenue. One of ’em, incidentally, had to have caught Babe’s ball. They already had several of Dave Kingman’s.

Robmize, don’t kill me, I’m leavin’ Wrigley quietly(ha).

“The Hand!!!!!!! It’s got me!!!!!!!! Okay!!!!!!!! I’m sorry I suspended Marty!!!!!!!! The parrot came out of Rural King pet department anyway, next to the gerbils!!!!!!!!!!! I promise I’ll give him his back pay plus half the royalties off that interview we did with LeBron!!!!!!!!! And he can do that special with Magic!!!!!!!!! No more reading Milford Elementary School League Volleyball scores!!!!!!!!!! I’ll call (choke) Marty tomorrow (choke) OKAY tonight!!!!!!!!!! and tell I have an open checkbook and WDIG welcomes back a lost brother-”

“Honey, wake up, you were having a bad dream. I was just grabbing your hose. Honey, I think you need to go to the Clinic. Your dreams are more hardline than your powder puff.”

In P3, that is oversized shaving brush which he uses to spread Gillette Teal Gel, EPA-approved when trimming his goatee, doubling as a mike on lesser-profile or lesser-class guests, Booby fitting latter category, Marty using better-quality mikes for guests with some kind of direction in their lives. Just put a rudder on your motorboat, Booby, and go to the Milford Dale Carnegie Institute and the mikes will change. I understand there’s an opening in the early part of March at the Institute. After your interview in P3, if Marty hasn’t opened the trap door and you get devoured by a hammerhead, you should still have time.

Also, that mike could be an avocado. Just wait until the end of this expose (Where ELSE could THIS be going???) before you munch on it, Moon.

Today’s final (RELUCTANTLY speaking) Black History Month entry is Arthur Crudup. Born in Forest, Mississippi, with an enormous talent for Blues and a HUGE part of the Mississippi Blues sound, Crudup wrote and performed the song “That’s All Right, Mama”, made a big hit by Elvis Presley in the ’50’s. He also wrote and performed , songs that put the stamp on his talent and his love for Blues. What makes me angry is how his songs were promoted so heavily, yet he received little compensation for them. The foot-dragging that accompanied the back royalties he had coming is making me furious, even as I type. He did not deserve to end up as a barge worker and if you can spread the word about his talent, it would be deeply appreciated. Some justice DID come about when his name was inducted on the Mississippi Blues Trail, kinda like the Natchez Trace Road for Blues, near his birthplace. Please join me in saluting a man who didn’t deserve to die (bad heart in the early ’70’s) while fighting for what was rightfully his.


“What a nightmare. Hi, this is the station manager at WDIG. You can just call me Al. I wear more faces than Bowie Kuhn anyway.

There I was, in bed, with Booby and I think you might suspect we weren’t playing backgammon. I just couldn’t resist because he was so innocent and ambitious and I had a shitty wife who shopped every week at F. W. Woolworth for groceries and made my favorite dessert, key lime pie, but she burned the roast under the covers. And Booby was available.

I had resisted all advances so far, transferring my impulses to a heating blanket in my personal closet. Hey, it was warm and felt good plus I had an electrical outlet in the closet. And I locked the closet when everybody went to lunch. I was taking no chances.

Then the Milford Men’s Clinic came to the rescue and sponsored Sex Drive Renewal Retreat at Mudlark Lake Resort. My wife jumped at it like I almost jumped on Booby. Wow, you should have seen the ideas that were exchanged and taught at this Surge on Urge. One of them, my wife was this great big tarmac and I was Delta Flight 89 out of Dallas about to make an emergency landing in Denver when I was heading to Boise. Another, a gnu was drinking water from a lake in the Serengeti in Africa And I was this hyena who hadn’t eaten in 4 days, much less experienced standing in the Pleasure Dome with Booby. When the gnu bent over, I was horny and hungry, which was the idea. Ingenious of MMC, isn’t it? Prime rib and a place to lay my wood, the only thing missing was a pack of Marlboros to savor the victory even though, in truth, hyenas don’t smoke.

We were also given packets and handouts, now that you had your wife back in bed, on how to fend off the strong desires to do business with anybody but your wife. That’s right, Guys, sometimes the UPS delivery guy looks kinda cutie in his shorts but FedEx almost refused to send shipments to Marty Moon’s house over unconfirmed rumors he was winking at the Overnight Delivery guy. Fortunate that Marty got his grandfather clock from Switzerland in 24 hours with no further investigations. Marty needed to keep the bed warm for Peaches and nobody else.

Now I can interview Booby with a renewed confidence, reassured that I will be able to hire a radio personality at the wage level of a choclatier in the mines of South Africa. I don’t let my personal business interfere with the good of the company. When I zip my pants, it’s after I pissed a load in the bathroom. Maxwell House can be that way. But don’t take my word for it. If you have pedophile issues, you owe it to yourself and the kids in the audience on the Bozo Show to get help. The Milford Men’s Club can spare you needless embarrassment and make you a personality in bed. My wife seems to think I’m Jackie Gleason. Come see why today.

Comment away, gang. Gonna kick back and watch ’em eat their own. Only at WDIG studios.

“…Barnabas Collins getting the finger from The Hand??????”

Someone in the back at Milford Comedy Club shouts out “You’re worse than Willie Loomis!!!!!!!!!!!”

“The Hand!!!!!!!!! It’s got me!!!!!!! Okay!!!!!! I’ll get those 2016 Milford High School Cafeteria Lunch Money Reports filled out so they can reopen the cafeteria!!!!!!!!!! I know it’s cruel to send them to the Milford Shelter House and have nothing but Oscar Meyer Bologna and Swiss Cheese sandwiches for 3 weeks!!!!!!!!! They had Twinkies!!!!!!!! The Director ordered them last week!!!!!!!!! (choke) Okay!!!!!!!!!! I’ll get them done!!!!!!!!! And I’ll let slide Barnabas Collins enrolling in Adult Education even if he lost his Social Security card!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Thank you, Dr. Pearl. I can only show up after 7:00PM. I hope you understand. Come, Willie, and quit shooting free throws.”


  1. A Lusitania? Doncha mean a Bismarck, TDrew?
    I’ll go away now.

    Truly the most bizarre Milford Men’s Clinic ad yet. Reads like Paul Harvey after some of the Woodstock brown acid.

    Comment by Prof. Anthrax — February 28, 2019 @ 6:50 pm

  2. Once Mimi gave his drunk ass a clue, it sure didn’t take Marty long to make a monkey out of this kid. Gil should get some pointers from his wife and Marty on how to handle petulant players, parents, fans, news reporters, opposing coaches, etc. for any future issues that may come up.

    Comment by franku2016 — March 1, 2019 @ 8:56 am

  3. We’ve seen a lot of freak hands but this is the best hand freakout.

    Comment by Downpuppy (@Downpuppy) — March 1, 2019 @ 12:33 pm

  4. Great comments, gang. Ya done real good.

    Anthrax, LMAO at your assessment. You da Man Your point’s well-taken on the bizareness of the Men’s Clinic ad. I confess I was waiting for the opportunity to use Eddie Murphy’s imitation of Mr. T(hilarious) and just felt NOW was the time to strike. I’ll admit the ‘DIG station manager is no Mr. T(ha).

    But again, you did me proud. You all kept Democracy going. Let’s help Ned Monday and soldier on with Democracy.

    Comment by tdrewhardin — March 2, 2019 @ 5:36 pm

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