This Week in Milford

June 6, 2019

Moral Of This Story: Animals Should Leave The Sale Of Buttons To Ol’ McDonald.

Filed under: Just plain sad, Milford Idiots, Mimi Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 8:44 am

060619

Teamwork Good. Button-Selling Bad.

Well, let’s not get hasty here. Me, for what it’s worth, talking about buttons ad nauseum in a game when the focus should be on THE GAME no question cost them a win.

And I know Mimi is trying to prove a point but ordering Classics through Milford Book-of-the-Month Club and passing out a leather-bound volume that was once read by Woodrow Wilson when he was relaxing at the end of the day in his pipe and slippers after a long bitter day of negotiations concerning the League of Nations in the name of teachable moments is simply outta here. Take charge, Mimi, and leave the Bull Moose Party out of it.

 

We were lost

In doubt

Pissed and steamed

That this tale

Went further south

 

We were lost

In doubt

With buttons being shipped

Obscure and duty-free across the coastline

 

This sale is bigger than the both of us

It’s bigger than the women’s gym

We were lost

In doubt

Petrified at the travesty

And impulsive whims

 

Gang, I remember when Paul Westhead was coaching the Lakers back in the late ’70’-early ’80’s and they had just acquired Magic Johnson (who BTW hated that moniker and responded better to his preferred Buck or Earvin, the latter being his real name) through the Draft.

Westhead was not on the greatest relationship with his players anyway and when Magic stepped in, in fairness, he did defuse much of the heat directed at Westhead, though he really wasn’t wild about his coaching ideas as well. Never one to question coaches, even I still raised an eyebrow when Westhead was trying to implement complex, half-court schemes on a team that was built to run. A team with Michael Cooper, Jamaal Wilkes, and Earvin Johnson would do that. Though they won in 1980 with those same ideas, it not being all gloom and doom, they were unceremoniously bounced out of the Playoffs the next year by a Houston Rocket team that included Moses Malone, whose early entrance into pro ball was finally paying off and his stock was ever-rising. Tenacious rebounding and dominant, well-timed, sometimes-out-of-nowhere shot-blocking had a way increasing in value on the free market.

Anyway, in a crucial game where Westhead has everyone in the huddle, he designed a play where it was just pretty basic, Folks. Magic, throw the ball into Kareem, and Kareem, you dunk it or do your sky-hook, ball game. Okay, good enough.

But then, Westhead pulls Magic over to the side. Magic, unaware of what Westhead has on his mind NOW, found himself listening to Westhead quote Shakespeare (Westhead being a HUGE fan of The Bard)

“Earvin, If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well/It were done quickly.”

Say what?

“Coach, you DO want me to lob it down low to Kareem, right?”

 

Well, I had a “Say what?” moment this morning as Mimi was continuing her over-extended teachable moment with an analogy that, and I’m really trying to be as nice as Magic was to Westhead, really fell flat on its face.

First off, Mimi, you’re right. In “Animal Farm”, the Oppressed did indeed become the Oppressors, a point George Orwell was attempting to drive home in relation to the Soviet Union. Once manhandled by the Tsars down through the ages, Stalin wasn’t much better, slaughtering indiscriminately in the name of Freedom. And it wasn’t just Stalin.

But that’s where we part company. At no time did I think our eager-beaver button-selling duo were ever exploiting the masses through the sale of said merchandise or being expoited themselves. Yes, what turned out to be a nifty motivational tool to boost team morale went awry, the same way the Hippo Concept did, our Hippo Hero getting practically thrown into the dumpster when it didn’t win the 1960 World Series. Yeah, Bill Mazeroski, you heel. Way to leave the poor pachyderm to rot in the junk pile after you put it to the Yankees.

But I’m still scratching my head wondering where Mimi got the idea that that made them slave owners at The Tara. Boy, now I know where Gone With The Wind got its name. Teenagers being teenagers, they got swept up in an idea that could have used better judgment. It’s okay to recognize achievements, especially unusual ones. And they learned that not reining this one in cost them several things, including a ball game.

But Mimi, leave Rhett Butler back in West Virginia, which is where he came from and where he BELONGS. Slavery really wasn’t the issue here. No more “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”, puh-leeease. Nobody’s smuggling their TCFS button on the midnight Underground Raolroad.

Hey, I know. Next time go basic. How ’bout “The Little Train That Could”? Was really more apropos for a button-selling, under-confident and under-achieving team, anyway. As long as you’re not going to take charge and make ’em do the stairs, that’d be the first choice off the shelf at the Milford Public Library.

 

And, not surprisingly, Westhead was fired after the season. Anybody who remembers Jerry Buss, owner of the Lakers, knew he was the George Steinbrenner of the NBA, i.e., quick to pull the trigger on a coach if that poor soul was not up to Buss’ standards or mood, for that matter. Buss did a mercy-killing on this one. Thank God, Mimi didn’t dish out “The Last of the Mohicans” to Magic or Kareem.

“Kareem, if the sky hook isn’t falling, you could disappear like some of our Native Americans did when the white man began to settle.”

“Mimi, I want to see you in my office. NOW.”

 

Timbuys, your Kinks video inspired me. You gave me a brilliant idea. Sung to The Kinks’ “Lost and Found”

 

The baseball season’s out to lunch

A hurricane hit it and sent it to Seychelles

No double plays or infield flies

The tide just swept it and swirled it straight to Hell

 

And Captain Elbert Thorp

Said shiver me timbers

Focus now on making putts

Guys, get loose and limber

 

We were lost

In doubt

Golf awaits

Leave your glove at home

We were lost

In doubt

Take a drop

There’s no more sliding into home

 

This crap is bigger than the both of us

It’s really reeked a smelly pace

Batting donuts are a rare commodity

Dunkin’ Donuts came and took its placcccceeeee

 

Guitar solo from Dave Davies. Best in the business. Thank God, Marty and his ukulele are at Mudlark Lake Resort with Peaches. I shudder to think.

 

Ol’ McDonald had a farm

E-I-E-I-O

And on this farm, he raised some ‘Larks

E-I-E-I-O

With some Buttons, Buttons here

And some Buttons, Buttons there

Buttons in the slop

Buttons in the john

Buttons in the chaw

Buttons in the stall

Some in hen’s eggs

Some in goats legs

Ol’ McDonald was in the sling

E-I-E-I-O

 

Well, needs a little polish but what children’s song showed up on Billboard Hot 100 the first week? It takes a while to wind up on Casey Kasem’s desk.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Marty Moon Defends Rate Hike At The Warehouse At City Council Meeting!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Between a tall boy and riding Trigger, I think you know my preferences.”

 

Assuming that we’re still in the gym, the light in P1 too far away to be the Communist Debriefing Room in the M. C. Escher wing of Milford High School, we now confront the hangdog mien that is Molly and Nancy in P2.

Really, is this something Ward Cleaver is gently putting Wally and Beaver through the rinse cycle over at the end of the show? I can only imagine the premise at the beginning.

“Ward, would you talk to Beaver? He threatened to punch Eddie Haskell’s lights out if he didn’t wear a ‘Red Scare Rules!!!!’ button at school. He has Lumpy Rutherford in tears because he won’t show off his ‘TCFC’ lapel.”

“Of course. I have a sales convention in Honolulu to attend but should be able to catch the red-eye flight back to Milford and give him a heart-to-heart talk by the end of the show. BTW, what does ‘TCFC’ mean?”

“I think the kids are saying ‘Too Cool For Communism.”

 

“Gosh, Beav, when Dad finds out you stuck a frog down Polly’s butt because she wouldn’t wear a ‘Stalin Sucks’ button on her dress, you’re gonna get clobbered.”

 

“Uh, Beaver, I think you owe Polly and Lumpy an apology. And I want no more of this button business. You’re old enough not to shove anti-Communism ideals down people’s throats. Leave that to Nixon.”

“Gosh, Dad, you’re right. I’ll go tell them I’m sorry. From now on, I won’t force ‘Eisenhower Is Too Soft On Mao’ unless they ask.”

“Well, the trip from Oahu to Milford was worth it after all. Come on, what say we hit The Bucket for a Bucket Root Beer Float? And some Bucket Garlic Cheese Fries?”

“Gee, Dad, you’re the greatest.”

 

Okay, okay, if you can conjure up any better methods to address the sourpuss status in P2, I’m open for suggestions.

Then there’s the word “Lite”. How in the name of Wilfred Funk did that crawl into the English language with that kind of usage? Now, I THINK it is being emoloyed as a suffix, much like we’ve attached the word “-gate” to suggest a scandal big or small. Y’know, from the word “Watergate”, the hotel where Nixon engineered the infamous break-in to wiretap a slew of Democrats. I think we’re safe to not call this latest caper “Button-gate” (yet) , and we have the Bud Lite distribution and discussion to thank for that.

So now, Molly and Nancy will no longer pour Miller Lite in their 2% Milford Dairy Milk carton to calm their nerves before the game or they’ll be runnin’ laps in the gym. That’s fair. I think Mimi has a firm-lite grip on the situation, what do you think?

“Molly, I can smell  your breath in the 3rd row. Did you pour Michelob Lite down your Yoo-Hoo again? Gimme 20 around the horn.”

 

If ya poured a fifth of Jack in yore Hawaiian Punch right before the SAT exam ta handle the stress and ya managed ta hang on ta yore #2 pencils and calkylator, not ta mention slip past the proctor so that ya eventually scored high on the Verbal, ya might be a redneck.

 

We were lost

In doubt

Wondering what

Mimi plans to do with all these buttons

 

We were lost

In doubt

Just in time

For the Customs boat to raid them

Off the coastline

 

It appears we are tying up loose ends in P3. Molly Hatchet and her Amazing Technicolor Trapezoidal Butt is evidently bent on making amends and following George Harrison’s advice to use the power provided, free to everyone. This is love, you know. The button says so. Another one says “‘Cloud Nine’ is a Killer Album”. I told Molly to print that one after she snubbed me the first time. Hey, plugging The Beatles and The Rolling Stones for 50 years counts for something, as long as we’re making restitution.

Anyway, Tyler is going to get his Gideon Bible like he should have gotten in the dresser drawer at the Milford Marriott and we can just move onto summer. Not holding my breath, but at least the Gideon Bible is annotated. Last one was printed by Archie & The Gang and you know how Jughead Jones cuts corners just so he can leave early out the back for a burger down at Pop’s Choklit Shoppe.

 

“You know, when I see a kid ridin’ Buddy Budweiser here at Milford Beverage Warehouse, my cup runneth over. That’s why when The Bucket flares up with libelous statements and false charges, it makes me want to grab the Budweiser Clydesdales and run over anybody not nailed to a booth who’s in the middle of a Bucket Triple Decker.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp for the Warehouse. And I’m here to set the record straight. Yes, at the City Council meeting, someone DID propose a User Fee for the horse. But that came from a regular patron, Marty Moon, not us. In fact, when we found out, we were livid. And it was for 75 cents, not the $1.00 that the absentee owner of The Bucket suggested. He’s dyslexic and apparently got the Consumer Price Index mixed up.

Either way, Marty should know better. Proposing a rate hike on a kiddie horsee just to keep The Beer Institute from lobbying against higher taxes on his prized Falls City just about beats all. Marty’s always been a headline-grabber but competing with The Beer Institute for good press in the Milford Enquirer just to eventually promote his show shows you can’t always have your Falls City Dark and drink it too.

Gosh, darn, we are ready to fight back against the dark side. We know our patronage is very educated and literate. After hiring Gallup Polls to run a survey, we found that 53% of our customers have at least a college degree and that 81% overall graduated from high school. Throw in the 37% that matriculated from Milford Vocational and Technical Institute, and by gum, you have an army that can read the warning label on the back of a Cutty Sark. Shoot, I’m personally proud of a man who has a Master’s in Refrigerator Technology and Logistics who can buy a Louis L’Amour at our magazine rack in the Daiquiri Aisle.

So Milford Book-of-the-Month Club has joined forces in its fight for a more enlightened citizenry by offering you a special deal. If you sign up for a membership in the Book Club between now and July 4th, the Warehouse will give you half off your next purchase of your favorite 12-pack.

Boy o boy, Michelob Ultra, was 23.99, now slashed to a dozen simoleons and the FedEx dude delivering James Fennimore Cooper? I’ll have plenty of ice in the cube tray.

And Miller High Life, at 19.99 a pop and  T.S. Eliot’s “The Love Songs of J. Alfred Prufrock” will most surely go together when I’m on the hammock after a long day at the links, shootin’ one too many Topflites in the lake.

Or if you’re a Bud Man, you can be like Harry and pretend to say “Cubs Win!!!!!! Cubs Win!!!!!!” while slurping on a Bud at a laughble $11.00. Shoot, that’s like having 6 free Buds with a “Lady Chatterly’s Lover” in your bosom. Harry would have been proud.

But these deals won’t do no good until you come on down and see for yourself. Bring your photo ID, your thirst, and your dictionary, in that order so you can do so readin’ and rockin’. C’mon, did you ever try to read “The Pickwick Papers” while trying to scoop some Bucket o’ Marinaded Shrimp down at The Bucket? Our Absentee Landowner not only can’t get his facts straight, he gets Bucket Lasagna all over the pages of “War and Peace.” And the stains don’t come out of the leather bookbinding.

And when you have that “How The West Was Won” and a Drury’s in the checkout lane, tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

Gang, it’s your turn. I’m hangin’ my  head over this plot. So what else is new?

 

At the International Date Line

“Commodore, we have an interesting case. Plenty of swordfish and “Oakwood Bites” in the trawler. Think we should call HQ?”

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11 Comments »

  1. If this is the best girls story that R&W can think of, then I hope that they don’t do any more for a while

    Comment by franku2016 — June 6, 2019 @ 9:21 am

  2. Black Stache Mimi is terrifying in color today, and I think they switched the girls’ hair colors.

    Comment by Downpuppy (@Downpuppy) — June 6, 2019 @ 10:08 am

  3. “Animal Farm” was published in 1945. Wilson didn’t read anything after his death in 1924.

    I WIN THE INTERNET

    Comment by jvwalt — June 6, 2019 @ 11:26 am

  4. But some passions are more equal than others. No one is going to remotely equate my passion for compiling every sports result depicted in this with a fine sculpture. A piece of “roast-your-own” pottery made in a strip-mall shop maybe…

    Comment by billytheskink — June 6, 2019 @ 1:56 pm

  5. “Tyler! Wait up!” People who grew up in central New York State regularly report that when they say this in other parts of the country, people look at them funny. I have thus always assumed it was some sort of regionalism. Maybe not. But on balance, I’d rather we were known for this than for the godawful “flat A” vowel found in the dialect known as “Interior Northeast.” In the word “flat,” for example, the flat A verges on “flee-at” and is truly jarring. Interior northeastern begins up around Albany, passes through central NY and along the southern Great Lakes (bypassing Pittsburgh, which has its own language) and mercifully dies out in Ohio and Indiana, where “General American,” the dialect newscasters use, takes over.

    The basic idea behind the present plot had initial promise, but so did perpetual motion…

    Comment by vaganova — June 6, 2019 @ 3:38 pm

  6. Seems like an After School Special everybody wins ending is upon us. Ending will be good enough. Though history tells me summer plot doesn’t start til mid or late July.

    Comment by Jive Turkey — June 6, 2019 @ 5:52 pm

  7. WOW!!!!!!!!!!!! GREAT COMMENTS, GANG!!!!!!!!!!! Y’all did your thing and I enjoyed reading every one of your contributions.

    Vaganova, I want to address your contributions today, interesting as they are.
    This doesn’t directly relate to what you said but it was too good to pass up since there is a strand or two that keeps those observations cousins to each other. I used to live in Evansville, Indiana, which as many of you know is on the Ohio River. The downtown area is directly across from Kentucky but because that section of Kentucky floods like the dickens all the time(culminating in the E’ville ’37 flood), a bridge crossing the Ohio had to be built further west because it was on higher ground, in 1931.
    A second bridge had to be built, completed in 1969, due to ever-increasing traffic on US 41, especially due to people vacationing in the south(US 41 ended in Miami, as an example), plus truck traffic was at a premium since E’ville was a direct route from, say, Chicago to southern cities such as Nashville or Birmingham.
    Which was all well and good but the bridges typified an ever-increasing Mason-Dixon Line, Henderson, Kentucky, population 20-30,000, on the other side of the river from E’ville. It solved one problem but created another one. Evansville, with its own population of 140,000, was a typical northern town, with its heavy industry and factories(many, sadly enough since shut down, victims of the Rust Belt), not to mention semi-Yankee ways, mannerisms and accent while Henderson was the direct opposite, laid-back, more reliant on the agriculture surrounding the town and throughout Henderson County and possessive of that southern drawl.
    And you’d think a bridge would seal the gap and promote camaraderie between the 2 towns but that really wasn’t the case. Don’t get me wrong, there was no Civil War between these towns but many from both sides of the river noticed how a bridge could separate and keep 2 basic cultures apart from each other and rarely intermingle. Rome and Athens basically had their own agendas.
    The story I always like to give is when Walter McCarty, former NBA star, lived in Evansville. He attended Harrison, arguably the richest public high school in the county, same school that Calbert Cheaney attended. Well, Cheaney played at Indiana for Bob Knight, much to the pleasure of Evansville which was overwhelmingly IU country. There simply wasn’t any other school other than Cream & Crimson, according to beaucoup E’villers.
    So when McCarty committed to Kentucky, many in E’ville were understandably upset. Ah, but when Harrison went to cross the river to play Henderson County, during the player intros when McCarty’s name was announced, he got a standing O. The pro-University of Kentucky crowd had spoken.
    This prompted Phil Gibson, Henderson County’s coach, a great coach, one whose competitive juices flowed 24/7, who, like all good coaches, knew how to work the refs but was classy enough to rarely get slapped with a T, to say the following after the game.
    “I’m glad he is going to UK but I hope the fans didn’t get too carried away tonight. He was still the enemy in this gym.”
    Just another night in Paradise when you cross the Mason-Dixon Line. Two cultures laying it on the line in a high school gym. Priceless.
    Vaganova, keep it coming. Your comments are always a welcome and refreshing sight.

    That goes for all of you. Without your input, Democracy ceases. Keep the flame going, Gang.

    Comment by tdrewhardin — June 6, 2019 @ 9:42 pm

  8. Oops, my bad. Built further east of Evansville.

    Comment by tdrewhardin — June 6, 2019 @ 9:50 pm

  9. The Ohio River is quite the place

    Comment by Downpuppy (@Downpuppy) — June 7, 2019 @ 7:54 am

  10. Downpuppy, Wow. I am speechless. Great video with a trenchant message, one we can all learn from. I liked the beautiful eerie riffs that resounded throughout the song. I will definitely check him out. Keep those comin’, Big Guy. You have the Ohio River down pat on this song. You da Man.

    Comment by tdrewhardin — June 7, 2019 @ 8:36 am

  11. Although I was born and grew up near several tributaries of the Ohio River, I’ve always considered myself more of a Mississippi River type. Frequent sojourns to New Orleans have born this out.

    Comment by timbuys — June 7, 2019 @ 11:24 am


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