This Week in Milford

November 19, 2019

I heard Marjie Rapping, Rapping At My Door.

111919

Uh oh.

Whenever Marty casts that evil eye and leaves the Milford Recreational Sports 60th Annual Darts Tournament, you know something’s cooking between those ears of his. You just don’t execute a couple of bulls-eyes while you observe your overmatched opponent possess the aim of a welder when he has his gloves still on while still trying to solder the Anchor Pub sign back into place. The results are all over the dart board, literally, in back of Marty while he soaks in the Bud and the gossip. Sorta like walking and chewing gum at this point, when you think about it.

“Okay, Marty, you’re up.”

“I’ll skip this round. I have a great chance of winning the Masters 60 & Over Tournament later on anyway. Whose my opponent? Roy Gillen? In the bag. Anyway, Chet, so you say he mooned his kindergarten teacher and got due-processed? Before or after the teachers threw an Oreo in his chest at naptime?”

 

Once upon a plotline dreary, our interest weak and weary

I heard a tapping, tapping at my door

Coach Luhm came in to buffer like no tomorrow

We had no aegis with which to borrow

The buffer and the soap (opera) both caused great sorrow

But you could store one back in the closet

The other remained with us

Evermore

 

If ya gotta pursue the rent-a-trap route from Milford U-Haul after the crow done disturbed yore beauty sleep where yuz fantasizin’ about bein’ arm-and-arm with the 400-pound beauty queen in yore department on third shift at work and it takes forever ta set up the trap cuz the UPS driver forgot ta send the instruction manual, ya might be a redneck.

 

Unfortunately, our TWIMers may prove correct, i.e., Marty may rat out Chet rather than use the artillery Chet provides. I liked Teenchy’s omerta comparision because Marty may not only not recycle Chet’s lowdown on Chance’s truancy from Song Flute class but may use info like that to stultify Chet.

“So what if Chance couldn’t toot “On the Banks of the Wabash?. Hell, I had trouble accompanying the soloist on “MacArthur Park.” Did you ever try to keep up with Richard Harris on a song flute?”

 

Heard blasting on Gil’s speakers out of his Chevy Nova one day while he applies Turtle Wax Lime to the hood, the vocorder proudly proclaiming the message from Parsons’ “Tales of Mystery and Imagination”

While I was vacuuming

And emptying ash trays

I heard a knocking at my door

 

It wasn’t a Witness

No Girl Scout selling

Her fudgies evermore

 

In my amazement

She stood there intending

My assistance to implore

 

A School Board member

Must be dismembered

So we won’t hear

Forevermore

 

Thus quoth Gilberto

Nevermore

Thus quoth Gilberto

Nevermore

 

Nevermore Nevermore Nevermore

Never

Nevermore Nevermore Nevermore

Never

Nevermore Nevermore Nevermore

Never

 

NEVERMORE

 

Thank you to the Milford Chorale Society for the accompaniment to Ian Bairnson, Stuart Tosh, London Symphony Orchestra, etc.

Oh, and kudos to Milford Pawn ‘n’ Carry for the vocorder

 

I mean, Chet better watch his backside here. Which, if everything goes according to script, is really the idea. Chet’s about to get hoisted by his own petard because any time you unload confidential information to Loony Moony, well, you Hooligans know what the OTHER Loony Moony did with those cars. Wound up in Davy Jones Locker at some podunk Holiday Inn, last I recall. Chet, YOU might find yourself in the bottom of the swimming pool at the Oakwood Holiday Inn alomg with Chance’s parole records for the month of February if you continue this conversation at The Pub That Serves Anchors and Onion Rings and Darts That Are Really Dr. Pearl’s Knitting Needles.

Oh, pay no mind to Marty’s leer. He gets that way when he’s welcoming new members of the Wide Path of Destruction. Those Boys Town records of Chance you got FedExed from Father Flanagan ought to be secure at the safe deposit box at the Post Office while you’re attending Marty’s Day of Reckoning.

 

Because I’m really unsure why there’s a tanning clinic under the same roof as a laundromat like I saw recently

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Sent To Minor Emergency Clinic After Overexposure To UV Rays From Heat Lamp At Milford 24-Hour Coin Laundry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“The damn rinse cycle took FOREVER to complete. I had to insert an extra quarter or two just to kick-start it.”

 

And the silken and uncertain rustling of this plot

Killed me-filled me with needless terrors and ennui I have felt in baseball and golf before

So that now, to the stagnation of everyone concerned, I stood repeating

‘Tis some muckraker entreating entrance at my chamber door

Some Grantland Rice-wannabe entreating entrance at my chamber door

That it is and nothing more

 

We will return to this Masterpiece Theater Father Brown Mystery in a moment but first let me explore the meaning of the phrase “to chat up”.

Now I can understand Chet and Marty CHATTING at the Anchor Pub in the family room because ya gotta leave your attitude and your gossip at the entrance leading into the bar. No discussion of Chance’s molestation of Milford Head Start children accusations when he was in charge of leading recess (“Okay, kiddies, grab your private parts and go ‘I think I can, I think I can…”) or when he sent Grandma Macy to Milford General Hospital because she served the wrong Hamburger Helper (“I wanted PORK and pasta!!!!!!!!!!”) .

And I can understand General Lee and General Grant CHATTING at Appomattox when discussing terms of surrender (“Sure, everybody can keep their pistols. Just gotta drop your Winchesters in the bin. So how’s your boy doing? Did you have to hold him back another year?”) .

And I can understand Batman and Robin CHATTING before they break into that deserted warehouse that hasn’t been used since the old ladies moved to Lowell, Massachusetts to comtinue their 18-hour shift of looming and weaving to arrest The Joker (“You’re flunking Phys Ed, Robin?”) .

BUT HOW THE HELL DO YOU CHAT UP?

A better question is

WHO CHATS UP???????????????

 

When Franklin Delano Roosevelt sponsored his Fireside Chats, he never, ever CHATTED UP the Tennessee Valley Authority project. Didn’t CHAT UP the WPA. Hitler was never CHATTED UP like it was North Carolina CHATTING UP Duke or vice versa (FUCK HOLLAND) . I mean, if I want to CHAT UP my Muriel cigar, I’ll go get my Zippo, thank you very much.

Anybody want the rest of these Bucket Buffalo Wings, BTW? Otherwise, I’m going to CHAT THEM UP.

Marjie is CHATTING UP the door in P2. And looks like she got an answer. Those Avon techniques work every time.

 

Open here I flung through Marjie’s peruke, when,

After many a spit and sputter

In stepped Margaret Nutchall’s mom after

Giving Dennis the Menace a/ka Chet

A tongue-lashing

But, with mien or otherwise uninvited, perched at my chamber door

Settled on a bust of Gil when he just used Tegrin Medicated Shampoo on his hair

She settled and the plot did nothing more

 

“…still paying extra for your lodging accommodations? Well, at Milford Motel Econo-Stay, you get a nice quiet room for $27 less than Milford Courtyard by Marriott. When Mimi’s aunt stayed a couple of days while traveling the country, why did she need to pay an extra 27 simoleons for a Gideon’s Bible? She brought her own, there was none in the drawer…”

 

P3-“We had made passionate love at the Milford Motel Econo-Stay…”

Well, what else could it be at this point as people have been doing more investigating than Smiley’s People? I have always liked reading John Le Carre, his deliberate style to FINALLY nail a Doctor No or some Soviet flunky who has engineered a plan to take over West Berlin by slipping past Checkpoint Charlie with the conspiracy hidden in Gil’s hair but do we really honestly have to read about this in Mudlarkland? Before it’s all said and done, Chance will be executed by a firing squad for treason right before kickoff to Valley Tech.

And who’s Ms. Forsman? Is she related to The Joker, given her choice of slacks which runs in synchronization with that villain’s wardrobe? Is THIS the reason why we gotta keep it real in P3 because Chance was seen in the Jokermobile aiding and abetting in the cause when The Joker and his gang set out to rob The Bucket? Well, The Joker doesn’t wear chunky earrings. And Chance may still have to answer for his possible Boys Town record but we don’t think Father Flanagan taught him to be a Commie rat. There’s hope.

Now we have it reduced to “Editor, Reporter, Sailor, Spy” Ducey and her tea time and scones with Mrs. Joker. I can’t wait for this Le Carre novel to be released next month. Oughta be exciting. Definitely more than this plot anyway.

 

Because I’m intrgued when kids sing around the campfire while dad has finally conquered his ED problems as I saw in an ad

 

“…take one down, pass it around, 97 bottles of beer on the wall-”

“Honnnneeeyyyyyyy, I’m glad you brought the kids along for our Milford Marraige Enrichment Seminar but we slid the credit card for the that cabin here at Mudlark Lake for a reasonnnnnnnnn. And I’m hornnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

“Just when we’re getting to the best part? Heck, Mrs. Shaw, I still haven’t opened that other bag of Milford Kwik-ee Mart Munchy Marshmallows? Okay, kiddies, who needs a stick? I can always rip a branch off that sugar maple over yonder.”

“Darling, that’s what the baby-sitter is for. Now put that Beanie-Weenie down and let’s do our own roasting in that nice comfy feather bed, the one that comes with a Gideon’s Bible.”

“Okay, who knows the words to Camptown Races?

Camptown Races sing this song

Doo Dah

Doo Dah

Find Chance’s bio and don’t be long

Oh Doo Dah Day-”

“This Camptown Race is taking way too long. You can always air guitar at the Enrichment Seminar Jamboree.”

“Just when I was doing my best Joe Walsh? Okay, boys and girls, repeat after me

I HAVE ACCOUNTANTS PAY FOR IT ALL

THEY SAY I’M CRAZY BUT IT TAKES ALL MY TIME

“Honey, is your wim wim as lame as that Oscar Meyer Wiener you’re roasting?”

Coach Shaw, getting desperate

“Oh I wish were as hard as this Oscar Meyer Wienerrrrrrrrr

Then my wife would truly be in love with me”

 

The kids understandably befuddled.

“Those aren’t the words.”

 

“When the hot dogs were firing up faster than my Significant Other, it was time to ‘fess up and head to Milford Men’s Clinic. You don’t need a pin oak branch to roast this bad boy and with proven treatment plans that work, isn’t it time you sang “Happy Days Are Here Again” at your next wienie roast? And they left the light on when me and Mrs. Shaw entered the cabin for our own Marshmallow Enrichment Seminar. Come get your own silver maple branch and start roasting the Vienna sausages only at The Clinic. You’ll be glad you did.”

Thanks again for your patience, Gang. I owe you one.

 

As I pondered, pondered the question

Whether my beloved Lenore would outlast this plot

The Raven, fresh from flatulating from a Burger at The Bucket

Reflected upon my inquisitive nature

Insensitive and inured to my desperate plight and the buffoonery therewith

And uttered

“Nevermore”

 

I’M BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN

 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Get to The Clinic. You’ll have 15 minutes before it closes.”

Gil puts “Rocks” back in the saddle, er, album sleeve

6 Comments »

  1. Media members talking to school board members… Such action! Such drama!

    Comment by billytheskink — November 19, 2019 @ 9:37 am

  2. Chet thinks he’s pullin’ a fast one, but he will soon be covered with his own piss from the wind.

    Comment by franku2016 — November 19, 2019 @ 10:57 am

  3. Not much to read today, so I got stuck on the lines next to Marty’s eyes. Frown, wrinkle, or exploding eyeball syndrome? Also, one raised eyebrow. Marty seems upset. Is Chet making him pay for his own drink?

    Comment by Downpuppy (@Downpuppy) — November 19, 2019 @ 12:32 pm

  4. @downpuppy…..maybe Chet ripped ass..

    Comment by franku2016 — November 19, 2019 @ 12:50 pm

  5. Marty: “Dude, tell me something I *don’t* know! I’ve had a front row seat for the Mudlarks for twenty years!”

    Comment by hitorque — November 19, 2019 @ 2:48 pm

  6. […] may not be giving her his pants order. Can’t be Chance Macy’s grandpa, can it? He had male pattern baldness last time we saw him. But who else would be saying Chance would be “prepared” for […]

    Pingback by “And Now We Pause for Station Indentification. This Is the Milford Mudlark Radio Network.” | This Week in Milford — November 23, 2019 @ 6:42 pm


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