This Week in Milford

December 31, 2019

The Day Chance “Sam” Macy Almost Sent “Henny” Demarco To The Hospital.

Filed under: Milford Idiots — tdrewhardin @ 1:25 pm


Gang, I apologize. I had to run one of my dad’s workers up to the Mexican Consulate and get his Passport renewed and that was an all-morning trip. The good news is it was worth it as he is good to go for quite some time.


Anymore, it is hard to tell if that’s Teddy “Mr. T. for the Day” Demarco in P1 or if it’s a suitable replacement, i.e., some smart-ass teenager with a severe case of Magic Marker Head. For my money, at the rate this storyline is going, no, I don’t believe it is Dobie Gillis disguised as Woody Woodpecker copping an attitude. DEFINITELY not Maynard P. Krebs, Dobie’s friend. Playing the bongos while exhibiting coxcomb scalp really doesn’t mix.

So Henny Demarco is telling Chris to take his basketball and go home because he couldn’t do anything with it at Springfield. God, I love it when I can analyze a humorous situation. Ain’t I wonerful?


Shout-out to Fuel Mart in Austin, Indiana. They never disappoint. They sell all kinds of goodies from tasty footlong Polish sausages to Italian-style subs, from 2-liter Coke products to pipin’ ot coffee, from chips to Little Debbies and everything in between. The good news is, they’re sold at prices that don’t remind you of convenience store rip-offs. With a friendly staff, it is hard to beat and harder to resist. Come in off of Exit 34 off I-65 and head west until you get to the first right and the station is right there, for the taking.

Gang, you need to go where everyone knows your name.


Hey, but the high school actually RESEMBLES a high school, no Room 222 that Elroy Jetson attended while still in pre-school. By gum, if Goofus and Gallant can pass Mr. T. in the high school and still keep the floor shiny as in P1, I might just take the chance I CAN eat my Big Mac off the same and kick back and enjoy Mr. T. on his Open Mike roll laying into “Choke” Schuring. If nothing else, my fries won’t go BONK.

“Hey, does the basket have bad breath because the basketball doesn’t go anywhere near it. Maybe if the basket chewed on a couple of Altoids, you might shoot better.”

Cutting to the bone, Mr. T.


If ya buy the whole Certs rack at the Milford 7-11 cuz ya want ta remove the Schlitz breath from yore mouth so youze kin kiss yore wife in the evening and she’ll never suspekt ya took a detour ta the bar and got a little carried away, ya might be a redneck.


“Does your face hurt? It’s killing the basket.”

Well, anyhoo, Gallant is once again taking the High Road because Tommy “Looks like Chance “Sam” Macy” Rich is wanting a piece of, we assume, mind you, Teddy Demarco. Oh, the conversation

Let me rip his balls and make him eat them.

Oh, no, Tommy or Sam, whichever you prefer, it would go against what I was taught reading the Gideon’s Bible I was reading while eating my Continental Breakfast at the Milford Moto-Lodge

But he said you shit like a dog and shoot like one too

Oh, there, there, Chance “Goofus” Macy, his time will come. One day he will say Wilt the Stilt scored 100 points because he was at Mudlark gym and got the same Homer calls that Gil gets when he is coaching and a slew of vipers will spring out of the jump circle and drag him into the Pits of Hell. This Goofus and Gallant plot guarantees it as it’s under contract. Until then, why don’t we see what’s behind the Mystery Door. We might turn up child pornography photos that Dr. Pearl took with her Polaroid One-Step. There were rumors

“If you apply some Ban Roll-On, you’re shooting percentages won’t stink.”

Comedy Club any day now, Mr. T.


The Unknown Comic in the Milford High School hallways

“Hey, the last time I saw a guy shoot like that, he got arrested for indecent exposure.”

Come, Goofus, ignore him. Let’s remove that extra finger so you can grip your Bucket Burgers better. The door to the Milford Minor Surgery Center is straight ahead. Your hand will be as good as a penta-morph by this afternoon


See, Goofus? He got his


Okay, Gene Rayburn is back with some more relief from this charade of comedy. Take ‘er away, Gene

“Dumb Dora was sssooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought Chance Macy looked like _____________.”

“Hey, ya hockey puck!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Do you have to get with your consultant every time you go down the score to shoot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Oh, Goofus the Omega Man, ignore Mr. Rickles. You still have to inject that serum in me if you want me to be well and have my eyeballs return in P3. I realize it’s no fun not being able to stick Mr. Rickles’ head in the blender at the Milford High School cafeteria kitchen but think of the potential of winning in the Playdowns when I’m scoring the winning shot because Coach Thorp wasn’t around to even teach me how to shoot at his Nerfhoop in his office. When we hoist the trophy in front of Mr. Rickles, he’ll just have to go insult Hank Finkel

“Hey, Mr. Finkel, I understand the only time you show up in a Celtic uniform is when the team shows up at the group photograph.”

Mr. T., don’t let off the gas pedal.


“…what do I look like, a surgeon who can cut extra fingers with a ginsu knife?”

“And we’ll be back for more hilarity from ‘Live at the Milford Improv’ after these messages. This is WDIG-TV.”


At the Milford Girls Gym, Coach Shaw is at the halfcourt line in his Fruit of the Looms trying to work up a sweat





“Honey, what are you doing here at 3:00AM? Aren’t you afraid the police will arrest you?”

While Coach Shaw is doing several pelvic thrusts bending the crotch seams in his underwear to the nth degree

“Mrs. Shaw, don’t bother me now, I’m trying to concentrate.”


As Coach Shaw punts one of the slaughterballs into the 7th row of the Visitors bleachers

“Sure, The Milford Health Quarterly said to throw away your dick pills, dancing yourself in a frenzy is the way to pump up the merchandise.”

“Sweetie, you don’t have to literally jump out of the gym to have fun with me. Now put on your clothes so you take them off somewhere else and have a great time.”

“Why would I take off my pants when I’m gettin’ on the roller coaster at Milford Six Flags?”




“Honey, don’t make ME cry. Put on your clothes and let’s get out of here.”

While Coach Shaw is pirouetting around, finally slam-dunking a volleyball on the 7-foot goal

“Mrs. Shaw, don’t stop me now, I feel the earth moving in my significant other and it’s a matter of time before I have a hardness an Olympic diver could do a half-gainer off of.”

Off the same album, “Tattoo You”




“Honey, you’re still flat as a pancake. The police will arrest you for indecent exposure on that alone.”



Coach Shaw takes the needle off the Emerson Lake & Palmer record


“My wife was right, of course. I was tired of trying to get in on when I could get it on with a little help from Milford Men’s Clinic. And their new Inflat-a-Bull formula, drug-tested on mice at Milford Labs, Inc. worked so well, they had to get a couple more cages to accomodate the newborns. Man, I never knew Mickey could get that horny. If it worked on Minnie Mouse, why couldn’t I repair this flat tire and go to Disneyworld with my wife. Just a couple of squirts and my sex life has hardened its heart. My wife seemed to agree. Now I leave the gym for the shootarounds. Come into Milford Men’s Clinic today and slam-dunk your Erectile Dysfunction. Believe me, it’s nice to score the winning shot with no time left on the clock.”


Gang, the floor is yours. Happy New Year and may God bless you. Next month will be my second year with the site. I especially want to thank Timbuys for all his help during this time. Without him, my end of things are severely hampered. Treat him with respect. He’s earned it.

But I also couldn’t have done it without you readers. I am nothing without you. I live by the Consent of the Governed and when the TWIMers are there to support me, it makes this past decade truly special. Thanks again and please be safe. We need you.




Mimi bangs on the garage door

“Gil, dammit, put away the ELP record and come to bed. If Greg Lake’s singing won’t pump you up by now…”


The Unknown Comic at the Milford Gym

“Hey, hey, Gil, I don’t mean to say you’re limp but your sex life might take a hit when the leaves fall off the tree next autumn.”

Cuts deep, My Man. Have you imparted these Words of Wisdom to Mr. T.?



  1. a great story would be Mr T/McLovin gettin his ass beat by Chris and then watching dumb-ass Gil deal with the suspension of Chris and lawsuit by Mr T guardian or foster parent against the school. Instead, we will limp along with this nonsense until March, at the earliest.

    Comment by franku2016 — December 31, 2019 @ 4:42 pm

  2. Frank, I couldn’t agree more. I was going to predict April but…(ha). Anyway, you nailed it as you usually do and your comment DEFINITELY added to today’s entry. Thanks for your contributions on this site.

    Gang, start your New Year off right by keeping Democracy alive and promoting Free Speech. If you don’t contribute on this site, contribute SOMEWHERE. And while you’re at it, register to vote.

    You mean the world to me, Gang.

    Comment by tdrewhardin — January 1, 2020 @ 10:15 am

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at

%d bloggers like this: