This Week in Milford

July 28, 2020

Indiana Wants Me, Won’t Go Back To Milford.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 2:21 am

Indiana wants me, can’t go back to Milford

Indiana wants me, won’t go back to Milford

Town needs a clue

To get through

If a city ever needed dyin’, this did

It couldn’t get a grip to grasp what others said about it

It’s so staid and brainless there, without hope

But here in Bloomington

Common sense and rooming in

Indiana wants me, can’t go back to Milford

Indiana wants me, won’t go back to Milford

Town is in a stew, can’t plow through

Gang, is this going to be the modus operandi the remaining part of July and all of August? A Now-You-See-Gil-Now-You-Don’t-At-Milford-MCC poring over True’s questionable venture into a sport the latter really didn’t claim as his own when we’re not watching The Goodbye Girl and Single White Female in an intense discussion over knitting and the bombing of Milford City Hall? DAMN, I forGOT, there IS sports. Alexa playing a game of “Horse” with Phoebe, how stupid of me. That oughta tide us over until football.

“Off the backboard, through the goalpost, no rim. Nothing but nylon.”

“Right-handed or left?”

“Left.”

What is the point anyhoo of Single White Female gracing our presence? Like the sergeant asked in the movie “Full Metal Jacket”, did your mommy and daddy not give you the proper attention? Well, evidently not, if Mommy Dearest was sticking TNT in the travel lockers at Milford International Airport.

And what’s with the obsession with thirst? Were your psychotic tendencies that led you to steal Phoebe’s identity when you weren’t crucifying her or other girlie-girls with an ice pick a result of iron-poor blood and not enough Gatorade and vegetables in your diet? You come to Milford to steal Gil’s hair and assume HIS IDENTITY because you didn’t have enough coins to put in the Ski machine when you were six-years-old? You were potty-trained with Ensure? Try calling the audibles, Single White Gil, when you ran out of Yoo-hoo! when you were in kindergarten. This Freudian adventure ought to fill up space for a while. Heck, we can ditch True talking to Harry Caray when he’s not eating cheeseburgers off Mimi’s Wurlitzer. Who needs a Sane White But Slightly Ill-Advised Male when we can plunge into the remaining time with a thirsty female Norman Bates who stabs Lady Mudlarks when she’s not working at the batting cages on her swing? This is a front-seater, fer sure.

Because I will never get used to pop-ups occupying the seats at Major League ball parks

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Fined $500 From Milford Parks & Recreation Adult Flag Football League After Gaffe In Recent Game!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Look, my grandmother was an alcoholic!!!!!!!!!! I can’t control the situation when they bring her life-size cut-out in the bleachers carrying a bottle of Cutty Sark in her hand!!!!!!!!!!”

And what a better way to spice up the plot that is getting more non-athletic by the panel, commencing in P1. Like Single White Female is coming back with Gilslinger, freshly turbocharged after being several hours under the knife on a table in the back of Milford Electronics Supply. Aren’t you just EXCITED? I know I’m waiting with an ample air of anticipation for Milfordworld: Gilslinger Uses an Ice Pick This Time.

And we aren’t going back to Milford Diner, nosirree, no matter how thirsty we are. If we have to die dehydrated on the streets of downtown Milford in front of Milford 5 & 10, so be it, but the Nestea had bugs in it the last time. Best to go to Milford Lounge where the patrons are drinking their Coke and Jack and Jose Cuervo with their COVID-19 masks on with pride. As long as we’re going to ruin a plot that is not long enough to accommodate Milford Chess Tournament, can we service my thirst at a venue where Gilslinger can use his six-shooter in case the drunk with the PBR says anything about Gilslinger’s mother and I can satisfy my psycho leaning on the bartender? Steal his identity and his shot glasses? I have fake ID’s and Gilslinger is an adult. We ought to be fine.

I mean, where ELSE could SWF and Phoebe be going? We’ve already been there but if we have to resort to repeat performances, there’s little logic in regurgitating the toast at Milford Diner and reheating it in the toaster. Serving THAT with eggs that came out of Gilslinger’s holster and bug-infested iced tea? Menu and plot fit for a king. Here, King, here, King, I have a surprise to put in your doggie bowl.

“Draw, sissy.”

“Shut up, Gilslinger. I’ll do the killing here at The Bucket. I’ll corner the waitress with the ice pick later after I’ve ordered Bucket Spaghetti O’s.”

GODDDDAMMMIT, MOON, I DIDN’T SAY THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!! I NEVER SAID THAT MY WIFE IS ADDING AN EXTRA GAME TO HER 5-GAME SCHEDULE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Gil, that’s a cut-out you’re talking to.”

Indiana wants me, can’t go back to Milford

Indiana wants me, burn the road to Milford

Town without a view

The plot flew

It bites to see the disgrace this has become

And to learn we’ll never see sports this summer, based well at hand

We’ll never eye athletics that truly beat the band

If just once we could spot a golf club

Baseball or a soccer ticket stub

Indiana wants me, can’t back to Milford

Indiana wants me, escape from the dregs of Milford

Nothing’s ringing true

Let’s start anew

The one saving grace in P2 is the artwork is pretty decent this time. Chaise lounges that actually look like chaise lounges, not blobby contraptions that escaped from The Planet of the Apes or as props for Attack of the Killer Mushrooms (“Aggggghhhh, Alexa!!!!!!!!!! It’s got me!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where’s that ice pick Corina loaned me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”) . Trees that look like trees, not one oak hunching an elm and you gotta turn the hose on them to get them apart. An umbrella shade that looks like an umbrella shade, not those killer mutant turtleshell creatures that terrorized some town in England or Sccotland back in the ’60’s (forgot which) . No, Thorpiverse, don’t even go there. Radioactive canopies that attack two teenagers, one going to college in the Fall to get out of Rockville forever and the other trying to find her place in the sun because athletics left Rockville too, I think you better stick to non-athletic soap operas. When did you EVER see a radioactive turtle shell attack Luke on General Hospital? For 6 months? Rest my case.

We still have Phoebe’s one leg that evidently got caught in a sawmill at Milford Lumber Yards, but don’t rain on my parade, Gang. Yes, the artwork’s not a 10 but a 9.5 wins a lot of gymnastics meets.

If ya go to Indiana ta stay in somebody’s garage cuz ya heard the tractor pulls are a lot more excitin’, especially the Cornfield-Luggin’ event with a Hog-Rasslin’ show as a bonus that would put Milford Stockyards ta shame, ya might be a redneck.

I don’t blame you, Alexa, if some strange girl comes to my hometown after lecturing The Mayor on his lineup and practically threatening your bestie for interrupting T-ball practice, then brags about how her mom is a terrorist who blows up your garage before your yard sale and evidently develops a thirst from all that carnage, I’d be permanently headin’ to Indiana too. I’ll take my chances that detonating Assembly Hall is low on her mom’s list. I just hate to see how dehydrated Corina get from blowing up the animals at Milford Zoo. Is Corina going to need the whole Bud truck? There’s only so many vehicles at Milford Beverage Inc.

Then there’s the only glitch to the artwork in P2, speaking of garages. Streaky garage windows that look like the Pepsi cooler fridge at one of those outdoor convenient marts and make for nifty celluloid material that shows Bugs Bunny going back to his rabbit hole in Indiana when he’s running from Elmer Thorp and his shotgun might be good theater but confuses the Hell out of the readers. No garage doors that appear to be window dressing, literally.

Coach Shaw appearing with Buck Owen and his Buckaroos at the Milford Girls-a-Go-Go Club with nothing but cut-outs in the audience.

“Buck, I’ve heard of tough crowds before but this is ridiculous.”

And Foghorn Leghorn returns and tells a funny. That’s right, I say, that’s right, it’s going to take a Freightliner to move all them chickens and chicken feed out of the chicken coop and transport ’em down Indiana 46 out of Columbus until you get to Bloomington. Thank God there was no snow on them curves when we wuz goin’ ’round the bend. We would of had ta listen ta True for ‘nuther season, dependin’ on which side of the MCC he and Foster Brooks is standin’ on. The front side is football cuz that’s the side that yuz talk about anything and not be afraid that the general public might hear. Ever’body wants ta hear war stories where yuz won the war no matter how long ago the war was. Jerry Pulver proves that. Doin’ somethin’ stupid like tryin’ ta make a Major League roster with only a smattering of experience, let alone do it without getting Minor League seasonin’, seasonin’ that ain’t gonna take place cuz the season itself has gone ta the dawgs, well, ain’t no wonder why yuz talkin’ about it on the back side. I’d be talkin’ about usin’ chicken feathers fer toilet paper on the back side too. Tha’s another joke, Son.

Okay, Gene Rayburn is back and this time he’s mad as Hell and not gonna take it anymore and can’t say I blame him. Take no prisoners, Gene

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought True could play baseball without having to ___________________”

So is this going to be On The Road With Charles Kuralt? Charles is going to go watch True get thrown to the lions at Yankee Stadium after he dumped off all of Alexa’s possessions that Mom Watson bought at Milford Costco out of his Winnebago? Before Single White Female slashes Kuralt’s throat with a catcher’s mitt? And after Mommy Dearest planted a bomb in Kuralt’s boxers?

Vaganova, you were right. Too many unfinished scripts running around in a stock car race.

“And we’ll be back to see if The Bobbsey Twins decide on a U-Haul or if their mom needs to keep her “B” license and not let it expire so that the Bobbsey Twins can move their beds into the dorms at IU after these messages. This is WDIG-TV.”

“Man, that’s a tough decision. I know Milford Rental can ream your butt with rental vehicles that can barely tote a tricycle. I hope Mom Bobbsey watches that speed trap in the T. C. Steele Memorial parking lot when she’s whipping through Brown County on the way to Bloomington.

But at Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage, our products won’t ream your behind, either in your pocketbook or your gluteus maximus. We stand behind our meats because we don’t use U-Haul rental vehicles to move our hogs to the slaughterhouse. We don’t need to put floor-dry in the B truck after transporting our finest Yorkshires through the meat grinder. No security deposits involved.

Instead, we use Milford Department of Transportation-approved A trucks and B trucks to deliver fresh goodness to your dinner table. No meed to back the trailer in your driveway when you can pick up a package of Gil Thorp Regular Sausage at the grocers. And with a coupon, you can keep them trucks a-rollin’ to the delivery dock where the forklift can drop it in the cooler section, at a cheaper cost. Makes me want to tip the forklift driver a 5.

And some of you want to keep from getting COVID-19 so you only have no more than 10 guests at your Bar-B-Q. Not a problem. I only had 15 guests at my kids’ preschool graduation on the verandah. We can relate. That’s why our Gil Thorp Isolated Pea Product Sausage Patties are sure to be a hit at your family reunion that only has 5 people at shelter #12 at Milford City Park. They have been inspected and defumigated and sprayed to keep the roaches from having their own family reunion. Nothing like a Bar-B-Q that has that Renuzit Strawberry Scent to reassure that you won’t get any diseases. With your mask protecting your face, The Plague doesn’t stand a chance in Milford, let alone at their parks.

Speaking of COVID-19, many are concerned about this pandemic. Let me reassure you, our workers on the assembly line wear masks and gloves when handling Gil Thorp Italian Blasted Bratwurst. There’s no sense in letting germs invade our high regard for quality standards and safety measures. We shouldn’t have to remind adults to wipe and then wash their hands after they’ve wiped but we’re not taking any chances. Would you eat a brat from somebody who forgot to use Charmin in the bathroom stall? It puts a damper on the picnic.

Come get your own sterilized sausage at the company that wrote the book on slaughtering hogs for meat safely and legally. That’s right, we at Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage are proud of our immaculate record, unlike Tennessee Pride which got hit with heavy fines by the FDA. That incident in the meat freezer when the meathandler had severe allergies didn’t help. Next time, use Dayquil.

Clean living never tasted so good. Come get clean in your grocery store for your own package.

Gang, I’m laying low because I’d rather not get transfixed with an ice pick. When Single White Female moves to Bloomington, I promise I will say you mean the world to me. God bless you.

Indiana wants me, can’t go back to Milford

Indiana wants me, won’t go back to Milford

Indiana wants me, can’t go back to Milford (“Gil, this is the Indiana State Police.”)

Indiana wants me, won’t go back to Milford (“This plot is not worth the corn husks on the ground.”

Indiana wants me, can’t go back to Milford (“Give up this cow manure and go back to Milford and stop bothering us in Indiana.”

Indiana wants me, won’t go back to Milford (“You need to pursue a sport-might I suggest rugby?”)

Indiana wants me, cant’ go back to Milford (“Isn’t Mimi satisfying?)…

 

9 Comments »

  1. As Rick Moranis said as Dick Cavett on SCTV, “How wonderfully inane.”

    Comment by Jive Turkey — July 28, 2020 @ 5:42 am

  2. It’s plot-less plot, as usual lately

    Comment by franku2016 — July 28, 2020 @ 9:01 am

  3. And is that Moon texting them in P1?

    Comment by franku2016 — July 28, 2020 @ 9:09 am

  4. As Neal Rubin replied to Dick Cavett, “I thought so, yes.” Or was that Funnyman Bobby Bittman who said that? Hard to tell sometimes…

    Comment by billytheskink — July 28, 2020 @ 10:26 am

  5. I got nuthin’, so please enjoy this commercial for the AA Montgomery Biscuits:

    Comment by Hitorque — July 28, 2020 @ 11:08 am

  6. And what’s with the obsession with thirst?

    I think Rubin’s finally gotten hold of Urban Dictionary.

    Comment by teenchy — July 28, 2020 @ 12:42 pm

  7. And what’s with the obsession with throwin’ around the word ‘bestie’? Was that ever even a thing with girls older than 11?

    Comment by franku2016 — July 28, 2020 @ 2:42 pm

  8. Y’all did great again!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    I enjoyed what I saw and the poignant questions are excellent reminders of the truth that seems to elude Thorpiverse. I knew I could count on you to hold Thorpiverse accoubtable.

    Hitorque, excellent video. I have kept up with several players who have played for the Montgomery Biscuits and this was a wonderful addition to the post. Keep ’em coming.

    Gang, you made Democracy work once again. God bless you all.

    Comment by tdrewhardin — July 29, 2020 @ 12:31 am

  9. Holy crap, does Alexa have Bob Lanier feet or what?

    Comment by teenchy — August 1, 2020 @ 11:51 am


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