This Week in Milford

September 8, 2020

Sorry, Charles, But You Have An Arm Like Starkist Tuna.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 10:28 am

Aren’t you excited to get started with another in-house rivalry that’ll drag on until Christmas? And notice I didn’t give the year. Yup, it might not end at Yuletide in 2020. Us Thorpiverse veterans are used to the Berrill years where they kissed and made up by the time Gil gave his sermon on December 25th, y’know, he’s cussing out a player who missed a screen, then turning towards the camera for his Our Daily Bread Seasons Greetings with wreath circling around the panel which might turn into a noose if he doesn’t start showing up for practice. I mean, the Milford Country Club Lounge DOES close at night, we assume. No reason not to get a good night’s rest and see how his troops are performing. BTW, he never closed his homilies with “Watch your language. Santa is keeping score” because he was getting an annual delivery of coal in his stocking on that account. Practice what you preach, Coach. And speaking of practice, have you been to one lately? Because it appears Tarzan of the Jungle (with apologies to Teenchy) is running the show.

Really, Coach, when you went to the School Board meeting to get hired as the coach, no member of the School Board anticipated your permanent residence at Milford Lounge. That’s right, Coach, you habe to check in every once in a while to see if they’ve made any improvements. Started to gell as a team. You won’t see any “I” in the word “Team” singing karaoke at the Lounge. Straining to sing “Afternoon Delight” while the gears are starting to mesh might still be singing but it is nowhere near the leadership the School Board President had in mind.

And then we gotta deal with these 2 clowns who have been evidently at each other’s throats since 1st grade when they tried to cut in line on each other at the Milford Elementary cafeteria. The prize was a brownie but now the stakes are higher. Archway Cookies and a chance to be the starting QB. Isn’t that something to shoot for? Raspberry Rumble and some bragging rights? Where’s a helmet? And darn, WHERE’S GIL!!!!!!!!

When The Rolling Stones did a charity visit for a 15-year-old who had weeks to live from a rare disease, they put on their best front. But when the kid was asked what his last wish was, the kid responded

“I want to party like y’all”

Well, say no more, said the Stones. They wheeled in the best wines and beer, brought in a couple of loose women, piped in their music over the intercom. The hospital got a nice bribe (Hey, you know The Stones had the money) so it naturally accomodated. The kid had a night to remember.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Gil Called To Question On Ethics Probe After Last Saturday At Milford Bowling Lounge Happy Hour!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Just because I was trying to boogie to ‘Brown Sugar’ with Marianne Faithfull? I’ve done worse when I was recruiting linebackers.”

Gang, I’m no artist as I have bitched about several times in the past, my niece is the Van Gogh in the family (ha) , but there’s a huge difference between what I accept for football pants and the attire that passes for the Jethro Tull-Thick as a Brick Revisited Tour currently making a stop at Milford Outdoor Amphitheate taking a detour at football practice. As long as we intend to watch two teenagers at each other’s throats for the last Twinkie and a starting spot as the varsity QB, I’m really not thrilled envisioning the storybook characters that Gentle Giant used to sing about. When I want football, do as the Romans do and wear football pants when you’re at The Colosseum getting thrown to the lions and when I want Peter Pan, I’ll look in the Milford Public Library under J. M. Barrie. I think the fiction section is by the water fountain where Gil is sleeping on a bean bag chair. The library couldn’t have picked a better place to situate its fiction section.

At the Gentle Giant audition in Milford Concert Hall

Gil-“…and the knights knocked the Tilden 11-“

Kaz-“-on its ass with a lance and a sword-“

Dr. Pearl-“for the king and bragging rights for another month-“

Steve Luhm-“they were noble in victory and Prince Charles Rapp-“

Coach Shaw-“won the hand of Princess Corina who was in jail for bombing The Bucket-“

Mrs. Shaw-“and she did no more bitching, then gorged on peach cobbler at The Diner and the players went back to practice, the coaches put the swords and lances back in the equipment shed and Gil went back to the Milford Bowling Alley Snack Barrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh, yeah. Well, it has possibilities. Let us think about it. We’ll call by the end of the week. Thanks for your time.”

And I’m guessing, more than likely correctly, that a Boy Named Rapp is “Sorry” Charlie Rapson who figures to run his mouth the next few months. I could wake up the next day and hope he kneeled at the Billy Graham Crusade and gave his life to Jesus and the starting spot to Will Thayer but apparently Thorpiverse has no intentions of publishing Gil Thorp Christian Comics. Gil would have to permanently stay out of the Milford Bowling Alley Snack Bar was the hitch, the way I hear it.

So we will unfortunaly endure Mighty Mouth for about the same time it takes for the tree-breeding program in the background sponsored by the Milford Community College Botany Department to come to fruition. I understand we ought to see little sugar maples running around in diapers by the end of November.

Dr. Pearl in the office listening to the Stones’ “Tattoo You”

“…don’t wanna be your slave

Don’t wanna be your slave…”

“I DON’T wanna be your slave, Dr. Pearl. There was nothing in the contract that says I couldn’t use my personal days for the Homecoming game.”

He seems to be completely unreceptive

The plays he runs make no sense at all

His eyes react to nought, the fans detect it

He hears but will not answer to the call

“See me, leave me, shed me, don’t touch me…”

And P2 is getting the trash talk in full swing after a sneak preview, with people nipping at each other, leaving the TWIMers understandably in the dark and having to piece together a gigantic skeleton, one bone at a time but like assembly-lining that bag of bones you stole from the mausoleum at Milford Rest Haven, is either one really worth putting together and viewing the whole by snapping on parts one part at a time? Because either one is going to get ugly before the month’s over. At least you can stick Jolly Roger in his Adult Stage back in the closet.

And we are getting the message that these 2 gentlemen don’t like each other although, judging by the garbage A Boy Named Sue is dishing out, Sue is pretty much bringing this on himself. Yes, it ain’t trash if you can back it up, but just because Gil is still wining and dining at Milford Country Club doesn’t mean you can talk the talk and not have to look in the parking lot to see if Gil is going to get out of his golf cart and make you walk the walk. Sue Rapson, if you keep pumping your jaws, the only walking you’ll be doing will be in the runway to the locker room after Will Thayer showed up to play and quit worrying whether Gil took another sick day. You play the way you practice, Jaws.

And quit using your abdomen to receive oral messages. You flap your jaws and your duodenum TOO???? Talk about room for improvement.

At the prison where Papa Bader is taking up permanent residence, especially after The Rolling Stones left him a bottle of chardonnay ’67 (Was a very good year-Bader taught Brian Jones how to play the which Jones later played on “Ride on, Baby”)

“…I shouted out who killed the Kennedys

When after all, it was you and me…”

LIGHTS OUT BADER!!!!!!!!!! AND FLUSH THE CONTRABAND DOWN THE TOILET!!!!!!!!!!!!

And I get this sick gut feeling Corina the Cancer is going to get in the mix of all this garbage accumulation. Sure, let’s pile it on by having two boys duke it out on the playground for a Joe Sclabotnick-autographed baseball bat, then have Ms. Cancer intervene and tell them she could QB the team better than these clowns when she’s not spiking Mimi’s head. I’m just full of plot ideas, aren’t I? Then when basketball rolls around and those 2 Bozos are still jawing with each other, she can add basketball to her resume and knock their heads together in the cafeteria, leading to one gargantuous food fight and say she took a cue from Alexa Watson on how to be more aggressive. Both Charlie and Will will wind up with stitches in the hospital, Ms. Cancer will win MVP and everybody by then OUGHT TO SHUT UP.

Then again, Corina might bomb Cindy Brady’s sack lunch and Corina gets expelled and winds up back at Valley Alternative. Consequently, Will and Charles will still be vying for the QB position at Thanksgiving. We’re back to square one. Plan B is somewhere on the children’s menu at The Diner.

There is no chance, no player evaluation

All hope lies with the team and none with Gil

Imagine though if there were stimulation

Needed to improve his coaching will

“See me, leave me, shed me, don’t touch me…”

And in P3, we are seeing why Runny Mouth Rapson should sit down. And why should we be surprised? Thorpiverse was sneaking this weasel up on us, using Corina the Cancer as a decoy. Good strategy, T-verse. Watch Goodyear Head and Cindy Brady hit C the C with an innocent question, hoping you can distract us and Mighty Mouth eventually become an element of surprise. You really faked us out of our boxer shorts, T-verse. I would have never guessed that after Corina took the Greyhound hallway home that Mighty Mouth was not all that, that he talked more than he delivered, in fact, Nick’s Pizza delivered more at practice than he did. We just put 2 + 2 together and came up with 5 after he started talking smack when donning his helmet on his watermelon brain, thinking that he was going to take responsiblity and get better after learning that his arch-nemesis had been pumping some iron, even when the trash talk was free-flowing. He might have come to his senses. But then Thorpiverse would still be stuck with Corina and her inabilty to dig a volleyball. For 3 months???? Keep talking trash, Mighty Mouth. It’s interesting, if nothing else.

“…she’s so respectable

She’s so respectable

She’s so delectable

She’s so respectable

Get out of my life…”

“Gil, would you change the Rolling Stones record to side B? I’m so pooped from all this aerobicizing.”

“Here, boy, here, boy, get the stick.”

Oh, that’s a football. And the hapless loser is getting overthrown because Mighty Mouse is doing more talking than worrying about his accuracy throwing UFO’s. And of course, Will Thayer will throw an 80-yard bomb on a dime and win the quarterback job. We know how this goes, T-verse. Nobody throws a football in the burning trash bin if people like Will want to be the knight in shining armor. And alter the script? Mighty Mouth is really an alto in the Vienna Boys Choir who just overthrew Joe Towelbutt because he didn’t eat his Wheaties? Nah, better get Will some practice and do justice to people who let the scoreboard do the talking e.g. Will Who Walks. We’ll just revert back to Corina the Cancer who can work with Cindy Brady on their digging game and bash Goodyear Head and Mimi because they frequent the same stylist while Will gets his shit together and acts like a hero by practicing so that he can throw like one. Right through the tire, Hero.

GO TO THE FIELD, GIL

GO TO THE FIELD, GIL

I often wonder what Gil is thinking

Has he ever heard what the team has said

Look at him on a barstool, drinking

What is happening in his head?

We wish we knew

“We’ll back for the conclusion of ‘Gil’s Holiday Camp’ after these messages. This is WDIG in cooperation with NPR Radio who is kind enough to present this masterpiece. Funding for this program is brought to you by a grant from Milford Foundry and Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage.”

“Honnnnnnnneeeeeyyyyyyyyy, open up!!!!!!!!!!! I know you’re there in the den!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I’m horrrrrnnnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“I can’t right now, Mrs. Shaw. I’m partying with the Bad Boys of Rock ‘n’ Roll, The Rolling Stones.”

“Honey, I don’t see any cars or busses out front.”

“Blubba, blubba, they all rode in an Uber over here. Shoot, they got the money. And the way they tip, the driver oughta be able to pay off his alimony and his mortgage on his house.”

“They all rode in one small car?”

“Woman, sometimes you overthink. Keith Richards rode with the luggage on top because nobody else wanted to inhale those nasty cigarettes he smokes.”

“And I don’t hear any sound.”

“That’s because we all got our earphones on playin’ High Tides and Green Grass. And after we get done playing “The Last Time” the last time, we’ll be chillin’ on Charlie Watts’ Jazz collection, one disc at a time. I can’t wait until I jam to “Relaxin’ at Camarillo” on my earphones.”

“I’m thinking this will take all night.”

“Exactly.”

“Why would they come to our house anyway?”

“Oh My Tumblin’ Dice, well, uh, uh, uh, they saw I was overworked as a part-time rent-an-assistant-coach for Gil and they took pity and said I needed to loosen up. So they ordered some Ruffino, some Beefeater, some Korbel Brut, some La Marca Prosecco di La Rosa Con Brio, all from Milford Beverage Warehouse. Apparently they have a running account. Oh, and some Grape Nehi for Faithfull. She gets thirsty after some hot sex.”

“Darling, there’s an orgy in there?”

“Trust me, I’m an innocent bystander. I’m just jammin’ on ‘Where The Boys Go’.”

“THAT I BELIEVE.”

“She had me there. I had to come clean and open the door. The only Stones I had was my lapidary collection. It was embarrssing to admit that a chalcedony was harder than me. But the good news is that Milford Men’s Clinic has programs that work that help when you need some love to make you happy. And me and my wife have been happy the last couple of weeks. Come get happier than Mick Jagger singing “Waiting on a Friend” and get your record collection on par with your erection. Only at The Clinic.”

“No, Gang, No. Mr. Towelbutt does not need Preparation H. Maybe a little more speed to catch up with that overthrow but I’m drawing the line there.

God bless you, Gang.

Keri comes home from kindergarten

“Mommy, we didn’t sing ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’. Some bunch of men that said they were rolling stones led us in a song. They called it ‘Sweet Virginia’.”

She sings “Come on down, Sweet Virginiaaaaaa, uh huh

Got to scrape that shit right off your shoes.

“I wonder what they meant.”

Mimi struggling for an answer during Quality Time

“Uh, well, you know, when the going gets tough, the tough get going. Now go walk the dog.”

4 Comments »

  1. Yep…nothing like a good, old-fashioned rivalry to get things going. This story has possibilities so far, but I’m sure Rubin will find a way to make it boring and stupid, like he has with the last few football arcs (uncle gary & Milford idol, Tiki Jansen and shit-beater car, and Chet “call me dad” Ballard).

    Comment by franku2016 — September 8, 2020 @ 11:39 am

  2. Wow… If only there were some coaches for this football team to help keep the extraneous chatter to a minimum and ensure all the players stay focused…

    Comment by hitorque — September 8, 2020 @ 1:13 pm

  3. Another rivalry for quarterback. Wonderful. Meanwhile it appears that just as many of us predicted, the summer plot never got off the ground, and after a series of disjointed false starts, coasted to a stop. Bring back Herk the Mauler…

    Comment by vaganova — September 9, 2020 @ 7:39 am

  4. Great job, Frank, Hitorque, and Vaganova!!!!!!!!

    Frank, You are never shy an opinion which is excellent because that’s keeps comedy sites like this, not to mention America going. Without your input, TWIM and America is a lot less. Keep hammering away, My Man.
    Hitorque, I LOVE your Peppermint Patty references just simply because it’s pretty darn accurate. And I love how you detail a lot of the dirty laundry that needs to get brought out and I read every word of it. Heck, I learn something along the way. Job well done.
    Vaganova, Thank you for always being in my corner. Your support means the world to me. And your insights are funny and informative and are a major player in the scheme of things. It is always nice to read your stuff.

    God bless you, Gang. Democracy loves you.

    Comment by tdrewhardin — September 12, 2020 @ 3:21 pm


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