Baseball, Mount Rushmore, and Magic Marker Trees, Americana At Its Finest.

Does Gil need to take a dump in P1? I know he eats a lot of Taco Bell Egg-and-Steak Fried Bean Chocolate Burritos before a game to relieve the stress. Hey, I feel ya, Coach. There should be a Port-o-Let right outside the door that Luhm unbolted for the Spring. I feel like we’re watching Kaz and Fred Sanford walking down the hallway to the game. You hear that Mimi? This is the big one. But Coach, next time, use your walker.

And we wait in anticipation for the upcoming season. It sounds like these two gentlemen are fired up although they will in all likelihood disappear from the landscape before too long. Maybe that’s why they’re all fired up. They won’t be involved in the controversy. Lately, Corina’s played the role of removing the grime and the slime from the day-to-day operations and keep the (insert season) team from attaining Nirvana or a happy ending, whichever comes first. Maybe that’s why Katy Brito has been inserted into the scenario. Oh, c’mon, did you honestly think the Reference Lady Who’s Dr. Pearl’s Twin was going to play the role of sludge remover? I didn’t see a shovel begind her desk.

But hey, they’re walking out the door Into The Great Wide Open. Two rebels without a clue, as Tom Petty once mentioned. It must be nice to coach from the dugout in your Levi’s. No better way to establish presence with the kids than to make an emphatic fashion statement. I just hope the VO5 holds up. Spring days that look like Winter are just killers on the spray-painted hair.

Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Slated To End Impasse Over Community Service Brouhaha Sometime In The Afternoon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I told the Judge and the jury that I’ll do Bullwinkle and Boris but ain’t no way I know how to yell like a rhino when I’M bein’ pulled out of a hat.”

Gang, remember that “Oops, I Crapped My Pants!!!!” Diaper sketch on SNL? I think Gil is wearing one today. That’s right, Coach, before you disappear for another season, don’t let the kids see you transitioning after you’ve worked out at Generic Gym from a jock strap to Fruit of the Looms you could pour Hawaiian Punch Cherry Mix into. Just let it be our little secret, Coach. Good news is that if you blow a wad that could fill the Grand Canyon and be an EPA Emergency Hazard to the Colorado River down below, you’ll have a safety net that could catch Lulu and Junior Samples if they were to jump out of the third floor of the Milford Federal Building when thry were cashing their checks they earned from Hee Haw. I know people get old and face the facts, Gil is over 60 but I never thought he was ready to wear underwear that could pass for a trampoline should the circus comes to town. But nothing has dripped all over the hallway nor the 3rd base coach’s box so we should be safe for now.

And what is Kaz caterwauling about? Was he hibernating in his classroom? It doesn’t have windows? Was he teaching geography with stalagmites all around the room? Did the Yeti make an occasional appearance after hiding in the Himalayas? Was he talking about European capitals in Mammoth Cave? Kaz, you must have come in this morning and seen the weather all around you. Were you expecting it to transition from North Pole to Miami Beach in 2 hours? I mean, you can’t wear “Oops, I Crapped My Pants!!!!” for brain lock. Ain’t no way I’m expecting Luhm to mop up the stuff that dripped out of your head. We might have you take that small Dixie cup, head to the faculty bathroom and take a urine test once you’ve deposited a sufficient amount from your cranium. We are drug-free at Milford, Coach. Have you been living in a cave?

If ya use “Oops, I Crapped My Pants!!!!” as a dipstick rag cuz yore bloodhounds chew up all the rags in yore garage, ya might be a redneck.

Folks, do we REALLY need to be reminded of what Easter Island looks like? I couldn’t imagine flying on this plane from Chile 1000 miles west and land on this inky-dinky parlez-vous island in the middle of the South Pacific with a neighboring island a million miles somewhere else that Napoleon got exiled to only to see Kaz’s mug next to this gigantic Neo-Lithic Herman Munster visage with all the tapirs running around searching for ants. Talk about a tourist trap.

And it looks like the trees crapped their pants and are positioning their droppings towards Gil’s and Kaz’s heads. How many trees actually reach 1000 feet, speaking of Mount Rushmore? Do they use the tree growing out of Gil’s head as a spare antenna when a wayward plane knocks over the WDIG tower? I think King Kong dragged Fay Wray up the tree growing out of Kaz’s head. Oh wait, it’s 45 degrees and not a cheery cloud in the sky. King Kong wouldn’t terrorize the city of Milford on an overcast day, would he? When Zane is about to make his debut after throwing at that stick-figure redwood 1000 times. Don’t rain on the corn pone script, King Kong.

Yes, South Dakota, in the interest of promoting tourism, will allow Old Man of the Mountain, er, Kaz’s face to remain in its proper stste in the Badlands. No why would you want to remove an Institution wannabe? If the tourists are snapping their cameras and pouring in money at the souvenir shop for shirts and coffee mugs with prairie dogs shooting out of The Kaz, who cares if it’s a tourist trap?

In the New Hampshire Tourist Bureau Headquarters office one afternoon

“I don’t care what the Governor says, The Old Kaz On The Mountain must be restored to its proper state. People are shifting their tourist dollars over to Vermont. Nobody brings a Polaroid to Mount Mansfield.”

And another thing, why were we surprised when Coach Kaz was less than enthusiatic about the weather? Okay, I remember when I went to my local university baseball game and a friend of mine was getting disgusted with the umpiring because he felt like the crew were trying to get the game over ASAP because of the thirty-degree weather. Finally, on a questionable strikeout of the hometown batter, my friend yelled out “C’mon, ump, it ain’t THAT cold!!!!!!!!!!!” Kaz, you’re not in Antarctica. If you don’t like coaching baseball, go to Mammoth Cave as a park ranger. Lord knows you’ve had plenty of practice hiding from reality.

Darn, he doesn’t have Barry Bader to throw around like a rag doll or through the ropes like Harley Race doing a number on Freezer Thompson. When the National Wrestling Alliance atmosphere is removed, whattya know, YOU GOTTA COACH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It shouldn’t be too hard, Kaz. Just walk to this structure called the dugout. Of course with Gil in the front, that’s like the blind leading the blind but you gotta start somewhere. And those people wearing powder blue shirts are called umpires. Just a word of warning: They hate games being interrupted by Nick’s Pizza or Jay’s Subs or invasion by extraterrestrial beings. It’d be advisable to call ahead of time and tell them to come AFTER the game. E.T. or the Kanamits really need to invade on their own time.

Otherwise, get a rule book, watch some videos, and go to coaching clinics. I’m sure the Valley Conference sponsors them. And the reference librarians can point the way to the video library. I’m almost sure of it.

Ooooooookkkkkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is back with intentions to restore order. Have at it, Gene

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooooooooooo dumb (HOWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought that Old Kaz On The Mountain fell off the mountain because it _______________________.”

MARTY’S BACK!!!!!!!!!!! This Vic “I’m Not Lisa And DEFINITELY Not Marty” Doucette substitution for Marty “I Got Thrown In The Dumpster For A Teenager Who Did Nothing In His Chevy Van After 60 Loyal Years Of Service” Moon just simply didn’t work. I was once watching a nail-biter between Indiana and Michigan at Crisler Arena, Michigan’s home court, when Bob Knight was coach at Indiana and Bill Frieder was coach at Michigan and the Wolverines were playing great basketball but got burned numerous times on back-door cuts, reflecting a bit of Frieder’s disorganization. Michigan lost by one point, squandering two excellent opportunities to win the game and the Michigan fans understandably were howling for Frieder’s head. Can’t blame ’em as Steve Fisher took over at the end of the season and his patient, better-structured style struck a chord with players like Glen Rice and they went on to win the National Championship.

Anyway, there were signs all over Ann Arbor with not-surprisingly unkind notes about Coach Frieder like “Fire Frieder” and “Hi Mom!!! Send Money And A New Coach!!!!!” But the clincher that I thought was hilarious was “We Hate Knight But At Least He Can Coach”. And that’s how I feel about Marty Moon. He’s a snake-in-the-grass but, by God, he’s OUR snake-in-the-grass. Relegating Marty to cameo status was like having Ward Cleaver calling on the Batphone whenever The Joker was in Milford and Commissioner Gordon only showing up at Bruce Wayne Foundation events to propose a toast. Good to see Marty back in the booth. I mean, c’mon, Marty does a better job of running over Gil and Mimi like a lawn mower. Vic can’t even get a prom date unless it’s a whole herd of buffalo. Do you REALLY want a teenager who couldn’t take Tessi to Milford Square Dance Club Bingo Night criticizing Gil’s hit-and-run moves that backfire in the late innings? Lambasting Gil’s pitching changes when the bases are loaded and Milford leading, 21-4? Arguing with Coach Kaz over who’s going to put the equipment on the bus after the game?

At the Valley Principal’s Seminar

“Oops, I crapped my pants. I’ll be right back.”

“That’s the 5th time today that Dr. Pearl has walked out. I knew we shouldn’t have served that Spiced Spaghetti and Zucchini at lunch.”

Mark Godleski “Is Everywhere” takes the hill for the Mudlarks and do you get this sick gut feeling he is EVERYWHERE? He rode with Muench and Knappe last year, bailed out Doug Guthrie this year when Guthrie took a NAPA vacation, bailed out the Mudlarks in relief last year. What does he do for an encore? Take Vic’s place at the mic when Vic the Mic has to go take a pee? Sweep all the trash out of the gym when Luhm is taking a personal day? Fill in at principal when Mr. Dr. Pearl has to be rushed to Milford General for a stroke?

Man, they don’t pay him enough. Unless you count all those veggie sandwiches he devoured from Jay’s Sub’s.

“And we’ll be back to see if Mark Godleski “Is Omnipresent” can work out of this bases-loaded jam after these messages. This is Marty Moon, glad to be back after getting upstaged by a teenager who could use a dab of Oxy-5. You’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“And folks, I’ve been trying to figure where Mark Godleski’s lineage is from. The obvious choice is Poland but the Milford Genealogical Society informed me while I was stealing Nottingham’s signals that it could be Lithuanian or Latvian. But I don’t speak any Borneo, so it’s all up in the air.

And speaking of up in the clouds, our delivery driver evidently had his head in the clouds because his semi rammed into a utility pole right by the Milford Head Start building and the merchandise spilled all over the street and property and so forth and so on, thank you Jesus. We were fortunate that someone called 9-1-1 before little toddlers could grab a Jose Cuervo and take it back to their classroom. Hey, I bet a teacher was trying to sneak a case of Bud when no one was looking.

Hi, This is Coach Thorp on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse and to cover for this boneheaded move, we not only fired the driver, we felt it only right to turn a negative into a postive so this week our ‘Oops, We Crapped The Booze’ campaign is on and with prices slashed that makes you want to crap a load on the commode, our loyal customers like you will be the only ones not getting dumped on.

The Miller High Life miraculously survived the carnage and we want to celebrate its rebirth by knocking off five dollars on a 30-Pak 12-Ounce case. Man o man, I wish I was there with the rest of the skid row bums trying to get in the trailer before the squad car ran ’em off. I would have had beer in my trunk at loss leader prices.

And those senior citizens who actively participate in our ‘Booze is a State of Mind’ program can pursue that bottle of Jack Daniels Slow Aged Torch Distilled Whiskey with a vengeance. It’s not their fault some butthole needed to swing the semi wide to avoid the pole and crapped the goods all over the parking lot. So The Warehouse is knocking off 6 dollars off of this and Jim Beam Milford Valley Created so that our older generation do not have to pay for the driver’s carelessness. Let that dumbass pay his own traffic ticket.

And thank God that same driver didn’t back into the statue of Wink Martindale up front at The Warehouse. Talk about rioting in the streets of Milford. To ensure that the Lord of Game Show Hosts is placed in his proper Perpetual State, if you pose with your bottle of Martini & Rossi or Boone’s Farm Wild Hackberry in front of the man who put the host in game show hosts, doggone, The Warehouse will cut another two dollars off those Hackberry’s that got crapped on some neighbor’s lawn. Thank God this citizen was decent enough to return the cases while he was spraying his grass with Chem-Lawn.

And we are grateful Joe Sharkey said he was not going to pursue a law suit. We had enough problems dealing with this driver’s A License qualifications without getting crapped on ourselves. Having to show crappy booze as Exhibit A before a judge is not a Day in Paradise, believe me. But you don’t have to pay for the driver’s failure to read the eye chart at his reinstatement procedures. Come check out what we still have left from our booze that got crapped out the trailer door and didn’t get sent to the lions and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

Gang, I emember when FDR said that some Latin American dictator was “a son of a bitch but, by God, he’s OUR son of a bitch.” Couldn’t describe Marty Moon better. God bless you, Gang.”

“Mommy, Daddy said that Grandma crapped a wad. I didn’t know Grandma wore Pampers.”

“Uhhhhhhhhh, here, Keri, here’s a 50. Go down to the store and buy all the eggs you can. We need eggs in the worst way.”

At the accident site

“So HOW did you crash into the pole again, Mr. Thorp?”

“My jock strap was itching bad…”