This Week in Milford

June 25, 2022

Nomar Hamm for You, Al

Oh look, it’s yet another late-middle-aged white guy in the Allen Funt/Ed Asner mold, the kind that are thick on the ground in the Valley. This time he’s named Al Drake and he’s at Channel 6 in Central City. Somebody must have picked up a copy of the Milford Star before their long commute to the Channel 6 studios and dropped it off in the break room, where Al stumbled upon it while rooting around a box of stale donuts left over from a staff meeting the day before. (Oh, alright, he saw the online edition on his massive 20-year-old desktop PC still running on Windows XP.)

Big Al can’t let one dying medium have The Gregg Hamm Story all to itself, so of course he wants in on it. Being from a bigger market, Al thinks Channel 6 can impose on Gil’s sense of order and have Gregg make the start in front of his cameras… but noooOOO! No one tells Gil Thorp when to start his pitchers except Gil Thorp. (Never mind that Gregg’s been starting almost every game we’ve seen this season.) No one tells Gil Thorp when to pull his pitchers except Gil Thorp, either, and he’ll shit-talk anyone who tries to tell him otherwise.

Gil Thorp accommodates no one from the media. Well, no one except Heather Burns. Her, he’ll let roam onto the field to interview his players. Mimi seems incredibly chill with this arrangement – so chill she hasn’t even bothered to field a softball team this season. Mezcal and Vicodin have a way of doing that. So does the pool boy coming by to open the pool up early.

If Channel 6 wants a piece of Hamm, it’ll have to move closer to Gil’s world.

meta: yhs will be on vacation from July 1-17, and will be off the grid for part of that time. I’ll plan on posting this coming Wednesday but can’t count on being able to post again until July 20 at the earliest.

July 3, 2021

Plot Pacing Is Hard, Too

I realize the Allen Funt/Candid Camera references are my colleague T. Drew’s thing but between yesterday’s and today’s strips I’m left wondering whether Kaz has been playing the long game by goading Gil into meddling with aspects of Milford society that are outside his wheelhouse until he finally gets himself caught in a trap he can’t walk out of. Swaying Allen Funt’s vote on the Library Board by bribing him with pie* doesn’t rise to Abscam levels but it’s a slippery slope from there to sexual favors for invitations to the Milford CC. Then Kaz will have sprung the trap that leads to him getting named Head Coach of all Milford boys’ sportsball teams and athletic director. No more moonlighting as a bouncer and mooching off Kelly Krystek for him then, nosireebob.

Just what kind of skids are being greased here, anyway? Have the codgers on the Library Board realized there’s no logical way they could let the Clark kid have the seat, no matter how strong his arguments are for preserving the status quo? Aren’t there enough of them already on the board to shoot down every Brito proposal and make him look like a jerk – which is SOP for him, anyway – in the process? And, as so many of you gentle readers have commented over the past several weeks, why couldn’t these decisions have been made almost immediately after Zane’s and Abel’s presentations before the board?

Because Rubin doesn’t know how to wrap a story arc up neatly anymore, that’s why. Corina’s college predestination could’ve been wrapped up last weekend and this nonsense the weekend before that, freeing Neal and the Chief to dive into some summer hijinks featuring a Milford alum and some non-revenue sport.

*Have you noticed how easily people in the Thorpiverse are swayed by free food? From Corina Karenna and the other Valley Mod kids last spring to this Allen Funt/Ed Asner lookalike, the offer of eats gets folks in the Valley to do one’s bidding cheap.

late-breaking metapost: Apparently American pies, like so many other things in America, are in crisis; according to this Washington Post editorial, store-bought pie crusts are to blame. I will own up to having used them, including for my start-of-the-pandemic sour orange pie, but I will not own up to having caused America to lose its way.

In any event, I encourage you to read the linked WaPo editorial (which showed up in my feed after the box score to yet another Nats loss, but also owes a tip of the hat to faithful TWIMer vaganova). You’ll learn much about the history of pie and its influence on American culture and probably be more entertained than by reading a week’s worth of Gil Thorp strips. It may even influence you to bake a pie to honor our country’s independence.

June 17, 2021

“Wanna Order Nick’s Pizza? I’m Buying.”

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 1:02 pm

We were expecting a knock-down drag-out, mudslinging duel-to-the-death, only-Aaron-Burr-drew-more-blood dogfight but pussied out into a shaky gentlemen’s agreement. C’mon, as long as softball and baseball and, heck, even golf are locked in the equipment shed, I was expecting Battle of the Bulge but got you-scratch-my-back-I’ll-let-the-back-issues-of-Milford-Home-&-Garden-collect-dust. And if you kiss my butt, I’ll even let the O. Henry’s stay in the Fiction section. And when is the last time time Gil EVER passed up a golf game and/or golf instruction with his kids to attend a meeting that literally has its ass backward, judging by where the audience is sitting in relation to the debaters? Besides, it looks like he and Butthead have the same tailor as Bob Eubanks. Yeah, when was the last time will your wife say you made whoopee before you put 2 and 2 together and discovered the audience was facing the OTHER way?

And is the Nick’s Pizza delivery dude about to drop off a ton of pepperoni, now that we appear to be at least reaching halfway? And why stop at Coke and iced tea? As long as this Lincoln-Douglas Debate is transmogrifying into a Valley Modified Scrimmage carnival, why not have Jay’s Subs come in around the clock to deliver that Turkey Sub on Pita Bread with mustard, green onions, cucumbers, peach cubes, tomatoes, black olives, mushrooms, slices of paw paw, and a red vinaigrette while you’re reading War and Peace in the reading room? Shoot, I’m all for a Bucket Banana Split when I’m digging into Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple Series. I bet Ed Asner in P1 would love a Bucket Fudge Sundae break when the debate reaches fever pitch. Oops, I forgot, we’re approaching detente. Well, dig in anyway, Ed, before it melts.

Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Black Sabbath Reunion Concert At Milford Outdoor Amphitheater Is Nearing Reality As Negotiations Wind Down!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“We informed Mr. Brito that we are willing to pay a luxury tax should Iommi’s guitar-playing violate Milford Noise Ordinance Codes.”

Regarding the incident in Stanton, Kentucky in a Little League T-Ball Championship game that broke out into a free-for-all among coaches and parents

Shame on you all. The kids unfortunately were the losers because not only were there no winners that night, the kids saw adults stooping to the level of vulgarity. Anybody who was on the diamond other than the players, coaches, or umpires deserves the book thrown at them. Period. I remember one of my nephew’s games where, after a collision at the plate, both dugouts cleared. Our athletic director, Bob Cuprisin, did the right thing when he shouted to our players GENTLEMEN, GET BACK IN THE DUGOUT!!!!!!!! They did.

And while I admire both managers, Jimmy Smith and Steve Randall, for manning up and apologizing for the actions that took place with both willing to make the teams co-champions, I still think at least a year’s suspension from coaching and general Little League activities are in order for both of them. The wrong message was sent that night. While it’s ok to be competitive and want to win, the proper perspective must ALWAYS be in force. The kids need to enjoy it and have fun along the way. NO parent should EVER be allowed on the field. What’s in the stands, stays in the stands, what’s in the field stays in the field. And good sportsmanship MUST be taught. The better team wins, regardless of the officiating. Shake hands, win, lose, or draw.

Truly a tragic night for Stanton Little League. Time to repair the damage.

And while we’re getting kissy-faced in P1 (God, I’m on a roll) , why doesn’t Zane soothe the savage Butthead by suggesting that patrons laminate their own library cards? That’s right, place the laminating press on the checkout table, keep an instruction manual handy for those who need a step-by-step process, obtain the materials at the desk to go with your photo ID, voila, you have a new library card with no need to go to a print shop. If that doesn’t save the taxpayer a buck or two, God didn’t make auditoriums that actually face the performers in the summertime.

But wait, there’s more. We could convert the periodical room into a wrestling ring and charge admission. What better way to show that pro wrestling isn’t fake by staging a goodwill gesture to show that books and turnbuckles go hand in hand? You can check out a book gratis and pay a nominal charge to go watch Jerry Lawler throw Mr. Clyde through the ropes. The library would have its revenue and patrons would have their Herman Melville. The bad blood between Butthead and Zane would finally cease, building on the feel-good gestures in P1 and Zane can once again enjoy Mrs. Butthead’s gigantic cuisine. I know I’m in the mood for a humongous refried taco.

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Having Severe Issues With Milford Public Library!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“How can I laminate my card when the manual is on the paper towel dispenser in the bathroom?”

This plot in P2 is executing a ridiculous twist the way a Schlitz bottle found in your garage with a sell-by date during the Nixon administration is having its bottle cap twisted. Just full of unnecessary and unwarranted surprises. The beer might taste a little better.

A week before, Katy put the deep freeze on Zane. Now she’s bubbly that her boyfriend’s back and we’re gonna be in trouble. He might have to damp-mop the breakroom, but we’re still in trouble. She was blindly devoted to her Butthead dad even if she really wasn’t up on or really could care less what Butthead said. Did the rapprochement in P1 finally cause her to get hot flashes? And puh-lllleeaaassseee don’t drag this out to High Heaven. I’d rather watch Gil lie about his golf game. Yeah, I had to take a drop by the microfiche table in the library but I still made par. Sure, Gil, you got it on the green after chipping one out of the lobby of the library. The Golden Bear would be proud.

Late Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Tax Revenue At A Standstill Over Latest Hitch At Black Sabbath Concert Talks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“We informed Mr. Brito that the rest of the band was willing to play ‘Crazy Train’ as long as Mr. Thorp was not co-vocalist with Ozzy.”

And the malarkey of this charade, Butthead and Zane were at each other’s throats 24 hours before, now Katy is doing the equivalent of handing the moderators one of the 3-meat pizza boxes from Nick’s Pizza. We wouldn’t want our powers-that-be to be famished watching the manifestation of two cats clawing at each other in an alley. Just don’t forget to throw a slice at the cats occasionally to be in spirit with Valley Modified Scrimmage Travesty proportions.

You know the plot is taking a turn for the silly when the lampshade in the background faintly resembles the color of Butthead’s jacket. Bob Eubanks was loud but I never knew him to wear polka dots while hosting The Newleywed Game.

Dr. Pearl and Mr. Dr. Pearl on The Newleywed Game

“What sort of pizza will your wife say you like to eat after you’ve engaged in intense whoopee? Couple #2?”

“Oh, definitely Domino’s. After we’ve explored the wonders of veritable pleasure, I look forward to the presence of the Domino’s delivery person to accommodate our door.”

“Well, Mr. Dr. Pearl, she saw it differently,unfortunately she answered Noble Roman’s.”

“Noble Roman’s???? I haven’t eaten there since President Franklin Delano Roosevelt commenced the Works Progress Administration!!!!!!!”

“But you read much Roman history, even when the grass needs to be mowed!!!! We had the Milford Health Department issue a Property Improvement Mandate when you became excessively neglectful!!!!!!!!!”

“Tell me the truth, does he like to make whoopee after he’s read a chapter on Caesar Augustus?”

“Only if I wear a white toga, Mr. Eubanks.”

Bob Eubanks gets the predictable uproarious audience lauhgter

How did Zane go from Richie Cunningham At Academic Banquet Night in P1 to Andy Dufresne in P3? I wouldn’t be surprised if Myron Hadley is not too far, walking the hallways of Sal’s Sports with the rest of his Shawshank thugs. But Katy likes Andy’s ideas, Mr. Hadley. It doesn’t matter, you missed that coffee stain on the floor WHACK!!!!!!!!!$ And comb your hair. You look like a Brillo pad WHACK!!!!!!!!!!!! And use a mop next time, not your bed sheet nailed to a broomstick WHACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And finish that Nick’s Pizza we ordered. We didn’t buy it just so you lunkhead prisoners could get the beer WHACK!!!!!!!!!!

BTW, Katy, now that you’ve kissed and made up, could you buy Zane a new pair of shoes as a goodwill gesture? Mr. Ed could barely fit his horseshoes in that footwear in P3.

“The judges are still at an impasse over the number of points accumulated in the Library Debate and will therefore take a recess. We’ll be back in a few minutes to see if a winner is declared after these messages. This is WDIG-TV.”

“I sure as heck hope they make up their minds in this Library showdown. Mr. Butthead made some crucial points but Zane snuck in a couple of zingers. It’s not like Zane forgot to lace up his boxing gloves. Let’s get this damn thing over with before Happy Hour. Pardon my slip of the tongue but if Lincoln expounded on a House Divided for 3 hours, what more did he need to say? It’s Miller Time.

But i’m not here to talk about Stephen Douglas hogging all the appetizers, including the chips and clams, at Happy Hour. Folks, we have a serious crisis on our hands. Hi, this is Coach Thorp on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse. The Warehouse experienced an incident where the Grangestone Scotch Whisky semi got caught in the wrong neighborhood in Oakwood. He was accosted by several gang members and fortunately was rescued when the Oakwood Police SWAT team was out on maneuvers. Rescuing Old Ladies From An Abandoned Slum saved the driver’s neck.

Milford Beverage Warehouse deeply regrets tbe incident and wishes to make amends. Therefore, all semi’s are required to be staffed with at least two people at all times to ensure safety and quality. And our semi’s are equipped with a sleeper cab and TV and a refrigerator so nobody can say he forgot to bring the other person and he didn’t have room anyway. Excuses are for sissies and the ’62 Mets.

And as an added bonus, due to the COVID-19 pandemic, all members of our Warehouse trucking staff are required to be vaccinated and to wear masks and gloves whenever handling the precious merchandise. I know when I’m relaxing on the verandah listening to Pat Hughes and Ron Santo broadcast an exciting Cubs game, I have peace of mind assured that some A License driver wannabe didn’t indiscriminately slobber all over my Kilbrin Irish Whiskey and that he didn’t have to kill off the Clanton boys to get it delivered to The Warehouse. I didn’t pay a bargain-burner $25.99 to watch Frank James hock it back to his hideout.

And isn’t it comforting that Champagne de Margerie Grand Cru Brut du France is under temperature control and out of the hands of some mafioso because The Warehouse team is at the front line to defend against it being stashed in the trunk with the beaucoup kilos of cocaine that evidently will be a bargaining chip in some drug deal? We made sure our driving team was licensed to use a handgun. This makes the BOGO deal that much sweeter.

Then there’s some of you Doubting Thomas’s out there who think your 30-Pak of Busch Light got lost in the Wells Fargo shipment that got hijacked to Tijuana. Why pay a reasonable $21.99 only to see it imbibed by Pancho Villa and his gang? The Warehouse is determined to win back your trust even if it means calling the Milford National Guard Armory to procure proper handling of the Golden Elixir that is meant for consumers who earned 4-Star Status in The Good Life. Why punish Homer Simpson and let Osama bin-Laden go free? We don’t sell too many Fritos based on that concept.

We have also hired bomb detonators to make sure that our aisles are clear of any terrorist activities at no cost to you. You shouldn’t have to pay to worry about whether your hand gets blown off picking up Tostitos, queso dip, and a 6-pack of Budweiser. Let the Milford Anti-Terrorist League do its job, you save on Bud and Cheetos. Sounds like a bargain only matched by The Louisiana Purchase.

Now with this Great Wall of Milford behind you, why shop anywhere else? The Bucket, attempting to get a liquor license, couldn’t get Adam-12 to answer someone shoplifting its soup ladles. You know where you want to shop when you grow up. Come down and get security and booze all in the same shopping cart and tell them Coach Thorp sent ya.”

Rob is going to kill me, Rob is going to kill me…

Othersise, you’re the best, Gang. God bless you.

At the Milford Nudist Colony

“Mommy, I’ve never seen Mr. Ozzy in the raw before.”

“Uhhhhhhhh, oh look, Keri, there’s Ozzy’s grandkids. Why don’t you go play with them on the playground.”

Late Late Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Negotiations Are Winding Down On Black Sabbath Reunion Concert At Milford Outdoor Amphitheater!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“We finally convinced Mr. Brito that ‘Am I Going Insane’ was not talking about his personal affairs.”

June 3, 2021

Corina’s A College Talent Or Mimi Has A Softball Bat Growing Out Of Her Head.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 1:34 pm

And I personally don’t mind this portion of the plot being dragged out a little; face it, a lot of us in TWIM have been or are currently coaches and we have nudged some budding talent (throwing myself into that conversation) to test the waters because you never know. Sometimes it doesn’t work, no problem, we tried. But sometimes it does. Then you have bragging rights.

But mixing this in with The Library Wars is really like pouring sugar in your gas tank. And like your car, we ain’t gonna get this story out of the driveway. It’s silly to watch Mimi make a valiant effort to get Coronavirus to realize her potential when the needle gets needlessly scatched from the classic Miles Davis ” ‘Round About Midnight” and we gotta listen to “The Milford VFW Lodge Band Plays Mills Brothers Standards”. It’s no fun watching Butthead Brito act as if this were a presidential primary and Zane is stumping for delegates so that he can once and for all study in peace. But sheesh, if I have to kiss babies just so I can read National Geographic without Butthead looking over my shoulder, I’d rather play tuba in the VFW band when they’re playing The Mills Brothers’ “Glow Worm”.

And will somebody call Luhm and tell him to remove all those bulbs on the field? Why he’s trying to grow petunias on a softball diamond is a question better left in the category “Inexplicable Custodial Projects” on Jeopardy! but we have practice and the girls can’t get better if one of them trips on a bulb running out a bunt attempt to 1st base.

Well, they can’t be whiffleballs unless Thorpiverse changed sports without calling us ahead of time. Oh, I get it. Change the diameter of the spheroid, throw a few bulbs around home plate, the purpose of which is to get into Corina’s head. Hey, if you wanted to brainwash Coronavirus into the starting catcher position at Milford Community College, you have planted enough evidence around the batter’s boxes to mesmerize Pete Rose into going for the fences, T-verse.

And what is Mimi wearing? And why won’t she see a doctor about her club foot? With all those whiffleballs strewn about, I’d be careful stepping out to the infield to warn your shortstop to put the tailgate down. Warped feet and loose bulbs are just Hell in Teachable Moments. And anyway, Mimi was evidently one of the Atomic People in Beneath The Planet of the Apes. I just hope the apes stay away until after practice. And God, don’t take off your mask, Coach. We’ve seen enough ugliness in Peppermint Patty’s attitude, plus the truth was gory in the movie too. Okay, Milford got nuclear-bombed by a bunch of gorillas several centuries ago and your body got caught in the destruction, Mimi. But we don’t need an encore.

And will somebody also tell Luhm to get that poplar growing perpendicularly out of the oak in the background? It needs pruning again. I’d hate see a softball get caughtvin that mess. Gives new meaning to the term “Going Yard”.

I was a bit intrigued by an apartment that advertised its pet policy. Especially the part where you could only have pets that didn’t weigh over 35 pounds

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Still In Impasse With Milford Luxury Condos And Judge Ito!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I keep telling them, I keep my rhino in the spare bedroom. He has plenty of space. And he’s potty-trained.”

P2 continues with the thrust-and-parry that us coaches have occasionally encountered. The player who really needs to take his or her talents where they will be better-suited to a sports team with the resources to match that talent rather than, say, Tom Cruise winding up in a factory instead of playing college football in “All The Right Moves”. And Corina needs to take a long look at herself because she’s kidding herself if she thinks that her extraordinary abilities should just vegetate at her mom’s abode in Atomic City. What is Corina going to do, sing along with her mother one of those godawful hymns they sang in the movie until the baboons arrive to destroy the Atomic People’s turf? I thought Gil was ugly but, my Lord. Not that I’m expecting those two Bozo quarterbacks to be playing a sax solo on Corina’s street corner like Cruise’s girlfriend did as essentially a precursor that Cruise was going to eventually find his way out of Rockville. You’ll have to sing your own hymns, Corina. Hurry and sign with Milford Community College before the apes take over Milford again.

And I agree with Hitorque, talent or no talent, no coach is going to put up with a player’s mouth like that for too long before the coach clamps down and basically says “There’s the door if you’re not happy”. Gunnar Wyman, legendary high school boys basketball coach at Vincennes High School (Indiana) was the center of controversy because he kicked a couple of talents off the team who had bigger mouths. The city of Vincennes countered with a petition to get him fired. When the dust had settled, Vincennes won the ’81 Title (when it was still in the one-class tournament format) and Wyman kept that list. Justice had been served. A stern lesson why you support the coach, win, lose, or draw.


“Help me, Dr. Gaius, please help me, uggghhhhhh…”

“Help you? Why should I help you? You’re not only like the rest of the humans, Coach Thorp, but you went golfing when Milford got bombed. We’ll have Cornelius coach the baseball team from now on.”

And why do we need to make this the Teachable Moment portion of the strip? Why not just turn it into one absurd debate a la Butthead versus Zane Who Momentarily Got Dumped By Butthead’s Daughter? We can set up a Crossfire atmosphere. Representing the con side is Peppermint Patty and representing the pro side is Coach Mimi Thorp. Heck, the Library Board can meet at Joe’s Pie and Grill as the venue of debate and the Board can serve as the moderator. Whoever loses the debate has to not only comply with the opponent’s desires but has to eat at Butthead’s Place. No slobbery rhubarb pie there. But plenty of food that normally consumed by beavers before mating season and apes before they re-invade Milford or even Ed Asner before he did his scenes on the Mary Tyler Moore Show. I know I better have my ducks in a row in a debate if I don’t want to spend a night at Butthead’s Place consuming borderline members of the 5 food groups. Talk about torture.

If ya is pressured ta join Milford Comm’nity College ta play on thar Slo-Pitch Softball team cuz ya jerk ’em in the stands, even th’ llgal pitches at 15 feet (“6 feet, 12 feet, Blue”) , every time ya come ta the plate on Monday Night Industrial League games, ya might be a redneck.

And we have Coach Mimi struttin’ her stuff again as she claims to have called UCLA, Arizona State, Florida, Oklahoma, Arizona and other College Softball powerhouses to strong-arm Coronavirus into gettin’ the Hell out of Rockville and onto a Division I program next week. Mimi’s striving for importance like the horse chasing the carrot reminds me of a story I may have told before but DEFINITELY deserves a repeat. Jim Master, the standout guard at Kentucky was originally from Fort Wayne, Indiana and when he was in high school was getting offers from schools such as Indiana and Purdue as well as, of course, Kentucky, for his All-America talent. He had an older brother, Randy, who attended Hanover College, a beautiful campus on the Ohio River in southeastern Indiana. It had NAIA status at the time (Hanover is currently Division III) and therefore was out of Master’s league to recruit him. But that didn’t deter the Hanover Men’s Basketball coaching staff from making a valiant attempt (although I highly respect Coach Collier and his superior record) . When they approached Randy about the possibility of Jim playing at Hanover, Randy replied “Sure. In fact, my brother has narrowed down his list to North Carolina, UCLA, Indiana, Kentucky, Purdue, Duke, and Hanover.”

We’ll be waiting anytime for Jim Master to come play for Milford Community College, Mimi. We know you have connections. Keep that pipeline going, I always say.

Thank God, we can always come back to Gene Rayburn to knock some sense into Thorpiverse. It may on life support but if anyone can do it, Gene can. Take ‘er away, Gene

“Dumb Dora was soooooooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought ________________ was growing from Mimi’s butt.”

And is any representative from Arizona or UCLA or Florida going to seriously listen to somebody with a whiffleball bat that needs to be surgically removed from her ear? Mimi, Milford Same Day Surgery Clinic can solve your problem pronto and they take all major health insurance plans. How do you get through doorways? I wouldn’t stoop to eat my Bucket Chili Con Carne at a booth. How Coronavirus can take your advice with a straight face is equivalent to how the damn thing got glued to your ear in the first place. Do you hang your Atomic City uniform on it? But (D’OH) I forgot, you have an appointment to keep with the academic counselor from Florida State. No problem, just tell the counselor that it runs in the family. You have no control over genetics, we understand.

After checking over my emails, I received an interesting post stating that Erectile Dysfunction can be treated through an ancient Africa ritual

At the Thorp household in the front yard, the afternoon before Bowling Bonanza Night


“Mommy, why is Daddy dancing out front in that silly costume?”

“WHAT??????? What are you talking about??”


“Gil, what the HELL are you doing???????????”

“Oh, hey, Mimi. I wanted to feel like a man in bed so I read this article in the Milford Enquirer where the Ashanti tribe from Uganda has been solving sex problems since Hannibal crossed over Mt. Kilimanjaro with his elephants and hippos. They employ this ritual where your manhood elongates 7-8 inches longer so I grabbed some foliage from the hedges, made a grass skirt, memorized their incantation, and have been dancing the day away for two hours. I’ll be harder than a hippo’s hide by supper.”

“That explains the empty Krylon Cherry Red spray cans in the garage.”

“When in Africa, do as the African tribes do. I had to paint my face if I wanted sexual liberation. If I have to spread Glidden all over my visage to get my diving board up and bouncing, so be it. People were falling in the pool needlessly because the diving board failed to live up to its commitment.”


“GIL!!!!!!!!!!! Tbe neighbors are watching!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Take off that ridiculous grass skirt and wash your face and come to your senses!!!!!!!!!

“Shoot, Mrs. Kravitz is in the window performing major pelvic thrusts. I must be getting somewhere.”

“Look, Mommy, Grandma Moses is licking something next door. Why is she doing that?”

“NEVER MIND!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Gil, there would be no need for all this foolishness if you took those EREC-3500 shots like I have pleaded with you to do. One injection in the butt and that same diving board is used in the Olympics.”


Grandma Moses jumps over the hedges

“Mommy, why is she saying she’s gotta have it? Does she want lemonade from my stand?”

“Mimi was right. Taking an injection was safer than getting accosted by a 93-year-old lady who’d been widowed for twenty years. And with affordable treatment plans and competent medical staff, isn’t it time to consult Milford Men’s Clinic for all your sexual obstructions? Come to The Clinic today and get off your diving board and into bed with your own diving board. You’ll be glad you did.

Gang, that is not a tumor growing out of Mimi’s head. They took the oncology tests last week at Milford General. Results were negative. She just didn’t have her Wheaties this morning. But God bless you, Gang.

In Gil’s office

“Has Jim thought about playing for Milford?”

“Sure. But he’s already graduated.”

June 2, 2021

Give Him a Loose Enough Tie to Hang Himself

Hey y’all, look! It’s the return of Herk the Mauler! No? Okay, it’s at least the return of Ed Asner, right? Huh? Oh, alright. It’s just another Milford Library Board member who could pass for Ed Asner. But hey, he’s got pie!

And what’s this? Marty Moon is there to cover the Library Board action? Say it ain’t so! Of course it ain’t so. The Library Board has its own goatee wearer and, besides, Marty’s presence would violate a sacred tenet of Gil Thorp: that there can be only one bad guy with facial hair per strip. (Or is that Mark Trail I’m thinking of?) Since Abel Brito Charlie Delta Echo has that spot covered, this can’t be Marty.

Looks like we’re gonna get that Mr. Smith Goes to Washington scenario I predicted on Saturday. Like most Milfordians, the Library Board is self-important, craves attention, and believes any publicity is good publicity. What better way to get even more fannies in the stacks then to put the two guys who’ve been sniping each other in print on public display? Mama Brito’s troubled head bobble is indication enough that Abel’s humiliation will be the family’s, as it plays out in slower motion than Boo Radley’s car crash.

Now all we have to anticipate is how Mimi ex machina will grease the skids for Corina to get into State U on a softball scholly.

July 23, 2019

Whose Life Is It Anyway?


Golf plot in your pocket

Lipstick in your hand

Dine with the Rockefellers

You’re now the 21st-Century Man


Family can’t afford it

Brie and wine too dear

But you will pay for dinner

Jaquan will foot the beer


Tho you ride on the wheels of tomorrow

You still wander this plot of sorrow

What will it bring?


And I won’t lie, being a Christian, I’m not enthralled about the living arrangement in P1 or overall. I think responsibility does come into play in ANY relationship.

That said, at least the scenery so far has been G-rated. Sure, Fred and Wilma may be shacked up at the Bedrock Moto-Lodge before Wilma V. Baxendale becomes Wilma V. Flintstone (or V. Baxendale-Flintstone if she wants to carry on the family name and still enjoy being married to a guy who will work at the Bedrock Quarry when he’s not slam-dunking for Generic NBA Lakers or Celtics) but Fred isn’t walking around the motel grounds in his boxers to get ice at the ice machine. Not that that would be sexy to watch a civilized caveman or Jaquan, you decide, be casual spending $2.00 at the Coke machine for a Sprite. And then there’s his mother-in-, correction, FUTURE mother-in-law. She keeps this G-rated if only to retain matters on the level aesthetically

“Wiiillllllmmmmaaaaa, have you seen a towel? I just got out of the shower. Damn, you see so many Holiday Inn towels in people’s bathrooms. Hell, Rubble’s got a collection of ’em to wipe his ass with when he runs out of Charmin, but there ain’t one hangin’ on the towel rack here? Call room service and-”

“FRED FLINTSTONE!!!!!!!!!! This isn’t the Men’s dorm at Bedrock State!!!!!!!! And buy some new Hanes!!!!!!!!!!!! The Bedrock Costco has a BOGO sale this week!!!!!!!!!! You have paint stains all over them!!!!!!!!!!! Take those holey drawers and throw them in the trash before the maid comes to clean up!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“I love my mother-in-law, I love my mother-in-law…”


And today’s post will be accompanied by Electric Light Orchestra’s “21st-Century Man.” I have always loved ELO, they just led a hit parade from “Evil Woman”, “Strange Magic”, “Livin’ Thing”, and “Hold on Tight”, the last song off the same album as “21st-Century Man”, Time. They keep playing these tunes and others on the Muzak channels. Timeless.


And so after Jaquan finished his Run-to-the-North-Pole-and-back routine (“Hadley, I just set a PB!!!!!!!!!!!!!”) , Jaquan gets in his suit he bought on lay-away at Milford Big ‘n’ Tall and by dingies, he pulls a Foghorn Leghorn and utters a funny. Let’s listen.

“You know how many roller skates Daddy Warbucks retains in his closet?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t either but Milford Skate-o-Rama will receive quite a haul bequeathed from his will when he chokes on the Chablis on the table that is actually Palmolive.”



“Oh, Madge, you sure Milford Valley Dom Perignon Vintage 1897 Maraschino Cherry Boulevard du Reves Rompu is non-abrasive and good for washing the dishes and serving later at the Bridge Club meeting?”

“Hell, you’re soaking in it.”

“I didn’t know you could cuss in a ’60’s daytime commercial.”

“This is Thorpiverse. Think of Lobachevsky’s Theorem and you can make an equilateral triangle into The Rat Patrol.”


If ya cain’t leave th’ friendly confines o’ Milford and inn-dolge in all them thar fancy-shmancy rest’rants in Central City and dine with th’ new-voh ree-chees cuz ya couldn’t jump yore pickup truck cuz jumpin’ thuh batt’rey might set off an uh-tomic explosion not even th’ Manhattan Project kin corral, ya might be a redneck.


Talking over problems

While playing a game of chess

Plates arranged as a pawn chain

The middle piece a bowl of kress


Where will Jaquan play next

It’s part of a Master Plan

The family’s enduring needless worry

She’s now the 21st-Century Man


Tho your clueless on where he’ll play tomorrow

You won’t live in a gutter of sorrow

Income with no strings


And since we ARE in Central City, playing along with the bit of emphatic tone that Thorpiverse brings to another Rockville on the map, it’s leaving me hanging. As in what’s in the water in Central City that’s NOT in Milford? Yeah, I know, Milford Exterminating Experts could do a better job of snuffing out the roaches at the Milford Country Club, especially at the diner and the bathrooms. It would kill anybody’s appetite to munch on a Grilled Fromage et Tomates Sandwich avec Le Vin Blanche while something’s scurrying across the grill.

But The Central City Chateau (“Fine Exquisite Dining in the middle of Hicktown”, their motto) may have gotten a thumbs up and a 5-star rating from the American Automobile Association but I’m seeing flaws in its evaluation.

Take the window, for example. Did the person doing the evaluating have to fight through that permanent lightning bolt in the window while trying to see if you could see Milford Valley or Mt. Milford on a clear day? And what was he eating? Rice Chex? Ravioli e Uovos Frescos Cacciatore? A lump of coal? Sometimes Anthracite can affect your judgment looking out THAT window.

Then there’s the table. What could the evaluator have been thinking? Did he get intoxicated from the Egg Plant Souffle dipped in Beer Nuts when trying to figure out the M.C. Escher pattern? Picnic table hocked from the Central City Softball Complex and hope nobody notices by throwing a few of Granny Clampett’s quilts on top or King James I version of the Bible because he couldn’t fathom all the ancient Greek beveled edge job? The picture of Bill Wither’s grandson in the foreground isn’t helping the perspective.

Then there’s the pieces on the board, I mean, plates on the table. C’mon, Mr. Evaluator, what’d they get out of Central City Creek in terms of corningware that they couldn’t get out of Mudlark Lake? I’ve seen several pieces of fine china being dragged out of the lagoon, thank you very much. No sensible person would stoop low in Milford to eat his or her Beanie Wienie’s at the Milford Country Club off of paper plates. Milford has culture too, y’know. Since when did Central City corner the market on the Sistine Chapel? Oh, I forgot, you can’t see it behind the Central City Gas ‘n’ Goodies, it’s blocked off by the mighty hand of Thor in the window.


Ooooooookkkkkkkk, nothing like Gene Rayburn to get things back on track. Take ‘er away, Gene.

“Dumb Dora was soooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought that streak in the window was a picture of Mr. Baxendale’s ________________.”


Gang, I’m gonna say it. Can I say it? Go on and say it, T. Drew, and quit wasting people’s time.

The artwork in P2 is PITIFUL.

If Central City Chateau is the shit around their Hicktown metropolis, why’d they have to steal gigantic flapjacks from the Milford IHOP? Discussing something as semi-urgent over a plate of a mutant Eggo waffle? Covered by Aunt Jemima and an aluminum covering? Like George and Louise Jefferson, we’re movin’ on up. With wine and glasses of Aquafina to complement the haute cuisine. I’m just workin’ up an appetite.

And evidently, Mrs. Baxendale has a voracious one at that, given her propensity at stabbing her pancake with a steely knife. It doesn’t look like you can kill this beast of a pancake but Mrs. Baxendale is trying. I’ll give her that. If and when she hits paydirt, it will surely add another chin or two to her Etch-a-Sketch conglomerate on the lower part of her face.

And while Mr. Baxendale is kibbutzing the Queen’s Gambit Accepted, has anybody noticed that he went from Ed Asner to Murray Slaughter, all with the grace and aplomb of a few deft strokes in the makeup room? Surely not Hadley Virtual Plot’s makeup room? Oh, well, as long as Jaquan and Hadley Virgin were sleeping in separate beds, it’s OK.

STILL, this is pretty confusing, Shakertown Revisited notwithstanding. At least Jaquan has his chastity belt on and his bald head has been consistent, Herman Munster meets Mr. Clean. Chaste behavior at its finest.

Would you pass the Karo, Mr. Slaughter?


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Treating Out-of-Town Dignitaries To Night On The Town At MCC!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“‘Card maxed out so Cochrane covered the rest.”


And just to tie up a few loose ends (Oh joy oh joy) , I just thought of something. That’s not Gavin MacLeod as Murray Slaughter. The huge crack in the window is blocking the view of the Adriatic Sea and that’s Gavin MacLeod as the Captain of The Love Boat. I was thrown off by Herman Munster’s hand he’s using to raise his wine glass as a toast but you weren’t going to fool THIS Twimer for very long.

And it’s a Love Boat episode. Jaquan and Hadley Venezia (hush, they’re in the Adriatic Sea, close enough) are going to rent out a $10,000 Luxury Suite with faucets that spout out dolphins and soapy water, good when you want to watch Flipper on Nick at Nite and take a shower, and wine made from grapes stomped on right in the living room (And they’ll even clean the mess.) , AND a bed made from the finest wool that Odysseus and his men used when they escaped Polyphemus.

They’ll trash each other and use each other and Jaquan won’t even have to employ the services of the Milford Men’s Clinic. But the Captain will intervene and tell them that the episode only lasts an hour and that not only are they violating good taste, they’re running over into Fantasy Island. Point well-taken. Opening the door after a quickie to get a quick bite to eat at the ship’s snack bar and confronting Ricardo Montalban and some midget shouting “The plane!!!!! The plane!!!!!!!” would make me want to grab that mutant poplar plant off the table in self-defense. Gotta do what ya gotta do.

Finally, Ricardo and The Captain will convince them to get married, that they’ll have plenty to cover them financially the rest of their lives, the midget will perform the ceremony, the passengers from The Love Boat and Fantasy Island will be in attendance, Barry Manilow’s “Looks Like We Made It” will blare out over the episode and they’ll ride off into the sunset with the credits reeling off at the end of the episode.

Then they’ll trash each other again.


Because I really don’t comprehend these injury lawyers trying to project a “We wear blue jeans in the office” image


“Oh my God!!!!!!!!!! There goes my hand. Quick, get out and get it before the light turns green and that Freightliner runs it over!!!!!!!!!!!”

“No problem. Somebody needs to get on the cell phone and call The Shark!!!!!!!!!!”


“I was a fork lift driver for Milford Foundry and without my hand, I’d be out of a job. No way I could stack pallets and pallets of pig iron while driving with one hand. It would take weeks to sew my hand back together and go through the rehab as a result. who would pay the bills? Who would take care of my hospitalization?”


“Hi, I’m Joe Sharkey with Sharkey Law office. If you’ve been injured in an accident, you need piece of mind. And I’m here to get you to that El Dorado of a worry-free financial situation.

Once you step into our office, you will be put immediately at ease. Our receptionist shows up a lot of times in a thong bikini or sometimes in her birthday suit. Me, I like to kick back in my Fruit of the Looms while filing a claim. The insurance companies fear a man who takes off his pants to get comfortable in that air-conditioned lobby.

We guide you through your rights while we pick up the doggy doo from our pets we brought in. In fact, we encourage our clients to bring THEIR pets to our office. Somebody once brought in their pet giraffe. Hey, if it can clear the door, we’re geared to prepare a winning case against our opponents. Justice is always a different animal.

And we always keep the out house in the rear of our office in excellent running condition. No cobwebs on the door while you’re taking a dump. If we’re going to fight the insurance companies on our terms, running water and Orkin are a must.”


“I felt at ease the minute I stepped into the place. I sat down on a seat cushion that covered the receptionist’s fart stains and me and The Shark got right down to business. And I walked away from the office with a great deal of satisfaction. Later, when I got a generous check from The Shark, I had no problem with giving him his 20%, rip in the crotch or no rip in the crotch. He could buy 20 pairs of Haggar slacks at Milford Men’s Wearhouse with his percentage. And I could FINALLY return to work, able to shake his hand, even after he’d wiped himself after a trip to the out house. Thanks, Shark.”

“You heard the man. Don’t let the insurance companies bilk you out of house and home. Let the people who can throw an orgy at Christmas time better than Milford Girls-a-Go Go Club show you how you can get compensation for your injuries. Call 1-FON-THE-JAWS today.”


Gang, comment to your heart’s content. I think Granny Clampett and Herman Munster are making their point LOUD AND CLEAR in P3, don’t you? I think they’ll have several more quickies, sure, but Herman can work for Roadway. Gavin forgets retirement from sports is not death. You just gotta pass your A License exam. Piece of cake.


Granny with her white streak

Herman with his tan

They’ll both head off to Paradise

She’s now the 21st-Century Man


Tho you ride on this plot that you borrowed

You still ramble the fields with much sorrow


21st-Century Mannnnnnnnnnnnnn

21st Century Mannnnnnnnnnnnnn

21st Century Mannnnnnnnnnnnnn…..


“No problemo. We can stick your water buffalo out back and let him wallow in the pool. Now, how’d the Baylor semi mash your leg?”

July 16, 2019

What’s This Summer All About?

Filed under: big arms, Just plain sad, Milford Idiots, Piss faced Tiki, Tilden — tdrewhardin @ 8:10 am


Frankly, I’m confused. Here I was in my Ethan Allen recliner chair, jumbo extra-buttered popcorn in one hand, 2 liter of Diet Coke I froze in the fridge in other hand, more where that came from behind the leftover celery and carrots and spinach dip tray in the Amana, plenty of Mike ‘n’ Ike on the coffee table, running the gamut from sour balls to chocolate gumbo lover’s delight (milk chocolate and okra, mmmmmmm, mmmmmmm) , and I was ready to pop the DVD in the player, I DID pop the DVD in the player, expecting to see the Warner Brothers logo and Bugs Bunny’s face grace the middle of the logo, the Looney Tunes Theme played with aplomb by Metallica, then suddenly Bugs Bunny reclining while munching on another carrot, pulling on the curtain to introduce another installment, “Bugs Breaks Par at MCC” or “Hare Ball with Gil” or even “Bunny Bag Full of Tricks and Clubs”. “5-Iron Hare” wasn’t really going to cut it but I had this barrel of popcorn to balance on the arm rest and beggars can’t be choosers, y’know.

But WAIT A MINUTE!!!!!!!!!! What in the name of Pepe Le Pew was going on? Oh, this stunk all right but it had nothing to do with a skunk trying to hit on Mimi throughout the cartoon.

“Ah, my love. Domp yor hus-BEND and cum wizz me and I weel show you zee fi-NER zings in Oak-WOOD.”

Dating a skunk in another Rockville at their version of The Bucket, playing “Red River Valley” by Red Sovine, the K-Tel version, off the jukebox, it’s easy to see why Mimi rejected Pepe’s advances.

“Phew!!!!!!!!!!!! Damn, Mimi, your blouse stinks to high heaven!!!!!!!!! Man, your whole outfit reeks of roadkill!!!!!!!!! Have you been seeing another man?”


Meanwhile, back on the field, I am utterly disappointed. I was expecting a golf plot but got “Alfie”

What’s it all about


Is it just for the Summer

You live


What’s it all about

When you play it out

The TD reception you give

Or are you meant to cover

Your man


And if only fools are toast

Then I guess it’s wise to be Wonder Bread


And if the game belongs to the talented

What will you lend based on an old golden rule


As sure as I believe there is a Heaven above

I know you can do so much more

Something even non-football converts believe in

I believe in ability



Without ability, you’re just standing like the goal post

Until you find the receiver, you’re ancient history



When you find him, stick to him

Like Elmer

And you’ll find the pass meant for

The split end





Mortifying a plot by mortifying a pseudo-Othello with one of my favorite in the business, Dionne Warwick. Life is good.


I normally wait until the end to comment but Franku brings up an interesting point. Why is Tiki playing if they are essentially ruling him ineligible? Gang, when I was coaching Babe Ruth Baseball, we couldn’t touch high school players from their teams until we got a written release from their coach. Don’t want Big Brother a/k/a High School Athletic Association snoopin’ around and seeing if a couple of high school pitchers are doing warm-ups with the rest of the staff or the high school catcher running laps around the complex without either scenario’s John Henry stating it was all good to go.

I have to believe Tilden wouldn’t cross the Alps with Hannibal and the rest of the elephants and hippos for a non-sanctioned event, let alone playing a team with somebody at the mercy of a School Board meeting. It’s bad enough trying to find enough water to water down the hippos but does Tilden have to get tangled up in Blues (oh, shit, turn off that Dylan CD, T. Drew) , uh, tangled up in someone else’s hippo poop? Well, I guess what Dylan was talking about and what I’m talking about might as well be the same only you can’t bring a hose to a School Board meeting. You’ll just have to come without Pepe.

“What do yoo men, I cant cum to zee mee-TING? I can strai-zen zees hole zing out. I can bribe zee luvlee lady Board Member wiz my charms-and a Buck-EET Bur-GAIR. Estee Lauder and BEEG Macs wark ev-er-EE time. ”

Anyway, Tilden crossed the Rubicon without a hitch. It’ll be Gil’s cross to bear when it comes to Alfie, er, Tiki.


Come to Galan’s Meat’s in Louisville, Kentucky. They are just about to move in a new building and I can see why. They offer the freshest meats around from ground round to prime rib to bar-b-q ribs. And it is cut daily so you are in for a treat. And if you want a sandwich, from pork chop to hamburger, with sides like potato salad or cole slaw, the grill is continually smokin’ until closing time. Man, my mouth is watering even as I text. They are on Market Street in West Louisville, Kentucky and you owe it to yourself to dig in. I sure did.

Support Small Business. You need to go where everyone knows your name.


“Hi, this is Joe Sharkey. If you’ve been injured in an accident, you need money to pay the medical bills. Insurance companies are digging through the playbook to look for ways to run over, out-hustle, out-block, out-play, and out-smart the competition.

Don’t be like Loser Jensen here in P1 who got torched for a Fly pattern and subsequently watched the insurance companies high-five each other in the end zone. They will stop at nothing to run up the score. If they can’t beat you on the field, believe me, they will yank out the rule book and try to beat you on a technicality.”

“I got my bell rung when a construction worker tried to dig up the street to get to a pipeline, blasting the sucker with dynamite and the manhole cover conking me out and ripping a side of my face. The insurance companies tried to get technical by saying our receiver’s birth certificate was notarized a day after the Notary Public’s term expired. Thank God, The Shark had a stopwatch and determined that the Notary signed the affidavit 10 minutes before he turned into a pumpkin. Thanks, Shark.”

“You heard right. Don’t let insurance companies cheat you out of the TD you ran and the face-lift you deserve because they were trying to get a replay from some schmuck’s cheap K-Mart camcorder. Call 1-FON-THE-JAWS and get the money you deserve.”


Oooooooooookkkkkkkkk, so we’re not going the injury lawyer route in P1. Hadley Venom is not going to be an ambulance chaser and get the insurance number for Tiki when he gets his face spiked by a Tilden fullback.

Then there’s the other question “Is this a dream within a dream?”, to quote Alan Parsons off “Tales of Mystery & Imagination.” In other words, the Tilden players, coaches, elephants, hippos, cheetahs, chimpanzees, etc. are here to stay, at least in the next few days (“In your FACE, Curious George!!!!!!!!”, “C’mon, Babar, do the Sack Dance with me!!!!!!!!!”) , but what of the plot per se? Will this be a mini-plot that lasts until Labor Day, then we turn on the afterburners and find out Jaquan wants to coach the receivers and marry Hadley Vertigo on the 50-yard line and watch the Mudlark players work out the logistics of setting up the altar, arranging for the minister, rehearsing with Ed Asner (GOOD ONE, TEENCHY) on giving away his daughter, constructing the reception table with Marty Moon as the DJ (Can’t have Booby do it, Rockville’s still mad at him; and Ernie the P has lost his audience. Imagine Harold Stassen spinning Carl Perkins’ “Honey Don’t” on the turntable and you get the idea) , everyone rehearsing throwing rice at the couple, and hiring a limo to haul them off to Mudlark Lake Resort for the honeymoon?  BTW, as long as Luhm is around with a mega-blower that could knock over the Sears Tower, the rice ought to cleared out at least as far as Siberia in time for the real thing. The limo should drive of with Uncle Ben in its tread. But the question remains with the Minute Rice question laid to rest. Is this or is this not a mini-plot?

Or will this blend into the football season and Heather Burns returns to give Tiki pointers on how to properly blindside your opponent, especially in his private areas when he’s not learning Torts and Comparative Fault from Hadley Victim’s Rights? One day, he’s learning the proper footwork on how to defense a tight end, then the next day, he’s in a courtroom soaking up 49 ways to prepare a case brief (“Make sure you do what Alice Cooper does and come early in the morning when nobody’s around the Xerox machine.”) And this pas de deux gracefully saunter for months leading into Thanksgiving? Gang, aren’t you excited? Time to hit the microwave and nuke another Jiffy Pop while I’m rewinding the DVD. And if Charlie from My Three Sons, er, Heather Burns’ dad returns with a vengeance, it’s time to get the White Castle cheeseburgers out of the freezer and nuke those too. Can’t have enough excitement on this website, don’t ya know.


If ya’s playin’ in a 7-on-7 Weekend Softball Tournament and ya wanna play center field cuz ya wanna work off the excess Falls City by chasin’ down all the balls hit down the left field line cuz the manager ain’t got a left fielder amongst his 7 players and yore cut-off man is yore Sterling-bellied pitcher,  ya might be a redneck.


“Coach!!!!!!!! Coach!!!!!!!!!! I know who shot Coach Shaw!!!!!!!!!!!”

“GREAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me get on my cell phone with the police!!!!!!! Who was it?”

“It was———-”

WHAM!!!!!!!!!!!!! BAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SLAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

‘Sorry, Coach, we need to fix that lock. but we oughta be able to lure that hippo back to the trailer with some prime rib.”

“I understand, but now we’re down to 7-on-6.”



P2-“Dude, your head is so far up your ass, the chimpanzees might mistake you for an ostrich. You are really out of it today.”

“Not true. I am perfectly focused and ready for the next play.”

“Well. I’d put on my helmet before you got on the field instead of that earthen pot of marigolds you got in your hand from the gardens of the Milford Public Library grounds.”

Trying to put it on

“Is there any Miracle-Gro in the equipment shed?”


Come to The Bookworm in Corydon, Indiana. There is wide selection of used books that can suit just about any fancy that has been satisfying mine for several years. I LOVE their Louis L’Amour collection, being a Western buff, so I frequent the place as much as I’m humanly able. There is a book that is bound to cater to any taste so you owe it to yourself to talk to a friendly face or two and check out the selection. Their cook books are to die for, Gang. Support Small Business. You need to go where everybody knows your name.




Oh, look, Howdy Doody had an interracial marriage at some point in his career and his progeny is in P3. Love that toothy smile. And nice to see the gloves he obtained when he skinned a leopard either from the Tilden caravan or out in the woods where the mutant poplars abide. Leopards aren’t picky. And, evidently, neither is Howdy VI.

I agree that Tiki should dial it in. He has all these legal terms as well as the play book to memorize, for pete’s sake. Give him time. Rezoning Variance and a buttonhook pattern can be Hell to memorize in one night.


“And the gun goes off, indicating the end of the 3rd quarter, with the score, Tilden, 37, Milford, 34. This is Marty Moon at the 7-on-7 scrimmage on Mudlark Practice Field and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”


“Folks, if you’re like me, you grew up with all the games shows like Joker’s Wild to Concentration to The Match Game. And with game show hosts like Bill Cullen or Pat Sajak, you couldn’t go wrong with great personalities with a nifty sense of humor.

But there’s one game show host that you, the customers, voted as the one you’d kill for an autograph were he 50 feet from your person. That’s right, Wink Martindale was the man most people would run over their grandmother for while driving their pickup truck should they ever be confronted with the opportunity. Even if the light was red.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse. And from now until the end of July, if you’ll come in with a memento of ol’ Wink himself, you’ll receive a 12-pack of your favorite brew and a $2 bag of chips. Mmm, mmm, I think I have that newspaper clip in the 1978 Milford Enquirer of Wink in the TV section hosting The Gong Show. Chuck Barris was sick with the flu that day so Wink pinch-hit in superb fashion with a group of parakeets singing “Don’t Leave Me This Way” the winner. Only Wink and Thelma Houston could do it any better. God, that Pabst Blue Ribbon Dark and a $2 bag of Mike-Sell’s Pork Rinds. And I have Wink to thank for that. Thanks, Mr. Martindale.

Sorry, it won’t do any good to bring in your scrap book photos of Bob Clayton when he was hosting Concentration, coaxing another homemaker to victory with the phrase “Moose Lye-k-Lee 2 Sox-Seed.” She might have won a trip to the Bahamas and a Home Version of Concentration but she’ll get no free booze here. She’ll need to go the Milford Public Library for a microfiche in the ’70’s of Wink hosting the $25,000 Pyramid (“You have a jaw like Roger Moore from James Bond.” “Did you do your hair at the Milford Dry Cleaners? You could put another face of Mount Rushmore on it.” “THINGS YOU’D SAY TO WINK!!!!!!!!” DING DING DING DING) if she wants her Stroh’s Lite ‘n’ Firm and Lay’s Vinegar ‘n’ Borscht.

And don’t bother with your 3-D photos of Art Fleming. I know you purists think Alex Trabek ruined Jeopardy and you’d like the old-school game show hosts to grace the stage once again (“Game Show Hosts for $200.” “He hosted Jeopardy back in the early ’70’s and got a hickey from a soccer mom when she got the Daily Double correct.” “Who is Dick Clark?” “No, that is incorrect…”) but Art Fleming and his nasally sexy voice won’t get you a Bud Gold and the $2 box of Rice Chex Mix that goes with it. It’s either Wink Martindale or you are listening to a report from the stock yards.


Bring in that photo of you posing with Wink and Mickey Mouse at Milford Disney World and get a free slice of The Good Life for your troubles. C’mon, people, do ya really want to do a Polaroid of you and Gene Rayburn at the beach of Mudlark Lake? I hope Gene has plenty of UV protection. You deserve to be compensated for your loyalty to a man who was considered by Entertainment Weekly to be the most influential game show host of the ’80’s and ’90’s. Get on down here with your 8 x 10 of ol’ Wink for some Miller Lite and pretzels and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”


Comment away. I get the feeling this is gonna drag on and on and on and…

Do ya really wanna see this in another commercial along with the Energizer Bunny? Thought so.


You better let somebody lovvvvveeeee you



“Ahhhhhhh, Tiki, cum into my arms, don’t beeee shy, Pepe weel hep yoo get away from Haz-LEE Ve-NOME, DON’T RON AWAYYYYYY”


You better let somebody ELSE love you


July 13, 2019

Guess Who’s Thorping to Dinner


I kept wanting to drop the Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner reference in the past but I was really trying to shoehorn it into a plot. This week probably has been the most appropriate time to do it to date, what with Ed Asner V. Baxendale putting potential son-in-law Jaquan through the wringer. Granted Ed’s wringer is as dated as the one grandma had on the washing machine on her back porch, but having gotten a hand stuck in one of those once I can attest that they can do some damage.

Speaking of damage, check out Hadley going all Malory Archer on that glass of wine at Ricozzi’s. Girl’s got some pent-up hostility working there. Don’t check her out as much as Mimi’s checking out Jaquan, though. That would be awkward. Hadley manages to steer the chat toward something Gil’s more comfortable with… sportsball. Here comes the pivot to the tale of Tiki Jansen – the one we’ve all sussed out will be about Hadley doin’ some fierce lawyerin’ to get the Jansens into Trey Davis’ house, open a satellite office of her firm in Milford, and convince the Memphis Grizzlies New Orleans Pelicans Charlotte Hornets team Jaquan plays for to move there as well.

Summer’s in full swing here. Break out your beverage of choice, sit back, relax and see how this all falls out.

Added the Ricozzi’s Pizza tag, will apply it retroactively as time permits.

Older Posts »

Create a free website or blog at