This Week in Milford

October 8, 2018

Excuse Me? I’m Marginal Mike Filion Now?

Filed under: actual action, football, Pantheon of Hair — nedryerson @ 6:36 am


Mike Filion has to do a lot of scutwork in Milford. He’s the quarterback who Gil’s stuck with because unicorns like True “Not Tru” Standish only wander into Milford once in a century. He gave Kaz a lead on Joe Bolek, but there’s no sense of urgency to do anything right away. So Marginal Mike Filion gets to punt this week.

Joe Bolek and his film club decide to swing by and see if Joe might deign to consider punting for the Mudlarks. Will he or won’t he? We’re on the edge of our seats.

Joe and his entourage are really getting on my nerves, especially from a hair standpoint. That one guy or girl has the Slim Chance/Dafne Dafonte/Kevin Pelwecki hair strands which I’d be happy to never see again. Joe’s hair isn’t consistent. I think at some point last week while Kaz was looking for a punter, Joe and Marginal Mike’s hair got switched around. Let’s not even talk about coloring.

What’s up with the dude sitting in front of Bolek and friends? He’s aggressively splayed out all over the bleachers while Joe’s crew also seem to be encroaching on the seats in front of them with their feet. It looks like somebody wants to start something here. We could use a good brawl. I’ll bet Mr. Man Spreader could hold his own against Joe & The Film Crew.


September 26, 2018

Save Filion


Today’s missing panel 4:

Kaz (chasing Andre Ruffin down the hall because, unlike Gil, he doesn’t have the power to pull kids out of class): Who’s this punter Mike Filion told me you know about?

Andre Ruffin: Um, he’s sick. My best friend’s sister’s boyfriend’s brother’s girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who’s going with the girl who saw him pass out at Schultz’s Polynesian Garden last night. I guess it’s pretty serious.

Who is this imposter claiming to be Mike Filion, anyway? Whigham needs to find a model for Filion and stick with it.  No matter how he looks, Filion has smarts enough to throw Kaz off his scent.  He saw that shitshow unfold in Oakwood and wants no part of it. Maybe he’s no unicorn in football cleats but he knows that one roughing the kicker call (and I wouldn’t put it past Valley Tech to try it) and Milford’s out a starting QB.

Anyone wanna bet that the kid who used to be pretty good at punting is movie buff Joe Bolek? Yeah, didn’t think so.


April 2, 2019

How Bizarre.

Filed under: actual action, softball, What the hell is going on here? — tdrewhardin @ 4:25 pm




WHAT??????????????? P3 isn’t ELO’s video “All Over the World” video??????????? That just sucks. And just when I was getting happy feet from all the gossiping, belly-aching, and dancing, not necessarily in that order.


Visited The Bucket

They fried me up a shake

I can’t brook this valley talk

It’s pneumatic and it’s fake


Cut the dope

Nuke this Soap


Sittin’ in the bleachers

Observing girls at play

Flappin’ ’bout their troubles

They’ll be scheduled any day


So I hope

Can we cope, can we cope, can we…….


Ooooooooo, Baby(Pewwww, Baby)

It’s drivin’ us crazy(it’s shit and it’s hazy)

Every time we stick around(do we have to)

Every time we stick around

Every time we stick around

We lose faith


And we’re STILL in a valley but if you think I’m discussing the Valley conference, I got that vacant lot behind The Bucket to sell you cheap. Don’t snicker. One of these days they’ll make a playground out of it or a soccer field. You just beat your 3rd grade homeroom rival on penalty kicks from the Milford Elementary Major Soccer League, it’s Bucket time. Time to grab a cold one. I’m talking about a Raspberry Slushee, dolts, The Bucket is still in litigation over the liquor license issue. May take a while, Sharkey’s brushing up on Real Estate Law, taking a couple of night classes at Milford Community College. One of them was Advanced Rezoning Appeals 301 but I can’t remember, been some time myself since I’ve taken the class.

Back to the topic, Jacqueline Susann would be proud of this group of gossipy girls. This Valley of the Dolls is just writing its own script. Susann can go to Milford Styling Shoppe and get her hair bleached like she’s always wanted, get her nails done at Milford Nail Salon, and get a tan at Milford Tanning Outlet and still come back in time for this San Fernando Valley to reach the epilogue. You talk about having blinders for the Redwood forest because you’re too caught up in the trees that squirrels and unicorns piss on and you plunge head first into the Pacific Ocean.

“…No, really, officer, the unicorn was wiping his butt behind that elm tree at the entrance to Golden Gate National Recreation Area. I was about to get out some Charmin and didn’t notice the San Francisco Bay. BTW, where’s my car?”

“Got a call from dispatch. They just towed it out of Alcatraz.”


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Throws Out His Back At Milford Shopping Mall!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Former Bill was trying to keep up with teenagers dancing to Electric Light Orchestra’s ‘All Over the World’; will have to wear a back brace for 8 weeks.”


I mentioned the Harlem Globetrotters a few weeks ago. And sure, they gossip just like the rest of us mortals. I bet the Boston Shamrocks do the same thing (“Boy, Meadowlark needs to do some thing about that overbite.”) . But during the GAME, I bet they throw gossip to the wind and act like PROFESSIONALS. No “Did you notice Curly changed his barber? Said the other was gay and Curly wasn’t interested?” while they’re in the free throw spaces while a Boston Shamrock is shooting a free throw to complete the 3-point play. No “That Shamrock needs to buy some Janitorial Size Oxy-5 for his butt. I can see them pimples through his shorts at the half-court line” while the Globetrotteers are breaking a press. No ” Mimi’s leavin’ Gil for Goose.” “Man, where we gonna put her? The plane’s already full.” Hell, we can sit her on Abe Saperstein’s lap. He won’t mind. She works better than jumper cables and he’s already had a stroke” while the Globetrotters are doin’ all that razzle-dazzle (lot of that going around, might want to take some Ny-quil before you go to bed) for 30 minutes, finally Meadowlark pulling the ball out of his shirt and shooting a Kareem sky hook, to the consternation of the Shamrocks who were anticipating a slam dunk.

In, short, P1 is more razzle than dazzle, leading to a commercial break about Ovaltine. Dentu-Creme pulled out as an ad last week after the plot went slower than it takes for the adhesive to stick to the gums. I guess they didn’t want false teeth on the softball field. Linda and company would be gossiping about some parent’s dentures leading into Golf in August. Can’t have that.

“Yeah, I’m so sure, I drink a quart of Ovaltine before my Synchronized Bowling match. I get more spares that way.”

“Groty to the max!!!!!!!!! I drink a liter of Faygo Wild Cherry. I rolled a 300!!!!!!!!!!”


Oooooooooooooookkkkkkkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn has been gracious enough to help us cope with a plot getting off on the wrong foot already. Not even the Cubs could shoot themselves this much in the foot (Robmize, I was trying to hold back) . Without further ado

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought you had to have another ______________________ to Synchronized Surfboarding.”


Before we go ANNNNNYYYYYY further, you have to be blinder than Stevie Wonder to NOT notice Nancy Kaffer having gone through the Mr. Potato Head factory for her physical composition. And those are either earrings or she needs a flea bath BIG TIME. P2 is nice if you enjoy Mr. Potato Head attempting to rally the troops since Mimi can’t even get a simple scrimmage going without some lunkhead saying she can’t make it because that’s the weekend she has to be at the Security Council meeting at the UN to vote on expelling Easter Island from the UN due to nuclear spillage still rampant underneath those statues. Chile had to dump their load SOMEWHERE, I suppose.


And I was thinking that that was Ricky Ricardo in the background, playing sports for the Mudlarks when he’s not leading his band at his club but forgot those are girls; ah, but I came up with Plan B, i.e., one of the dancers in OMC’s video “How Bizarre.” Dancer and softball player, woman’s got versatility. And ears you don’t have to stick in a socket like Nancy.


Alone in the gymnasium

It wants of any action

Sophomore Intramurals

Was the main attraction



Spare the rod, spare the rod…


Bought me box of Cracker Jack

While baseball’s put on hold

The prize became a Gil doll

Good Heavens, that is cold


Batter up

Had enough, had enough, had…


Ooooooooo, Baby (Hey, Baby)

It’s driving us crazy (Gil is so lazy)


Every time we’re pushed around (We push back)

Every time we’re pushed around (That’s a fact)

Every time we’re pushed around

We pull rank


“…so the mandrill asks the jackrabbit,’ do you know how to get out of South Dakota?’

And the jackrabbit answers, ‘What do I look like, a trombone player for Ricky Ricardo’s band?'”


“Good news, Mimi. I made my own mom laugh. And I didn’t even have to resort to Harry imitations. I’m making PROGRESS!!!!!!!!! I’ll get there. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”


If you want to jump right into P3 and dance to “Rapper’s Delight”, be my guest. Because that’s about as much as going to get accomplished. If Mimi would take CHARGE, there’d be no need for this Mouseketeer roll call. Okay, talk about how bad the last Donald Duck cartoon was, that Donald should not have been up Daisy’s skirt, that there’s standards within the Disney world, that it wasn’t necessary for Minnie Mouse  to admit she’s been off the wagon and frequents Milford Beverage Warehouse more than she sees Mickey, but Mimi, YOU’RE THE COACH. Enough of these players-only meetings that are more players than coaches. SOMEONE’S got to direct traffic and it looks like Linda anmd Nancy are the de jure coaches. And I don’t even know Latin.


“Hi, this the absentte owner of The Bucket. Our establishment is getting dragged through the mud, thanks to a lot of distorted and misleading information.  Let me clear the record and say I will ALWAYS bre absentee to better serve our customers. And we are only seeking a liquor license because we feel our customers deserve a slice of the pie. Sure, Mil;ford Beverage Warehouse can serve fresh cheese cake. We just want the fork.

Gil should know better, He’s splayed out one too many times in one of our booths after mixing a Tom Collins he smuggled in The Bucket with a Lemon Lime Bucket shake. In front of his own kids, no less. Can’t he get his thrills without involving the family?

And Gil says we are stalled in litigation right now. Nothing could be further from the truth. We have hired one of the finest New York attorneys, the ones who represented the Gambino family, so we expect competent counseling to get us through the bad Bucket o’ Shrimp until Joe Sharkey graduates next Spring, Real Estate Doctorate in hand from the Clarence Darrow School of Law at Milford Community College. We’re so confident that nobody from  Cosa Nostra will shoot up the juke box that we are offering free Double Cheeseburger Combos, Swiss cheese extra, should someone come in with an Uzi and truncate Air Supply’s ‘Two Less Lonely People’.

And while we admit you can FOR NOW stock up at The Warehouse, the Milford Beverage Commission has issued a Variance and we can sell Creme de Menthe, on ice cream products only. Otis the Drunk might not be thrilled about ordering a banana split but if it’s sprinkled with Hersheys Chocalate Syrup and Tapioca Creme de Menthe, he might change his tune, especially while being lead back to his jail cell with El Dorado in his right hand and down his shirt.

Come to The Bucket today and clear up the rumors. We still sell the same things we’ve been selling to teenagers for 60 years and now we’re prepared to encounter the 21st century with new ideas, new breakthroughs and new cuisine, especially the ones you drink to while celebrating your passing the bar. We promise Sharkey won’t be on the streets all decked out. He doesn’t want to get hit by the Milford Street Sweeper. The Sopranos have given us their word.

We’re ready for change and I don’t mean Susan B. Anthonys. Are you?”


Comment away, Gang. I’m going to Milford Chiropractic tomorrow morning. I knew I shouldn’t have done the YMCA dance.


Filion’s in a nuthouse

Got to see a shrink

Has to gather sanity

Or the story’s going to sink


Down the john

Gotta yawn, gotta yawn, …


Golf is not much better

It shows when things break down

Get tired of taking Gil’s advice

Much rather pump a clown


From the town

Circus town, circus town…


Ooooooooooo, Baby (Ooooooo, Gilberto)

It’s drivin’ us crazy (This plot is so spacy)

Everytime we hit the ground (From a bomb)

Everytime we hit the ground (feels like ‘Nam)

Everytime we hit the ground

We lose face

March 14, 2019

Mudlark’s Sad Lexicon

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 3:36 pm






These are saddest of possible blogs

Hatcher to Walter to Chance

Trio of Mudlarks and fleeter than dogs

Hatcher to Walter to Chance

Ruthlessly grinding New Thayer’s gonfalons into rubble

Making a Goshenite hit into a double

Although the plot will likely turn nothing but trouble

Hatcher to Walter to Chance


Welcome to the Sweet Georgia Brown edition of the strip today. I say that in earnest, knowing Thorpiverse is trying to make up for inchoate issues that never got developed during basketball season.

Oh let me count the ways. There was Filion possibly being at the same place where they shot “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest”, but we’ll never know, he didn’t go schizo enough for the situation to develop that far. As James Garner told Sally Field in the movie “Murphy’s Romance”, the mental health clinic is in the phone book. Indeed, he dialed the number but the plot never stuck around to see if the secretary returned the call.

So we went the Quadrophenia route.

“…I’m crazy, Coach, help me. Can you see the REAL ME???????”

We don’t have a clue WHAT we saw, real or fake, we’re still chewing that concept with Linda Carr’s real and fake sports, so Filion’s question is in No Man’s Land or Gil’s office, same difference. Film at 11.

And then there’s the girls basketball team. We’re making up for an aborted flight by all the razzle-dazzle the last 6 panels??? I’m assuming we ARE going to have a schedule this year. No Meadowlark Lemon to stick the softball under his shirt while all the Mudlarks and Globetrotters go prancing round the bases, finally faking out the catcher and scoring. I’m not sure that Gil can get contracts signed for the referees to do the Milford Mudlarks versus the Boston Shamrocks game anyway. Ya think Meadowlark, Curly Neal, and Goose Tatum will let the Shamrocks out of the GLOBETROTTER’S contract to play the Mudklarks. I mean, they always LOSE to  the Globetrotters but then again, ya think Gil is signing contracts so that the Lady Mudlarks will assume the role of the Shamrocks??? Mimi won’t mind Linda Carr running through the 3rd base coach’s “stop” sign with a softball crammed up her but as long as they WIN!!!!!!!!! Let the Boston Shamrocks get their own 5-game schedule.


Now the good news first on the boys basketball team.


Now the bad news.


Milford, during the Berrill days, might have had some shitty seasons but EVERYBODY rallied around the flagpole at a certain juncture, some examples, the snot-nosed egomaniac’s grandfather died of AIDS so he plays his ass off in his memory, wearing a black arm band up to the Playdown Final where they predictably lose to the Goliaths but even the Goliaths are classy enough to wear arm bands too; the great student who’s 4.0 and the next Jordan but is a pedophile and has to be cordoned off from the Milford Elementary section up to when they DO win the State and he is quarantined in the bus, waving to the kids while he is shipped off to the Milford Rehab Center, sharing a bunk with Filion; the guy who wanted to be a girl so he disguises himself as Tootsie so he can play for Mimi and only gets found out when he’s caught at Milford Sporting Goods buying jock straps in bulk. Well,  shucks, they won the First Round in the Playdowns, Tootsie got suspended a game and they needed her rebounding, but it wasn’t all gloom and doom.

The point is, The boys basketball season was really nothing more than what they were doing in the Hickory gym before Norman Dale took over.

“Dammit, Tootsie, you can’t score if you don’t shoot!!!!!!!! Shoot the ball, quit throwing it around!!!!!!!!!! Crack those nets, girl!!!!!!!!”

“Yes, Coach Mimi.”


‘s right, the season was just nothing more than Intramural League with cuts. But Intramural League usually finishes what it starts.


The most complete, and that ain’t saying much, was the antics of Booby. He gets a Magnificent Ambersons comeuppance, right down to the foot in his throat, Marty’s job is saved for another day (Goliath just STOMPED on Booby with no arm band in sight) , and just when we thought it was said and done when Chet Huntley threw Booby out of the building, we got thrown a few stale Milk Bones at the end,oh, you know, the part where Booby tells Mom, her Mom displaying a Cheshire cat/Borden cow smile, that he wants to go back to school.

That makes sense. Heck, he can send his transcript to Harvard, plus his SAT scores that he has stashed away under his Mad Magazine collection, plus a reference from his pastor (don’t think he should ask the WDIG station manager for one) and be on the path to a lucrative career in academia, courtesy of Veritas. Yup, a Ph.D from Harvard so that he can teach Lifetime Bowling and Badminton with Coach Thorp and Coach Kaz? Better get your application turned in before the deadline, Booby.

But if he doesn’t want to pursue the College Lane, he can always enroll at Milford Technology and Training and Major in Refrigeration Concepts, Washer and Dryer Mechanics, Basic Trash Compactor Research, etc. Mom will be proud when he can fix replace the diode tube on the TV set so she can continue to watch “Falcon Crest” and not have her drive him up a tree when she is missing the part where J.R. Ewing attempts to strong-arm Gil by constructing an oil pipeline straight through Milford High School’s gym. Think of the money she’ll save. And Booby might replace the Maytag Man. After all, the Maytag Man and Gil had one thing in common, they never got called to work, mostly because they really never initiated the contact. Career path to me, Booby.


Dr. Pearl at Milford Appliance

“Gil, what are you doing in that uniform? And why are you humping the dishwasher?”


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. To Join The Harlem Globetrotters!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Will be the 6th man off the bench to give starters a rest and in case the Shamrocks stage a rally.”


And while Molly “Popeye” Hatcher flawlessly executes the double play, none of which we’ll probably see, because we’ll be too wrapped up in some Mudlark baseball player’s bed-wetting bonanza, David Walter does a Meadowlark and pops a baseball out of the gumball machine while Curly shoots a Red Dot into a garbage can that is standing on home plate as Curly is perched on second base. The Boston Shamrocks have NO chance with that kind of wizardry.


What is it with this highway construction worker uniform that Walter is modeling in P2 and P3? Gil, you sure you ordered from the right catalog????? Didn’t get Milford Sporting Goods and Dickies mixed up in the mail????? Not that Molly is too much better with her “Yam what Iyam” look in P1. I know that the uniforms should be durable when they slide, dive for grounders, genuflect before Meadowlark for his autograph, and the like, but they won’t be around cement mixers, i.e., none will be situated at 3rd base that I’m aware of, won’t get tobacco stains all over them because tobacco leaves are non-existent in left field, really, at least basketball was in character. Nobody wore shoulder pads at the Madison game. Doggone it, Gil and Mimi, get uniforms that look like BASEBALL uniforms, not as if they were delivering the mail.



In America, Meadowlark Lemon turns the trick on his opponents

But in my country, The Party turns the trick and hides the ball for Meadowlark as they’re both shipped to Siberia.


In America, baseball uniforms are worn when playing baseball

But in my country, The Party orders prison uniforms if you don’t turn the double play


In America, an elephant has a great memory

But in my country, The Party makes you forget the elephant if you lose the Olympic Medal in Synchronized Bowling by dumping you in the Ob in the winter


In America, you get fired if you are a coach and your team loses more than it wins, unless you’re Gil Thorp then the job security is good for another 60 years.

But in my country, The Party sends you before the firing squad if your team loses to the Boston Shamrocks


Thanks to Sarcastic Jack for help with the above comedy ideas. We were on a roll today and never stopped. Good thing.



“And that’s the end of the 3rd Quarter with the score Milford, 75, Shamrocks, 29. Meadowlark has 16 to lead the way. We’ll be right back after this. This is Marty Moon t WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”


“Oh, Gil, you look so sexy in that baseball uniform. And didn’t those cleats come from The Wrath of Khan? Honey, it’s time to turn the double play and come to bed.”

“I’d rather get slam-dunked by Goose Tatum.”

“Honeyyyyyyy, what’s wrong?”

“Well, uh, you know, these pants are just hard to take off. Too many grass stains.”

“Honey, you were coaching.”

“Blubbuh, blubbuh, I borrowed them from Filion after mkine got run over in center field by Coach Luhm’s riding mower. I was drying them off after a rain delay.”

Dear, the forecast has called for clear skies all week.”

“Who says rain delays have to come from the skies. I’m talking about the water sprinkler. Damn Luhm forgot to turn it off when I was making out the line-up.”

“Gil, do you have erectile issues?”

“Hell, no, you know me better than that. These pants are perfect to keep a runaway freight train from sticking out because I forgot to put on my jock strap. The kids would have gotten confused if I’d given them the green light to round third but my flag stuck out too far. We wouldn’t have scored many runs.”

“Gil, take off that shirt, Andy DuFresne, and let’s seek our own redemption.”

“Can I go through the tunnel first? I’m curious if Andy would have survived going through that pipeline in this uniform. The prison’s only a mile from here…”

“You better go to the Milford Men’s Clinic first. That’s only half a mile.”


“Mimi was right. I didn’t have to wade through poop and blood that DuFresne retched on just to get me hard. The Milford Men’s Clinic is the right place for all kinds of uniforms and are sure to get that baseball uniform stretched to the limit. If that isn’t a triple play, we’re taking the Harlem Globetrotters off the schedule. Come in and get your own baseball uniform extension and feel how good linens get pushed up. Just don’t bump an umpire when you do. The Milford Men’s Clinic. A Man’s best friend.”


Gang, comment away. I’m going to the basketball game tonight. Meadowlark called in sick and Booby came in as an emergency replacement. He’ll look funny in that uniform but he has some making up to do. Community service will do him good. Just guard that #21 for the Shamrocks tight if you don’t want to get flushed upon. He has an exp0losive 1st step.


JODYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!! JODY DAVIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GUNS ‘EM DOWN WITH HIS SPEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Gil, you’ll do fine at the Kiwanis Luncheon tomorrow. Enough practice. Come to bed.”



After David Walter is thrown out by a mile at home plate

“WALTER!!!!!!! Didn’t you see my ‘stop’ Sign????????”

March 12, 2019

…Soon The Gypsy Queen, With Linda’s Whole Face Painted Green, Will Both Face The Guillotine, What A Scene, What A Scene…

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 3:35 pm





Welcome back, my friends,

to The Show That Never Ends

We’re so glad you stuck around

Your mind is sound, mind is sound


Aardvark lights his head

With a mummy from the dead

While dancing ’til he dreads

Phys Ed, Phys Ed


Next the 4-Man Troupe

Stuck within a messy soup

Hang a ladder in a loop

‘Til it droops, ’til it droops


Come inside, the game’s about to start

Guaranteed to blow the gym apart

Rest assured, you’ll get your money’s worth

Basketball up and shot from earth


Ya gotta see The Show

It’s a dynamo

Ya gotta see The Show

The rock just rolled


Next before your eyes

Booby executes surprise

Foot in mouth and then he flies

Until he cries, ’til he cries


Not content with that

With his hands behind his back

Paints “Gil sucks” in billboard black

Hung from a rack, from a rack.




The whippersnappers will just have to pardon my impulsive indulgence in Emerson, Lake, and Palmer and their assortment of Karn Evil’s. I get like that when there’s 3 PANELS OF SPORTS!!!!!!!!!! And Thorpiverse didn’t go the cheapee route by giving us some lame-ass diversion like Jarts, as if THAT were a pacifier to keep the starving masses at bay. Nope, we got softball and they are crackin’ some heads, barring Marjie Ducey’s annual Interview-then-hibernate-back-in-Mammoth-Cave-for-another-year. Way to make a fashion statement along the way, Ducey, even if it is in the dugout. Somebody will notice. Where’d you get that wig, Ducey? I got it at Milford Sporting Goods, Mimi They got a BOGO this week behind the tennis rackets.

So now Marjie is kicking things off in semi-style in a peruke John Adams wore at the acquittal of the accused at the Boston Massacre. She’s really become a catalyst in the true sense of the word. Back up a little and I’ll clarify.

If we’re going by Howard Cosell’s definition, and in spite of his STRONG stance against racism (a stance I highly backed) , the man butchered terms that would drive you nuts. For example, he would say “Rocky Bleier is a catalyst for the Steelers”, really being portrayed as a player who got things charged up when the Steelers, in this case, were at a lull and needed a size 12 in their fannies or a glorified pep talk. Problem was, he was more than likely in the line-up at the end of the game, contrary to the nature of a catalyst.

Marjie is a catalyst. Front, center, back. She primes the pump at the beginning of the season so there’s water all over the gym when the pump was barely spitting a drop but she leaves long before the pump stops flooding Gil’s office. THAT’S a catalyst and that’s Marjie. Like the catalytic converter which my dad’s business profits mightily from, it speeds up the reaction in your car but is not in the final product. You will not see Marjie down at Milford Lounge after Mimi downs a few Buds with the boys after her softball team beat some 5-man traveling softball show for the State Crown. Mimi and Gil and Kaz will be basking in the spotlight with the golden elixir while Ducey is lodged in somebody’s tailpipe.

Really, hasn’t her role evolved into such? What other purpose in life is there to be lounging in the dugout in her Sunday best, observing a lot, snooping a little, bugging players who have a thing for fake sports, then leaves when fake sports become too fake? She’s not around when real sports get too REAL???? What do you expect from a person who’s really not a threat to WDIG? You won’t see her digging in somebody’s file cabinet after Linda Carr won 1st Place in Synchronized Bowling and THAT’S a fake sport. No realness to that one. Man, I’d be checkin’ to see if they rigged that leg of the competition.

Yup, don’t count on Marjie to attend the Tennis-on-Horseback Ice Cream Fellowship where Linda will rack up awards for another fake sport, including Rookie of the Year. Marcie, if you’re not gutsy enough to sneak in somebody’s office to at least see if Linda had competition for the award, don’t bother applying for a reporter’s job at ‘DIG. The station manager has already bounced out one dunderhead with no sense for sleaze journalism. You know the politics in these fake sports. Can’t you at least tip the secretary at the front desk a 20 to get some info? Tennis-on-Horseback can’t all be on the up-and-up. No cross-checking available? Lordy.

“And here to present the award for MVP in Badminton Doubles is Mrs. Marjie Ducey.”

“I’m sorry, she couldn’t attend. She got a layover in ‘Foxtrot’.”


“I’m sorry that I got outscooped on that Badminton U-19 Tournament, Mr. Station Manager. I’d be much obliged if you’ll let me cover Mimi’s closed practices.”

“Nope, you’re outta commission for a while. And Marty’s a better climber over chain link fences than you. Fact is, you just don’t wanna get your fingers dirty nor rip that turtleneck you have on to see if Linda’s on steroids. She can’t be that good in Synchronized Bowling nor turn triple plays that easily. Hitting the roof of the high school with just a whiffleball bat? Marty ripped his Arrow shirt and fell on his derriere gettin’ over the wall on that one.”


Gil at Milford United Methodist Church Pot-luck Burgoo Supper

“So a guy walks into a bar and says ‘I need a Bud before the fight starts’. Bartender pours him a drink and the patron slowly but surely downs the brew.

Few minutes later, the guy says again ‘I need a drink before the fight starts’. Bartender pours him another Bud. Patron downs that while watching the Cubs in Spring Training on TV.

One more time, the guy says ‘I need a drink before the fight starts’. Bartender asks ‘When is this fight gonna start? I haven’t heard anything’. The guy answers ‘As soon as people find out that I can’t pay for it and the tab is on them’ as he runs out the door.”

The audience is burping on their burgoo.

“And then the bartender replies ‘What do you take me for, Harry Caray singing ‘Jody Davis, Catcher Without a Fear’ in the shower?'”


Mimi later that night, reheating leftover Burgoo in the microwave

“You almost had ’em. I could feel the surge of laughter. Then you blow it with a stale Cub joke.”

“I got impatient. Lost my nerve. Harry’s an easy laugh and took my chances. You want that last jalapeno pepper on the table?”


Thanks to John Flanders of Louisville, Kentucky for the above comedy idea. You keep me in stitches, My Man. Never change. Love ‘Wilson’ and ‘Nemo’, your cats’ names. VERY original. God Bless You.


What is it with those banana hands in P2? Notice Marjie didn’t bring hers, she’s too busy being a catalyst to pluck one off the banana tree at Milford Botanical Gardens.

Good thing Chiquita Hands is taking charge and trying to impress us with how Linda Carr can do a belly flop on an infield fly situation.; now we’re about to see what other bag of tricks Carr has up her sleeve. This should be entertaining. Are we about to witness a softball player or a trained seal? Fido barking out “How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?” Is that circus music seeping out of the speakers?

Late afternoon commercial for “The Little Rascals”

“She slices, she dices, she puts the Wonder Blender to shame. She cuts Julienne fries with her fielding glove, then pours ketchup from her batting helmet while turning 2 to get out of the inning. And if you act now, we’ll throw in the Pocket Fisherman, a sure rally-killer when Goshen fails to follow the script and is actually THREATENING Mimi’s Girls. Just throw the line at a random Goshenite…”

In fact, one game, the batting cages were stuffed with White Castle fries, there were so many bases-loaded and runners-on-2nd-and-3rd situations. But the pitcher struck out the side one inning and Carr doubled off a runner on a screaming line drive. She got indigestion from the buffalo fries but she won. Looks like she can do it all to me. And operators are standing by to put her on YOUR team. Too many Julienne fries piled under the dugout seats? Call now and get Linda’s razor-sharp talents before midnight or before the first scrimmage, whichever comes first.


“Wow!!!!!!!!!! I’d give that cannonball a 9.5!!!!!!!!!!”

“Marjie, you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet. Watch what else she can do when she’s in the batter’s box. Hey Carr!!!!!!!!! Do that Triple Somersault when you’re pullin’ one down the line!!!!!!!!”


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Gil Sues Milford UMC Over Breach of Contract!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“My Harry Carry imitation made SOMEBODY spit out their bar-b-q and corn.”


And I know clothes make the man, or woman in Marjie’s case in P1 but it’s not necessary to dress for the Rotary Club meeting scheduled later on that evening. We know you’re the keynote speaker but Lord knows you’re a catalyst. Who’s gonna care when you get dragged into some manhole on a typical Mudlark street and disappear? Just don’t show up dressing like Johnny Rotten (DEFINITELY not dressed to impress) at the Rotary meeting and the speech “High School Baseball Equipment at Milford-More Frequent than Billboards?” should go off without a hitch.


Puttin’ in a plug for Mike Smith’s Firestone in New Albany, Indiana. Gang, I had a rotted tire fixin’ to blow any time but they set me up with a couple of reasonably-priced pair of wheels and I was out in less than an hour. Service is Mike’s middle name and the lady at the desk was super-friendly and VERY helpful. personal service. Sure, Wal-Mart ha great stuff but personal service is even GREATER. They are ALWAYS busy and you need to check them out for all your tire needs and repairs in general. Why go anywhere else? Gang, come on, EVERYBODY needs a place where they know your name. They know mine.


Then there’s Mimi in P3. Talk about retractable visages. She’s been wearing the Charlie’s Angels look since the last lunar eclipse but shifted gears today with the Granddaughter-of-Donna-Fargo mien. Complete with whistle.

And is that last piece of sports item really necessary????? I have never EVER seen a coach in baseball or softball use a whistle to steer the troops in practice. Coach Sparrow, as I pointed out yesterday, never did. I never did when I was coaching Babe Ruth League Baseball. Couldn’t you see Casey Stengal with the Mets? God Almighty, no wonder why they were the worst team of all time.


“Can’t anyone around here play this game?”

The connection fails.

But, OK, OK, I’ll be fair. Mimi, you go, Girl, and if you spot an infraction, blow it.


“Ladies, that’s not how we run the give-and-go rounding second!!!!!!!! We want an easy score while Linda is tagging up at third!!!!!!!! And Daffy??? What are you doing in the coach’s box???? Get on first so that you’re ready for the backdoor!!!!!! A ggod cut to the bucket and you’re on second!!!!!!!!

And dammit, HUSTLE!!!!!!!!! Slide into third when they lob the pass!!!!!!!”

Reasons for everything I guess.



“Mr. Umpire, you’re the end-all and be-all, Krishna, Krishna, and I pray 5 times daily to Cooperstown in worship of The Blue but she has to slide when a tag is immanent or the fielder double dribbles!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Aaaaaaaaaa, better save the whistle for practice. Don’t get ejected for blowing in the base umpire’s ear.


Today’s Women’s History Month entry is another personal favorite of mine, Dionne Warwick. Betcha didn’t know that her last name is actually “Warrick” but a glitch while her records were being printed resulted in “Warwick”, which stuck because her promoters thought the name was catchy (and it was-WOW) . Second only to Aretha Franklin as the most charted female vocalist of all time, she has won 5 Grammys and “Walk On By” wound up in the Grammy Hall of Fame. She is also noted for “Do You Know the Way to San Jose?”, “I Say a Little Prayer for You”, “I’ll Never Fall in Love Again” “That’s What Friends Are For”, among MANY others. She ALSO raised her family very well, taking the red-eye route after performances and tucking them in bed before the night was out. Please join me in saluting a very talented lady who has only gotten better with age.


Wait a minute, Marjie. It’s late in the day and I’ll admit I didn’t pick it up the first time out but it ain’t like a crew from ESPN is canvassing Mudlark Softball Complex to scope practice. If they weren’t at Milford Gym coming away with any footage of girls basketball practice because the GIRLS DIDN’T PLAY, what makes anyone think there’s a media frenzy on Mimi & the Gang???? Sure, I suppose watching Linda do the Watusi as she’s flagging down a runner in a rundown is entertaining at a kid’s birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese’s, but at this point, Marjie and her flavor of Yellow Journalism seems to be the only takers remotely interested. Guess Jack Anderson will just have to wait another day. Meanwhile (there’s that word again) , Linda might want to perfect her triple axel while chasing the runner back to third. Just make sure you have the ball. Can’t throw what you don’t have, especially when negotiating a jump.


Have at it, gang. Me and Marjie are gonna follow Janis Joplin’s lead and see the country in a Mercedes-Benz. I oughta be back before the first pitch of the season, don’t know about Marjie. She went to Yellowstone to take a piss but never returned.


Filion’s on a wire

With his pants engulfed in fire

Balancing two Toyo tires

I’m inspired, I’m inspired


Next, catch Linda Carr

She throws the softball far

Upside-down, nose on a jar

Raise the bar, raise the bar


We’d like it to be known

The exhibits of The Show

Glows from Gil’s afro

On its own, on its own


Come and see The Show

Come and see The Show



Keith Emerson reaching a crescendo on his organ while rolling ’round and ’round at Milford UMC


Heard from somebody while slowly chewing his burgoo

“Well, he’s better than those doggone Harry jokes.”


March 9, 2019

Papered Over and Out


Well, that was abrupt.  I though we’d get at least one more trip to the hardwood (since it was Valentine’s Day when we last saw any game highlights) or a word with Mike Filion (since it was two days before that when we last saw him and we don’t know if Gil ever let him back into practice).

Thanks, Rubin, for not giving B/Robby a backstory to make him the least bit sympathetic. The time to do that was when he was hitting on Liesl Ishii.  So much got papered over in this arc, from where B/Robby went to college and whether or not he was still going, to how he was bankrolling his billboards.  We never did connect the dots between B/Robby’s “I work cheap!” to Mimi’s deduction that he was after Marty’s job.  (At least someone found that ladder Andre Ruffin forgot.) Maybe that last panel gives us a clue – if not to Howry’s current line of work then, perhaps, to his future.

You gotta go a long way to get to the best pizza in the Valley.  There are 117 miles to Ricozzi’s Pizza, we have a full tank of gas, half a pack of Nutboys, it’s dark, and we’re wearing sunglasses. Hit it!

March 5, 2019

Will Milford And The NBA Be Contending For Basketball Ratings In June? Stay Tuned.





“Filion, you okay?”

Filion wakes up. He’s been napping on his English Comp 203 book report, “Milford Horticulture at the Fin de Siecle”. He spots Gil at the desk up front, groggily remembering that Gil is supervising study hall.

“Uh, I’m fine.”

“Fair enough.”

Then Filion thinks twice.

“Coach, can I put my gym clothes in my hallway locker? I forgot I have to wash them this weekend.”

“We have washing machines.”

“I know, but my girlfriend got her toenail polish all over my gym shorts and my mom has some extra-strength Oxydol. It’ll help whiten my jock strap which got grass stains all over it.”

“How did you get grass stains on your jock strap?”

“I guess I got carried away during suicide drills.”

“Filion, we practice inside.”

Before Filion can answer, Gil stands up and bends over


“Filion, I was just picking up a paper airplane and throwing it in the garbage. Sure you’re OK?”


Gang, I’m going to the vaults again (bear with me while I’m on my soapbox) because Bobby is getting a royal smack-down and only a “Hit the road, Jack, and doncha come back no more, no more…” was necessary. Just hand him his luggage, give him a one-way ticket on the 2:30 ‘Hound out of the Milford Greyhound station and he’s a ghost of the past. Noooooooooo, we gotta drag this on 3 more panels with NO LIGHT at the end of the tunnel, let alone a basketball on the horizon. (Some flunky from the Nina “Cristafero, Cristafero, tierra!!!!!! tierra!!!!!!!!! Yo veo un basquetbol!!!!!!!!! Parace como un Spalding!!!!!!! Y los inhabitantes pueden Slam Dunk!!!!!!!”) While we’re admiring the crew of the Nina, Pinta, and the Santa Maria’s newly-found treasure (Wilson Basketballs are a premium in the Caribbean) , any of you old-timers remember the days of Berrill when some clown like Booby would get his justice in the 2nd panel then the 3rd panel was almost always an abrubt change of direction, more than likely baseball (“Think our pitching will hold, Gil?” “Depends, Tod” as beaucoup players are seen playing pitch-and-catch, pepper, make it, take it, square-dancing, playing Monopoly, Checkers, Twister, Charades, Uno, etc., all 402 players seen on the field at one time “If they don’t separate their shoulder from playing into July, we ougtha make the Playdowns. And I need Booby back to wash the uniforms or we’re gonna stink our way onto the Disabled List. Can he sneak through Rex Morgan over to Milford? Hell, me and Dr. Morgan look alike anyway, we both go to the same barber,  Booby can just say he’s studying to be a nurse under the doc’s tutelage until this thing blows over.”) . And it was just about ALWAYS headed with a “Meanwhile”.

Oh, not today. “Meanwhile” went the way of Booby’s billboards. You might see either back but the times, they are a-changin’. And I mean ta tell ya, Booby is getting the Jesus Christ Superstar treatment. Spit on, carrying his own cross while singing JUDAS’s song “Damned for All Time”, thank Heaven ‘Dig had the decency to let Judas hang from his own tree, otherwise

Soooooooooo long, Booby

Gooooooood ol’ Booby


So Booby was spared the eerie chorus singing Judas’ death knell even though in order to get his ‘Hound ticket, he still had to get 39 lashes AND permanent removal. THAT sucks. Of course, I wouldn’t be comin’ back in the studio with those kind of scars on me anyway. And still find out that Marty is still King of the Broadcasting Hill? Won’t go through Double Jeopardy with a 2nd crucifixion. Those Greyhound busses aren’t very comfy when your back looks like Chinese Checkers. And did you see Booby’s hands? DIE IF YOU WANT TO, YOU MISGUIDED PUPPET. That’s tellin’ ’em, Mr. Station Manager.



Big shout-out to Carol Kassady of New Albany, Indiana. She goes to work at Kroger with a vengeance because she loves her job. As a bagger, she is well-thought of as management and the customers like her courtesy domplete with a big smile on her face. Now that’s service. She also helps the store in other areas, keeping the grocery aisles well-stocked. No wonder why she’s busy. She just gets it done no matter where she’s at. Gang, the next time you’re inthe store on Chrlestown Road, treat her with respect. She’s earned mine.









“Mike, are you Okay? Don’t you want to know what your SAT score was? Looks good from here. 672, verbal, and 602, math. And a couple of good schools have expressed interest based upon those scores. They’re down in this bottom drawer.”

Dr. Pearl bends down to the next-to-bottom drawer.

“Uh, if it’s okay, just call me later at home. My bus just pulled up.”

“Mike, the busses aren’t due for another hour. What’s wrong?”

“Who said anything about a school bus? There’s a Greyhound by the cafeteria entrance.”


How many faces does the Station Manager HAVE??????? He went from Chet Huntley the other day to an offbeat Dan Rather today. Does he always display a Chinese Mr. McGoo when he’s pretending to be Matt Dillon?

“Okay, Miss Kitty, that was a rotten thing you said about Jesse James, now it’s time you head out of Dodge by high noon tomorrow. Jesse can’t help it if he twitches when he’s holding up the Dodge City Bank. He gets a nervous tic every time someone reaches for his holster. Thank God the bank manager knew the combination to the safe.”

And as long as we’re going to endure another moratorium on basketball, oh, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, Thorpiverse, we get it, Mr. Station Manager a/k/a “Matt Dillon after he underwent a facelift at Milford Surgical Group” is talking about DON Rickles. I thought Gil Rickles was a bit out of place and Mimi is a female (Mimi Rickles?) and I could go through the Milford phone book and verify that we’re not discussing someone else but after viewing Jose Rickles, Vladimir Rickles, Ed Rickles, Mario de los Santos de nuestro Senor en El Cielo y Las Estrellas Rickles, I think I better stick with DON Rickles.

And anyone who knows or remembers him knows he gets his humor off of insulting people. He’s not my favorite comedian but I like his style nonetheless so I will therefore implement what I THINK Station Manager Dillon is getting at when he compares Booby with DON Rickles (ambitious though it may be)

“So, where do you see yourself a few years from now?”

“Look!!!!!!!! You hockey puck, can’t you shave any better than that? I have no idea where I might be but I won’t be lookin’ like a beatnik at 60!!!!!!!!!!! You? King in THIS town? What are you, MAYOR???? This town has more cows than basketballs, Mayor!!!!!!!! And who’s the schmuck that cuts Gil’s hair???? Does he always use a roller pin?????? And I saw the Play-Doh in the Station Managers office by his gin and tonic. The schmo mixes good stuff but he mixes his face too. Bad combo, you hockey puck!!!!!!!!!!! Does he date Mrs. Potato Head????? Are they going to enjoy Chili Fries at The Bucket?????? Boy, talk about eating with a cannibal. Tell Rubber Face not to put on after shave!!!!!!!!!!! How much time do I have left???? A minute!!!!!!!!!! Heck with it, I’m through with this town, there’s nothing to do, not even a basketball court to play on, you hockey puck…”

Just want to make sure Rubber Band Man a/k/a Station Manager is talking about the right guy. Elmer Fudd Rickles is the only other choice in the phone book.




MOON!!!!!!!!!! Pull up your pants and fix the problem or YOUR ass is mine for another 2 weeks!!!!!!!!!!! You’re on in 30 seconds!!!!!!!! That loser left 15 minutes ago!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Yes, Boss.”



A big shout-out goes to Missy Nall as she rolled a spare and a strike at the bowling alley today. it was COLD today, gang, so getting out and about was an accomplishment in itself, much less doing well in bowling to boot. She was great to talk to today and I could tell she loved talking about her game. I’d call that pride, folks. America needs more of that. When you want to succeed as badly as you want to breathe, you will succeed and Missy proves that. She’s got my respect, gang. America salutes you, Missy.




And what the Hell is worth making basketball a possible sacrificial lamb for another few panels that Gil has to put on his jacket and head to God-knows-where for discussion on the Booby thing? Round 2 at Barney’s? Or are we gonna get slushy here and cry about Booby’s departure over several Michelobs??????? I don’t think The Bucket is really a wise venue but it’s their cash they’re toting in their wallets. Just seems talking about Booby in relation to ANYTHING next to a booth with a zit-faced 16-year-old chowing down on his Bucket Double Decker Cheeseburger is asking for trouble. Talk about “Silence is seldom misquoted.”

And what’s the point? The dude shoehorned his foot in his mouth and Rockville is mad as hornets right now and who can blame them????? If they DO go to The Bucket, just don’t announce it on WDIG. Rockville will be waiting in the corner booth, if not in the parking lot. Face it, Booby is toast, finished, kaput, outta here. Can’t set bail on this one, if that’s the intention and I wouldn’t put it past them, given the travesty of lack of basketball. You’re on a roll, Thorpiverse, stay on a roll.


“Meet me behind the alley at The Bucket. I got some info on Booby’s whereabouts.”

“Great. What about basketball?”

“Might take a little longer. Depends on when the NBA schedules the Quarterfinals.”


Today’s Women’s History Month entry goes to Carol Burnett. I have long loved her comedy and my sister just dotes on her. I can see why. Told she was taking a chance to start up a comedy/variety show back in the ’60’s as only men at that point had been successful inthat field, Burnett just did nothing but make ’em laugh as her show for several years racked up the Emmys, among other awards. She would have a question-and-answer time before the show, a way to show she still had her feet on the ground and the fans everywhere enthusiastically applauded the move. She was also a very talented actress, acting in “Pete and Tillie”, “Friendly Fire, “Annie”, getting nominted for Best Actress by Golden Globe Awards. She would always twitch her ear at the end of the show to remember her grandmother who egged her on for years and died during the show’s run. Also a very talented singer, ppease join me in saluting a woman who showed you could break the mold and be funny at the same time. You keep me in stitches, Carol Burnett.








“Do you live a non-stop, work off the set of your pants, sex-crazed, take the kids to soccer practice on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, turn those reports in tomorrow, Golf, hoping you beat Alice Cooper this one time, go-go lifestyle like I do? Is it sometimes hard to smell the roses so you just stick some incense in your car’s ash tray, light it with your Zippo, and just forget it? And what about that St. Patrick’s Day party comin’ up? Gonna skip shopping night cuz Jimmy Swaggart came into town for a one-night-only Holy Ghost, No Tiptoe Through The Tulips Religious Wimps Allowed, Talkin’-in-Tongues, Filled With The Holy Spirit, Baptism-by-Fire, Hell Fire ‘n’ Brimstone, Miracle Revival, Free Parking Included at the Milford Tabernacle?

Milford Beverage Warehouse is here to the rescue. Hi, this is Coach Thorp. Why do I need to go to the altar and have someone ram 10-15 hands on my head and I get a migraine when I can get truly blessed with my favorite brew? And I don’t need a Holy Joe tract for that one. What’s even nicer is that, through cooperation with Lyft and Uber, I can get up to a case of suds delivered right to my door step. Just call and have your order ready and be there at the time you specify and your order is there before you know it. Yeah, don’t take a quick leak or your kid might have to sign the papers. You might get stuck with a Jim Beam Coffee Tree Aged Premium Whiskey when you wanted a 24-pack of Drewery’s and 2 bags of Doritos Cool Ranch. Easier to share chips with the kids than a bottle of whiskey. My o My, a 15-pack of Miller Natural Light hits the spot when diagramming a matchup zone in the den, especially when the Domino’s driver comes at the same time with my 3 12″ Pineapple ‘n’ Pepperoni Pizzas and unleavened Breadsticks. Only bagels and lox go better with a Natural Lite. The Warehouse also accepts Visa and Mastercard. Good thing to know when you get cleaned out of finances because you got carried away grocery shopping at Wal-Mart. Believe me, Yours Truly is guilty of buying 10 Banquet Meat Loaf and Macaroni Dinners when he was only gonna buy 1, they were so damn cheap. And Mimi sometimes forgets to stay within the budget when she goes down the cereal aisle. We have more Life and Cocoa Puffs in the garage than booze, that’s for sure. And when Poker night extends until midnight, past the ante limit of $1000? Thank God my plastic is in the line of duty or in my wallet in my back pocket, whichever you prefer. Sorry, American Express is Booby right now, both totally unacceptable.

And they deliver everything under the warehouse. Yup, if you have a teetoteler at the party, they will deliver that gallon of Milford Dairies 2% Milk along with the 3 24 packs of Corona Extra, Seagram’s Escapes in the 12-pack mini-bottles, and 2 750 ml bottles of Old Kentucky Tavern, complete with chaser, compliments of Deer Park in the 2 liter bottles. Plenty of room in the trunk. And if you’re thinking of pulling off that annual bacchanalian orgy where everybody runs around the mansion butt naked with a bottle of booze in his or her hand, The Warehouse has gotcha covered. In cooperation with the Milford Transit Authority, busses will run non-stop to and from the mansion to your house. And they will deliver all the merchandise in one bus as desired. Grabbing a Smirnoff Vodka off the steps of the bus or opening the emergency door and plucking an Angry Orchard Hard Cider, man, a unique way to live The Good Life. And there’s a shuttle waiting for you after you’ve upchucked in the mansion courtyard after sipping Clos du Bois a bit too hasty.  Nice to know because once you’ve had your fill of some hog weighing 450 pounds and eating grapes and downing several ml of Korbel Summerville Park without a wine glass, you need someone to take you away from the madding crowd and home so you can punch into Milford Foundry at a respectable hour. By golly, sounds logical to me.

Folks, what are you waiting for? The friendly Lyft driver is ready to endow you with a slice of Paradise. Don’t hand the apple to your neighbor when you can take a bite yourself and not break the bank doing it. Call Milford Beverage Warehouse today. The Party is waiting to drive in your living room. Don’t be caught losing the remote.”


Gang, Have at it. If you see a guy hitchhiking at 3:00AM, I don’t think the Milk Man broke down in his truck. He doesn’t start deliveries for another hour.




“What’s Filion’s problem?”

“Dunno. I just took his order and I turned around to pick up a quartere somebody dropped from the juke box and he just freaked.”

February 12, 2019

Now My Sanity’s Unraveling, They’ve Come To Take Me Back.

Filed under: basketball, Gil Thorp, Milford Idiots, Pointy Fingers, shadow figures — tdrewhardin @ 3:55 pm


‘LARKS WIN!!!!!!!!!!!! ‘LARKS WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey, Robmize, gimme a break(ha). SOMEBODY’S reporting next week and it might be the bat boy for all I care so technically, I can start my Harry routine right off the bat(pardon the pun). Call it Spring Training in posting. Me and the bat boy are going to go through some excruciating exercises because we’ve been out of practice for a while. The bat boy might need a reminder where the dugout is located and I need to get my voice back in condition to sing about Jody Davis. Plus, I’ll need to get my wind back to sustain Steve Stone’s nasty cigars. I’m still using a fan to help ward off the panatella but good lungs in excellent working order wouldn’t hurt. I’ll just enter the Boston Marathon carrying a billy goat and participate in a triathlon where I have to swim through Jaws if I want to win the race. Heck, I oughta be able to inhale Steve’s smoke and hold it for several minutes and blow it right back at Gil. For singing, I’ll just practice trying to keep up with Deep Purple’s “Highway Star’ when it’s played at ’78. Singing about Jody and annoying the Hell out of Steve Stone and Lou Boudreau oughta be a breeze.

“You’re going to see Doctor Dimento and that’s FINAL!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Dad”, said Beaver while blowing fumes of a Havana towards Ward’s nasal cavity, “Isn’t he a DJ? Where does he find the time to practice?”


I feel this plot move under my feet

I feel it rot underneath me

I feel my heart start to trembling

Whenever Gil is out of his tree


Oooooooooo, Baby

Don’t you hate this

Sigmund Freud meets Bobby Knight

Ooooooooooo, Lordy

I can’t stand this

And Filion’s face is quite a fright

I just got to read “Cathy”


Carole King in full swing, She will aid in decapitating today’s strip et al.


And the first item to address, I mean THE FIRST order of business is to have you enlarge today’s panels and observe P1. If that isn’t a prime candidate for a Clearasil ad, nothing will ever be. Doesn’t he have sandpaper in his locker so that he can smooth over his countenance? As long as we’re going to talk about polite thievery when it comes to stealing Christmas Office Party food, can’t he hock some sheets out of the Industrial Arts room? My God, when I was struggling with making a book rack look like a book rack and wound up looking like the basketball goals the last couple of strips, I had more sandpaper to sand down than Gil has plots. Sandpaper in your desk, your shop locker, behind the lathe, under the power saw, planted in the pages of “Woodworking Today”, the teacher’s desk under his 1997 USA Today, lodged in the tin sheets. Mike, Politely stuff a few in your 3-subject notebook where there’s a compartment so they can be easy reference (“Found my sandpaper!!!!!!!!!”) and before the game, use some Oxy 5 and sandpaper to massacre those bad boys, use a Brillo pad to finish off the job, but only as a last resort. Let it dry at least 1/2 hour before tip-off. If the sandpaper you hocked won’t level a gerbil turd on the counter, your teacher went cheap this when ordering Industrial Arts materials. Thank God, High School Athletic Associations haven’t voted in a Zit Rule. Filion would be ejected before he entered the locker room around when the JV game is going on.

Now if those are warts, then he’s related to Broom Hilda and this might take a little more time. I don’t know if your shop teacher ordered eye of newt. You’ll have to check. Ditto if those are the measles. Archie Andrews’ freckles. Somebody got carried away in “Pluggers” and drew polka dots for the hell of it. That sort of thing. Don’t be afraid to confront your shop teacher on these things. It’s your face.


“Coach, he’ll have to sit a quarter until he removes those warts.”

“Kaz, is that Compound W still in your coat pocket?”


And for those of you majoring in Algebra and Solid Trig at Milford Community College, the caption in P1 oughta be a snap to figure out. The rest of you that had trouble with your x’s and y’s, I’ll give you a little more time. I still have 2 more panels to ramble on to decipher the code. The word “dozen” throws off a lot of people.

Gil on his conference phone with Dr. Pearl because it looks more official than having the same conference in the family room at Milford Lounge

“So if we order online 4 dozen Bucket Ovaltine Chocolate Shakes, 10 dozen Bucket Jalapeno Cheeseburgers, 1 dozen Bucket Liver Cheeseburgers, 20 dozen straws, 40 dozen pounds of Bucket Cape Cod Salted Fries, 20 dozen pounds Bucket o’ Buffalo Wings, 7pi dozen of Bucket Cream Cheese Doughnuts, 6 dozen Bucket Bagels & Lox, 13 dozen Bucket Blue Crullers, 300 ounces of Bucket Caffeine-Free Root Beer, that’d make (As Gil is punching his Texas Instrument TI-10 calculator that Mimi gave him as a wedding gift 30 years ago) 48, 120, 12, 240, 480, 240, approximately 21.98, 72, 3600, and 156 for the kids’ Valentine’s Day Dance the Plot Away this Friday, right?”

“Gil, I’m afraid you have the last 2 numbers in the wrong order.”

Gil, shakes the calculator, puts it to his ear for a pulse reading, then looks at it. Then he does the math, literally, with his #2 pencil beside him.”

“Shit, you’re right, Dr. Pearl, I pressed the Memory Plus function instead of the Memory Minus function. It’s been a long day playing Shrinkin’ and Stinkin’ with Mike.”

So to set the record straight, Irby had 2 dozen points, Filion had 3/4 dozen assists, quite an accomplishment, given the 2-on-5 set-up. I know Gil was trying to lay down the law by benching his people for violating team rules but who would inbound the ball should either one of the foul out? Gil, that’s why you’d have to call the game (In the rule book, gang, BTW) . Can’t run along the end line and throw a cross-court pass to yourself. Then there’s the defense. Box-and-zero? Matchup zone? Learn something new every day. Don’t EVEN try man-to-man. Clearouts ought to be a cinch. Filion and Irby out by the half-court line guarding their man while the passing lanes are wide enough for a Union Pacific to plow through, Gil better change defenses on that one. Unless you want to cave in on your principles and insert your suspendees in the game which might make more sense.


This plot has been a travesty

Of Nerf-Ball colored hues

No one’s playing basketball

Or cares about its news


Gil’s coached for years in Mudlark gym

Under some damn wicked spell

And I’ve had to see him suffer

Though I didn’t know him well.


So Ward Cleaver is going to stick to his guns and make Beaver see Sid the Shrink (Remember him from “M.A.S.H.”?) after all. And there’s a part of me that believes there’s a lost episode where the girls at school says Beaver has cooties, Beaver flunked the Spelling Bee, Wally flushed his hamster down the toilet, June donated that last piece of pumpkin pie to Goodwill Industries so that Beaver couldn’t have an extra piece, and Eddie Haskell’s mom has been having an affair with Coach Luhm in the boiler room at midnight. And there’s a part of me seeing Beaver lying on the linoleum floor (the ’50’s, you understand) while he turns on the oven. Well, so that I don’t scare you and because the ’50’s were justifiably short on reality, he turns on the Kenner job that he snuck out of Peppermint Patty’s house. I’ll let you use your imagination on how he was able to walk down the street with said hocked merchandise in broad daylight.

“Ward, have you noticed Beaver’s been sleeping in his sleeping bag by the Amana range lately?”


He coached with some uncertainty

As if he didn’t know

Just what sets to run on D

Or where guards need to go

Once he reached for his Paper-Mate

And tried to run a play

The center was all confused

Black and blue and lotta gray


And remember Ren and Stimpy? Sure you do. Remember the “Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy” episode where Stimpy is trying, blatantly unsuccessfully to infuse “Happy” and “Joy in Ren’s life? Allow me to transpose P2 and P3 so that Ren is trying to get Stimpy to see Sid the Shrink instead of Gil to Filion.

“WE WON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SEE, REN, I DON’T NEED TO SEE THE SHRINK!!!!!!!!!!!!! as Stimpy is bouncing off the backboard, the back of the backboard, dunking on the 8-foot goal in the corner while playfully singing “HAPPY, HAPPY, JOY, JOY” and forcing Marty to abruptly stop his interview with the 4 Seasons and hustle over, lest he gets outscooped by the Milford Times again. Scoop me once, shame on you, Scoop me twice, shame on me, that sort of thing.


Stimpy is done with being in heat on the ceiling, heads towards the suspendees who need some cheering since they aren’t playing and they all sing “HAPPY, HAPPY, JOY, JOY”, trying to get Marty to sing along but Marty wants a scoop, not getting humped on his leg.

Way to stay the course in P3, Ren.


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Filion Arrested After Damaging Popcorn Machine At Game!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Got carried away doing Townshend’s ‘Windmill’ routine and Daltrey’s ‘Microphone Twirling’ act.”


Okay, time’s up. Dozen means ’12’ so if you multiply a dozen by 2 you’ll get (checking my calculator) 24!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I Checked Schaum’s Outline Series-Precalculus so no need to look in Oxford English Dictionary for confirmation.


Today’s entry in Black History Month is Curt Flood. A VERY misunderstood ballplayer, he was thankfully exonerated as the years passed. An excellent center fielder with 7 Gold Gloves to his credit, hitting .300 6 times, a 3-time All Star and a member of 2 World Series Champions (St. Louis Cardinals, 1964 and 1967), he hit a buzz saw when the Cardinals traded him to the Philadelphia Phillies and he initially refused to report, challenging the Reserve Clause that had ruled Major League Baseball until the mid’70’s. The Reserve Clause basically stated that a player was bound to a ball club unless the player retired, was traded to another team. or the player was released from that team. Flood argued when he took his case to the Supreme Court that the rest of the business world lives under contracts and when that contract expired, the player was a free agent and free to deal with any club he chose. He lost the case and was essentially blackballed from the baseball world but he did pave the way for players revolting against the Reserve Clause and eventually having it removed. Gang, yes, many ballplayers are overpaid spoiled brats but many just wanted to get out of bad situations, especially when their contract ran out. Charlie Finley comes to mind. His asinine moves and autocratic methods, many which backfired and drove off many talented ballplayers bolstered Flood’s argument. Please join me to salute a man who stood tall and was only trying to do it The American Way.







“You have a good voice, Mimi.”

Thanks, Mrs. Kaz. Now we still need to get gifts for Valentine’s Day.”

“I was thinking of getting Bob a gift certificate from Milford Aesthetic Dentistry. They have wonderful plans that only cost 1/2 the lien on the house. And Bob with snow white pillars like the Parthenon with his earrings? Sexy.”

“Maybe, but Gil hates the place after they used pliers to remove a back wisdom tooth. it’s one thing to look beautiful but when the doctor had to borrow the tool box from the utility pole man, Gil went down the street to Milford Smiles, Incorporated for his dental work. No more sandblasting his bicuspids.”

“Hey, I know. What about Organic Fair Trade Coffee from Milford Coffee Worx? That and some danish on Valentine’s Day watching Milford Shopping Mall traffic is soooooo romantic. They also come in caramel and cherry flavors. And diet caramel if you’re trying to lose weight.”

“Gil would rather spend Valentine’s Day down at the Milford Lounge. They’re running specials at Happy Hour. Half-price on heart-shaped crab-legs and Russell Stover Pecan Turtles between 4-6 P.M. That and a Gerst Dark Malt will make a special Valent-”

Mrs. Shaw barges in

“HERE I AM WITH SOME GOOD NEWS!!!!!!!!!!!! The Milford Men’s Clinic is running a special for this Valentine’s Day. Just bring in a Doctor’s documentation on your husband’s ED and the Clinic will give a you a $500 Gift Card!!!!!!!!!!!! No more vibrators or going to Milford Adult Shoppe for stimulation!!!!!!!!!!!!! No more embarrassing moments suggesting he sharpen his pencil. The Gift Card is a way to broaden your horizons and your husband’s significant other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Wow, I WANT ONE!!!!!!!!! So if I get Gil’s paperwork out of the file cabinet in the kitchen and take it down to the Clinic, I can get a Gift Card too?”

“That’s right. So what are you waiting for? I just had the time of my life with my husband in the Port-o-Let at Milford Park.”

“Come on, Mrs. Kaz, let’s go. Valentine’s Day will never be the same.’

“Right behind you, Mimi, getting Bob’s papers out of the glove box now.”

“Make Valentine’s Day truly a Day of Love like Mimi and Mrs. Kaz, only at the Milford Men’s Clinic.”


Gang, comment away. We’ll see how long Filion stays in Stimpy mode. Wonder if that competes with the Billboard sketch this week. but that’s another story. Unless it’s Thorpiverse and then it’s A LOT OF stories.


Soon within this travesty

That’s clearly for the birds

Gil sat down on an empty bench

And turned into a turd


It seemed that he had fallen

Flatly on his back

Now this travesty’s unraveling

We hope we don’t go back


We hope we don’t go back

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