This Week in Milford

February 23, 2021

This Machinery Is No Joy.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 12:01 pm

As long as Thorpiverse is going to throw William Blake our way, I just thought I’d shoot back a repartee. As I read it, Father Vittorini quoted Blake in Ray Bradbury’s classic, “Are we not God’s Machineries of Joy?” to which Father Brian responded “God never lived in Milford”.

And there is no joy in Milford, at least for Butt Muench as he is relegated once again to the bench cheering on his Mudlarks to victory. And Tilden has been generally willing cannon fodder whenever people like Doug Guthrie have their heads stuck up the fuel pump and Milford needs an event-person-rent a Messiah to kickstart what should have been kickstarted two months ago. Eating at The Diner can only go so far as to working out possible glitches in the playbook or plotline. Finish those oversteamed green beans, leave Maureen a generous tip and let’s play some basketball without detouring to Talladega. Damn, that might beat Tilden.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Investigation Ongoing As Probe Deepens At O.J.’s Condo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Detective Friday: ‘Our stakeout has hope but we need more Milford Lotto tickets if we’re going to build a case.'”

Gang, don’t you remember Pin the Tail on the Donkey at those birthday parties we all went to when we were kiddies? Sure you do. And those were fun times and a part of our past. It’s a shame that Pin the Tail on the Action is part of our present. As in right now.

Let’s start with Muench’s attire. Frank Ramsey, one of the UK greats, continued his basketball savvy in the NBA, being a formidable 6th man for the Boston Celtics in their Championship runs. When John Havlicek was a rookie, Ramsey showed him the best way to drop your warm-ups when Red Auerbach, the Hall of Fame coach called your number. Didn’t want to look like a dimbulb when checking in. If you couldn’t get your joggers off cleanly, what made Auerbach think you could guard Elgin Baylor or Hal Greer? Don’t EVEN think of stopping Wilt on a 3-on-1 at the other end. Made sense.

It looks like Muench is in a Frank Ramsey position so if Gil actually wants to start coaching and Doug or somebody else is stoned like Syd Barrett, Muench can rip that halogen-infested jogger right off even if the ankle is a little tender. Hey, William Blake never played for the Celtics. I bet HE didn’t have to face Jerry West when West was shooting a career night. Just go easy on the instep and you got those sweats off all over Kaz’s head and you’re out on the court in no time flat.

And you’re going to need sweat-pants-doffing aplomb if you want to deal with Waffle Iron Head. Does he comb his hair with a welder’s torch? One thing’s for certain, his defense sucks as Ditzy Doug palms the ball and really should be called for it but hey, if he’s headed towards the basket (the jury’s still out) , I’m sure the refs will cut him some slack. We ARE at Milford after all, where Homer got its origin (not Late Latin like some of you readers keep insisting on) . And WHAT is Muench gazing at when he’s not goin’ Frank Ramsey on us? The ball is in front of him but I guess if you stare at the basket long enough, you’ll start scoring. Yeah, think positive. So THAT’s what Wilt should have done when he was fronting Russell all those years. Lord knows he was fixated on Hershey’s rims the night he scored 100.

And maybe Frank Ramsey can teach Waffle Iron Head how to rip his cap off so hair doesn’t get stuck on the bill of the cap. Don’t want Coach Auerbach to know we can’t take off our cap without having to back ’em down in the paint.

If ya comb yore hair with a strainer cuz ya gotta git all the fleas ‘n’ tics ‘n’ gnats ‘n’ flies offa yore scalp that yore bloodhound passed off ta ya, ya might be a redneck.


Oh, it’s just Gil telling Curtis before he became Kurtis Blow to get his butt in the game, Doug’s at the raceway, literally and figuratively. We learn a valuable history lesson, a Funkmeister became that way because another player on the team was calling the shots and, duh, it hurt that player’s game. Funk was famous because someone else refused to take one for the team.

And Cato, er, Gil, when is this charade with Doug going to end? No player on the face of the planet tells his basketball coach when he can play in a game, let alone show up at practice when they durn well please, like the other day. What did you expect, Gilberto, a laser-like focus to fix Tilden’s wagon after a conversation with Joe Friday over what happened at Daytona this week? I doubt Kurtis Blow was performing in Minneapolis last night before he got in his uniform right as he got off the plane. Not even Frank Ramsey can perform miracles. What do you tell the stewardess? Is there a dressing room, I’m the starting center tonight and somebody needs to be there for the opening tap. Sure, Kurtis, right down the hallway to the right. Mr. Ramsey used to use this room when the Celtics went to overtime.

And if Muench ever needed the extra space, he can always open the window. Hang suspended at 10,000 feet while he’s working his sweats around the sprain, talk about Machineries of Joy. About the ONLY joy so far. Do we have to cling to the fuselage to get it?

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Sting Operation Goes Awry At The Milford-Tilden Game!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Detective Friday found that Doucette had no record and that the concession stand was only trafficking hot dogs and relish.”

8:17PM-It was getting close to halftime and Gannon and I hadn’t sniffed out a pretzel. Captain was pressing the issue to get this oversized cheeseburger blown open but the closest we could get to Doug was to razz him when he blew the layup. This stakeout on the bleachers was only getting us a program with tonight’s starting lineup.

DOUUUGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ARLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


We got our break. What idiot would cheer on someone when he needup target practice 2 feet near the basket? Gannon and I had to move fast

“Police officers!!!!!!!!!!!! Just hold it right there!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Sir, I have to announce the winning number for the Brunswick Bowling Ball, hang on.”

“Yeah, they said the same thing last week when they were carjacking Marty Moon at Mudlark Lake Resorts!!!!!!!!! Spread ’em and don’t try anything funny. Read him his rights, Bill.”

“Hang on, Joe, I have a couple of questions. Son, why would you cheer on a bad play? And do you realize that Arlo is under suspicion for reckless driving and drug possession? When he shoots free throws by bouncing the ball off his head, don’t you think he’s a bit stoned? Or does he do the same thing with the rubber mats against the wall?”

“You gotta understand Doug. He needs encouragement. He gets down on himself when he makes a bad play. So I egg him on, good or bad. And sometimes he needs to get refocused on basketball, especially if he gets cooped up in a go-kart all day. He’s just bonking himself to get his bearings. I mean, he was doing The Charleston every time he’d inbound the ball after his 17th-place finish at the Indy 500. And he did the King Tut Dance during a 20-second time out after the Daytona weekend.”

“Don’t get funny with us, punk!!!!!!!!!! Okay, we got nothing on you although I could nail you on Milford City Ordinance Code 12 Article 73 Section 734 “Public Falsification of Reasonable Occurences with Intent for Malicious or Unpalatable Advantages” but the ref just called for everybody to get back on the floor. But stay clean until we meet again if you don’t want a night with Otis!!!!!!”

“I understand. Want some nacho chips? The dip is still warm.”

“No, Son, Mr. Friday just had his upper plate drilled this week. Just keep your nacho dip and your reputation in the same paper tray.”

Somber music wafts in the gym

“Dr. Pearl, these Coed Gym Class Reports-2015 are burned to a crisp.”

“Ohhhh, I apologize, Gil. I told my student aide not to use the waffle iron this time.”

Now wait just a cotton’ pickin’ minute, Gil. You talk about the pot calling the kettle Mudlark. Coming from the same guy who was on the same poetic wavelength in the trainer’s room when he should have been out on the floor blowing the whistle and conducting something called PRACTICE. That’s that thing where you work on plays and defensive sets so you don’t get caught with your buffon hairdo down like what occurred with Oakwood. I know some things seem strange and unfamiliarity results when players set their own agenda and you set YOUR OWN AGENDA by not showing up half the time. What did you expect Spacehead to do, go out and deftly lead the team to victory in a Rocky setting? Rocky can only do that if Mickey Goldmill is around for the match. It does no good for Rocky to be chasing that chicken all over your verandah in those workouts, Mickey, if you’re non-existent. To paraphrase Rocky, Doug would be a Kentucky-Fried idiot. There is no way he can beat Apollo Creed in a game of H-O-R-S-E when those chickens are in your trunk and you’re chickening at the Milford Lounge. Wake up, indeed.

When Rocky was running in a final flourish at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Doug was running his mouth in a final flourish. Like coach, like son.

Speaking of the place, it has become a tourist attraction with the Rocky statue at the base of the steps. And the 72 steps of film history are naturally called the Rocky Steps. Hmmmmmmmm

At a State park near Milford

“I am Spartacus!!!!!!!!!!!! I can conquer anything!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Creed is mine when his team comes to town!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Goodness, Gil’s been a beast since they named that entranceway to the outhouse ‘The Gil Steps’.”

There’s plenty of machinery in P3. How much joy is debatable. I can spot the obvious first. The placard holder is arguably the most conspicuous and with the most resolution. He doesn’t resemble the house slippers your dog used to chew on when you were a kid like most of the rest of P3. And even THAT is not really encouraging. For all we know, he’s advertising for Milford Diner. Well, shoot, Maureen can’t be there, SOMEBODY has to be there to take the order of Lobster Claws and Salisbury Steak Buffet.

And I can say without fear of contradiction that that is Kurtis Blow checking into the game for Doug the Head Butt-er Upper. I’m still scratching the noggin a little why he is facing straight ahead when Larry the Placard Guy is pointing his “Milford Diner-I’m Lovin’ It” towards the end of the court where the basket is presumably located but let’s not get greedy here. I learned that as a coach.

NOW who is the Tilden dude talking to on the left side? Does he want Vic to get some more napkins after he spilled ketchup on his uniform? Is he calling Milford Exterminators to remove the bed bugs from the floor? Is he telling the ref to watch the shoves underneath? The fact that I have to sort through some sordid scenarios is making this dearth of machinery OR joy that much more gloomy, Gus.

And what is the Tilden player doing spreading his legs? I thought Joe Friday already attempted a bust. He can’t be taking a whiz but with the way the artwork has been transcending the barriers of reality, you can never answer with 100% certainty. Maybe his jock strap itches and he’s just trying to get more comfortable. Who cares about the crowd? You can’t tell them apart anyway. Scratch away, the crowd’s in Jackson Pollack form anyhoo, they’ll never know.

I mean, I never knew I could be Pac-Man and run from Inky, Blinky, Winky, and Clyde and form several escape routes and that would be my drawings for today’s audience. The Tilden contingent I believe is on the left side of the smudge marks. But check me on that.

Today’s Black History Month entry is Tom Rucker who was an NCAA Man’s Basketball official for 30 years, mainly in the Big Ten Conference. He was one of the first African-Americans to don the zebra stripes and did so with class and a high standard of professionalism. He never played organized basketball but started officiating in the Detroit School System while attending Wayne State University to make ends meet. A University of Detroit coach liked what he saw and Rucker found himself officiating a Detroit game when one member of the officiating crew didn’t show. He eventually worked his way up, becoming a fixture in Big Ten action, including postseason. He had to shake off racial slurs from the hecklers for a few years but people saw he was for real and the loudmouths disappeared. He worked several NCAA Regionals plus 4 Final Fours and 2 National Championship Games. Referees dream to work ONE Championship Game but Rucker doubled the dream. He must have done something right.

I always thought he was fair and honest and HUSTLED to get in position for the call; plus anybody who can hang up the whistle and still have a conversation with Bob Knight, a noted battler with the zebras, when all is said and done deserves everybody’s respect. Please join me in saluting a man who proved you can be upright in your decisions regardless of your color. Thank you, Tom Rucker. You did the Game proud.



“The story you just read is true. The names have been changed to save further embarrassment to this farce.”

“On October 25th, trial was set at the Milford Superior Court, Judge Melvin Q. Snerdly presiding. In a moment, the results of that trial.”

In the back yard of the Shaw residence, Coach Shaw locked in his Civil Defense shelter

“Honeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyy, I’m hornyyyyyyyyyy. Why are you shut off from the rest of the world??????”

“Damn, Mrs. Shaw, how’d you find me?”

“You left a trail of toilet paper.”

“The price I pay when I am securing myself against the curs of this planet. They’ll never find me here!!!!!!”

“Honey, what are you talking about?”

“Damn, Woman, don’t you read the papers????? Milford Men’s Clinic was caught ethical un-outsourcing with other countries. They had to go to some dictatorship in Panama to ship its sexual chemical stimulants. If I have to hike the jungles of Costa Rica after their President shot dissidents in the head, I’ll stay right here in my shelter until it blows over.”

“I’d like things to blow over and they will once you open the door.”

“NO WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!! I ain’t gettin’ pumped up by a company that does business with Crete. I understand they have sweatshops do their dirty work. I don’t buy pills from foreign child labor. I’ll take my Pals from the good ol’ USA anytime.”

“And I’ll take my Pal once he opens the door.”

“It’s a cruel world, Mrs. Shaw. I won’t make it any crueler buying from a place that foments riots in the streets. That incident in Helsinki was a conflagration made in Hell. My Significant Other will do business with other legitimate establishments of business if that means I gotta buy from a hot dog stand.”

“I also came to tell you that The Clinic Board of Directors fired their CEO. They retracted all his transactions. I saw the film at 11 on WDIG-News.”

” I guess I had to open the door. When they were willing to cut their losses, I had to cut mine. And they did have treatment programs that work. With a staff that is certified Gold by the American Medical Association, isn’t it time to inventory your own sexual outsourcing? Me and Mrs. Shaw have been outsourcing under the sheets for several days and it’s funner ‘n’ barrel of diet pills. Come do your own outsourcing here at Milford Men’s Clinic.”

“The Milford Superior Court found a one Douglas Guthrie guilty of 3 counts of Reckless Abandonment of Player Responsibility which is punishable under the Milford Penal Code by a fine of $15,000 or 3 years probation or both and with 2 counts of Unlawful Usage of Oversized and Unaccounted-for Vehicles and Unwieldy Usage Thereof which is punishable under the Milford Municipal Code by revocation of driving privileges set for a period no more than 21 months but less than the period designated by a committee which duly appoints the hours leading to the demarcation as outlined by the statutes henceforth stated in the committee recommendation that expresses said penal measures.”

“Doug Guthrie is currently serving his probation working at Grease Monkey as an oil changer.”

February 18, 2021

Don’t Bogart This Plot, Thorpiverse.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 1:41 pm

Any of you who saw the movie “Easy Rider” surely remember songs like “Born to be Wild” by Steppenwolf (yes, named after Hesse’s novel) and “I Wasn’t Born to Follow” by The Byrds. Thrown in the mix was a clanky tune which was about as Honky-Tonk and cheap and trashy and gaudy as all get out called “Don’t Bogart That Joint”. And naturally, people wondered what in the name of Maureen at The Diner did it mean. Well, yours truly is like his dad, he didn’t like getting left hanging with this one so he checked a dictionary online and the definition was somewhat inconclusive, given the nature of the word and the ensuing possiblities; still, what the dictionary site eventually proffered made sense so I’m going with my gut.

Anybody who has watched Humphrey Bogart movies, such as “Casablanca” has seen him frequently with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth (precursor, perhaps, to Jimmy Dean years later in the same pose) , essentially oblivious to the surroundings. Cool people evidently had that air. And that’s the idea. Still, cool or no cool, don’t sit there with a toke in your mouth, indifferent to the people in the same room with you. Your buddies might want to take a drag from your stick OR get one out of your satchel to smoke on their own. Wake up and smell and the pot.

And Thorpiverse, dammit, quit Bogarting this plot and the ramifications thereof. You don’t NOTICE the restless natives who are complaining and caterwauling over the lack of direction of ANY of these scenarios????? We had Peppermint Patty up Tessi’s butt over her flightiness. Then Tessi got her head out of her butt, finally, and got Vic, who kissed Gil’s ring because Don Corleone was out of town to get the PA announcer’s job, to do his Sha Na Na routine at your games. But wait, there’s more. When Doug wasn’t kissing Vic’s butt (but I don’t know how many times butt is going to be the butt of all the humor in this post, sorry to butt in) to bring Milford Boys Basketball in the limelight, he was kissing Joe Friday’s butt to avoid a ticket and running laps. It almost worked. And no sooner does Joe Friday pull up his trousers than we have another change of direction. Like what’s going to happen, Muench is going over to PP’s house for some brownies and bandages and they fall in love when she’s taping up his ankle (you didn’t expect Rick Scott to do it, did you? He’s like Coach Shaw, a rental at the Milford U-Haul) ? And that might seem impossible, given all the bogarting, but we thought Doug was going to get a ticket the second time he got pulled over. And we thought Gil was going to be in the gym when Tom and Doug served their punishments. What happens when you have great expectations. We’ll just bogart here on the couch until something realistic comes along.

I am intrigued by dog food that can be delivered at your doorstep

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. To Challenge Uber In Milford Small Claims Court Over Disagreement On Delivery Of Product!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I have enough issues with Milford Gaming Commission, but someone’s crossing a line when Uber leaves the Alpo in my parking lot when there’s snow on the ground.”

And further bogarting is evident in P1 as Thorpiverse nonchalantly assumes we dig the Synchronized Strobe Light Dancing Exhibit, like that’s going to spice up all the doodling that’s going on in the gym, streets of Milford, Corinavirus’ house, Corinavirus’ oven, Corinavirus’ outhouse, the faculty lounge at Milford High School, the faculty lounge water closet where Gil’s dumping his protein shakes, etc. Oh, this is entertaining, T-verse, watching 2 guys glow in the dark who should have been at practice ON TIME and would have been if Doug had told Joe Friday I HAVE PRACTICE AND DON’T HAVE TIME TO TALK ABOUT THE MILFORD MODIFIED DRAG RACE OR THE FACT THAT BILL GANNON’S WIFE HAS SEASON TICKETS THERE. Such mystique. I never knew 2 teenagers could dance to Alice Cooper’s “Welcome to my Nightmare” and they certainly have radioactive gym shorts appropriate for the occasion. Only Gil bleeds.

And speaking of Gil, WHERE THE HELL IS HE???? He just metes out punishment and disappears with Elvis and the rest of the UFO until Muench is begging for mercy in P3? Turn this saucer around, Elvis, someone pulled a hamstring. Plus I like to watch Alice’s demons and spiders fawning all over my players when they’re doing wind sprints.

The spray paint on those uniform numbers should dry anytime now. Then they can Strobe Light Boogie some more.

5:43PM-We were on stakeout in front of the gym with not a shred of evidence to work up a case. And I could sense the frustration in Gannon’s demeanor. He was getting bogarted on a useless chase and the Milford Police staff were too busy playing Yahtzee to care. He was on his 7th piece of Wrigley’s.

I was bored trying to figure out the Sudoku puzzle in the Milford Enquirer. I had used too many 9’s and I wasn’t about to ask Gannon if he had any 3’s or 5’s from his Sudoku ledger. This whole rigamarole smelled of bad math. We needed the Gaussian Elimination System and we needed it PDQ if we wanted to crack this renegade crossword.

We caught a break and none too soon.

Rick Scott walked out of the gym with his medical bag and tongs. He was on the way to pulling Dr. Pearl’s mother’s wisdom tooth

“Dr. Scott?”

“Rick to you.”

“Police officers. My name’s Friday and this is my partner, Bill Gannon. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Certainly. Dr. Pearl gave her mom some Sominex so she should be asleep for at least 14 hours. What do yo need?”

“We have a suspect who flies all over Milford in his armored tank and we traced his whereabouts from Da Nang where he received a Purple Heart for smoking the Viet Cong in a couple of sieges to here in this gym.”

“I think you mean Doug Guthrie and he wouldn’t harm a fly. He may show up at games and practices at his leisure but you’ll have to confront Coach Thorp on that one.”

“What about his cohort?”

“What about him?”

“Any criminal records? Any suspensions? Did he have to turn in his uniform?”

“Thomas Muench? A coach’s dream. Not one to say to Coach Thorp take this plot and shove it although I wouldn’t blame him if he did. But he’s an All-American kid.”

“Fair enough. What are YOU doing here so late?”

“Same reason I have anywhere I go. When someone hurts themselves, I come out of the casket that Barnabas rents at Collinsport and attend to my duties as a trainer. Muench injured his ankle and Willie Loomis wakened me from my slumber. I had to put a Band-aid on it and kiss it. That’s what trainers do.”

“Awwwwwwwright, I get the point. Just stay clean in your coffin and we won’t be in the interrogation room with Barnabas. We’ll be in touch later.”

“Good night, Dr. Scott.”

“Rick to you, Gannon.”

“Bill to you, Rick.”

OH GOD NO Thorpiverse. This is bogarting at its worst. Like anybody is too dumb too see that when you run laps around a skating rink, you’re going to slip and fall on your ass. Yeah buddy, Muench is in obvious pain because Doug left his Junior Johnson trademark crescent wrench on the floor and Muench subsequently turned an ankle. Pick up your tools after the free throw shooting drill, Doug.

Luhm had to have sandblasted the floor with Turtle Wax and buffered it later with the Milford Public Works Department city sweeper. If Milford Mudlarks have a curling team, they won’t have to call Luhm in to do any maintenance once the Boys Basketball team is done with their game. And don’t try to pull a fast one on us, T-verse. We know Lake Placid when we see it. Doug and Tom have been running circles around the U.S. Hockey team for a couple of hours. If Tom got speared by one of the forwards, no wonder why Tom is in such agony. Oh, well, Marcell Irby is still available as a goalie.

“Special Delivery. Where do you want me to unload this Ken-L Ration, Dr. Pearl?”

“Over there by the file cabinet, if you will.”

“No problem. And I’ll get that pallet jack fixed so it don’t squeak.”

To paraphrase Casey Stengal, can anyone around here draw shoes?????? We have the worst rendition of footwear the last few days in quite some time. Don’t stick an Odor Eater pad in one of them babies, since Odor Eaters basically fit the contour of the shoe. You can’t fit them when the shoes are attached to the rest of the feet and will grow on the general anatomy over a period of time. You need a water sprinkler, not Dr. Scholl.

And trust me, I couldn’t draw flies when it comes to artwork. My niece and my younger brother are the artists in the family. That said, I could draw a trapezoid on a piece of paper and try to eventually get it to look like a gigantic sneaker for the Jolly Green Giant better than these latest sorry displays of Nike’s, Converses, adidas’s etc. Doug is wearing the same 2 × 4′ s that my mom used when building for Habitat. No wonder why Tom twisted his ankle. When you wear plywood on your feet and you step on a basketball that Coach Thorp forgot to put back on the rack, anything can happen. At least, that’s what Coach Thorp teaches his players when he’s finally in the gym.

Oooooookkkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is back to restore law and order. Take ‘er away, Gene

“Dumb Dora was soooooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought Gil was going to return to the gym to teach about _____________________________”

Thank you for clearing up the injury report, Rick Scott. You had me worried that there were ankle sprains out there that truly have artistic value. I reckon it’s all in the eyes of the art connoisseur when he or she is evaluating shin splints. I know saw can get ugly but some surgeons can paint the Mona Lisa when undergoing arthroscopic surgery. As a coach, I have never liked “Good loss”. No loss is good, the way I always saw it. Just watch Muench go under the knife when he is getting ligaments repaired and I think you’ll catch the drift.

And isn’t it nice to see Coach Thorp decide it’s time to BE at a practice if he’s going to call one but Coach, I hate to break it to you, coaching is more than admiring Henri Matisse when his Impressionist paintings capture the essence of Muench cussing black and blue when he’s torn his ACL. You might want to go back out to the gym and see if everybody’s in line properly for the lay-up drill. A shooter with no one there to retrieve the ball and you have more than slick floors and misplace tool boxes to worry about. But you run practice how you see fit. It’s your game. You just gotta show up for it first.

“Are you Mimi Thorp?”

” Yes, I am.”

“I need you to sign on the dotted line saying you received this package through UPS.”

“Fine. Just have the forklift driver drop the Kibbles ‘n’ Bits by the back door.”

6:13PM-We received another anonymous tip that Maureen down at The Diner had inside info on this Doug Guthrie. We wasted no time driving there, relieved that the Milford Fire Department had the flames under control. The Meat Loaf Burgoo sometimes created 3-alarm fires.

We sat down at a table that hadn’t been charred. Gannon ordered Chicken Flambe and Beanie Weenies and I ordered Fried Chili Steak and a plateful of onion rings. Apparently Milford Diner had a handshake agreement with The Varsity in Atlanta. As long as they were dealing only with frozen patties in the parking lot, it looked on the up and up to me.

“So what do you know about Doug Guthrie?”

“How should I know???? Do I look like his mother????”

“Look, sister, Frank Drebin might shell out millions for the skinny on the situation, but I ain’t a bank. I’d nail you on a Milford Police Statute Article 74 Section 23 “Unlawful Distribution of Provender and Imbibements at a Culinary Establishment” after your Bar-B-Q sandwiches flared up because you left the Wonder Bread in the Dutch oven too long but you still haven’t poured my coffee.”

“Ma’am, Mr. Friday is only trying to get to the bottom of this terrorizing of the city. If we can put this Panzer unit out of commission, we can all eat our lentil soup in peace.”

“I understand. Doug comes here a lot because his dad won’t let him park his tank in the driveway when he comes home from school. He orders a ton of lasagna. It’s real energy food for him. Says the farts on the inside of the tank sometimes causes his eyes to water but we sometimes let him use the Lysol when the janitor calls in sick. And he just LOVES to take that thing for a ride. Says if his dad won’t let him come home with the proper merchandise, then the rest of the town will pay. That’s why he speeds down streets, roads, and alleys. He once did an Evel Knievel jump over a line of tackling dummies and bragged about it here over the Tortellini and Peach Cobbler Special.”

“Ma’am, any word on what his father is like? His occupation?”

“He works in cooperation with the Milford Police Department but I have no idea what his exact title is. I never asked the police chief because he was busy. And we burned his pancakes.”

“No trouble, Ma’am. Joe, you ready?”

“Yeah, one more thing before we hit the road.”

“What’s that?”

“Next time you grill pancakes, don’t set the oven to 500 degrees.”

Obligatory somber music sets in as Joe Friday and Bill Gannon leave and take their doggie bags.

Today’s Black History Month entry is Madam C.J. Walker, nee Sarah Breedlove. She was orphaned at the age of seven and lived with her sister. She was abused by her sister’s husband so she managed to find a place to stay and grow up, eventually hooking up with a colleague who showed Walker the ropes on how to sell, in particular, hair care products. Walker’s own mother died of cholera, as sanitation and good nutrition among blacks were poor. From that, Walker learned the insides of the cosmetics industry along with marketing hair care and moved to St. Louis where she refined her craft. After observing other successful people with her keen eye, she had become so successful herself that she decided to move her operations to Indianapolis where a bigger warehouse awaited. She ran a first-class establishment, expecting her sales force to all wear a standard white blouse and black skirt and setting sales targets high, many of which were met. She had found that demand for cosmetics and hair care, when dealt with a shrewd sense of business, could shoot through the roof. Many times it did.

She went on to oversee classes to help train her sales force to budget money, keep accurate records, maintain a quality home life, and maintain a proper image. She became the first millionaire and used her well-earned wealth to build a mansion in Irvington, New York. The structure was part home and part meeting place for people to come together to talk business. Further success arose many times from these fellowships.

She was a philanthropist extraordinaire, donating money to several charities, particularly ones that would help blacks on their feet. She was heavily involved with the NAACP as she felt that blacks needed to organize if they were to move forward. Her mansion is a National Historic Site and also designated as a National Treasure. Please join me in saluting a woman who showed the world that she could overcome prejudice and succeed in business through hard work and determination and never listen to the naysayers along the way.

“And we’ll be back to see if Joe Friday’s stakeout at the Thorp residence leads to a successful bust this time after these messages. You’re watching WDIG-TV.”

“Boy, our latest partnership with Milford Nutr-Well Center has been going great guns!!!!! Customers are losing 50 pounds and savoring the Riunite Lambrusco dell’Emilia d’Italia on their way to waistline freedom. And I’ll bet that’s Italy they’re talking about but I don’t speak Italian even though I bet the bottle isn’t from North Korea. Who said our Free Yourself From Fifty Pounds And Find Free Frothy Suds In The Financial Future wasn’t going to succeed? Where are these people now when I see customers in Aisle 2 buying Lay’s Sour Cream and Onion Potato Chips, Ernesto’s Queso Dip, and bottles of Kilbrin Irish Whiskey who have gone down two pant sizes? Victory has a way of making the loudmouths shut up.

But enough of weight loss and Jack Daniels coupons. Hi, this is Coach Thorp speaking on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse and when I found out The Bucket got nailed once again for ethics violations by the Milford Economic and Trade Consortium, me and The Warehouse owner just shook our heads. They should know better than to fool the public by shipping illegal crates of llama meat from Uruguay and tell everybody that that’s a Bucket Burger when the public is receiving its order in the drive-thru. Yeah, right, and I’ll bet those Bucket Fries didn’t come from tortilla cakes they mash in the dirt on the streets of Tegucigalpa. I wonder.

Let us get one thing straight. All our booze is ethically outsourced or we refuse to stock the merchandise on the shelf, let alone sell it. When we unload that El Padrino de mi Tierra Whiskey off the truck, rest assured that the agave that flavors and makes it 100% pure satisfaction was not inserted in a factory in Bhutan. Let The Bucket stick that Bucket Fry in their pipe and smoke it. And at $28.99 a bottle, ethics never tasted finer.

And I about puked when me and the owner found out that Bucket Buffalo Chicken was processed from sweat shops off the coast of The Philippines. How they found the buffaloes or chickens in South Asia, let alone sent it Air Mail to The Bucket is a question they never ask on The $64,000 Pyramid. But that will never happen here at The Warehouse. We don’t buy Diet Pork Rinds from Seychelles or Lay’s Salt and Peppered Reduced Fat Low Sodium Potato Chips from the slums of Botswana. And when you buy your 12-Pak of Coors Hard Seltzer at a scintillating $15.99, be comforted knowing that we dealt with the duties agent before the revolution raged out of control in Peru. We never deal with despots when negotiating The Good Life.

And we are sick and tired of The Bucket mega-bogarting the situation in Bulgaria. We know they need hot dog buns at loss leader prices but hearing unconfirmed reports of torture just so The Bucket can make their Bucket Chili Franks just turns my stomach. Let me make this perfectly clear, you will get your Lloyd Chardonnay Carneros 1933 Sonoma County imported from Iran without The Imam nationalizing the vineyards at a ridiculous $43.19 or your money back.

That’s right, we have our ethical ducks in a row, unlike another certain eating establishment that is desperately grasping at straws attempting to get a liquor license. They think buying Bucket Burgers from the islands of Denmark and selling Ronald McDonald’s sex life to the world without the sexual molestation charges is fair trade. Would you buy from a gun owner if he was shooting at your leg? Come on down and get ethics and booze all in one shopping bag and use your Beverage Visa Gold to pay for it all and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.

Oh, come on, Gang, now you know better than that. That isn’t The Rolling Stones doing “Emotional Rescue” in P1. Where’s Mick Jagger? Or Bill Wyman? Rest my case.

God bless you, Gang. You are the world to me.

“Don’t Bogart that joint, my friend, send some over to meeeeeeeeeeee-“


At Milford Diner

“Joe, I see a strange man driving down the street. Wonder where he’s going?”

“Oh, that’s Coach Thorp. I guess he finally decided to get his butt to practice. Pass me the salt. This baked salmon is a little dry.”

To be continued

February 16, 2021

“Would You Like Me To Pour More Tea With Your Scones, Mr. Friday?”

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 2:10 pm

This is the city, Milford USA. It’s a typical nowhere town that has more cows entering the stockyards than contestants at the Milford Elementary Spelling Bee but I call it home. I was born and raised here. And I’ve seen high school basketball games when I wasn’t supervising security at Milford Still Rocks Jamborees and I’ve seen Milford’s basketball players go on to start families when they weren’t doing 180 degree reverse windmill in-yo-face slam dunks that brought the opponent’s jock strap down to his Achilles heel. But when basketball players think they can rock our world and wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am-I’m-gonna-go-groovin’-so-you-better-get-movin’-Chocolate-Thunder-Express-glass-breaker-I-am-jam the radar gun, that’s when I go to work. My name’s Friday. I carry a badge.

It was clear and sunny in Milford. Snow was still falling. My partner, Bill Gannon, and I were assigned to the Illegal and Willful Unlawful Mobilazation of Vehicular and Generalized Automotive Operations and Proceedings Department of the Milford Police Unit. The boss is Captain Milton. We were strongly advised to be on the lookout for teenagers who were using the streets of Milford for a drag strip, especially when they had responsibilities to other obligations. To add to this byzantine state of affairs, one teenager had a dad within the ranks believed to have a couple of officers on the take to relieve Junior of his responsibilty on the road. Captain Milton was receiving some heat from the Mayor to flag down irresponsible A.J. Foyt wannabes and would continue to be wannabes with Daddy’s money. This wasn’t easy.

“Gentlemen, we got a spark plug on our hands and I don’t mean Delco-Remy. And I don’t mind telling you I’m getting tired of my ass getting rung out by His Honor when I’m not getting a plateful from the police chief. I don’t care if you have to use darts on his tires but nail this sucker so that we can eat our Kraft Macaroni and Cheese in peace.”

“We’ll do our best, Sir. Any leads?”

“One. An anonymous tipster called saying he saw a Sherman tank the size of a Kenworth flying past his house when he was shoveling the snow. Had no chains on his tires. Said he was afraid the punk was going to run over the children making snow angels at Milford Green Space Area. Called on his cell phone ASAP.”

“Could he identify the punk? It would help me and Joe when we’re trying to flag down this Al Unser Junior.”

“We don’t think it IS Al Unser Junior because he was seen at a Wal-Mart in Albuquerque. And it was hard to make a proper identification when the tank was moving forward down the street. You’ll just have to park on the street and wait.”

“We hope we don’t have to wait until the Milford Deputy Coroner comes to identify the snow angel.”

Somber music imbues the office as Friday and Gannon hit the streets.

And I can relate to Vic in P1 as it took a LOT OF NERVE to ask a girl on a date. I think we can all relate. But really, I think Tessi was just trying to get him to the Mudlark Girls Basketball games to plug the team, given Vic’s success with the Mudlark Boys Basketball teams. Granted, Tessi has been touchy-feely with Vic but touchy-feely on the arms and nothing further. Some semi-heavy petting but I’d temper this one, Vic. Sure, go ahead and ask her out but I’d keep an open mind. There’s still some homely dog who likes your spiel and your James Brown caterwauling in case Tessi gives you the stiff shoulder.

I remember The Gong Show where these teenage girls get up on stage to music, say “Boogie Fever”, and they’re wearing Arrow shirts and generic shorts and all they’re doing is pushing popsicles in and out of their mouths. Of course, NBC is frantically trying to get that off the air and it finally does but the damage was done. The Atlantic Coast part of the country had seen it before the broadcast was mercifully truncated.

What was funny was they didn’t get gonged when it was painfully clear there was no talent WHATSOEVER involved. And when Jaye P. Morgan, one of the judges, was asked to rate them, she gave them a “10”, pointing out “That’s funny, that’s how I moved up the ladder.”

And I suppose if Vic really wanted to be autocratic, he could make Tessi do the same thing with his mike. At least it might give him hope that he’ll get a date in the future.

“You think I should, Coach?”

“Why, sure, Tessi. A piece of celery is easy on the mouth. And my husband used to give me breadsticks before we got married.”

Because these Elderly Dating ads intrigue me no end

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Reneges On Committment At The Very Last Second!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I saw her face at one on those photo booths at K-Mart. She had more wrinkles than Godzilla.”

Again, I salute all the boys out there who worked up the nerve to call up a girl to the prom or to a movie or to a basketball game or to a…, well, I think you catch the drift. And if this was a stumbling attempt to summon the gall to spend an evening with a member of the opposite sex, I can verily relate.

But Thorpiverse is once again trying to pull a fast one on us. The day before, he was simply texting Tessi. Nothing more. Oh yeah right, T-Verse, and when she finally answers, Vic is going to open the discussion with John Kenneth Galbraith. You know how girlie girls are when they talk about the Free Market Economy. As Sting once sung, your economic theories make no sense, Tessi. Yeah, you need to work this plot OUT of the black seam, T-Verse. NOTHING’S making any sense, let alone economic theories.

Boy, I can’t wait to see what they decide on the Single Bullet Theory. I think JFK got one in the butt, Tessi. The warehouse in Dallas was surely taller than the Mudlark gym.

“Here are those Basketball Braces and Supports reports you requested, Dr. Pearl, uh, er, why are you sticking a Magic Marker in your mouth like that?”

4:53PM. Gannon and I were on stakeout by the Milford Marriott. We had been tipped that this maniac in a tank was known to frequent this street. We waited accordingly.

“I don’t get it, Joe.”

” What’s up?”

“Why does he drag race in a conveyance the army uses at war games at the Milford Army Reserve Proving Grounds?”

“Not sure.”

“These kids nowadays. Give ’em car keys and they think they can do wheelies and doughnuts at Tobruk. I’m tellin’ ya, when I drove my dad’s Model T, I got the belt every time I forgot to change the oil.”

“I’m about to give the bull whip to that oversized bag of bolts flying down the chute. Let’s tail him!!!!”

We spotted a suspect that matched the description given by our own Finest and from people in the neighborhood. How that tank that was Archie’s jalopy in disguise got around, let alone able to smoke Fabi or Fittipaldi at the Indy 500, was a question only answered with oversteamed meat loaf and stewed tomatoes at Milford Diner. If that was Mario Andretti’s racer, no wonder why he only won one Indy 500 race.

If ya try ta summon th’ cour’ge ta ask ol’ Thelma Lou ta th’ Friday Night Dance but the can on yore end of th’ telephone ain’t workin cuz it’s a bit rusted out and therefore cain’t hear ya on her can, ya might be a redneck.

Okay. So Vic is not going to talk about Supply and Demand, Popsicles, or the Cubs. He is actually going to hit Tessi up for a date. But the answer wasn’t surprising and many of us guys felt the sting of being turned down, even if we were not terribly surprised.

But Tessi is apparently leaving the door ajar on this one so I feel it apropos to explore a few reasons why she turned him down BUT MAYBE may say yes in the future. So take ‘er away

“I’d love to go the prom with you. Would you be interested?”

“Are you serious? I was flirting with you because I wanted you to promote girls basketball because you could whip the crowd into a frenzy like Bob Eubanks used to on The Newleywed Game. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a formal gown with a boy with the voice of Dick Clark but a body of a Clark Candy Bar. Do you think I’m stupid or what?”

Ooooooooookkkkkkkkk, Milford wasn’t built in a day

“I’d love to go to the prom with you. Then go to a movie afterwards. I hear they’re playing ‘Frogs’ at the Milford Bijou.”

“I don’t think I can this weekend because they haven’t awaken my mom from her coma in the ICU. But text me in a couple of weeks. BTW, is that the movie where the lizards knock over all the chemical jars and basketballs and Gil gets asphyxiated in Gym B?”

This one has potential. She didn’t say “Yes” but she didn’t say “No”. Keep the crowbar wedged in, Vic.

“I’d love to go to the prom with you. Then afterwards, there’s a game between Indiana and Purdue at Assembly Hall. I have seats right behind Coach Knight. Wanna go?”

“They’re going to move our house over 600 feet this weekend because they’re building a freeway. I’ll have to sleep with Otis the Drunk in the Mayberry jail until Monday. And I don’t date guys who throw chairs at other players.”

Baby, I like the potential. Convince her that you didn’t throw a sofa at a Boilermaker and that it’s been well over 30 years since the incident and a prom outfit is in the bag.

“I’d like to go to the prom with you. Then there’s a Slim Whitman concert at Milford Outdoor Amphitheater afterwards. Wanna go?”

“Sure!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love the way Slim sings ‘Tumbling Dice’!!!!!!!!!!! It gets me so horny!!!!!!!!!! And wasn’t he #1 over in England?”

“Yes, he was.”

“I’ll be ordering the gown right now.”

Persistence and some yodeling of “Red River Valley” work every time. I should have used that for MY pickup line.

Special edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Dr. Pearl’s Grandmother Rental Vehicle Towed Out Of Pond; Grandmother And Friend Both In Critical Condition!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“The dating service warned them about the retreat center possibly a bit inundated.”

And if you look closely, it looks as if Vic is indeed asking Tessi to a movie. But hey, T-verse is trying to convince us that the relationship is strictly Platonic. Oh sure, and when “Parting is such sweet sorrow” was uttered, Romeo and Juliet were going to go do their homework. The Montagues and Capulets were on top of their kids when it came to school. No Montague was going to flunk and still feud with the Capulets. Or vice versa.

And keep stroking Romeo, Juliet. Love taps, friendly reminders, stroking, ways to get Gil to referee Mimi’s games when the Homer referee didn’t honor his contract, it’s all the same terminology.

On The Gong Show


Chuck Barris plaintively steps on stage

“Awwwwwwwwwww, Jaye P. Morgan. Why did you gong the Lady Mudlarks?”

“Because they’ll never have a career in Show Biz sliding a rutabaga stalk back and forth.”

5:03PM-We pulled over whoever was driving this mega-contraption in the snow at 93MPH. We might have been a mile or two off on the radar gun and I’d been bitching to Gannon to get to Milford Electronics to get it fixed but safe to say this tank that went wayward of General Patton’s outfit was not school zone speed. We had a good idea of the speed if we were forced to write a ticket.

“Awwwwwwwrrighht, you losers, get out of the car and keep your hands where we can see them!!!!!!!!!!!”

“What’s the charge, officer?”

“We’ll ask the questions around here, Bozo. You may flip off your coach with a couple of posers that have no answers but we’re wise to your bag of tricks!!!!!!!!!! You won’t go to Talledega that easily this weekend!!!!!!!!”

“Son, we pulled you over for the same reason we’d pull anyone over. You just can’t joyride your tank all over creation. We need to see your drivers license and registration.”

“Sure thing. Here’s my license. I had a bad hair day the time they took it. And here’s my registra-“

“Cut the comedy act, gentlemen. My partner wanted information, not a couple of sordid Robin Williams’s. I’m just about to nail you on Milford Police Statutes Article 63 Section 48 Clause 312 “Willful and Unauthorized Vehicular Transit with Intent to Convey Illegal Contraband and Freightage” but I couldn’t open the back door of your conveyance if I had a cannon!!!!!!! But we’ll be back with search warrants and a decent tire jack the next time!!!!!!!!!!”

“Officer Friday, we’re just carrying basketballs and our homework in the back seat.”

“Yeah, and the guy who robbed the Milford Federal Bank told me the same thing!!!!!!!! Until the German shepards sniffed out the 100 dollar bills under the Spalding basketballs. And the marijuana bags under the algebra textbook. Then you had one less player at Thorp’s practice!!!!!!!!!!”

“Son, my partner is just doing his job. If you’re clean, you have nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, and stay that way. Or you won’t be skipping Coach Thorp’s practice to go to Pocono 400 this time.”

Somber music as Muench and Guthrie get back in the Sherman tank.

Today’s Black History Month entry is a shrewd, sharp lady by the name of Jackie Ormes, nee Zelda Mavin Jackson. She was a noted cartoonist who had a hand in a number of comic strips. For years, she penned “Torchy Brown in Dixie to Harlem”, centering around a carefree girl who eventually winds up in Harlem and sings and dances her way into people’s hearts. It was a smash success and made inroads among all comic strips, white or black.

Later, she ran “Patty-Jo ‘n’ Ginger” in the Pittsburgh Courier, a black-owned newspaper, which was also highly successful. For eleven years, this single panel featured a precocious little girl talking with an older lady, the lady normally a mannequin, about life’s problems. The formula was a resounding success. Finally, Ormes ran “Torchy in Heartbeats”, the little girl now more sophisticated and in tune with the world. She confronts the controversial issues, such as racism and environmental pollution with an aplomb and grace but still hard-hitting style that influenced change for the better. Cartooning had a voice, led by Ormes. Later, she successfully marketed Patty-Jo dolls as they again overcame stereotypes such as Mammy dolls that were pervading the stores. She also contributed mightily to the revitalization of South Chicago, mainly through her artwork. Please join me in saluting a lady who made her corner of the world a better place to live and made the world in general a better place.

FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!!! I can use reductio ad absurdum to prove my point. It was worth the wait after all those years in college.

Joe Friday is a police officer. Doug Guthrie needs to go to practice. Doug needs to get his head out of his ass and think about basketball, not cars. After all, he is the starting point guard, or so we think. We’ll go ahead and say yes because logic has no place for issues hanging from the Sherman tank’s bumper.

And Doug is getting friendly with Joe Friday after he’s been pulled over twice for speeding. Joe Friday wants to know how fast GTO’s fly. Well, Joe Friday, faster than I was going, given the weather conditions. Let’s just say I don’t want to wind up in the hoosegow, which, if I am interpreting Bill Gannon correctly, means jail. I don’t THINK he means the drive-in area at The Bucket.

And Doug is inviting Joe Friday and Bill Gannon to Milford Lounge to talk more basketball and auto racing and improved sartorial methods of police officers. And Joe Friday and Bill Gannon take the bait.

But this contradicts the Police By-Laws that police officers never get chummy with Pretty Boy Floyd. Therefore, the original premise that “Joe Friday is going to use a combat boot on Doug’s behind and get his butt to practice after he’s sent Doug to the Chair for running over Joe Friday’s mom in the crosswalk” is indeed valid.

“We’ll be back to see if Joe Friday resists Doug’s bribe of Pepperidge Farms Sugar Maple Cookies and hauls his butt to the Milford Chain Gang after these messages. You’re watching WDIG-TV.”

“Honeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m horny!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It’s time to come to beddy byyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It’s time to-Darling, why are there phone books stacked to the ceiling?”

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Shaw. Well, you see, it’s like this, my grandma is lonely at Milford Senior Living Center and she needs a night on the town. And thanks to Milford Geriatric Matchmaking Services Inc., it’s a done deal. They’ll find her a 93-year-old dirty old man who still likes to boogie to ‘Get It On’ or I’m a baboon’s behind without the Pampers.”

“Honey, I thought both your grandmothers were dead.”

“Blip Blop Boogie Oogie Upchuck The Rapper’s Delight, well, I rummaged through my family tree and found that I still had one living that was failed to be duly noted. There must have been a clerical error because the notary went to get doughnuts. Besides, looking up a fancy restaurant for her is a lot of fun. I hope there’s something chic that’ll offer denture-friendly lobster off the menu.”

“Honey, why don’t you put those phone books back in the closet and come to bed and see how denture-friendly I can be?”

“Not now, Mrs. Shaw!!!!!!!!!! If I can’t find a Delmonico’s, there’s always an IHOP. I’m sure she and any 96-year-old who has age spots all the way up to his armpits will enjoy a lunch date, stacked with blueberry pancakes topped with Aunt Jemima and goat-induced butter. If that don’t incite a romance when all the butter melts on the plate, I want my money back.”

“And I want something back too. And don’t they have to get cleared with medical staff before she leaves the premises?”

“Pancake Pancake Spit Spit Spit We Think Your Team Smells Like Blubba Bubba Bubble Yum, now, Woman, you are totally erroneous. She won’t get denied just because she wants her Cherry Bomb Blizzard at Dairy Queen and a male companion born after Alf Landon too. That’s why I’m buying her a jogging outfit. After she and her 89-year-old get done licking the French fries out of the DQ bag, they can run to new heights on the jogging track at Milford Community Center. I understand his 1-lap splits set a record for his age group last week. They’ll cross the finish line in a lap of luxury.”

“You can sit on my lap and it would be a luxury.”

“Well, gotta call Mudlark Lake Resorts. I understand they have a cabin exclusively for those well up in years. Fireplaces that run on balsa wood, beds made from concrete slabs in case the sex gets too strong and they get a leg broken when the mattress collapses, kitchen utensils that are made of Play-Doh for those with arthritis-“

“But I bet that 89-year-old has his in better working order than yours.”

“She had me there, even though I was able to get that reservation at Mudlark Lake Resorts. I have never seen a grown woman have as much fun with a 102-year-old man like she did. They must have reinforced the bed. And speaking of reinforcements, that’s what Milford Men’s Clinic did to my sex life. With treatment plans that work, you don’t have to be 100 years old to have the time of your life. Come on down and slow down Father Time and feel like a man in the bargain. Only at The Clinic.

Gang, I still say Joe Friday can outrace Doug’s GTO. Really, I saw Joe Friday go 100 the other day when he was flagging down Gil on a DUI. My money’s still on Joe Friday, contrary to what you think.

But God bless you, Gang.

February 11, 2021

Confucius Say, Man Who Comes To Practice In Tank Is Not Ready For The Race.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 1:54 pm

Let’s get the obvious out of the way even if it really may not be all that obvious. It is my humble opinion that The Contessa is friendly with The Vic because she wants him to pump the games, given his proven ability to rabble-rouse which certainly has had a hand in rallying the Mudlark Boys and Mudlark Girls to victory on the hardwood.

Therefore, Vic may be disappointed if he asks her to the prom. Oh God, no, Vic, do you think I’d waste my mom’s credit card at Milford Formal Wear to rent a gown just so I could dance to “Disco Inferno” with some geek like you? What would the other Valley Girls think? That I date dweebs with an avocado personality even though they can sell Kentucky Fried Chicken to a vegetarian when you’re on your soapbox? Oh, thanks for calling me Air Contessa after I dunked Corina’s missed lay-up.

You be the judge.

And Vic is getting little comfort from Gumby’s grandson who evidently needs to consult with his tailor at Milford Big & Tall about changing the size on his Depend Undergarments. He has more crease marks than Mimi has 5-game schedules and that’s pretty frightening. And then there’s Mr. T.

“Hey boy!!!!!!!!!!! Them are mighty fine arrows all over yo’ Levi’s!!!!!!!!!! When ya done git thru talkin’ ’bout Vic ‘n’ Tessi gittin’ it on at a Motel 6, git yo butt over here and f-“

Well, I think you can connect the dots, in some cases literally. But now the question remains WHERE THE HELL IS THAT OTHER BALLOON COMING FROM??????? Now, I have rightfully surmised that Lumpy Levi’s made the first comment but the 2nd one is still up in the air, given that the caption is aimed at the belly button of Vic’s other partner-in-crime. Knowing that abdomens don’t talk, I’m going to give this one the benefit of the doubt and say Bachelor #2 is uttering the rebuttal even though Vic could very well have said it himself. But leave Bachelor #2 out of the picture and who’s going to tell Gumby III that his Fruit of the Looms are growing exponentially out of his jeans? Gil? He’s still frisking Knappe’s locker for Jelly Pudding Pops. You could gouge somebody’s retinae with the emory board once yiu’re done licking the delicacy. No, in the end, Bachelor #2 will be the one to break the news to Gumby III. Believe me, I’m sure there’s a tactful way of saying “You don’t know jackshit about flirting” or “The seat of your pants have a gigantic marshmallow, you ever thought of getting Hanes Underwear that doesn’t come in sizes that could fit an ostrich?”. It takes practice.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Negotiations Hit Impasse Between The Bucket And Ronald McDonald Legal Team!!!!!!!!!!!! Probe Expected!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Sub headline

“The Bucket Spokesperson: ‘We’re expressing concerns over the child molestation charges levied against Mr. McDonald and Mr. Hamburgler in Sioux City, Iowa.'”

“Dr. Pearl, The State Superintendent of Public Instruction is here to talk to you about a possible promotion. He’s waiting outside that door.”

“He never called me. I have a lot of paperwork amd I still have those School Tax Incentive Forms from the IRS-“



And that Polar Bear Stole Chez Gil that Tessi is modeling indicates that she comes to games making a fashion statement. Just don’t tell anyone that the outdoorsmen got it from the Milford Zoo when the polar bear on display had run its course and given up the ghost but that another one was due from Baffin Island anytime. Glad to see that dead animals can resurface and add zest to this plot. It fit perfectly in Doug’s Sherman tank. People saw Sherman rolling down Main Street and they were oblivious to a 2-ton dead animal. As long as Tessi and those concerned keep it our little secret, she can wave that victory towel and nobody will know the difference.

On the other hand, that backpack that’s made out of the squirrel skin she got from her BB gun might be harder to slip past School officials. The jury is still out.

Because I am amazed that ANYBODY would think Confucius said certain things, as if he coined the word “graffitti”.

“Kaz, did Confucius say, ‘Man with hole in pocket feel really cocky’?”

“Gil, have you been reading the bathroom wall at The Bucket again?”

Thorpiverse is once again insulting our intelligence. I am painfully aware that there are athletic directors that are also coaches. Several small high schools fit that category as AD’s are often compelled to wear many hats.

But coaches know you have to have practice if you want your team to win and anybody expecting an AD to call off practice 2-3 days before Boys Basketball or Girls Basketball Sectional in Indiana for an AD meeting at the local Applebee’s might as well be waiting for Gil to wear a Mohawk. Ain’t gonna happen. Marvin Wood wasn’t about to discuss at the Milan Moose Lodge how to sell raffle tickets for a chance to win a paid vacation for two at Patoka Lake before his Milan Indians took on South Bend Central. If you see the “’54 State Champs” on the water tower (which I have) , you know Mr. Wood skipped the AD’s Bar-B-Q ‘n’ Booze Jamboree.

And WHAT is Gil going to talk about that couldn’t wait until 5:00PM? Riot control at the volleyball games? Do we really have to call in the Milford National Guard just because an Oakwood player spiked the ball a bit too hard? Or people getting trampled at a Who Concert/New Thayer Freshman/Reserve/Varsity basketball game? I know Looney Mooney has been known to smash his Cadillac into the Milford Football tackling dummies but the options can be hashed through later on. I promise you, Maurern’s Diner will be open late. Or splitting the gate for the concession stand? Boy, that’s national news. Screw the Indiana High School Regionals this weekend, how are we going to divvy the Doritos Ranch Chips revenue? That Louisville Male-Lexington Bryan Station Kentucky State Basketball Final can wait. Let’s get out the calulator and figure the sales tax revenues on the Rice Krispies treats.

Allen Neuharth was right. Keep your sharp people on top and keep your bean counters on tap.

If ya go ta the prom with yore 745-pound girlfriend after she promised ta shower just this one time since she spends her spare time wrasslin’ the hogs in the pond, ya might be a redneck.

“Confucius say, a square butt will shit a lot of bricks.”

“Aaaaaaa, Dr. Pearl, I think you better express budget constraints with the Superintendent another way. Here, I have a Guideposts in my backpack.”


Lordy, you talk about someone making his presence known on “America’s Most Wanted”. So here’s John Walsh with the call

“…he is known to roam the hallways at all hours of the day. He is spotted at several ball games, sitting next to the cheerleaders. He does not carry any weapons to speak of but exercise caution if approached by him. Only use your AK-47 if he comes within 15 feet. He likes to sit in the back of The Bucket when the kids are busy teleconferencing nuclear physics. Many times he orders Bucket Crab Cakes and a Bucket Lime Slushee. He goes by several alias’s, such as Bubba Griddlesworth and Felix Hardeman, Jr., but sometimes also responds to Irving or Arturo. If you’ve seen him, call 1-800-NAIL-GIL immediately. Your tip could save a life.”

I mean, really, for all we know, that’s Justin Hayward from the Moody Blues about to walk out the door to do a remaster of “On The Threshold of a Dream” at WDIG studio after he was in the faculty lounge talking about the Cubs with Gil (couldn’t resist, Rob, couldn’t resist) . Or maybe that’s Harold Stassen campaigning to get the Mudlark vote for the next Presidential race. A few more Mudlark electorates, and he was good as the Oval Office.

Wait a minute. That’s Slim Whitman taking a break from touring. I thought I heard “Red River Valley” sifting out of the cafeteria.

“Confucius say, Woman who sends Man to doghouse might find him in the cathouse.”

“Peaches, I knew I heard Gil and Mimi arguing the other day but…”

I was half-way kidding about the vehicle, to tell you the truth. Upon closer inspection, that thing could scale the walls of the Empire State Building to pick up Fay Wray for lunch.

Look at it!!!!!!!!!!! You could relax on the driver’s side tire and watch the Super Bowl when your recliner is getting reupholstered at Milford Furniture Finishing. Anybody with a picnic basket in these snowy conditions won’t be disappointed putting it down on the only rubber picnic table within the city limits. If that wasn’t the frontrunner in the Battle of the Bulge, we must have resorted to Greyhound busses with bazookas shooting out the emergency door.

And what the heck is this mean machine he keeps crowing about? All I’ve seen is a guy who skips practice every time the Indianapolis 500 comes to Milford and who brags about his Hot Wheels collection at the earliest convenience. Open the damn garage door and let us see this Richard Petty Special you have hidden behind the lawn mower or shut up and go to practice. Of course, you need to be at practice anyway, Hot Wheels or no.

And I can’t even imagine the other modes of transportation he utilizes when attending school/practice (based upon availability and desire and any modicum of motivation) /school play etc. Like, if you see a Trailways in the parking lot when the school orchestra is performing Les Miserables, we’ll feel safe in knowing it’s not The Brady Bunch’s set of wheels. They’ll have a station wagon handy. If you spot a Freightliner B Class Furniture Truck the day Milford High School is staging the SAT test, we’ll assume that wasn’t driven by one of the proctors. Mr. Rooney did not come to work in George Jetson’s Spacemobile.

And it must be nice to know ol’ Don’t Give a Rat’s Behind About The Team can park all these contraptions in his garage. And we still haven’t seen that racer he raves on and on about. We might see it the next time Milford High School puts on Faculty Follies.

“Mimi, you should have heard some of the things Marty Moon said about your 5-game schedule. He said Sergeant Snorkel could schedule games better than you.”

“If I ever get my hands on him…”

“He’s right outside.”



And I assume that building off in the distance is the gym. It had me worried. I have never known too many Sherman tanks set up shop in front of a neo-Federal Amish barn. I don’t recall gabled windows but maybe those prairie-style windows can be compared to looking through binoculars from the wide end. A lot you can see when the view is myopic. Anyway, park that Sherman tank and let’s get to square-dancing in that barn before it gets too crowded. Be careful not to park it in the handicapped section.

Today’s Black History Month entry is a man who overcame a lot to be a well-respected literary critic, Henry Louis Gates, Jr. He was born in West Virginia and was raised by industrious parents who chose to press forward, even when racism could occasionally rear its ugly face. They always had food on the table and a roof over their head. Gates eventually attended Yale where he graduated summa cum laude. He wrote the book “The Signifying Monkey” the main premise of which espoused that black literature had its rightful place alongside white literature. With strong authors like Langston Hughes and Toni Morrison, it was tough to argue the point. Gates has won several awards, including the Peabody Award for his multifarious contributions to literature. Please join me in saluting a man who showed you could enjoy “Moby Dick” and “The Negro Speaks of Rivers” off the same shelf.

“And Milford Lady Mudlarks defeat the Jefferson Generics, 52-45, and Vic Doucette is nowhere to be found so I’m left holding the fort. He must have wanted an early start on Air Contessa. We’ll be back with final stats after these messages. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“Folks, I am in utter disbelief. And you should have heard the conversation from the Milford Beverage Warehouse owner. He didn’t talk like the deacon he is at Milford Baptist Church, rest assured. He and I couldn’t believe that The Bucket is still negotiating with Ronald McDonald even with all these charges thrown at him left and right. Tax evasion is one thing. We have plenty of accountants here in Milford, Mr. Ronald. But trapping innocent children at an outhouse in a state park somewhere in Iowa for your own personal sexual Garden of Eden wouldn’t sell an outdated six-pack of Canada Dry Ginger Ale here at The Warehouse. Your legal team tolerates sexual escapades implicating Romper Room? Where did your lawyers pass the bar? Out of a garbage truck? And you still insist to the Milford Beverage Commission that everything’s warm and toasty ehen petitioning for a liquor license? Whoaaaaa, Nelly!!!!!!

But enough of Ronald McDonald dropping his trousers in all the wrong places. Hi, this is Coach Thorp speaking on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse. And Man o Man, I am just flat-out blown away by the newest promotion campaign that Milford Nutr-Well Center is undertaking and so was the Warehouse owner once he sat on his couch after an hour of profanity-laced tirades aimed at The Bucket.

And the Milford Nutr-Well Center was so successful with Oust 50 Pounds 50 Ounces Off Of Omaha Steaks On One Month’s One Hour’s Time Or Your Money Back that Milford Beverage Warehouse had to get in on the fun. We saw too many people who were fat as the Pillsbury Dough Boy the last month who were now in the checkout lane buying a 30-Pack of Busch Light, thin as a rail from all those Triple-Trimmed Tenderloin Tips they ate for dinner. How could we let a culinary cash cow go through the security monitor?

That’s why we’re excited about our Oust 50 Pounds 50 Ounces Off Of Omaha Steaks, Own A Free Bottle Of Booze shindig. And Milford Nutr-Well Center is loving it. Shoot, why not? Come on, Junior. It’s time to shed that lead and you can shed it and get a bottle of Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whiskey, 1.75 Liter absolutely free and all you have to do is munch on a pile of boneless pork chops for a month. Surely, you can spare some change at the Nutr-Well Center plus throw some packages of chops in the shopping cart when you’re at Milford A & P. Problem solved.

But hey, maybe some of you like to loosen the loose baggage the hard way and you got to stack that Butcher’s Cut Filet Mignon to the ceiling because you like to go all the way in your diet regimen. I can tell you’re a Type A personality. No problem. You will be rewarded for your efforts with a Jim Beam Bourbon Supreme, a $20.99 value. Make sure the check clears when you send it to the Nutr-Well Center and there should be no problem when you’re taking your booze out the door.

Then there’s some of you wussies who prefer to lose weight with a stack of Caramel Apple Tartlets on the coffee table. Personally, I ain’t ever gonna chase some cherry tartlets with a fifth of Jack but different strokes for different folks. But if you manage to lose all that weight and not be a pussy eating Exquisite Twinkies, the Warehouse will reward you with a bottle of Joel Gott 815 Cabernet Rare Edition Plata y Oro 1843 Vintage Gold Rush. One per customer, please. We want to send everybody to the parking lot happy.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the days of putting off eating healthy are over and Milford Beverage Warehouse is there to see you to the finish line. And with a partner like Milford Nutr-Well Center, dieting and drinking just go together like Santa and his reindeer. Come see what’s like to trim down and get a Budweiser as an incentive and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

Gang, I keep trying to tell you, that is NOT Bigfoot in P2. He’s somewhere in Arkansas. Or was it Delaware? I can’t remember, I’ll have to retrieve the article in the Milford Enquirer.

But God bless you, Gang.

In the hallway in P2


“Vic, I forgot to ask. Could you give a shout-out for Corina’s mom for the next game?”

“Confucius Say, Man who eats jelly beans farts in Technicolor.”

“Nah, that won’t replace the Omaha Steaks campaign. Not even close.”

February 9, 2021

Go For The Gold, Su-Sussudio.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 12:27 pm

WHAT???? SOMEBODY’S telling Corinavirus to get her head out of her ass and wake up and smell the coffee???? That team goals are better than me goals, something many of our readers have been saying to Corina for months???? It took this long for Milford to start telling certain players to quit being a sniveling snot and focus on the next game????

They didn’t get any help from Gil or Mimi, fer sure. They’ve been too busy at the faculty lounge delegating authority when they’re not riffling through somebody’s backpack for plastic silverware. Yes, Ump, I know we got a game but I’m about to suspend somebody for bringing too many Twinkies to school. Let me know what happened.

And then we have Tom Jones singing “It’s Not Unusual” whenever Con-Contessa shoots a three. If Corinavirus fouls out, is he going to sing “What’s New, Pussycat?” Once, Vic was just a lowly P.A. dude with a hot dog and Coke for wages. Now, he’s Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. Oh, I’d like to sing “Young Girl, Get Outta My Mind” to Corina too but first things first. Make sure you match up the player with her number, Tom Jones.

I never knew that you can tell you’re about to hit the jackpot at the slot machines at the gambling casinos. But this one analyst apparently has it broken down to a science

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Disallowed From Entering His German Shepherd Through Security At Milford Riverboat Gaming Wonderland!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“They just won’t admit the truth. That mutt barks its fool head off when the machine is about to spill the coins all over the floor.”

WHO is this guy in P1 barking his fool head off? We’ve gone a little from enough fans to fit in a phone booth to more fans than you can fit in the Arctic Ocean and after recovering from all the fans and polar bears in the bleachers, we are left guessing who this person might be. Couldn’t you imagine an episode on “America’s Most Wanted”, John Walsh with the call

“…he is known for attending Mudlark Girls Basketball games. He cheers even during the National Anthem. He almost approached Mimi Thorp about being an assistant but Gil objected because it wasn’t within the budget. He is armed and dangerous. If you see him, do not confront him as he will throw a slaughterball at your head. Call the Milford Police…”

Okay, so he might not be John Dillinger on the loose.

How ’bout a fan at the wrong place for a concert

“James Brown-Live at the Mudlark Gym ’68!!!!!!!!!!”

“Can I take it to the bridge!!!!!!!!!!!”


“Can I take it to the bridge!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”


“Can I take it to the Gillllllllllllllll!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”


Boy, that WILL start a riot. And unless referees wear funky high heels, that has to be Bootsy Collins.

Maybe the fan intended to go to a Nixon convention

“I AM NOT A CROOK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Nobody’s saying you are, Gil. They just think you need to spend less time ransacking teenagers’ lockers, especially without a search warrant, and COACH. For once.”



“Gary, leave me and Gil out of this one. You are to only announce the girls’ names after they score.”

And I had to think long and hard about who Co-Co-Ssudio was talking to in P2 and I’m going to say she is NOT talking to The Contessa because The Jane Doe has a different hair color and uniform number than The Ditz, er, The Contessa. But by no means hold your breath as players have been known to change hair color at the 20-second time out. If you’re not careful, you’ll be applying liberal amounts of mustard to your beef hot dog and VOILA, the The John Walsh Renegade has #25 on her jersey. She’s armed and dangerous and can run the floor well. She can also play defense and is a superior rebounder.

And what’s the hubbub about her name? Are you going to talk about where The Contessa shops for cosmetics while on the 3-on-2 break? Nice conversation but gotta finish. That’s right, run a box-and-one when you’re talking about The Contessa’s dating life. He is so last year and YOU GOTTA GET ON HER!!!!!!!!!! Don’t forget to hit the outlet when breaking a press and OOOOHHH, HE’S GOT COOTIES!!!!!!!!!!!!

Corina, as they used to tell the referees, open your eyes, you’re missing a good game.

And I’m a self-professed crossword fanatic but I AM NOT calling a toll-free number and using my credit card to get answers to crossword clues

At the Milford Diner, Kaz and Gil over a coffee and danish fellowship

“So if we use an extra guard in the late going, we should break Oakwood’s press-“

“Excuse me, Kaz. Maureen, where’s a phone? In the hallway to the bathroom. Thanks.”

And leave it to Co-Cossudio to be bitching about all the wrong things. Thorpiverse had us faked out that she was going to crap on Vic’s parade en route to taking over for Harry when he’s in the bathroom on a Bud break or when Harry met Tessi through Vic and Vic seems to be holding serve on Harry.

But noooooooooo,Corinavirus has nothing better to do with her time, such as extra practice on her free throw shooting or her footwork in defense, than to go through the file cabinet and unsuccessfully try to unearth Tessi’s full name. And talking about it when the Mudlarks are staging a rally. It must be nice to gossip and give and and go. The stuff of three-point plays.

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Cleared In Sting Operation At Milford Diner!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I was just trying to get the answer to four letter word for ‘dog cuisine’ and I knew it wasn’t ‘bone’.”

And WHAT is The Jane Doe-The Contessa pointing at in P3????? Granted, when you’re trying to show somebody the way to the top, you’re pointing UPWARD with no particular object in mind. Fair enough. STILL, my imagination is running a little wild and I’m that’s the case with several of our readers and I’m going bananas. I mean, I hope she isn’t pointing at the referees butt when she’s talking about reaching for the stars. Really, don’t you think it’s tacky to refer to Dr. Pearl’s beehive when aspiring to lofty goals? Sure, go for the Gold, Corina and Jane Doe, just be careful where you point. We might get the wrong idea if you’re pointing at Vic’s lukewarm hot dog or his singing “Hang On Sloopy”.

And WHERE are they running???? Did they score and are running to the other end. Did the other team score and it’s Miller Time? The other team miss, Mudlarks got the rebound and now they’re doing wind sprints? Well, they’re playing the way they practice even if practice is now the game or is that vice versa? All this running to the point of no return is making me dizzy.

And then there’s the Bugs Bunny episode where the regular high diver doesn’t show up so Yosemite Sam makes Bugs Bunny do it. Thanks to Bugs’ cleverness, Yosemite Sam finds himself repeatedly flying into the tub of water 100 feet below. Once, Bugs is disguised as an Indian and the diving board is disguised as an old Indian trail, complete with an animal skull and a cactus. Yup, Yosemite Sam took the bait and flew into the tub (again) .

And isn’t that what Jane Doe is doing to Corina?

“‘That’s the way to the top!!!!!!!!!!!!”



“Coach Mimi wants to talk to you. She wants to make a defensive adjustment. She went that way.”



“Will you go talk to Vic and tell him to quit saying ‘Bertha Butt Boogie’ every time I score? He’s behind that door.”



“The referees are behind those doors if you want to tell them that they suck.”



“That can’t be right. The capital of Norway is Oslo, not Lima. Who do I talk to about refunding my credit card. Just a minute. Yes, Dr. Pearl?”

“Gil, I need to use my phone. The State Superintendent is due to call anytime.”

And is the crowd in P3 enjoying Tom Jones singing “She’s a Lady” or Corina falling several feet into a tub? You decide. I’ll try to sort the bodies in the stands in the interim. I think I can decipher the scribble marks this time. Like I don’t someone is cheering with a high heel shoe. And I’m sure the other guy is just pretending he has his fishing rod and is throwing his line out by the half court line. But sometimes stick figures have minds of their own.

Today’s Black History Month entry is The Chambers Brothers Band. They wrote the forceful, driving “Time Has Come Today”. This song, with its famous shrewdly-timed drumline that slows to an eerie crawl, was their trademark song. Originally starting out on the Gospel circuit, having performed in their home church in Mississippi, they eventually landed in the Newport Festival in 1965, blowing away the audience with their newly-created electric sound. They impressed several famous musicians including the great Pete Seeger. They found a niche in the Psychedelic Rock genre and were in high demand as a result. They proved that not all Blacks are stereotyped into Disco or R & B. They certainly SMASHED that perception. Please join me in saluting a band that made a splash on the Rock ‘n’ Roll scene and took no prisoners along the way.

“And we’ll be back to see where the heck those ladies are running. It couldn’t be The Bucket because that’s the other way. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

At Coach Shaw’s domicile late one night, in the garage

“Honnnnnnnneeyyyyyyyyy, I’m hornyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It’s time to come to beddy byyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!-Honey, why is a semi backing up in our driveway?”

“Woman, I have to stay fit and trim!!!!!!!! And the only way to do that under the Milford Nutr-Well Center Eat All The Wendy’s Bacon Doubles ‘Til You Puke And Still Lose 60 Pounds is to be well-stocked!! (To the driver) Watch the gutter. Okay, that’s good. Stop right there.”

“Darling, don’t you think it’s a little late to be bringing things into the garage?”

“Are YOU SERIOUS???? When I have lost 25 pounds and am on a roll? Mrs. Shaw, you obviously don’t know how to coach. When you find the other team’s weakness, you exploit that bad boy for all its worth. Dale Brown should have left Shaq in the game when they were pounding Indiana. It was like Goliath taking a seat on the bench when he was continually dunking on David. David won cuz the other team let off the gas pedal. That’s why I’m hauling in these 60 cases of burgers. I’ll be Slim Jim after about the 28th case. Oh, after I weigh them, of course.”

“Honeyyyy, tell the truck driver to come back tomorrow and let’s have a case of the fuzzy-wuzzieeeeeeeeesssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“NO WAY!!!!!!!!!!!! And there’s another shipment of Wendy’s French Fries from the FedEx semi. He should be here in half an hour after I phoned him the directions. After 14 cases of pure Heinz Ketchup ecstasy, I’ll be skinny enough to qualify for the Milford Marathon in the Spring. Me and Kaz are going to send our entry next week.”

“I’d like an entry all right.”

“Well, here, just sign your John Henry here on this form and I’ll get it notarized tomorrow. You should be good to go in about a couple of weeks.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Darn, where the Hell is the Uber driver???? He had 2 cases with Wendy’s Chocolate Frostys in them. I don’t want to get no love handles while I’m seriously training!!!!!!!!! And I don’t want them melting while I’m weighing them. The chocolate ruins the springs in the scale.”

The truck driver approaches Coach Shaw

“I need you to sign here. Ya gonna share these with your Honey?”

“Oh, my husband needs to share something, all right.”

“And she was right, as usual. I needed a good workout with my Significant Other and I didn’t need to puke for that. With treatment programs that are second to none at Milford Men’s Clinic, why let that Double Cheeseburger become Spam? Come to The Clinic today and put some meat back in those bones. Oh, the fun you’ll have, boning it up. Only at The Clinic.

That is NOT Slim Whitman in P1, Gang. He’s #1 in England, not Milford, remember?

But God bless you, anyway.

At The Bucket late one night

“Uh yeah, my expiration date is November of ’26. Now what’s a seven-letter word for ‘Buffalo Bill slept at this place in Milford’?”

“Gil, what are you doing in the women’s bathroom?”

At the Milford Nudist Colony Rec Hall

“Mommy, Mr. Moon said that every time Peaches waves her booty in front of the slot machines, all the coins spill out. Can I wave my booty?”

“Uhhhh, Keri, here’s a 50. Go wave your booty to the Good Humor Man.”

February 4, 2021

Everything You Wanted To Know About Stinky Plots But Didn’t Bother To Ask.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 2:14 pm

Oh that’s lovely and peachy. This is developing into another Woody Allen-Diane Keaton story. You should have told us ahead of time, Thorpoverse. Tessi was this bubbly, flighty gossip who ripped up everybody in the Milford phone book beginning with the letter “K”, now she’s practically wanting a relationship and someone to go BOOM BABY at the Milford Girls Basketball games. As long as we don’t have to hear Vic “Slick” Doucette, I might buy into that.

Anybody who saw the movie Sleeper knew Woody Allen played a man who had an operation but was cryogenically preserved for 200 years in the process and wakes up and later winds up meeting Keaton, who wants none of him, unaware that he’s been frozen for two centuries and is just trying to feel his way around.

At the faculty lounge

“Thanks, Coach, you won’t regret it. I love calling the games and I will memorize the roster and have it ready by this Friday’s game.”

“You’ll do fine. BTW, when you go back in time, tell that pussy Benedict Arnold that he’d be running stairs if he turned on our team like that.”

Somehow, Allen gets acclimated to futuristic culture and even has this electronic dog as a pet in his futuristic home

“Hi, I’m Gil. Ruff!!!!!!!! Ruff!!!!!!!!”

You couldn’t tell I’d like to curb this plot by a fire hydrant?

At Dr. Pearl’s office

“Hi, I’m Gil. Ruff!!!!!!!! Ruff!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Don’t worry, Gil. After I eat my lunch of spare ribs from Milford Bar-B-Q Shak, you can have all the bones you desire.”

After reading the reasons why McDonald’s dumped Ronald McDonald, I am firmly convinced that people are losing sleep over this soap opera and he will be in the tabloid headlines next to O.J. and Elvis

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“The Bucket Negotiating With Ronald’s Agent Over Spokesperson Duties And The Ramifications Thereof!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“The Bucket official: ‘Still some details to iron out over his obligations in the drive-in area but progress is being made.”

WHATTTTTT???????? Diane Keaton just wanted to keep this Platonic????? She was pawing at Woody the other day because the P.A. announcer for girls games is working Union scale and is filing a grievance over overtime pay and she desperately needs Oscar “Woody” Meyer to fill some big shoes until the arbitrator renders a decision????? You led us down the wrong road to perdition, Diane.

And just as Woody got acclimated to Futuristic Milford, he started carving a comfortable niche, at slave wages no less (you think any Union is going to have its members work for a song and a hot dog?) , and the crowd and team started eating it up. Now everybody short of the Lakers is approaching him about doing games, concerts, birthday parties, bar mitzvahs, peace negotiations between Greece and Turkey, and Security Council meetings. Yeah, try to skip Chem Lab and entreat ol’ Gil over the last one. Do you tell the Secretary-General that you have to skip the General Assembly this time because you have to study for a math quiz tomorrow? No, Mr. Welk, I can’t emcee your show because I have a book report due in Sociology. But I like your bubbles.

Darn, Diane didn’t want Woody’s sexy body, she was just leading him on because SOMEBODY had to announce the Raffle winner of the Omaha Crate of Steaks at halftime. SOMEBODY had to turn away the schmuck if his winning paid admission ticket didn’t win the Bingo tournament. The girls basketball team will have to soldier on and tolerate Corina’s sewer mentality and guess at the score if they can’t find another Harry Caray with acne problems. That’s rather crass, Diane, doing some heavy sexual petting of Harry’s private parts if all you wanted was his Bud. He’d probably spare you a bottle without all the bad touches.

Special edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Negotiations Hit A Snag Between Cochran And Milford Powerball Commission!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“O.J.: I ain’t sittin’ next to Ronald McDonald at The Bucket as part of an autograph team. I’m gettin’ my bratwurst with or without my or Ronald’s John Henry.”

At the Thorp household one fine afternoon

“Hi, I’m Gil. Ruff!!!!!!! Ruff!!!!!!!!!”

“Can it, Gilberto. You’re not getting a quickie this time. Keri’s Girl Scout troop is arriving any time.”

How do you answer a guy who has more triangles and rectangles on his apparel than Euclid? The last time anyone wore that jacket, they were on the Royal Road to Geometry. I’m unclear whether Doug got into it with Plato over squaring the circle. If he did, the proof is under the STP patch.

And we STILL haven’t really seen him race. For all we know, his dad was the one chasing the lead singer from A-Ha, Morton Harket, in that “Take On Me” video after Harket whomped his dad at the finish line and his dad chased Harket all over Milford with a wrench in anger. His dad looked spiffy in that jacket anyway even if he was a raging bull. Now his son is carrying the baton with that polygon-infested jacket on his person.

And really, WHAT are on those badges? Spelling Bee Champion-2015? Junior Mechanic of the Year-2017-Milford Go-Kart Club? Move Over Rover and Let Jimi Take Over? Let me stand next to your fire, Gil. Don’t deluge us readers with a bunch of quadrilaterals and circles, Thorpiverse, and expect us readers to believe this Bozo has been in serious-racing mode when we have seen him racing Hot Wheels in his bedroom. Nice try, Thorpiverse. For all we know, those are all Smiley faces. And to think this Smiley Bozo was another Terry Labonte. The jacket almost led us astray.

If ya ware all them merit badges from “Best Coon Hunter-1985” ta “Propane Salesman of the Troop”, from “Outstanding Knife Whittler” ta “Milford Boy Scout Soap Box Derby-5th Place” on yore shirt ya’ve worn since 3rd grade, ya might be a redneck.

And I guess I would sputter too if I was asking somebody to the prom. It takes a lot of nerve to ask somebody, especially on a life-changing event as is the prom.

Trouble is, Vic was the one being asked and it didn’t have anything remotely to do with the prom. He stuttered and mumbled because he didn’t know how to just say no to broadcast booths? I know there’s a lot of guys shy with girls but talking to a guy who has more merit badges than merit about girl problems is only making things worse. If you have a hard time turning away an honest request, I understand, but why talk to a guy who blew the last game because his priorities are at Milford U-Pull-It? I wouldn’t talk about how to yank the ash tray out of the Edsel the way his priorities are sinking and stinking. I don’t wonder why he can’t break a press if he’s spending more time picking clean some Chevy Silverado’s air conditioning and inserting it in his Go Kart right before the green flag.

And is THAT his car behind him? Say for arguments sake it is. What did he do, cut the Batmobile in two with a hacksaw and weld the rest together right before the tardy bell? He must have obtained the gears at Milford U-Pull-It, he and Batman using a wrench on a GTO. Given his pseudo-racing persona, no way that family wagon in the background is his vehicle unless he and Batman went to pick up all the soccer kids from practice. And I can’t honestly see Batman with Pennzoil or Quaker State patches on his cape. He has a reputation to protect.

“That must be Bruce Wayne, Chief O’Hara. I saw Batman wearing a Delco-Remy label on his crotch also.”

“Ay, Lola Begonia, Commisioner. I still say no way. Bruce had a different color label on his crotch.”

“Hi I’m Gil. Ruff!!!!!!!! Ruff!!!!!!!!!!!

“Gil, you can have another Milk Bone if it’ll keep you awake during game film.”

And P3 surely can’t be how The Marlboro Man got his start. He was dragging on his cigarette and blowing out the chemicals as in P3 while pondering how to budget his time with friends, Tessi, and Johnsonville Bratwurst promos? If you see The Marlboro Man now on the back of The Sporting News successfully riding a dogie at the rodeo, he must have found a way to advertise Milford Basketball and Oscar Mayer Chili Dogs and still go on camping trips with his buddies in the Okefenokee Swamp. A shame if he had gotten eaten by an alligator. He’d have to budget his time better next time. The Marlboro Man can’t be on inserts of People magazine if he leaves his friends in the quicksand.

Today’s Black History Month entry is Colin Powell. He has certainly made his mark in our society. Raised in South Bronx, he joined the ROTC as a teenager and never looked back. His love of military life was evident as he rose through the ranks with his savoir-faire and excellent judgment, giing as high as Four-Star General and becoming our Chief of Staff in 1989 under George W. Bush. Later, he was the first black Secretary of State, attaining that honor under George H. W. Bush. He has won two Presidential Medals of Freedom and a Congressional Medal of Honor. He left the country a better place than when he left it while in politics. Please join me in saluting a man who towers above the rest because he dared to be great.

And I remember in the movie when this group of underground insurgents are enemies of futuristic Milford, trying to convince Mr. Allen to go back to his old self. Boy, I’d love for those insurgents to take over Milford NOW. We wouldn’t be stomaching teenage boys smoking Camels and being turned down by girlie-girls who were only interested in his pipes and not his body. I’d sic Gil the Dog on her. Wait, Ronald McDonald isn’t doing anything, right? Maybe HE can announce girls basketball games now that McDonald’s dumped him. He might look funny in those clown shoes but Mimi looks funny as a coach. Problem solved.

“And we’ll be back after these messages with the score, Lady Mudlarks, 41, Oakwood, 35. I don’t know if Coach T. ever got the P.A. announcer situation settled after that shooting. We’ll comment on the mess later. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“Sometimes you shoot the bear and sometimes the bear shoots you. That’s the price you pay when scouting for a qualified announcer to say who committed the foul or who made the last basket. Leaving no stone unturned can generate some hard feelings.

But I’m not hear to talk about standoffs between a Harry Carry-wannabe and the Milford Police. There’s a more serious issue at hand and we must brace ourselves for the worst. Like the Milford Police, at an accident scene you assume everybody involved got sent through the meat grinder and they look like Chop Suey when you finally pry open the driver’s door.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse and we got a hot one on our trail and no other place than that namby-pamby paradise, The Bucket.

I understand that Ronald McDonald was relieved of his duties at McDonald’s for reasons one can only speculate. Some eyewitnesses say he had kiddie porn in his garage and others say his clown shoes did not project the proper image. Parents did not want their kids to be wearing that footwear in gym class. Nothing was ever proven.

But The Bucket is still fighting the Milford Beverage Commission and needed a glimmer of hope while Ronald McDonald couldn’t tell the kiddies while he’s on TV that he gets food stamps through Milford Family Services. Lining up behind several bums who sleep at Milford Shelter House at night, well, let’s just say his clown suit stood out among the down-and-outers.

So The Bucket went candy-ass on us all and approached Ronald’s agent about Ronald being a spokesman for The Bucket. That Cheeseburger in Fool’s Paradise went for broke, hoping to win back everybody, not just teenagers. The Bucket was banking on the fact that Ronald McDonald was getting tired of the beef stew at Milford Soup Kitchen.

And even if he is, does The Bucket think this will get them a liquor license? Are they serious? At Molford Beverage Warehouse we just chortled over the ads being run on WDIG-TV where Ronald is playing with the kiddies in The Bucket playground area, going down the slide with a bottle of Jim Beam Kentucky Straight Bourbon in his hand. With a $3.00 coupon at The Warehouse, he can go down the slide with his grandmother and still get the booze at a ridiculous $20.99 a bottle. Does his grandma wear those clown shoes at the Milford Senior Living Center? God knows.

And The Bucket attempeted to bring in The Hamburgler. Yeah, that’s right, ol’ Ronald was going to stop The Hamburgler from walking out of The Bucket with stolen Bucket Burgers and stolen 30-Paks of Busch Light. Shoot, with a Milford Beverage Warehouse Visa Gold card, The Hamburgler can legally steal those same 30-Paks and 3 cans of Milford Vending Beer Nuts all for under $40.00. We’ll even throw in a free bag of Chee-tos. We assume The Hamburgler and ol’ Ronald snack while watching the Super Bowl. Revolving credit wins the day.

Then me and the Milford Beverage Warehouse CEO laughed and laughed when Ronald and his kids basketball team took on some thugs from the neighborhood at the Milford Y gym, playing for bottles of Tito’s Handmade Vodka and Bucket Banana Splits. Boy, don’t it make you wonder who was shirts and who was skins? The crap The Bucket will stoop to in order to convince the Beverage Commission it deserves to sell ice cream and Bud in the same booth. And they could have waited until Thirsty Thursday for the Discount Special and they would have gotten Tito’s at a bargain basement $26.99. No need to call your own fouls or even call some ref with a beer gut to win The Good Life outright. Why The Bucket is hiring Ronald McDonald to do all the dirty work is a Big Mac that’s half-eaten, then thrown away because the meat was cooked raw. I guarantee you, we don’t leave Tito’s Vodka in the microwave.

When you want good liquor at honest prices, you don’t shop at a place who hires an unemployed clown to advertise for kids and 6-packs of Falls City. You know where to go when you grow up from Fantasyland. Come take advantage of all the great liquors and chips at Milford Beverage Warehouse, and tell ’em Coach Thorp, not Ronald McDonald sent ya.

Hi Gang. I’m Gil. And I just pee’d on this plot. Ruff!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ruff!!!!!!!!!!!!!

God bless you, Gang.

“…and 200 years later, Mimi, I wind up in a town with no clue about basketball. And why is everybody naked?”

“It’s because you woke up in the dining room at Milford Nudist Colony Community Center, Gil.”

In the front yard of the Thorp residence

“Hi, I’m Gil. Ruff!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ruff!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Mommy, why are you spraying the hose at a toy dog?”

“Here, Keri, here’s $20. I hear the Good Humor Man ringing his bell down the street.”

February 2, 2021

Come On Down, Sweet Corina, Uh Huh, And Help Us Scrape This Gil Right Off Our Shoes.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 3:34 pm

Did you ever see Joe Flynn talk to the crew at McHale’s Navy about how crappy auto racing is? Go to war because Papua New Guinea’s diplomat said something Darrell Waltrip’s mother? Remember the Star Trek episode where the ambassador for S.S. Enterprise wished to establish diplomatic relations with some alien planet? They would not nuke Mars if the Martians retracted their statement about Michael Schumacher going to the bathroom as many times as Pee Wee Herman.

Well, Joe Flynn is alive and well today, trying to convince Doug that it’s not the end of the world. Doug may have sent McHale’s Navy to Antarctica instead of Arkansas to quell the rioting in the streets but they kept the Commies from decimating the penguin race. The calls evened out.

And Gang, this is absurd. Buddy Holly not only had to sit on his hind legs and beg for his doggy bone, Gil evidently has thrown in some unforeseen conditions

Late at the faculty lounge, Vic bowing before Gil, praying 5 times a day to Coach Thorp while facing Milford

“Oh, and I also need you to be a volunteer assistant coach. I’ll throw in a Milky Way as compensation. Any slackers, make ’em run up and down the steps. And if they make ill-timed references about your handicap, 1000 knuckle pushups and they count each one.”

Vic’s been can-do so far. No reason to see why that would change.

Come to Iroquois Gardens Apartments. I have been here for two years and love every minute of it. Perfect cozy atmosphere that is amenable when I’m writing the blog about Gil. I also love to cook. They have a microwave, an excellent stove, well-functioning refrigerator; they are also well-furnished, great carpeting, great bathroom facilities, great closet space, and spacious bedrooms. What’s nice is the apartments are affordable and fit any budget, trust me. I was there to pay my rent today and the management team was on the phone talking to prospective clients. Busy will win the race everytime. Come on down and see for yourself. They are on New Cut Road, across the street from Iroquois Park in Louisville, Kentucky.

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

Wadin’ through the waste, this stormy crapper

And no one’s in the gym to pull us through

Tryin’ to stop the fluff that grates our eyeballs

Drop these shards, drop the Gil-do blues

But come on, come on down, sweet Corina

Come on, o bitchy child, we beg of you

Come on, come on down, ya got it in ya

Got to scrape that Gil right off our shoes

Gang, ANYTIME I get an opportunity to insert The Rolling Stones, Exile on Main Street no less, to slay the Gil, I’m gonna jump at the chance. And why not? Thorpiverse is trying to impress us with his memorizing the Google page before the tete-a-tete between Vic and Doug hit the presses today. But before Vic hands a Lifesaver to Doug and tries to apply a Band-Aid to Doug’s ego and kiss it, might we remind the town of Milford that we have seen little of Doug in either basketball or racing to justify stroking his confidence. Why we need to apply the “Ted Williams was a great hitter but he failed 7 times out of 10″ logic to this situation is beyond my comprehension. And yes, Richard Petty had several victories to go with over 200 non-victories, but Richard didn’t go to Gil and bail out on the basketball team then hide in the hills of Alabama when the Talladega 500 took place. Yeah, if you’re going to fail more often than you succeed but still be Donny Baseball, you have to step to the plate, Doug Schlabotnick. No Wikipedia article is going to bail you out when you just failed PERIOD because you weren’t even in the on-deck circle. You have to PARTICIPATE if you want to reach Slo-Pitch Batting stats, let alone call yourself Michael Schumacher. Bobby Plump hit the Milan Miracle because he didn’t tell his coach, Marvin Wood, that he had drag racing prelims at the Indy 500. The water tower displays ” ’54 State Champs” because the whole team dumped Doug at a Grease Monkey. Grow up, Doug.

Buddy Holly can adjust his glasses all he wants but he can never adjust a guy’s absentee record at work. Better fire him, Buddy, if you don’t want the rest of the factory to mutiny or tear the water tower down.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Accused Of Mob Dealings In Milford Powerball Commission Meetings!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Don Corleone ain’t gittin’ my hot dog, I don’t care what the media says.”

Thank you for your whinin’, Snarly Betty

Thank you for your nasty and bitter fruits

Yes, we got your pile of bile in our toenails

Your caustic manner you hid in Gil’s best suit

But come on, come on down, sweet Corina

Come on, snaky child, we implore you

Come on, come on down, you got effluvium

Uh huh

Got to scrape that Gil right off our shoes

Now WHAT was Vic supposed to answer in P2? Google would be the logical venue but Thorpiverse confirms Voltaire’s acute observation “Common sense is not so common”. Did Doug think Vic got it off one of the bathroom walls?

Here I sit

All broken-hearted

Tried to Gil

But only farted

Oh and Michael Scumacher Gil’d 215 times

Vic must have been employing a liberal amount of Charmin when soaking in the answer.

Or like the fox in that Foghorn Leghorn episode, the fox in that spy outfit, the newspaper he’s pretending to read part of his cover

“Pssst, hey you.”

“Who, me?”

“Yeah. You know who won 91 Formula One races in his career?”

“Well, I was going to flip a coin between Maury Rose, Gordon Johncock, and Chester A. Arthur but I only had two sides to this wooden nickel-“

“Uh uh.”

“But I saw Mr. Arthur in the 1903 Indy 500 composite-“

“I saw it in Foghorn’s outhouse. Plain as day. Michael Schumacher’s name was under the spider web by the toilet paper dispenser.”

Well, I do believe that one’s spinning out of control

Okay let’s do this

“And if you stay out of trouble and eat all your vegetables, I will keep you from being due-processed. But you have to promise me you’ll behave from now on.”

“I will, Dr. Pearl. BTW, who won 91 races in Formula One?”

“I haven’t talked to my bookie yet but I think he left a message on my voicemail. I’m very reassured he said Michael Schumacher. I thought he said Foghorn Leghorn but I cleaned out the speaker.”

“Thanks, Dr. Pearl. Can I have a hall pass to go back to class?”

“Why, most certainly.”

Doug, ask a stupid question, get a Gil answer.

If ya failed 215 times in the Milford County Fair Hog Rasslin Single-Elimination Tournament but keep tryin ta pin that Yorkshire cuz ya got ’em on the mat 91 times, ya might be a redneck.

And okay, fair enough, winners stay in the fight because you never now. You won’t know if you drop out. Jack Nicklaus, the famous PGA golfer who knew a thing or two about winning the Masters, once said the key to winning a Major Tournament was you just always tried to stay in the hunt. Knowing you were competing against 100+ golfers many times, you had to be the one who hung unto to the bar when everybody else was losing his grip. You dug in and clung. Getting birdie after birdie when all others were bogeying certainly helped clingong to the bar. But many times you were bogeying when the other guy was getting in the cup better; he was the one with all the birdies. But many times you would win because you dug in the trenches no matter how hopeless things would seem. That is indeed how champions are made. So Vic’s logic makes sense.

But it’s like The Golden Bear is sweating out the U.S. Open and Doug didn’t show because he went go kart racing with Spanky and Our Gang. Sure, Vic, your reasoning’s okay but a tiger catches its prey only once out of 20 times but if the tiger gets sidetracked at the Milford Stock Car Bonanza Teenage Division, there won’t be any water buffalo on the plate that night. You have to prowl the jungle if you are giing to get your dinner. Shoot, the tiger isn’t even at the stock car races. He’s really only been TALKING about the Daytona victory and/or the water buffalo the size of New Jersey he dragged down in the jungles of Burma. Good advice if the tiger is present in the swamp. Otherwise, go back to Milford Zoo and eat your Gerber’s, tiger.

Today’s Black History Month entry is Ron Glass, the versatile actor who starred as Detective Ron Harris on Barney Miller from 1975 to 1982. He originally graduated from Saint Francis Seminary but when he started acting at University of Evansville, professors and students thought he was a natural and urged him to continue acting as a career. He more than carried the torch as he put in strong performances on shows such as Sanford & Son and Maude. Later, he played in the science fiction series, Firefly as Shepherd Derriel Book, earning critical praise. He is a funny man but also a serious man of his craft, earning major respect among his colleagues in the motion picture industry. Please join me in saluting a man who rose to the stars and stayed there through hard work and determination, not to mention great talent.

And naturally, Gil is nowhere to be found as we observe Vic attempting to pull Doug out his butt in P3. Gil is no longer distributing Life’s lessons as he dumped his copies of Guideposts on Vic the day Vic was lapping up like Pogo the Possum. We have met the enemy and it is Gil.

Really, it’d be like Opie not winning the Mayberry Soap Box Derby and Ernie from My Three Sons giving the heart-to-heart talk. Ernie’s great but he’s not talented at bringing a downcast little boy out of the doldrums. But if Andy Taylor is at the Mayberry Dog Races, I guess you have to go for what’s available. If it was down to either Ernie or Floyd the Barber, yeah, I guess I would have been desperate and chosen Ernie too. Sometimes, if you need a filler after Hawaii 5-0 got chewed in the machine, reruns of The Monkees will hold off the cavalry.

I just can’t see Fonzie giving Richie Cunningham the cane after Richie just got his draft notice. Of course, I can’t see Mr. C. doing it either but Mr. C. is at the dog races with Gil and Fonzie wasn’t doing anything but staring at the jukebox at Al’s anyway.

“And Milford bites the big one tonight. If Dougley Do-right spent more time in the gym than in the garage, he might up his game. What he does in the garage is a mystery as well but I’m not a detective. We’ll be back with the stats after these messages. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“BRRRR, Winter can take its toll on a senior citizen. I know, my wife and I witnessed the October Revolution and we about froze our ass off.

But enough of Communist overthrows. This is Mr. Dr. Pearl and the wonderful people at Milford Bath Magic, Incorporated have solved this problem by undertaking technology in their own hands by installing a fireplace in your own bathroom. Face it, us geriatrics shiver when we walk out of our Walk-In Tub and we need to stay warm after we’vecbeen massaging with the honey for several hours. A fireplace by the toilet does wonders to conquer pneumonia. With quality vent systems and a couch, just have a towel available and you and your honey can continue schmoozing until the grandkids come by later that evening.

The technician has state-of-the art plans that will fit any bathroom and any budget. They also have Flex-Pay so you can have your fireplace installed in a matter of hours. Just have the propane under the linens in the closet ready when he or she stops by.

And what makes it nicer is that you can also grill on these specimens. I can tell you for a fact that I love sharing wieners with Mrs. Dr. Pearl that we roasted off a stick we got in our back yard while we are in the tub that’s in Jacuzzi mode. Ummmm, ummmm, Gulden’s never tasted better when consumed in a whirlpool.

And if you forgot to leave your gas logs under the sink, not to worry. The technician has plenty in the back of his van. One trip with his dolly to the bathroom, throw a few in the gentle flames that Robert Frost once roasted Oscar Meyer over and romance is as easy as falling off a gas log. Well, bad analogy but I believe it still works its magic.

Won’t it be wonderful to see your device installed and able to overcome barriers involving overloading the fuse box or wires running through the bathroom at all. You will not have to disengage the commode to watch this wonderland light the fire of passion once you step out of Paradise. Dry your derriere with a Holiday Inn towel and the trip from Paradise to chestnuts roasting on an open fire is complete. And it connects smoothly with the natural gas system in your home. Like an adopted child that becomes Class Valedictorian, one more vent will change your home from warm and toasty to Snuggly in the Arctic Circle.

Come find out more at Milford Bath Magic, Inc. Your wiener is waiting to be roasted.”

Gang, I still say Doug needs to use more Pine-Sol if he’s going to bleach his hair more like Tommy Rich. I’m holding serve on this point.

But God bless you, Gang.

In Dr. Pearl’s office one fine afternoon


“Dr. Pearl, Sorry to intrude, Vic is going to be the P.A. announcer this year. I’ll have that report to fill out by this evening. I threw in a case of 3 Musketeers but I stayed within budget.”

“That’s fine. Excellent job.”

At the Milford Nudist Colony one Winter

“Mommy, why is there a fireplace in the girlie’s room?”

“Uhhhhhhh, Keri, that’s to keep the bad little boys from entering. Here, take this 50 and go buy some Klondike bars.”

January 28, 2021

He’s Probably Somebody’s Baby Tonight.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 1:48 pm

And just as many of our TWIMer readers have accurately predicted, The Vic and Pony Show is going to more than likely set up shop at the Girls Basketball games and ol’ Snarlybutt is going to get right in the thick of this malarkey. She got a black eye from guarding the other team’s best player. But the $64,000 is will she get one from saying he broadcasts like Harry without the Bud? Me, I’d be swingin’ for the fences over a cheap shot like that. Either way, Snarly Betty, Ugly Betty’s cousin is predictably going to create havoc on Vic’s career path and the basketball plot is going to churn like bad butter you wouldn’t feed your hogs in the back yard. Like what was Snarly Betty going to do after she body-slammed the other team, and some members on her own team for that matter, duck and run and allow the relationship between Tessi and Vic develop into a trashy romance out of a Harlequin novel? We’d be needing some Tums to keep the churning from going at molasses speed.

“Oh, Vic, you have such a strong voice. It just makes me do some serious pelvic movements.”

“Tessi, are you kidding me? I wouldn’t go to bed with Brownie Pole even if he sang Il Barbiere di Seviglia at the Milford Metropolitan Opera House.”

“Oh Snarly Betty, you say such cruel rotten things. But we need you the next 2-3 months to get us from falling asleep, so I’ll overlook the slight this time.”

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Out-Of-Court Settlement In The Works At Milford Powerball Commission Meeting!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I told Cochran I’ll knock off $200 off the Lotto winnings if I get season tickets to Mudlark Girls Basketball games. But no further concessions.”

Gang, remember the Fame episode where Danny accidentally stumbles upon on the Mr. Wacky Show set and eventually becomes Mr. Wacky’s stooge? Naturally, he got a nickname that Mr. wacky created from this ridiculously-sized tome that made you wonder where or even why he had a book about nicknames in his Fibber McGee-like closet. Out of that senseless and farcical maelstrom, Danny became Noodles.

And anybody who remembers Robin Williams and his flighty sense of humor knew he was like that when he was off-camera. He drove people crazy because it really wasn’t an act. Comedy was funny until you had to sit down at The Bucket and, say, watch the guy order and he was still like he was as when he was on the Mork and Mindy set 1/2 hour ago. That was Mr. Wacky.

Still, the Mr. Wacky-Noodles chemistry clicked for a while as Mr. Wacky did all kinds of highjinx with Noodles, such as dumping water on Noodles or throwing a pie in Noodles face or smudging Noodles new suit. But when Noodles pushes the big knob dumping Mr. Wacky in the water in a dunking booth in a skit where Noodles throws the ball at that knob but Noodles still gets water dumped on him and leaving Mr. Wacky dry in the dunking booth, Mr. Wacky confronts Danny backstage and gently but firmly reminds him that only Noodles gets the brunt of the jokes and only Mr. Wacky delivers those jokes. In other words, Mr. Wacky is not the brunt himself.

This puts out Danny and the Noodles act gets old FAST and essentially comes to a head when he’s in the Fame Academy hallway and hears somebody shout “Hey, Noodles!!!!” and slams a pie in Danny’s face. Danny grabs the guy in anger. Nothing further comes from it but eventually Danny works to set himself free from Mr. Wacky, particularly when Mr. Wacky is offering a long-term contract to stay on as Noodles. Danny respectfully declines, mercufully ending his run as Noodles.

And that makes me wonder, after observing the same hallway scene today that is eerily similar to the one Danny was walking when he had a pie slammed in his face, if Noodles, er, Vic, is going to confront the same fate

“Coach, so I’m the P.A. announcer?”

“Sure, Noodles. Just remember to stand out in the jump circle at halftime so that the water from the ceiling will hit you just right. You’ll be a riot.”

And who is this dimbulb in P1 waving at the camera, practically addressing The Fourth Estate? Could he really be waving at Doug and Noodles? Why? What in the name of the Milford Midget Races has he done in BASKETBALL to merit the admiration of the fans? Heck, we really haven’t seen him do ANYTHING in the Auto Racing business. The dude hasn’t so much as touched a wrench but by gum, he drank that Victory Milk at the Indy 500 last week, edging out A.J. Foyt and Bobby Unser. And of course, Noodles was there to give away free Indy 500 souvenir programs if you could recite the Gettysburg Address in French.

“Parlez-vous anglais?”

“Nope, that’s not French for ‘Fourscore and seven years ago. Next.”

And Noodles better watch because friendly people who contribute nothing to the plot and wave at The Family Circus in the next panel are likely to have a Sara Lee Coconut Creme in their backpack. If you see them opening up a compartment, assume they are not reaching for the slide rule, Noodles. What would they doing reaching for their TI-36 calculator in the hallway? Nobody lugs out Erlenmeyer flasks during the passing period, trust me. Better watch so you don’t get a rhubarb pie splashed all over you, Noodles. As the Ojays say, they smile in your face, all the time they want a peach cobbler in your face. Watch your backside, Big Boy. Come to think of it, watch your frontside too.

If ya git a turkey gizzard splatted all over ya cuz ya is playin’ th’ town jester in the comm’nity play but ya still git turkey gizzards splatted all over ya cuz ya is the town jester overall, ya might be a redneck.

“Hey, Noodles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”


“That’ll be the last time I show up as a guest on Captain Kangaroo.”

“I don’t blame you, Dr. Pearl. I know Mr. Moose called in and they needed a replacement. BTW, you still have French Silk on your cuff links.”

WHAT is the meaning of the conversation in P2? Is he saying that Vic, obviously hindered by circumstances beyond his control, was a turtle until his comedy schtick lit up the crowd at the Milford Basketball games? Rodney Dangerfield got no respect until he got respect telling the audience at Milford Comedy Club that he got no respect?

Believe me, having worked with my younger nephew for years to overcome his Cerebral Palsy, I wanted to slug Doug as I, to be honest with you, was a bit angry at his comment. But no, I’ll let my humor finish the job on a guy who hasn’t even gotten out of the starting gate in his race car, let alone seen the checkered flag or ANY FLAG, for that matter. At least Vic will cross the finish line in his jalopy, Mr. Hare. When Mr. Tortoise beat your butt in the Milford Marathon, Aesop had you in mind, Mr. Al Unser Sr. wannabe. Next time someone says “Gentlemen, start your engines”, don’t go running to Gil for weak knees. That’s how you cold-feeted it at the Indy 500, you cold-feeted Gil in his office in broad daylight.

Special edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Hung Jury In Milford Powerball Commission Case!!!!!!!!!!! Committee Head Ito Will Work To Resolve Minor Details!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“We are working with the jury on what constitutes a bratwurst.”

“Hey, Noodles!!!!!!!!!!!!”


“Luhm, could you sweep up some cheesecake by the Journalism Club room. Ms. Rizk got her money’s worth again. We’re talking to students as to who might have done it. You will? Great!!!!!!!!! Nah, don’t worry about the gym. Reserves are about to start their in a half hour anyway.”

Gang, are you as confused about Doug’s wardrobe as I am? It’s bad enough that Doug is suffering a major identity crisis, i.e., hallucinating as a basketball player when he’s not hallucinating as a racer at the Talledega 500 but in P1, his sport shirt-mechanic’s shirt he wears when he’s installing a fuel pump in the family SUV-pajama top he wears when he’s at the Talladega Holiday Inn that he’s wearing presumably under a jacket he borrowed from a pit crew member of Ricky Rudd-formal wear accessory he lans on wearing at the next Academic Banquet-shirt that got ran over by a 3-axle truck and still had orange juice stains lingering on the tires is radically different from P2. Well, the Minute Maid stains are still there but otherwise is Doug trying to pull a fast one? You don’t see Vic with his vestments interchanging, do you, Mr. I Used To Be A Nascar Poster Child? There’s something called a clothing store, Doug. You ought to check it out. People get frustrated enough not knowing whether you’re coming or going. They don’t need to see your clothes afflicted with the same disease.

“Why is Mr. Wacky wet? Because Noodles dunked him.”

“I thought you were Gil in the dunking booth.”

“You obviously have things confused. Gil may COACH like Mr. Wacky but that’s where the similarities end.”

And Tessi has beaten Snarly Betty to the punch. We were expecting, and probably will still get, Corina in a showdown with Vic, but right now, Tessi not only can’t play defense, she’s showing that working on it at this point really isn’t a priority. She went from the gossip table that specializes in ripping up and backstabbing anybody with a name beginning with the letter “K” to a predictable flirt, shamelessly giving a free sample in P3. And Vic is displaying Exploding Eyeball Effect and quite possibly Exploding Significant Other Effect as a sideshow. Because we run a Christian comedy site, I’ll spare you the interpretation but I think you know to what I refer.

But again, does ANYBODY honestly think Snarly Betty is going to beat up on, literally and otherwise, Milford opponents while Tessi and Noodles go to the movies on a date? Be in the bathroom taking a dump? She didn’t obtain roller derby scars from letting two people go to the prom after Vic gave away all the Polish sausages dipped in caramel at the last game. Let me reassure you, Snarly Betty will find some way to wreck the relationship after she dumps the Milford Roller Derby Queen in the trash bin behind the Milford Rollerdrome. This plot has 2-3 months and plenty of basketball games and roller derby matches left. And plenty of caramel sauce.

“And we’ll be back to wrap up this comedy set by Vic “Only Mr. Wacky Says Corina’s Name Funnier Than I Do” Doucette after these messages. And I’ll also have stats from Milford’s 72-52 victory over Goshen as well. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

At the Thorp Household on Sunday afternoon after just returning home from church services

DING!!!!!!!!!!! DONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gil opens door

The UPS driver is at the door

“Is there a Gilbert Thorp that lives here?”

“This is him”

“I have a package if you’ll sign right here on my scanner gun” as the driver is scanning the rectangular box

“There you are. Is that all you need?”

“That’s it. Have a nice day.”

“You do the same.”

Mimi, after weighing her Ensure 6-pack on the scale to comply with Milford Nutr-Well guidelines of no more than 7 bottles of lactose-friendly merchandise so that the stomach lining won’t get bombarded with milk chemistry gone haywire when downing a can of Blue Diamond Cashew Halves

“Gil, who was that?”

“I just got my order of ginger root from Milford Herbal Farm. And they say I’ll get twice as hard or they’ll cheerfully refund my cashier’s check.”

“Gil, you didn’t.”

“Why, what’s wrong, Honey?”

“Gil, this is embarrasing. I’m not having a bunch of hippies who were fired from the factory at Ben & Jerry’s in Vermont because they were trying to form a union finding out we’re not cutting it in bed and you need to go organic to get satisfaction.”

Keri walks in

“Mommy, Daddy drank all the chocolate milk. He said the sugar will really pump him up. But he didn’t eat all the sponge cake.”

“Gil, I’m ashamed of you!!!!!!!!!!

“Mimi, I’m just trying to perform. I tell my players all the time ‘You play the way you practice’. If I want to get up for the occasion, do you really expect me to eat Nabisco Shredded Wheat? That cereal wouldn’t get a dragonfly excited.”

“Gil, Milford Men’s Clinic has plenty of treatment options to conquer your infirmity do you can conquer me!!!!!!!!!!!!”

DING!!!!!!!!!!!! DONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gil opens door

“Hi, I’m the Insta-Cart driver. Is there a Mr. Thorp around?”

“That’s me.”

“I have your Centrum, Voltaren, 1 dozen eggs, 2-Liter of Grape Nehi, and turnips.”

“Super!!!!!!!!! I’ll take the bags and here’s your tip.”

“Gee, thanks. Have a good one.”

“Same to you.”

The door shuts

“Gil, now what was THAT all about?”

“Simple. The Centrum is there to with the needed calcium when my Significant Other is going through bone loss. I don’t want my prized possession degenerating when we’re having the time of our lives. And the Voltaren will guard against my prized possession contracting arthritis. I wanted Icy Hot but Milford Apothecary was temporarily out of stock.”

“Gil, this is totally unnecessary!!!!!!!!!!! Now put that stuff down and call Milford Men’s Clinic!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“But Honey, Voltaren is guaranteed to get you twice as hard as anything The Clinic has to offer. It says so on the package. I can move mountains with my prized possession and get it on with you in bed in the bargain. And the pharmacist said they’ll not only strengthen the formula if I don’t get hard enough to dribble a basketball on, they’ll give me a Dayquil Children’s Cough Syrup, free of charge. I’m guaranteed to perform and keep the kids from getting the flu.”

“Gil, let me get this straight. A Grape Nehi will get you harder than EREC-3500 medication?”

“Mommy, we’re out of Trix because Daddy ate all that too. He went through 11 bowls.”

“Silly Gil. Trix are for kids and tricks are for adults. That’s what the physician told me at Milford Men’s Clinic anyway. With treatment plans that work, stop wasting time and get your bowl of satisfaction so you won’t get addicted to Lucky Charms for sexual performance. You don’t eat Cocoa Puffs to perform a violin solo of Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons’ at the Milford Performing Arts Center, why eat them just to get happy under the sheets? Come to The Clinic today. You’ll be glad you took your performances to the stars.”

Stop it, Gang. That’s not a railroad track on the back of Doug’s shirt. I saw him drive the 4-wheeler myself.

But God bless you anyway, Gang.

Danny, late at night at WDIG-TV studio, where Mr. Wacky is produced, hears a voice

“Does the name Gil Thorp ring a bell?”

“I heard he can’t coach an ant colony but that’s all I know.”

“Right. But by the time I’m done with him, he’d be the best Noodles the world has ever seen.”

“Mr. Wacky, I’m not signing anything. Give this Bozo a call.”

“Just as I thought. Hope you’re not making a big mistake.”

“Hope Gil isn’t either but not holding my breath.”

“Danny, he’ll be a clown, not a coach.”

“Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference in the gym.”

“Don’t forget to write.”

“I won’t…”

At the Milford Powerball Commission meeting, in the hallway during a short recess

“Naw, Cochran, I bet I can get those free bags of Fritos plus cash in my winning ticket if I offer to chaffeur Vic to the games. His vehicle’s gonna poop out one of these days.”

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