This Week in Milford

July 14, 2018

I Apologize, Betty Crocker was all out of trapezoid brownies.


Wait, wait, wait. Before we go ANY further, weren’t Aunt Bea and Opie going to fellowship over brownies? At least, the last time Daffy Duck went to Yalta to report on Stalin’s and Churchill’s bitches and gripes for the Milford Enquirer, that’s what people munched on. And if Ma Bader is on her hands and knees trying to get Daffy to change Barry from Goofus to Gallant, well, BROWNIES WORKED THE LAST TIME. WHY SWITCH TO CHIPS AHOY?????????? I admit in Mayberry, the more conventional culinary wisdom when catching up on the latest gossip would have been milk and cookies but brownies was an adequate substitute. But those look like COOKIES to me on the coffee table, being washed down by a Bucket Triple Chocolate Shake. The Uber driver arrived well before The Summit (“WE have 1 more coming, does the Uber driver have another T-Choc Shake in the fridge in his trunk?”).


Steve Luhm, writing off Milford High School Janitorial Science Department stationery

“Ms. Rizk, I love everything about you. Your Granny dreadlocks get me erect and you have eyes like frying pans smeared in Pam.”

A week later

“Hey, I dig your letter but didn’t Fred tell Wilma that she had frying pan eyes? I think that was the episode where Fred and Barney took Dino to the Bedrock Veterinary Clinic to get medicine for Dino’s tapeworms. I was 79 years old then so my memory’s slipping. I watched that episode on the ‘M’ Computer during my planning period.”


Watching Barry in negotiations with Daffy is comical. ” I really DID see Elvis and now you’re making me a liar. He and OJ and me went down to The Bucket to see if I had any chance at pro ball since I’m the star of the team. As long as Moose is going to swing his weight around, I might as well do some swinging myself. And you write like I was still in T-Ball”.

Richard, you did a lot for the country, you normalized relations with China and Russia, the economy did well under your leadership, for a Republican, you were very environment-friendly, BUT YOU’RE STILL A CROOK.


And gang, I promised you That Daffy’s day in court was coming. The Day of Reckoning is today. Sung to the tune “Good-Lookin’ Woman” by Norman Greenbaum, awayyyyyyyyy we go


You’re a sleaze-talkin’ woman, oh yeah

You spew venom out of your womb, oh, oh, yeah

There’s no mercy when you write

All of Milford goes running

They don’t want to get slammed and slimed

Time after time

They’d rather be napalmed


It’s gonna take manners to keep you around, Baby

Nothing like manners to keep you on the ground, Baby

You wonder why they hate you

Babe, it’s no-brainer

You are a viper

We need a restrainer

On a sleaze-talkin’ woman

Sleaze-talkin’ woman

Sleaze-talkin woman

Sleaze-talkin’ woman like you


You did a hose job on Pa and Barry, oh yeah

Reese’s Bits ‘n’ Pieces, that’s what’s scary, oh, oh, yeah

You could be Society’s Child

If you live like a human

I’m not holding my breath on that

The chances are fat

And baboons act better


It’s gonna take manners to keep you around, Baby

You behave like a tick-ridden, smelly bloodhound, Baby

You worry ’bout the future

Babe, you could end it

Use manners like money

Be willing to spend it

On a sleaze-talkin’ woman

Sleaze-talkin’ woman

Sleaze-talkin woman

Sleaze-talkin’ woman like you


Thank you for your patience, gang. You guys did a great scouring on Daffy. Just finishing the job.


Don Drysdale comes to Milford


While Don is throwing grapefruits to Moose during batting practice

“Don, I understand you played a little ball.”

“That’s right, Gil. Played for the Dodgers for years.”

“And do you have any advice for Moose here?”

While Moose is whackin’ ’em to the top of OJ’s townhouse across the field

“Sure. It’s not an easy road, son. You gotta pay your dues. Long bus rides. Greasy spoon restaurants. And I roomed with Tommy Lasorda while we were playing for Albuquerque. God, the shit he left in the shower when we were getting ready to go. One day, I asked Tommy after he used the Motel 6 towel to wipe his ass, My Man, the maid does supply toilet paper in the stall. Then he used 2 rolls every time he took a shit. I got left with 1/2 a paper towel, that gritty stuff you clean your butt with in the Milford boys bathroom. On the mound, it’s HELL pitching against the Reds and the sandpaper itch creeps up your butthole. Son, take my word for it, it’s a long ride.”

Don leaves to go down to Milford Sporting Goods to sign autographs and endorse his latest book “Life’s Lesson’s I Learned in Milford”

“Well, Moose, did you learn anything?”

Trying to pry one batting doughnut off because it’s not heavy enough to help improve his bat speed

“Sure, next time, make sure you bring 2 Charmin Rose-Scented 2-Ply 12-Roll Paks and stash ’em under the bed.”


“Oh, but Daffy, my Barry really is a good boy. Just because he stares at the mirror doesn’t make him a bad boy. He may be deaf, dumb and a jerk but he’s not Bart Simpson.”


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“OJ Filing Suit After Baseball Lands In His Aquarium!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Proceedings Will Not Take Place Until October; Judge Ito Is On Sabbatical.”


“Mr. Chambers. Mr. Chambers. It is the meal time. Kindly state your preference.”

“Oh, all right. I want a Triple Bucket Burger, hold the mayo, extra pickles, extra cheese, and X-large order of Chili Bucket Fries, and a Dutch Chocolate Bucket o’ Shake.”

“Small, medium, or large?”

“Aaaaaa, I’ll take large.”

“My, my, Mr. Chambers”, the lighted tube speaking briskly and efficiently, “You are going to be a 3-course meal by the end of September.”

“I thought you Kanamits have no sense of time.”

“We always know when it’s a certain time of the year. The plot finally ceases and that’s when we make our move to earth to get more condiments, er, people. The population of Milford is high on our list. They are haute cuisine of the human race.”

“BTW, how’d you manage to bring another Bucket up here?”

“We had a little trouble at the 5th Galaxy but after that, the legal deeds, property taxes, easement issues, parcel outlots, legal fees, environmental concerns, economic impact studies were simply a matter of time.”


A one Michael Chambers is left to ponder in amazement the denouement of The Bucket in the world of the Kanamits while his existence is on life support. Many careers fade, sadly to say, into a pot of boiling stew and while you’re commenting away on today’s strip, this story exemplifies that Man is a star about to nova in a world we call…The Twilight Zone


July 10, 2018

Eyesight for the Belligerent

Filed under: huge earrings, Milford Idiots, song parody, What the hell is going on here? — tdrewhardin @ 1:08 pm


Captain Gilbert didn’t come home

His unborn child will never know him

He’s believed to be missing with a couple of men

They planted 8 bombs inside the gymmmmmmm


It’s a boy, Mrs. Gilbert

It’s a boy


It’s a boy, Mrs. Gilbert

It’s a boy


Hear the joyful celebration in the street

It’s a boy the day we won the Final Heat


And gang, I think you know where I’m going with this. After watching “Barry: The Musical” and still thinking Daffy is still Queen of Sleaze, what was Barry expecting? To clear his name up IN THE MILFORD ENQUIRER?????? No, Daffy, I did not get on that UFO with Elvis. I was down at the Milford Moose Lodge with The King seeing if he could revive his career at the Annual Chili Cook-Off and Raffle Ticket Night. Man, some lucky cat was going to have the time of his or her life listening to “Don’t Be Cruel”, “Heartbreak Hotel” and “Suspicious Minds” and drive away in a brand new Cadillac, courtesy of Milford Motors. But no, your story killed his career. Thanks for nothing.

Then there’s Ms. Rizk. Aside from going back to the Granny from Beverly Hillbillies look, she’s gone from calling things straight down the middle to being Ebenezer Scrooge. The Baders are asking for mercy after you sent them through the meat grinder? Humbug! Serves them right!!!! I’m going to call the deputy sheriff and foreclose their house anyway. We’re going to turn it into the Milford High School Journalism Annex by the end of the year!!!!!!

I would like to give a shoutout to Heather Sanders in Louisville, Kentucky.  She may be confined to a wheelchair but her humor isn’t. She is VERY funny and keeps me going with her edgy wit and on-point insight. She makes my job easier and I have promised her that I will do EVERYTHING I can to get her in the next movie my dad does (my dad being a part-time actor). Heather, I intend to keep that promise. Right now, you are shining pretty bright because you deserve a moment in the spotlight. Keep the funny bone pipeline going because, well. YOU’RE FUNNY. YOU ROCK, My Friend.


Marty: Gotta feeling ’17 is gonna be a good year

Baseball season’s done and we can putt forever

Mimi: I had no reason to be overoptimistic

But with your 3-handicap, it’s a great endeavor


Captain Gilbert, smelly gym towel over the left side of his burned face, after a hard-fought overtime victory over Death, sees Marty and Mimi in bed.

Marty wakes up. Grabbing the 2014 trophy off Mimi’s makeup table, he wacks Captain Gilbert on the right side of the face, careful not to ruin the perm Captain Gilbert has sported for 60 years.

Barry, fresh from sneaking a sip of Cherry 7-Up out of the fridge, wiping the top so that nobody’ll get germs, steps in just as his father’s hair morphs into Hendrix from “Band of Gypsies”.






You didn’t see it

You didn’t hear it

Not a word of it

Not a sight of it

You’re gonna turn into a jerk



Now he’s deaf

Now he’s dumb

Now he’s a jerk

The guilty are safe

But always accused

By his asshole ways


What’s with this Betty Crocker motivational tool? I can see the commercial.

“Yes, what better way to preclude your friend from using a toilet plunger on a person’s reputation than to discuss the matter over buttermilk scones and tea? Mmm, mmm, and those sourdough biscuits buttered with Blue Bonnet on it tastes better than the stuff you have to swallow about your husband, coming from an amateur Ida Tarbell? Mrs. Olson should be coming in anytime and discussing Mr. Olson and Mr. Whipple (apparently they’re squeezing more than Charmin) having an affair with each other. Yes, Daffy, they’re coming out of the closet so have paper and Paper-Mate ready. After you’ve eaten your 10th sourdough, naturally. Set ’em at 350 and the gossip too and forget it. That’s the Betty Crocker way (“Cooking with Pam” theme whistling in the background)!!!!!!!!!!”


“Can’t you see the Christmas lights and all the toys that are so wonderfully enlightening

The Nike shoes, the bats, the balls, I swear it gets to be so terribly frightening

And Barry doesn’t know what day it is

He’s such a jerk, he doesn’t know who Jesus is




BARRY, CAN YOU HEAR ME??????? as Mimi whacks Barry with a bat.


And has anyone seen Ms. Rizk ANYWHERE but the Journalism room? We assume she takes potty breaks. We assume. And we assume she’s typing, or editing the school newspaper. All this time she’s been typing billet-doux’s to Luhm and  he’s cramming them into his locker at night? Anyway, I haven’t seen her down at the Milford Burger King ordering a Double Beef Whopper and unsalted fries. Or at a car show at the Milford Civic Center parking lot. Still glued to the chair along with Chris Elliott’s parents on “Get a Life”, I see. At least she isn’t in her bathrobe.

Gang, I realize Tommy is overshadowing Daffy today. She will have her day in court. Right now, I’m wagering nobody’s going to put up much resistance to the “DIE IF YOU WANT TO, YOU MISGUIDED PUPPET” approach, long-overdue at that, to Barry Bader. I’m wagering. I only make so much in my paycheck, gang, after taxes.


Barry, can you hear me?

Can you feel me near you?

Barry, can you see me?

Can I help to cheer you?

Ohhhhhh, Barry, Barry, Barry…


He seems to be completely unreceptive

The love I gave him makes no sense at all

Dale Carnegie is not in his demeanor

He pukes at Albert Schweitzer’s love and calllllll












There is no chance, no untried operation

All hope lies with him and none with me

Imagine though the shock from isolation

When he suddenly owns up to reality.


At the Milford Girls-A-Go-Go Club, Mimi Thorp answers the sign out front that says “Taking applications. Must be 18 or older.” Figuring she still has time before the Playdowns start in August(they’re just doing a light workout today anyway plus some bunting drills), she swings the SUV into the place. Just because they play softball on the 4th of July  doesn’t mean they pay time and a half so Mimi is always up for the extra income.


Mimi Thorp follows the secretary to Al DeWindt’s office. He’s the Personnel Manager.

Al peruses the application. He eyes the “Reason for Leaving” section and notices that she left it blank for her employment at Milford Burger King.

“Why did you quit Burger King?”

Mimi really doesn’t know how to lie. So she confesses.

“I was 16 years old at the time and I told the manager I knew how to make a Whopper. I wanted to impress my friends so I had at it. I slapped on Mel Purnell’s Whole Hog Hot ‘n’ Spicy Sausage patties instead of ground beef because I wasn’t paying attention, then I put the wrong pickles on the sandwich, I should have used Vlasic, plus I spread too much Hellman’s, I used a paintbrush instead of a spatula, then the lettuce was too brown and it was wilting like my husband’s wim-wim, and I stuck a slice of Swiss cheese because I swear to God I couldn’t find American even though the manager insisted they were behind the ice machine and when a few customers complained to the-”

“Ooooooooookkkkkkkk,” convinced that her crime has reached the statute of limitations, having 33 more applicants to interview, “Mrs. Thorp, you don’t have any problem showing your tits?”

“I used to tell my girls on the basketball team to give 110% effort, no matter what the scoreboard says. If that’s the job description, I will let it all hang out and dive for loose balls with everything I’ve got. I’ll have a lot of floor burns on me at the end of the night.”

DeWindt writes “very mature” on the check-off list. He adds “could be performing Christmas show with the 2 ex-Rockettes.”

“Are you willing to work overtime? Sometimes the New Thayer Moose Lodge holds their annual convention over at the Milford Ramada and a few of ’em head our way. They can get a little rowdy.”

“No rowdier than that crowd at Tilden. A lot of people were throwing coins, chewing gum, program ads, and candy bar wrappers at our girls but when we beat them in triple overtime, we got our revenge. Plus, Gil is hiring on as a bouncer so I don’t foresee any problems.”

“You do know we’re Union? Milford AFL-CIO Local 808? You have a problem with that?”

“I don’t see why I would. Unions have a Right to Peaceful Assembly according to The Constitution. I don’t mind gettin’ it on next to the Union steward on stage. We will show our boobs as a sign of solidarity.”

DeWindt writes down “Could be possible problem at the bargaining table but not a rabble-rouser”.

“Mrs. Thorp, we’ll start you out at $11.00/hour and give you a 50 cent raise after 30 days. The $500 signing bonus will be broken down into $250 apiece with the 1st installment paid out after 60 days and the remainder paid out after your probationary status ends after 90 days.”

“Are taxes taken out?”

“Yup, Uncle Sam gouges even us strip joints. BTW, can you fit into 9-foot boots, staple jewelry on your boobs and shake that thang? We do ‘Pinball Wizard’ every weekend and the last dancer injured her tits when she accidentally grazed them on a strobe light on the ceiling.”

“SURE”, trying to be an eager beaver. Do everything they tell you. That’s how you move up the corporate ladder. “I have some 9-foot heels I wore at my high school prom. I’m pretty sure they’re out in the garage.”

“Super!!!!!” as DeWindt is trying to hide his curiosity where she got 9-foot heels, let alone why she wore them.

“Well, that’s all the questions I have for now. I will learn everything there is to know about the company.”

“You got the right attitude. All right, be here tomorrow morning in the Training Room at 7:00AM sharp with your photo ID for your name badge and your Social Security Card. Also, bring a red pen so that you can learn how to fill out time sheets. We do EVERYTHING in red.”






OOOOOO, BARRY, BARRY, BARRY as Barry is escorted by Gil the Bouncer after the former wandered into the Club, thinking the ball diamond was on the same latitude. A jerk has a tendency to get his horse latitudes confused(with apologies to The Doors).


“OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH, BA-BY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




NO!!!! NO!!!!! DON’T LEAVE ME THIS WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DON’T LEAVE ME THIS WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

NO!!!!!!!!!! DON’T LEAVE ME THIS WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Doris, can I speak to you for a moment? I want to file a grievance. They’re having the dancers low on the Seniority List doing the Midnight Show.”


Daffy runs towards the spaceship set to leave Milford Int’l Airport.


And Ms. Rizk reveals herself as one of the Kanamits, deftly handling the stilts and the sleeping gas on Kaz, the same sleeping gas that was used on Batman and Robin, indicating that Part One was about to end (The Joker: “How’d I wind up in the Gotham City Correctional Institute? My gang put enough nerve gas on the Dynamic Duo to bring the Statue of Liberty to its knees.”). Coach Kaz is dragged in the ship and the door is sealed and the vehicle heads 29 light-years into outer space, with a potty break on Deneb and lunch at Stuckey’s on Lyra.

“GODDAMIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MEAT LOAF AGAIN??????????? THAT’S THE 7TH STRAIGHT DAY I’VE HAD THE STUFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND DOESN’T ANYBODY KNOW HOW TO DUMP CHEESE INTO KRAFT GARLIC MAC ‘N’ CHEESE?????????????????” as Coach Kaz throws the dinner to the floor in a cubicle roughly equal to the size of Papa Bader’s living quarters.

A 10-foot Kanamit walks in, straight from his game in the 12-foot-and-Under League. picking up dumped merchandise “Coach Kaz, Coach Kaz, PLEASE, there’s no reason for these needless tantrums. We can get the chef to switch to chicken cordon bleu and baked lasagna with tortellini.”

“And can they make Nestea instead of that swill they brew out of the canister in Milford’s cafeteria?

“I don’t see why not.”

“With Nutrasweet?”

“Of course.”

Consider for your speculation a one Coach Kaz, about to be somebody else’s Peanut Buster Parfait at the Kanamit DQ but enjoying The Good Life in his dying days. The parmesan cheese on his steam-fried London broiled steak and vegetables will expunge his fear of being Blizzard Flavor of the Month, Oreo Blizzard, may we add, at the same DQ drive-thru. Tonight’s bill of fare in…The Twilight Zone.


Comment away,gang. I’m going to catch the late show at the Go-Go Club. Mimi ought to be entertaining, certainly more than this plot.





BOY A JERK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


“Mimi, you really went to town tonight. I liked how your wedding band bounced so lively between your breasts. And all those beads around your neck.”

“Thanks, Gil. So I heard you had to throw out Mr. Dr. Pearl?”

July 3, 2018

Yo Quiero Taco Bell And A Baseball Scholarship, Coach Colvin


Gang, First off, let me get this crow-eating part of me out of the way. That was not, as I might have suspected, Coach Tod Andrews that Gil was genuflecting to on the telephone. I should have known that Berrill’s version of Coach Andrews wouldn’t translate mathematically into Raul Julia at the tanning salon. Hey, you have a hard day at the office and you’re trying to please rabid fans and alumni plus perhaps an athletic director who might pull the trigger at the next 3 23-38 seasons, and ya gotta go somewhere. They’d never think to look under a heat lamp sleeping on a Serta mattress (“Charlie Brown, who’s that funny-looking gentleman with the shades? They never allow adults on the strip. Schultz and Pig Pen are turning over in their graves.”).

Oooooooooookkkkkkkkk, time to get back on my soapbox. And I have one question. Weren’t Coach Colvin and The Chihuahua at the same family reunion? I’d laugh my ass off if Moose showed up at the Taco Bell drive-thru ordering Triple-Layer Nacho Supreme, Mexican Pizza, hold the mushrooms, with tartar sauce, Nacho Cheese Doritos Ranch Style Locos Tacos Supreme, Beefy 5-Layer Burrito, Colby Jack substituted for American, side order of Arthur Treacher Fish ‘n Chips (in one of those little styrofoam containers you can barely take a urine test in, let alone cram mac and cheese or green beans with a slice of bacon the size of Scotch tape), wait behind 5 cars, daydreaming about hitting the game-winning home run in the bottom of the 9th inning, a grand slam no less thanks to all those videos about launch angles (hosted by Mel Allen when he’s moonlighting from This Week in Baseball) for good ol’ State U. against their hated rival, University State, the line is finally moving after 25 minutes, Moose is ready with the correct change, right down to the wooden nickel (“They never say anything”), only to find out that Coach Colvin is opening up the window. “Coach, do you have any mild sauce?” “Nope, all we have is extra-hot.”

Looking at my bat a 3rd time

Waiting for the Coach to call my name

Cuz I’m tired of doing all my homework

I just want a chance to play the game

I know Coach Thorp has warned me strongly

But I just got to dump this town for fame




And waste another year

And let’s get the obvious out of the way. Thorpiverse has wasted our time with the obvious in P2. What did Gil think we were anticipating? Man, Kaz, if he lays on the beach on the Redneck Riviera (Alabama, for you non-rednecks), and takes pointers on how to pick up women from all the sailors who hail from all over the world, he oughta be able to pick up his bat speed by the time Fall Ball rolls around. I talked with Coach Colvin and he said that learning hand-eye coordination is like making a chimichanga. It just takes the right ingredients, i.e., eyes, hands, beans, sour cream, Hillerich & Bradsby bat, fresh ground beef, 80% fat-free with no hormones, 12″ tortilla. Yup, working the drive thru has taught Coach Colvin a lot about making Chimichanga Nuclear Cheese Buster that he’s carried out to the ball diamond when doing batting drills and knowing the count when you’re up at the plate. I think Kevin will do fine.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Daffy Duck Promoted to Editor!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Pulitzer Prize-Winning Story on Papa Bader Making “The Catch” At The DOC World Series Turned Many Heads. Warden Considering Early Release”

All you Brady Bunch groupies, remember when Don Drysdale came by the Brady manor because Mr. Brady (what’s his REAL name, Mendenhall Theophilus Randolph Brady III ?) was good friends with Don and the latter fattened Greg Brady’s head by saying that he could pitch in the World Series one day? I think Don fattened Moose’s head along the way. At least, I’m bettin’ that’s the gist of the conversation in P3. Sure Moose, you could start this weekend for the Yankees. Mickey Mantle is taking a personal day and they’re gonna be short-handed. Might as well start somewhere. If you can handle those assholes, Marty Moon and Ernie the P., surely you can handle the crowd at Yankee Stadium. No place like it.

Well, we all saw what happened to Greg.

It’s not as though I really need you

If you were here, I’d only leave you

But everybody else in town only wants to bring you down,

That’s not how it oughta be

Well, I know it might sound strange but I bel-

Gil, shouting in Moose’s ear “MOOSE, FOR THE 3RD TIME, YOU’RE ON DECK!!!!!!!”

“And Moose belts one over the Green Monster and the Yankees lead the Red Sox, 7-3. There’s a pitching change. Moose is obviously gotten to the pitcher, not to mention the Red Sox fans. We’ll be right back after these messages.”


At the Milford Wal-Mart Supercenter, Gil and family are about to check out.

“Mimi, I think we got ‘er done. We have everything for the Annual Baseball & Softball Picnic. 10 bags of Great Value Barbecue Chips? Check. 8 2-liter bottles of Fanta  Lime/Pomegranate? Check. Off! Bug Spray? Check. Oscar Meyer Reduced Fat Low Sodium Carb Free Kosher Prepared Light Garlic Thick-Sliced Bologna? Check. Is there anything else we forgot?

Mimi spots the family bathroom out of the corner of her eye. The diaper station was a dead giveaway.-

“Gil, let’s go to the family bathroom. Kids, you take the groceries to the station wagon. We’ll be right out.”

“Mimi, it’s been 30 years since we’ve changed anybody’s diaper. If you got to take a potty break, go now or forever hold your pants.”

“Gil, I need to talk to you about all the VanCamp’s Pork ‘n’ Beans you bought. Our check might bounce.”

“Mimi, we have Check-Bouncing Protection at Milford National Bank.”

“Yes, but they need our Social Security Number and you can’t say it out here. What if Marty’s around the corner, writes it down, then runs up a tab at Milford Lounge?”

Gil, trapped on that one, not wanting to see Marty stealing his SSN in the name of Gerst Beer, relents.

They enter the bathroom. She locks the door.

“Mimi, we don’t need to lock the door over Pork ‘n Beans.”

Mimi drops her pants. A perfect place for a quickie. And Gil is trapped.

He forgot to take his pill this morning because the Moen faucet sprung a leak and Milford Plumbing Inc. was on assignment over the weekend down in the sewer lines.

Gil had nothing to wash it down.

“Mimi, Is that helium balloon station by the Vision Center still there? Because I’m as limp as a 10-day-old plantain.”

“Gil, I can’t go out like this. That was THE IDEA, to stay in from the rain and get warm and cuddly.”

“Mimi, I don’t think that stall with all the street gang symbols on the walls would fit us anyway. I couldn’t go back and forth with that little room, let alone with the Twinkie I have in my possession.”

“Gil, surely the residue from the double dose you took the day before ought to carry over to this stall. I can wait until things start to inflate. In fact, I think I have a safety pin to prick the wienie in my purse.”

“I don’t know, Mimi. Now I know what Papa Bader goes through. He can barely poop, let alone pull a Pee-Wee Herman.”


“IF YOU’RE DONE IN THERE, MY 3-YEAR-OLD HAS DIARRHEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Wal-Mart Assistant Manager Don Granger has the last word.

“It wasn’t pretty. We had to evacuate the Frozen and the Bakery aisles. We managed to salvage the endcap on the Healthy Choice’s.

Unfortunately, we had to literally flush all the Great Value Low Sodium Butterscotch/Maraschino Cherry Ice Cream on the other endcap straight down the janitorial-sized toilets. We had to refresh our associates on hand-washing procedures at the morning meeting, making sure they washed up to their elbows. It just sucked when we couldn’t do the Wal-Mart cheer (“Gimme a SQUIGGLY!!!!!!” “SQUIGGLY!!!!!!!!”).

“All of this could have been avoided if Gil had gone to the Milford Men’s Clinic. There’s a branch right here at Wal-Mart. That’s right, right next to Milford State Bank by the Grocery entrance. When men fail in their sex lives, isn’t it nice to know there’s a convenient location where men can get a refill while the wife does the grocery shopping? A match made in heaven. And the cleanup jobs it’ll save our associates. It makes for one happy family. Sam would have wanted it that way.


“Joe, could you hit that spot in the corner with the mop? There’s still a bit of doo-doo by the Totino’s Supreme Pizza endcap.”

“Yup. You want it buffered?”

“Nah, We won’t have time. The Totino’s blitz is today and I don’t want anybody getting run over.”


Gang, while Moose is trying to get out of Rockville, fire away. I’ll leave you with this


At night I sleep in Milford’s dugout

Waiting patiently to board the bus

Cuz it’s so much easier to handle

All my problems and I don’t have to swear and cuss

I’ll lift some weights and run a lot

And get my scholarship without a fuss





And waste another year.

June 26, 2018

Hug Him and Kiss Him and Stab Him and Hurt Him, You Will Be Hisssssss

Filed under: Gil Thorp, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 2:24 pm


HAH!!!!!!!!! Caught you, gang. I slipped that double entendre right past you. Pay attention, classssss (Sister Mary Elephant that time, that didn’t count).

But it’s understandable. This plot DID stink up and fart and we are paying the price in Snoozeland. And I hope NOBODY was surprised that Daffy Duck was going to pull a fast one. She goes through all this trouble on what appeared to be a goodwill mission, gets the proper papers signed in triplicate, got everybody’s approval short of Steve Luhm and that was because he was out of town on vacation, playin’ the slots. The Assistant Floor Buffer signed his John Henry in Luhm’s stead. THEN she had to have gone to the Prison Board and again filed all the proper papers, no doubt having to convince them that she wasn’t up for parole. No, I’m just doing an article for my high school rag, er, newspaper. I’m not sorry for giving my father 40 whacks. Or my mother 41.

THEN, disguised with good intentions but anybody with any sense being able to see that Santa’s beard is made of cotton candy, she’s about to pull a fast one. I can hear the Dick Dastardly laugh now. Hee Hee Hee, if he thought I was going to write about his setting a record for the most license plates while in prison, boy, does he need to renew his subscription to the Milford Enquirer to refresh his memory.

I’m bracing myself to say this. Take that Folgers and 2 tranquilizers, T. Drew. Barry, watch your back side. WHEW!!!!!!!!!!! Gimme another cup, please. Ran out of Folgers? Is that Sanka still boiling in Kaz’s office?

You always wanted a highball

with an olive

And martinis straight from the tap

Now you wound up in prison

You deserve it

How am I going to get through?

How am I going to get through?

I talked for hours

and gave you power

Your paper’s crap

and I’m a sap

So what have I

What have I

What have I done to deserve this?

Since you went away

I’ve been wandering around

From press room to ball ground

Crappin’ the town

You went away

And you need a new razor

How am I going to get through (what have I, what have I, what have I done to deserve this)

How am I going to get through (what have I, etc.)

And Daffy Duck, no. Nobody EVER accused you of being Barry’s pal, not in this century anyway. When George Washington was reading Gil Thorp in the Trenton Times, he never thought for ONE MOMENT that you were Fred and Barney. He had a lot on his mind before he crossed the Delaware but he had peace of mind that you weren’t lovey dovey, let alone buddy-buddy. No, Mr. Howell never wrote to the Letter to the Editor on Gilligan’s Island that his wife was sleeping with The Skipper. Just thought I’d clear that up, Daffy. It’s hard to imagine that Barry will be your Little Buddy after you sharpened your Ginsu knife and gave Papa Bader 42.

If yore request for an outhouse on the prison yard got approved after all the red tape that could stretch from Milford to Oakwood because yore homesick and the poophole is a good replica but not the real thang, ya might be a redneck.

And wasn’t Marcie teaching math several moons back? I can’t remember which plot, not that I care to walk in the manure to yank out the Jewel of the Nile, but Comrade Marcie Dern(read the Cyrillic alphabet on her door, silly) has the keys to Moose’s baseball prowess and Gil is sweating bullets, hoping to get Moose back on the diamond ASAP before the scout from the Mud Hens uses up his 4-days-and-3-nights special at the Milford Motel 6. “Oh, please, Marcie, if he can’t implement the proper launch angle for the Hartford Yard Goats, he’ll be a career sanitation engineer. And I’ve seen him ride one of those trucks with Luhm and he couldn’t ride a truck and chew gum at the same time.

“I think we can give him a break for Home Ec this time with the understanding that he’ll have to take classes to make up for those Betty Crocker recipes he flunked. He really botched coconut creme.  Somebody will have to show him how to practice on the temperature knob on the Amana range.”

You drank like a beaver

late one night

And now you sleep in a 6 x 9

with no lights

Guards don’t read bedtime stories

That just bites

How am I going to get through?

How am I going to get through?

I piss in pots

My brain is snot

I use cologne

For my gallstones

So what have I

What have I

What have I done to deserve this?

Since I went away

I just carved up your back

Didn’t cut you no slack

As a matter of fact

I went awayyyyy

To rip you a new one

How am I going to get through(What have I, what have I, what have I done to deserve this)

How am I going to get through(What have I, wh-)

“GIL!!!!!! GIL!!!!!!!!!! WAKE UP!!!!!!!!! Are you okay?

“Whew!!!!!!! That was a nightmare!!!!!!!!! I dreamed I spent Purgatory eternally in Studio 3 with Marty Moon!!!!!!”

“And this is Marty Moon, reporting from Hell, where I am doing an eternal interview with Coach T. I’m lickin’ my chops that he can’t duck out to his office when I ask him why he didn’t play Josh Sterling in the 4th quarter of the playdowns. He was taking a knee to pray, Coach. And we’ll be right back after this time out. You’re listening live from Hell on WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.

Late one night at Dr. Pearl’s home in the posh neighborhood of Milford Chase(next door to the stately manor of millionaire Bruce Wayne)

“Squiggly-Wiggly, Baby Bumpers, I found my bikini in the attic. You know, the one I wore at the high school dance when The Ventures played at Mudlark Lake.”

Mr. Dr. Pearl is in no mood for discussing intimacy, heavily entrenched in Tolstoy after a long day as a chemical engineer at Milford Dow Chemical. But he does his best to play along.

“Honey, Mudlark Lake was just a pisshole. I don’t remember The Ventures playing at a kiddie swimming pool.”

“Wrong, wrong, wrong, Peachy Plum. The Milford Contracting & Bulldozing Enterprises, Inc. built the lake right about when they hired Coach Thorp, fresh from the Marines. I had him in Strategies for Kickball when I was a freshman and that’s all I talked about was the dance when the lake was about to do its Grand Opening. You and I were cuttin’ it loose to ‘Walk, Don’t Run’.”

MDP, trapped in his own foggy memory, trying to stall any inevitable physical contact with Granny from The Beverly Hillbillies, grasps for straws

“All right, all right, you are correct. We were having the time of our lives and I remember how you SHOOK THAT THANG before The Rolling Stones made that a popular concept. I think I still have ‘Exile on Main Street’ next to the Breeze towel autographed by Porter Waggoner in the den.”

Then the inevitable. “Sweetie Pumpkin Doodles, how do I look?”

It is clear that DP is not fighting fair, especially when it still fits her to a T. Granny drank lots of possum juice and Ultra Slim-Fast over the decades. A chocolate shake for breakfast and one for lunch, then a sensible dinner of chicken gizzards and MDP is in a quandary. Still on page 738 of Anna Karenina, MDP finally relents, weakly looks up

“You look fine” trying to conceal THE PROBLEM

“Oh, Ginger Bread Man, you’re not even looking.”

“I’m sorry, Little Miss Muffett, I’m so caught up in the violence. They’re about to stage Gunfight at OK Corral.”

“Honey Bumpkin Lumps, Tolstoy didn’t write Westerns.”

“Well, Little Raggedy Ann, some of the Russians hid in the men’s room on the Mayflower and took Horace Greeley’s advice to GO WEST.”

“Apples, Peaches, Pumpkin Pie, why don’t we GO WEST and do a little WIPING OUT of our own in the bedroom?”

“When the story’s getting good? When there’s finally a shoot-em-up scene on page 1,138? When Dirty Harry is about to smoke out these Russian thugs at the Moskva Steak ‘n’ Shake where Anna goes for breakfast? I can’t wait to arrive at the part where Peer Gynt has a gun pointed at Anna’s head and Dirty Harry points his Magnum at Peer Gynt and says “Go ahead. Make my day.”

“Oogie-doogie, Lollipop Lovey-Dovey, wasn’t Peer Gynt Norwegian?”

“Weellll, bluh, bluh, they’re both north of the Equator. Same difference. Both get snow in the Winter.”

“Oh, Mammy’s Boy made of Aunt Jemima, is your little whim whim turning into a beanie-weenie?”

(Standing up, hoping she doesn’t notice the lack of a boner, replaced by the squishy banana) “Now you stop that talk this instant!!!! I do not need to be Dirty Harry or Ivan the Terrible to get me aroused!!!!!! I can pump my own Bridgestones!!!!!! I’m a guy, you know. And that centerfold of Anna Karenina on page 978 got me as erect as a fire hydrant.”

“Then drop your pants, peenie-pie.”

“What could I say? I was trapped. I could say that the zipper was stuck but I had sweat pants on. I knew Anna and her soulmates couldn’t lapdance this Lazarus of a phallic symbol. It was time to head to Milford Men’s Clinic and own up to the problem.

And I’m glad I did. With treatment programs that work without having to swallow Flintstones Chewables for a decent erection. Me and Minnie Pearl are headin’ to the Grand Ole Opry and all she’s gotta do is remove BOTH the bikini and the price tag. It’s hard to kiss when that damn thing’s in the way.”

Fire away, gang. If you don’t mind, I gotta pull out a few knives from my back. Man, Heather has a good eye. She must have hit the batting cages again.

June 23, 2018

Lately, I’ve Been Thinking Too Much Lately


Oh, Thorpiverse, now stop it. Don’t blindside me with scenery and expect me to decipher it when it’s the weekend and I’m a recovering workaholic. And I haven’t gotten my cup of coffee yet from the neighborhood Taco Bell. Slow down, you’re goin’ too fast. You got to make the morning last.

I ain’t feelin’ groovy trying to set the record straight concerning the environs in P1. (Takes obligatory first swig of Taco Bell Maxwell House medium cup, spits it on the floor from microwave burns on the tongue.) We ARE in the Milford High School journalism room, Ms. Rizk taking a dump from the Buffalo Chicken Sandwich (with mayo and Louisiana Lightnin’ Hot Sauce) she ate at Wendy’s at the faculty lavoratory, and NOT in the second floor of the Milford Enquirer Complex.  Otherwise, Jimmy Olson and Lois Lane are in a useless conversation about Milford Athletics.

And evidently, Steve Luhm, when he’s not taking garbage to the dumpster at Milford High School, is running the buffer at 3:00 A.M. at the complex. You missed a spot, Steve. Yeah, right over there by the right desk leg. And you might wanna spray the place down with Roach-Pruf again. It has the Good Housekeeping Seal plus Paul Harvey adds it to his Folgers along with Coffee-Mate. And I found a roach running by one of the computers displaying an article on the Summer Modeling Show at Milford Fun ‘n’ Fashions.

Then in P2, there’s the Divine Miss Daffy interviewing Daddy Bader and this one’s pumpin’ up the volume, gang. Not sure how a high school rag that is Milford High School could turn her loose and subsequently watch her switch over to “Have you stopped beating your wife lately” questioning.

The COUP DE GRACE!!!!!! That pose Daddy Bader is displaying that is a facsimile of the one that one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence staged that appears on a 50′ x 74′ painting on a wall at your nearest neighborhood museum. Gang, I’ll allow you to insert your favorite Founding Father from the list of Signers of aforementioned Declaration. My money is on Benjamin Franklin but I’ll gladly accept Robert Morris, Samuel Adams, Richard Henry Lee, Button Gwinnett or any of the other 56 Signers in general. Yes, some of you might weigh in with Patrick Henry as Daddy Bader is just as vehement getting out of Sing Sing but, unfortunately, Henry wasn’t one of the Signers. Daddy Bader will have to select another statesman. And we better leave out Thomas Jefferson. He never went to prison and was a better writer than speaker. Plus he shaved every morning.

If ya wind up in prison because yore 4-wheel drive smashed into the meeting room where the Milford Women’s Christian Temperance Union Bar-B-Que Rally was being held and ya wuz 3 times over the limit, ya might be a redneck.

Gang, the title just came to me based upon the tete-a-tete between Lois and Jimmy in P1. And that David Allan Coe tune just won’t flush out of my head. Omigod, am I getting delusional? Will I wind up in a cell next to Daddy Bader? Well, at least I’ll know if he forgot to buy Gillette Atra at the Prison Canteen or if he’s just got a lot on his plate and shaving isn’t a priority. Give ’em to Daffy, Daddy Bader, if you’re not going to use them. They’re like a Poulan Weed-Eater for her hair.

“And Daffy sends a smash out to deep center. IT’S A GRAND SLAM!!!!!!! And the Mudlarks lead Oakwood, 11-0!!!!!!!!! That’s the third homer of the day for the journalist-3rd baseman. Man, Mimi must be using those batting machines at capacity. Daffy is just seeing watermelons up at the plate. Moose better be looking over his shoulder. And Coach T. better be taking notes from his wife. We have a pitching change for Oakwood so we’ll take a commercial break. This is Marty Moon with WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

In the locker room at Milford Athletic Club one day:

Coach Kaz, looking through his fuschia gym bag, is desperately seeking his Ben-Gay. He’s combed through  it twice and all he finds is his 2x Large jock strap, stop watch, Holiday Inn towel, Wal-Mart wash cloth, comb, earring extractor, Lava, Johnson’s No-More-Cryin’-Like-A-Wimp Shampoo, mail order blow dryer, but no Ben-Gay.

Coach Shaw, fresh from a victory against Mark Trail in handball, inquires “What’s up, Kaz?”

“Aw, dammit, I can’t find my Ben-Gay.”

“Are you still using that sissy stuff? Bubba, you’re gonna smell like a candy cane when you go back to teach class.”

“Shaw, I gotta put something on my back muscles. You know how edgy I get when I feel like I’m constipated and I don’t have time to make it to Milford 7-11 to buy a $5.00 tube before my Intermediate Badminton class.”

“Kaz, you need to try Sportscreme. It has an active ingredient, thenobizonol-acetylate-disulfide-bicarbonate-soda that kills that Ben-Gay odor and soothes and massages your muscles better ‘n’ a vibrator.”

“Okay, so it’ll keep me limber and loose. But you sure I’m not going to overpower my class with that mediciney smell?”

“Bubba, I killed a skunk out in Milford Fish & Wildlife Area and later stuck a Sportscreme tube straight up its butt and gave it a good enema before I had to clean out its innards. Sportscreme snuffed out the stink dead in its tracks. Man, that was some good eatin’ later on, not having to chew the meat with that stench up my nostrils.”

Later, in Dr. Pearl’s office for Kaz’s annual teacher evaluation

“No workout today?”

“Yes, I was pumpin’ iron all morning with special emphasis on my pecs. Why?”

“You usually smell like Ben-Gay.”

“Not any more. The smell went in the same cell as Daddy Bader.”

“Wonderful!!!!! Now, Coach, we think you should use more visual aids in your Lifetime Bowling class…”

Gang, it’s your turn. I am still wondering how Stevie Ray Vaughan wound up in prison but maybe I’m getting old, I don’t know. Anyway, you Guys rock.

“I know no North nor South nor East nor West…”

“Warden, I’m adding 5 years onto his sentence. He keeps insisting he’s Henry Clay.”

June 19, 2018

D-D-D-Daffy and the Jets!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 1:01 pm


Hey, Kid, tryin’ to be important

Your writing stinks and your manners are impotent

Expected NY Times but we got a diaper rag!!!!!!!

I’m gonna grab the nearest KFC plastic barf bag!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, show ’em your license or you might not get out

Can’t separate you from his dad

D-D-D-Daffy and the Jets

Hope you like prison food

Oh, Daffy she’s a cheeky soul

She’s got an acid flair

And corn stalk hair

And a tattoo nestled right in her armpit

D-D-D-Daffy and the Jets!!!!!!!

timbuys, thanks for the intro. HEEEEEEEERRRRRRREEEEEE’SSSSSSS T. DREW!!!!!!! Seriously, the man has been VERY patient and understanding with me. We DEFINITELY need more like him.

Gang, what has happened to Ms. Rizk? Is this Invasion of the Body Snatchers VII(Okay, okay, 7, if you weren’t an exchange student in Latin)? Last year, Ms. Rizk was a nice-looking, svelte specimen topped off by a nifty ponytail. THIS YEAR, she evidently went the oral surgery cosmetic route at Milford General Hospital and came out of the lobby of the same place able to fit in with Jefferson Airplane. Did she raid the Milford Salvation Army drop box by Milford Men’s Clinic for hippie clothes? Got the beads at Milford Pawn Shop(she’s on a teacher’s salary, remember)? She might still have her zither in the closet next to back issues of the Milford Enquirer. Groovy, man.

THERE’S A DRIVE!!!!! DEEP TO LEFT FIELD!!!!!!! IT MIGHT BE!!!!!!!! IT COULD BE!!!!!!!! IT IS!!!!!!! Moose extends the lead with a towering shot!!!!!!! And Pelwhiskey sends one out to the Bleesher Bums!!!!! Boy o Boy, I hope nobody dropped their Budsh trying to cash that one.

“Harry, that’s Moose’s 15th of the year. Coach Shaw, the Cubs’ hitting coach, noticed a flaw in his swing. Moose’s elbow was down below his waistline, as if aiming for Lake Michigan. Coach Shaw had to convince him to take a level swing just like they taught you at Lakeview Optimist League 3rd Grade level. Moose fell into some bad habits and it was up to Coach Shaw to arise out of the ivy and set him straight.”

Harry, feeling horny, is about to show his inebriety rearing its ugly head



Arne Harris, the producer, rolls his eyes at the manhandling of “Davy Crockett” and covers his ears under the table


“Harry, I think you lost your Close ‘n’ Play voice at your 7th Bud.”

“Aw, Shteve, you jusht don’t appresheate a good tenor when you hear one. I was in the Shaint Louish Choral Shasigh-ity between my 2nd and 3rd wife. And after 6 inningsh, ish the Cubsh, 8, the Piratesh, 2.”

Heard off-mike

“Arne, you can out from under the sound board. Harry took a pee-pee behind the bullpen”

At the Thorp household on Father’s Day

“Thank you for that nice tie, Keri. And Jaime, I appreciate your spending all your allowance to get me that Old Spice Tarzan Scent Cologne. In fact, all the gifts were wonderful.”

“Hold it, Darling. Here’s one more.”

“Really, Mimi, you’ve been generous already. The scuba gear and snorkel in the Mudlark’s team colors was terrific. Me and Kaz can go underwater trout-fishing at Mudlark Lake and spear a rainbow or two or snag a catfish on his bad day. Man, that’ll be some good eatin’. And the argyle socks and chalcedony pipe from Milford Tobacco & Confectionary couldn’t be better.”

“Ah, but I have a special gift for you that will make us both happy.”

Gil, eying said box in Mimi’s hand, is curious what an orange rectangular box with a chartreuse bow could contain. He already received a pipe. And tobacco usually doesn’t come in small shoeboxes. Nevertheless, to please Mimi and keep their 30+ year marriage going strong and thusly, the 60 year strip alive and kickin’ to boot, he obliges and rips the wrapping paper from said orange box to see what it is.

Taking the lid off

“What’s this?”

A $500 gift card from Milford Men’s Clinic.

“Well, uh, er, thanks, Mimi, that was sure sweet of you. There’s been a couple things in their catalog I’ve been wanting to get and now I can get ’em. And I won’t have to use my Visa Gold to pay” masking his curiosity/disappointment.

“And they’re even throwing in a free 100-tablet bottle of testosterone so when we go to bed at night, your train will have a little extra diesel in the tank.”

“I always thought I was the Little Train That Could. When I see you in that negligee, I’m always saying “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can…”

As Mimi gets more sexy-talkee but sounding like Bert and Ernie to throw off the kids

“Yes, but now that little itty-bitty trainee can get over Mount Everest and just zoomie!!!!!!!!!! zoomie!!!!!!!!!! zoomie!!!!!!!!! into Grand Central Station. Petticoat Junction never felt better as long as you washee downee 1 pill before bedtime with a dwinkee of water. Can’t dwinkee Nestlé’s Quik, that’s a no-no.”

“Mommy, are you saying Daddy doesn’t know how to drive a train? They always stay on the track. Did Daddy get caught for drunk-driving? Is that why the Milford & Oakwood Express crashed into the Milford Adult Shoppe?”

“No, Honey, it’s just that sometimes the conductor needs to shovel an extra couple of scoops of coal in the fire and he’ll be comin’ “round the mountain with 6 white horses, the train right behind, whistling “God Bless America”. Oh, the pleasure Mommy will feel feel when those horses win by a nose at the Kentucky Derby.”

“But Daddy, you don’t look sick. Mommy, why don’t we take him to the Milford
Minor Emergency Center? The doctor can stick the thermometer in his mouth if he has a fever.”

“Keri, it’s OK. Daddy isn’t sick. I won’t need a thermometer for this one. Mommy means well and is only trying to help.”

“But what’s wrong, Daddy?”

“How do you answer that one? I could have told her the truth but I never discuss my affairs in bed with ANYONE, let alone my own kids. The birds and the bees would come at a later time. To try to explain to my daughter, in one of our many nature walks through Milford Woods, that that tanager finch in that elm tree has Erectile Dysfunction could literally fly over her head. I knew I had to use that gift card and pump up my sex life. And, boy, am I doing just that. I took a testosterone tablet, washed it down with Evian Kiwi Lime Water, and I could tell the difference. A pin-up of Josie & The Pussycats got me harder than Plymouth Rock. And Mimi told me the other day that I breed better than a horse. Shoot, it’s nice knowing that if I were a stud, I’d have a lineage of Triple Crown Winners. What a great feeling that I could outperform Mr. Ed in another life!!!! BTW, I used the remaining $20 on my gift card to buy some rubber toys. Waste not, want not, I always say. Now Mimi’s rubber ducky has friends to play with in the bathtub and Mimi’s feelin’ fine. All from one pill and a glass of tap water from my Moen faucet. But don’t take my word for it. Come on down to the Milford Men’s Clinic and see for yourself. What do you men have to lose but your virginity?

Hey, Kid, acting like Drew Dandey

Acting like a jerk, fielding like Pez Candy

Never know what might come around

I’d bet my money on the Lemon Heads wrapper on the ground

Oh, Barry is eternally stuck to his age

And the log table won’t be found

B-B-B-Barry and the Jets!!!!!!!

You and Moose are in an ego race

Oh, Barry, I think he’ll win

He’s got an attitude

Zits multitudes

He needs Oxy-5 for his face and his mindset

B-B-B-Barry and the Jets!!!!!!!

P1: “I recommend the new Norelco XL251 Triple Blade Action Razor. If you want to get the scouts’ attention at the combine, you gotta look like Hare Krishna. Can hit for power and field a ton. You’ll wow ’em with those credentials. A contract with the Toledo Mud Hens is in the bag. Gotta start somewhere.”

And since when has Moose started suddenly being Bader’s evil twin? Yeah, you flip the ledger and you get the same result. Bader has at least stuck to the sport and has had several moments fielding and hitting. Even won a game or 2 in the process. Moose has had a Slinky of a career, never sure if it’s going down the steps or in the heating duct by the stairwell wall. Yeah he leads the Conference in home runs and is carving a niche. But notice the gerund. Moose, Heather’s not there this time if you get into a slump. Better choose your words, or sport, carefully before talking to Marjie. Otherwise, you’ll put your foot in your mouth when you’re 28 attempting to explain to Marjie why you think you belong in the Milford Lanes Bowling Hall of Fame even you couldn’t pick up the 7-10 split because you had poor launch angle on the gutter ball.

At Milford Ball Park one afternoon

“OKAY, MUDLARKS, LEMME HEAR YOU, GOOD ‘N’ LOUD!!!!!!!! Take me out to the ball game, take me out to the crowwwwwdddddd…….


“I’ve been running down Coach T for 60 years but I doubt I will be doing the same thing when I’m 139 years old. I’ll either retire to Antarctica or retire here in the WDIG booth. Life expectancy in a comic strip is not all peaches ‘n’ cream. Just ask Smidgens.

Is your family covered in case you die or will you get phased by Peanuts, Featuring Good ol’ Charlie Brown? Are there payments to make on cars, houses, garage roof repairs, college tuition, etc.? Who would pay them? I don”t know about you but Peaches would be clueless should I die in an accident and Biff and Gonzo are knocking at her door, demanding payment on the bundle I lost at the roulette wheel in somebody’s basement on the other side of town. I don’t want her wearing concrete shoes at the bottom of Mudlark Lake.

That’s why I took out a policy at Milford Mutual. It pays a lump sum of $250,000 plus Accident and Dismemberment Insurance good for up to $100,000. I have peace of mind knowing Peaches is financially covered should Biff and Gonzo get the wrong house and she’s confined to ICU at Milford General.

And if Peaches was running around on me as I suspected she had been for years and tries to go behind my back with that shotgun wedding, there’s a Trust Fund for her children if unfortunate circumstances get the better of the day. For pennies a day, a $200,000 Beneficiary Policy comes in handy. Since a legal guardian is required to monitor the Trust Fund, Milford Mutual supplies a trustee appointed by the Milford Circuit Court at no extra cost to you. Thank goodness, because I was worried that Peaches might have to make an appearance on Judge Judy. i’d rather not see Peaches get bitched at for 1/2 an hour.

See your Milford Mutual agent today. Your policy is waiting. Come and get it before Coach T. gets a hold of it and runs it and his players into another losing campaign. Your money and the players deserve better.”

Gang, fire away. I feel like I’m on The Chopping Block trying to get this out. Let me get past the First Round anyway. I promise i’ll make a better egg plant souffle ‘n’ Oreo Cookies next time.

May 29, 2018

Get Busy Playin’ Or Get Busy Dyin’, Barry.


Hoo boy. When spoiled brat Bader doesn’t get his way and threatens to take his attitude and go home, as if that were threatening ANYONE, does he do an about-face after getting blind-sided by some angel (or the Derby jerk, you decide) on the road to Damascus and repent and consequently bow 5 times to Mecca every day, reciting “There’s no ‘I’ in the word ‘team'” from the Koran? Do you really want me to answer that?

He is in rare form today as he just about tells the team that he’s The Franchise and that he is holding out for more money and that he’s worth more than Coach Kaz, Coach Thorp, and Luhm’s time-and-a-half on the weekend when Luhm is pulling that bedraggled chain link fence to smooth down the baseball diamond. And I hate to bring up Jerry Pulver again, the KING of attitudes (trust me on that one) but at least he had the game to back up his immaturity. Bader’s decent but really not in a position to be a poster child for Preparation H for the month of February as he’s displaying in P1.

And apparently out of fear from Thorpiverse that we might, out of disgust for the development of ANOTHER bad plot a-brewin, switch over to Buzz Sawyer and Roscoe Sweeney (“Thank God Marty isn’t here to second-guess Buzz’s investigations at the strip joint”), Thorpiverse inserts a lame sidebar a/k/a HOR-hay pulling a Moose on us and trying his hand at pitching. Did HOR-hay go the way of Robert Johnson and sell his soul for an effective change-up or slider? Only the witnesses at the Milford/Oakwood crossroads know the answer to that one. Not that we’re pressing the issue, you understand.

Gang, I honestly tried. My dad has always taught me to never be predictable when doing comedy. He was right. As a part-time actor, he knows a thing or two about keeping the act FRESH.

Still, with that in mind, this was hard to pass up and the lyrics just wrote themselves as you’ll soon see. And because I truly love my dad and therefore really dig his reverence for Warren Zevon, it was a no-brainer. God, the miles we have gone listening to “Werewolves of London” going all the way back to my teenage years. And as a bonus, you whippersnappers, I’ll betcha didn’t know that Mick Fleetwood was on drums and John McVie was on bass (yes, Fleetwood Mac) accompanying Mr. Zevon. Small world, eh? Anyway, another offering from Zevon, sung to “Boom Boom Mancini”, sit back and enjoy:

From Milford, God knows where, Boom Boom Bader was born

A heavyweight pretender, like father, like son

They acted like buttholes to everyone they met

And they stuck Father Bader down in Cell Number One

So hurry to the ballpark, hurry right away

Boom Boom the Wienie’s fighting Coach Thorp today

Hurry to the ballpark, hustle on your way

Boom Boom the Wienie’s sittin’ flat on his “A”

When Coach Kaz gave Boom Boom a royal tongue-lashing

Boom Boom pouted and moped, he was thorny as a rose

Boom Boom does have the speed and the fielding prowess

But if he can’t take the punches, he should stay in street clothes

So hurry to the ballpark, hurry don’t be late

Boom Boom the Wienie’s gonna up and seal his fate

Hurry to the ballpark, hurry don’t delay

Boom Boom the Wienie’s gettin’ a benching today

When he lost his position cuz he’s a long-standing prick

Never should have fought him, Derby dude was a dick

They made hypocrite judgments after the fact

But the name of his game is be a jerk and jerk back

So hurry to the ballpark, hurry if you can

Boom Boom the Wienie’s sittin’ down with no plan

Hurry to the ballpark, hurry don’t be late

Boom Boom the Wienie’s gettin’ singed by his teammates

Loved your music, too. Warren. Miss ya.

If ya got nailed by the home plate umpire for “illegal pitch” because your change-up, curve, and slider went higher than 12 feet but the batter crushed yore slider for a home run anyway because the umpire had his left hand out in a fist, signaling “delayed dead ball”, ya might be a redneck.

Then there’s the Rogues Gallery again. I know, I know, I hear you Baders out there saying “T. Drew”, don’t beat a joke in the ground, you’ve already mentioned that one”. I’m glad SOMEONE cares to read my comments on the Comment section, nice to know that SOMEONE besides my mother reads what I have to say but P2 just REEKS of Mr. Freeze/Egghead. Both were bald, right? Just pick out the one you want and go with the flow. And at least I’m switching gears and jumping from Dick Tracy’s frying pan to Batman’s oven. Anyway, he and The Riddler are giving Bader an earful, pointing out that when Batman’s criminals are not terrorizing Gotham City, or Milford at rush hour, they DO take one for the team. Didn’t Egghead get down and dirty and soil his uniform for the winning run? You can look it up, Yogi.

“So much for launch angles. It looks like Gil’s trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Moose, next time, hit the batting cages at Milford Bat ‘n’ Putt and don’t use the machine spitting out plastic balls at 40MPH. And, Coach, loosely speaking, batting tees are for T-Ball, not floppy-haired teenagers who tried their hand at quarterback. And we’ll be right back after this commercial break, with the score, Oakwood 8, Milford 2, you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

Off the mike

“He’s back!!!!!!! He’s back!!!!!!!! Pay up!!!!! Told you he couldn’t bite the bullet on Coach T!!!!!!!”

“Those Anger Management classes at Milford Community College didn’t do diddly. Talk about a silk purse from a donkey’s ear.”

“Daddy, Mommy said you need an erector set. But I already have one in my toy box. You gave it to me for Christmas, remember? Don’t you remember when I made WDIG Station out of it? The doggie chewed up Studio 3 but you can have the rest of my Lego blocks.”

Spits out his Evian while teaching Keri the fine art of putting at Milford GC, at a random spot on the green at hole #5, par 4, dog leg left.

“Well, Honey, Mommy probably meant to say something else. But you’ll learn all about it in Health Sciences class this Fall at Milford Elementary.”

“WOW!!!!!! You mean they have erector sets in Health class????? I want to learn how smoking hurts your body!!!!! I saw a Lego guy puffing from a cigarette. The teacher pumped smoke into his chest. It burned about 40 Lego blocks. There was a great big hole in his body. Some of the naughty boys aimed their paper airplanes at it. A couple of boys got sent down to the principal for shooting spit wads at it.”

Gil, trying to recover, pulls out his Copenhagen Long Cut Wintergreen from his back pants pocket

“Well, blub, blub, I won’t have that problem, no Holy Chest from this snuff I’m putting in my mouth. Maybe from my incisors but I brush with Colgate with Fluoride twice a day.”

Keri, oblivious to the chaw Daddy is cramming in his gums

“I want to build Mommy’s body and learn ALL ABOUT how bad smoking is for you. But, Daddy, I have a problem. The doggie ate a lot of the pieces and I don’t know if I have enough Lego blocks to fill out Mommy’s boobs.”

Choking on his Copenhagen, his gums a black-chartreuse mix

“Keri, I think you’ll learn all you need to know about smoking this year and if you don’t have enough Lego blocks, I can special-order them. I kept the 800 number for lost toy parts. I’ll call this evening and the FedEx truck should swing by the house in a couple of days.”

“Thanks, Daddy, maybe you can special-order an erector set yourself. HEY!!!!!!! I GOT IT!!!!!!!!! You can make a horse!!!!!!! I always hear you saying that Marty’s a horse’s ass. I still have some blue squares, the dog didn’t eat those.”

“Blib, Blob, Bloopy, Oopy-Doopy-Doopy, GREAT SHOT, Keri!!!!!!!!! You didn’t need a putter’s aid that time. Atta way to line up the ball. Drive for show, putt for dough. WAY TO GO!!!!!!!!”

“I knew I had to confront my Erectile Dysfunction problems when Keri went behind my back and bought another erector set. It was bad enough that she used Mimi’s credit card but a yellow horse with a blue butt, some still with teeth marks, just didn’t look good on the coffee table next to the lava lamp and the ’63 Mudlark yearbook. I tried explaining to my poker buddies when we meet on Tuesday that it was an art project at school but I was dead meat when one of my buddies told me that his daughter was in the same art class and they were doing Henri Matisse using only Crayolas. I was trapped.

Fortunately, the Milford Men’s Clinic helped me avoid any more embarrassing conversations. They have treatment programs that work. I gambled on 4th-and-1 with my Visa Gold and not only got the 1st down, I ran in the end zone with the winning TD!!!!!!!!! I spiked the ball and did the Ickey Shuffle in celebration and in bed!!!!!!!!!!! Mimi enjoyed every minute of  my slam-dunking the goal post!!!!!!!!!!

Now I can show Keri how to drop the ball when she shanks one in Milford Nature Center and I am more confident under the sheets. 2 in, 3 out is confined to the golf course, I am happy to say. As a bonus, I sent that horse to Marty as a token of my welcoming him back. He’ll figure out the color scheme. At Milford Men’s Clinic, it’s all black and white, no chewed-over blue Lego blocks to cover your you-know-what. Mine is covered nicely and I have peace of mind. Come check ’em out yourself. You’ll be glad you did.”

Finally, to regurgitate the question, but in a different way, what measures does Bader pursue to solve the obvious problem, i. e., he’s a self-centered lout growing up to be just like his dad, sans prison outfit? Look in the mirror and decide he’s had enough? He will suddenly realize, through an epiphany, that there’s 8 other guys on the ball field, more in the dugout? Boy, the money I could make selling property in Milford Valley if anyone truly believes that one.

No, Bader, to repair a jerky image cuts the Gordian knot and bares his soul to Daffy at the Milford Enquirer. Let her pour ketchup on her cheese fries before you spill your guts, BB.

I mean, come on, does he REALLY think he’s going to get anywhere selling his rights for a story to keep his teammates from laughing at him? I personally wouldn’t throw a match at the gasoline tank and find out. But it’s his funeral. If he thinks he can repair his image by explaining why he’s a jerk in the column next to Gil and Mimi being taken up in a UFO for one night rather than the annual trip to Mudlark Lake Resort or Coach Kaz explaining how Vitamin B1 enhanced chest hair growth or longer sideburns, more power to him. Oh, you know you saw this one coming

Today’s Headline from the Milford Enquirer


sub headline

“Daddy Bader was out of town on business trips many times to promote the new line of ice boxes.”

Gang, I forgot to mention yesterday to please thank a Veteran. Personally, I take 5 minutes out of my day to thank 1 Veteran for his services to our country but  I understand everybody’s different. The point is DO SOMETHING to let our Veterans know they’re appreciated. If EVERYBODY would do SOMETHING, the world would be that much better. And our  Veterans would be taken care of, in the bargain.

Gang, it’s your turn. Bonus points if you can sock it to Bader but, hey, we’re not picky around here.


May 22, 2018

Violent Bader has struck again!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 4:29 am


Acting like a cow’s ass

Yanked out by Coach Kaz

Arguing my life away

When will I grow up

My brain’s got the hiccups

My maturity is on display

Here, let me put my Violent Femmes record back in its jacket before I gripe. No sense spitting on vinyl. Okay, NOW, you mean to tell me that reruns happen in comic strips TOO???? We could have put today’s action in a random sequence 2 years ago in the baseball shenanigans and I bet if you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have noticed it.

All right, keep an open mind, Mimi Thorp, at the tail end of the Girls Softball season, having won the Conference with an unblemished 2-0 record, in a random game, take your pick which one, in P1 (2 years ago, bear in mind) on Any Given Day

“Mr. Umpire, you are The Way, The Truth, and The Life, all Decisions are made perfectly and with the best intentions, no girl can’t go to the Umpire-in-Chief but through You and any girl ejected by You is automatically thrown to the alligators in Milford Swamp but isn’t that Infield Fly? A pop-up was hit by the batter that a fielder could catch with reasonable effort. Therefore the batter is automatically out and runners run at their own risk. I admit Daffy Duck shouldn’t have gone to the concession stand for a Slushee but she DID slide safely into 2nd base.”

P2 – “Fellow Way, The Truth, and The Life, you are ABSOLUTELY right. We made that a point of emphasis in this year’s rule book. Mimi, you know how to motivate your girls to play to their potential in this long 5-game season better than any of the Joe Blow or Jane Blow coaches that have coached against you for 60 years and I know you’ll have them prepared and in proper conditioning when the League expands the season by a game next year and-”



Okay, okay, so somebody might have noticed but not in the morning before the first cup of coffee. When they’re driving to work at the Milford Foundry, I’m sure the discrepancy would kick in. But by then, Thorpiverse has worked its magic. GOTCHA, Thorpiverse would say. Next time, don’t read Garfield first and you should be able to sift through each panel as if it were Pearls Before Swine. Take an extra cup of decaffeinated and Coach Thorp won’t be deciphered a la Prince Valiant. Make it easy on the eyes.

That Bader stare in P2 is golden. Not only is he honked because he’s not batting leadoff but now he’s getting an unwanted talking-to that is merely a diversion if you faithful fans have been keeping score. P3 is just BEGGING for a set-up job. I mean, we KNOW Bader is playing 2nd base, he will NOT be taking a dump in the Port-o-Let in left field when the Derby jerkoff runner is trying to send a message with his hard-nosed slide into 2nd base, where naturally, Bader will be waiting for the onslaught. After all these reruns, did anyone expect Bozo the Clown to sustain the impact?

“Next time, get out of the way, clown!!!!!!!”

Um, yeah.

Wait, just a second

I can’t find Second

It was here just a minute ago

Socks the Cat ate it

We gotta be creative

Don’t want the readers to know

Okay, gang, so I’m taking the Violent Bader concept a bit too far with that last stanza but WHERE THE HELL IS SECOND BASE IN P3????? Now, after taking a breathalyzer test and the dust has literally and figuratively settled, I THINK it’s that clump to the right of the runner barreling in on us. Gang, ya better take your 3-D glasses off or that Derby runner could be in your lap and then you’ll have popcorn all over the floor and Junior Mints stains on your Arrow sports shirt. Eat your Chuckles before Bader’s butt lands on your face. Man, THAT will get you drummed out of The Corps.

Oh, and we’re STILL trying to find 2nd base. Nothing like Han Solo to be firing on all cylinders and be just wasting his ammunition on some void near Cygnus X-1. And after all is said and done, if that clump just happens to be fresh cow manure… no, surely not.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Fan Arrested at Milford Baseball Game!!!!!!!!”

Sub headline

“Reported to be chasing a stray cat with a butcher knife near the bullpen.”

Down at The Bucket

We just say F— it

Forget about the game today

Order a milkshake

Wish they had Shake ‘n’ Bake

Frittering sports away

Socks the Cat eats at The Bucket. A finicky eater, normally prone to Purina Cat Chow Special Blend or to a hapless bird out of a bird bath, Socks can’t resist that good old-fashioned Bucket Burger, the Sandwich of Choice for the last 60 years. Made with 100% pure beef, made from the finest grain-fed Black Angus cattle direct from Circle M Ranch, a subsidiary of Milford Farms Inc., Socks will be the first to tell you that the Bucket Burger contains no hormones. That’s a sure-fire way for Socks to grow cat whiskers, nice and supple. And Socks can add CHEESE to the B-Burger. That’s right, 100% Grade A slices sure to add excitement and make Socks’ coat all that more shiny and new. And, boy, a slice of Monterey Jack is sure to cure Socks’ ED problems. If you see a litter of kitties in a garage somewhere, you have Sharp Cheddar on a Double B-Burger to thank for the endeavors.

Okay, gang, MARTY’S BACK!!!!!!!! And what better way to lose count over the days he was gone, yeah, I know, some of you bean counters marked an X with a highlighter on your Milford Janitorial Supply calendar, but the rest of us have gotten older and senile, ANYWAY, what better way to welcome back the Prodigal Son than with a 21-Gun Salute. Sung to “Gone Daddy Gone”

There he was in the bar

Brain was overrun from mental scars


He was Gone Marty Gone

For many weeks

He was Gone Marty Gone

He couldn’t speak

Drank a hefty keg of Cutty Sark awaaaayyyy

Fired from ‘DIG for God knows when

It felt like Gil sent him to the Pen


He was Gone Marty Gone

The Parrot squawked baseball

He was Gone Marty Gone

The fans remained faithful

Still came to watch the ‘Larks get down and playyyyyyy

Anyone thinking Moon has changed

Won’t downsize Gil, they’re deranged


Cuz you’re Gone Daddy Gone

Read The Family Circus

You’re Gone Daddy Gone

Beyond a decent purpose

The Moon is back to bitch another daaayyyyyyyy

Fire when ready, gang. Socks the Cat and Marty are open game, not to mention the base or fertilizer in P3. Might wanna stick your toe out just to see which is which.

Older Posts »

Blog at