This Week in Milford

December 5, 2019

Because Coach Thorp Won’t Take American Express.

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Must we CONTINUE this comedy of errors, now that December is well under way? Is the check going to bounce and we take the whole month before we have sufficient funds in the savings account at Milford State Bank? I know The Joker paid a visit but I thought MSB was a member of FSLIC. Does it have to get approved by the Milford School Board before the financial pipeline reopens?

You better hope that Chet Baker’s card isn’t declined. It might be around The Super Bowl when Chet is able to pay the minimum again. Apparently all those charges he ran up on the photocopier caused the card to go over the limit. He doesn’t pump THAT much gas into his vehicle at the Milford BP.

At the Milford Walgreen’s

“Okay, sympathy card, friendship card, bag of Cheetos, personalized gym bag, Nike sneakers off the clearance table, Dickies work socks-12 pair, your friend’s prescription of atorvastatin from the pharmacy, windbreaker jacket, and Ecco Domani Pinot Grigio in the 1.5 liter bottle. Do you have your ID with you?”

“He’s underaged. I’m his step-dad. Here’s my driver’s license.”

Showing a picture of Chet Baker at 18 when he was beardless. Clerk is stupified momentarily by the transformation from Skeezix to Alley Oop. Clerk recovers nicely.

“That’ll do ‘er. It’s going to be $134.76. Go ahead and slide your card. BTW, is this all for your friend?”

“Everything but the wine, sir.”

“I know what you mean. If I played football for a guy who spends more time at Mr. Wilson’s house than on the footba-Oh, it says your card was declined.”

“Damn, I made an online payment yesterday. After I sent back Chance’s Gibault School records.”

 

After watching College Football scenes involving unsportsmanlike conduct penalties, many were deserved but getting flagged for embracing your school mascot was a bit much, in my view

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O. J. Suspended From Milford Parks & Recreation Adult Flag Football League For One Week!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Just because I hugged my grandma after scoring the winning TD? Cheap call, Man.”

 

Just when we thought we were devoid of Pantheon of Mysterious Objects and the readers who are mystified by them, Thorpiverse would have to inject itself with another dosage of M.C. Escher.

We THINK Charlie’s combo dresser drawer-file cabinet-triplicate safe deposit box (where I would have hidden Chance’s records after jumping from the second story of Milford School Corporation Annex, contraband in tow) is facing towards Chet and Charlie. That would be only logical.

“I’ve told you 3 times the cabinet isn’t parallel with that wall!!!!!!!!!  The window is perpendicular to it!!!!!!!!!!! This isn’t Office Depot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You’re grounded for a week!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And stop calling me ‘Chet’!!!!!!!!!!!!”

And Charlie, if you’re not smart enough to figure out that your step-dad didn’t think you could handle the competition because your STEP-DAD EVIDENTLY COULDN’T HANDLE THE COMPETITION, you need to get off the computer for a season (oops, bad noun, that might take forever, knowwhutImean?) and smell the Folger’s. Geez, no wonder why your Chippendale belongs in the Crazy House of Mirrors at the Milford State Fair.

 

If yore pissed off cuz Milford Guns ‘n’ Ammo won’t accept Amer-ee-cun X-press and yore Milford Guns ‘n’ Ammo Visa Debit card maxxed out and they won’t take yore SNAP card as col-lat-ur-al ta obtain the necessary shells ta shoot a squirrel that’s been hibernatin’ in yore oak tree in the front yard, ya might be a redneck.

 

P2-Boy, are YOU leaving yourself wide open with that question, Chet.

If I were Charlie

“For starters, if you’re going to grow a beard, stop dipping it in the Cool Whip. We had to go the Milford 7-11 on Thanksgiving on an emergency for the 3 pumpkin pies. It’s embarrassing when I have to explain to all my friends why you have an Oreo face.

“He gets that way when there’s no Arm & Hammer in the Lazy Susan.”

After 2 hours of intense negotiations

“And when we play pitch and catch, no more going to Coach Thorp’s garage to borrow the Nerf football.”

“But Gil never use it because he’s too busy being absent because he’s on permanent vacation at the Milford Country Club Golf Course.”

I think there’s some things you can agree to disagree on, Charlie. Union can’t have everything when negotiating with management. Give and take.

“And Chet? Would you like a Certs Peppermint? I have plenty in my paralleogram file cabinet.”

 

Because I was intrigued by a house at the T of the T intersection that was protected by a guard rail, 3 red warning signs, a yellow warning sign with arrows pointing in both directions JUST NOT STRAIGHT TOWARDS THE HOUSE, and some barbed wire as a throw-in

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Barricades House After Near-Miss From A Milford National Guard Training Exercise!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Those saw horses out of Industrial Arts class ought to make those tanks think twice when they approach Jaime and Keri!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

And what would a teenager do with a credit card for a few days?

After Milford FINALLY ends football

CHANCE, WE’RE GOING TO DISNEYWORLD

 

Ooooooookkkkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is back to restore sanity and hopefully expedite the end of the football process. My money’s on Gene to do so, Gang. Take ‘er away, Gene.

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought she could use Chet’s Visa card to buy _________________________”

 

So THAT’S what happened to Gil’s Nerf Joe Montana Pigskin Special. An anonymous Mudlark and Stick-Figure Face the Zebra are playing pitch and catch of their own. You get that way when you’re mopping up the competition judging by the caption in P3.

I almost thought it was Valley Tech judging by the language that Jabba the Hutt speaks on the player’s shirt but don’t believe Jabba uses the letter “M”. Jabba the Hutt EATS Mudlarks, doesn’t cheer for them.

What is scary is that after we’ve played Musical Chairs reading Chet’s death knell, P3 may be the extent of the football action in this last game. Anytime I see a referee with a hokey-pokey face (“You put your whole chin in, you pull your whole chin out…”) , I’m not bettin’  the ranch, Gang. Especially when Gil dug a trench all the way around his house. When a tricycle couldn’t cross GDMZ (Gil’s Demilitarized Zone) , it’s time to hang up the cleats on this one after you’ve dug all the mud outta the spikes. Subpar, indeed.

“That ends the 3rd quarter. Nobody knows the score but the script says Milford’s ahead. And we’ll continue this travesty after these messages. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a Division of Learfield Sports.”

“Boy, all this whirlwind of non-activity is working me up an appetite. And making me thirsty.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp for Milford Beverage Warehouse and don’t you know I have a solution for you.

Right now, the Warehouse is stocking Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage in the refrigerated section. You can’t miss ’em, they’re next to the daiquiri section in Aisle 2. And instead of egg nog, why not sample some Gil Thorp Mild and Meek with your favorite 24-pack like Michelob Ultra, a bargain at 25.99 and for only 2 bucks more, you got that and my sausage guaranteed. Don’t know boutchoo but Michelob Ultra and fruit cake don’t cut it at my Christmas party.

And Woodbridge Chardonnay and Tennessee Pride Hot ‘n’ Spicy when you and your wife are doing candlelight when the kids are at a slumber party. What a way to ruin a romantic evening. I’m not a fan of sausage flambe. Save your candles for some real eatin’.

That’s why my sausage contains no carbotetrafluorophenols. I light a fire under my players’ butts without having to consult the manual at Dow Chemical. And I don’t light my Double Whopper Sausage and Cheese with them. For $8.77, you got the Chardonnay and Cheese Sausage in Paradise.

And I add a chaser of Maker’s Mark Whiskey to my Gil Thorp Fried Italian Sausage and Lunch-on-the-Go is never the same. And to sweeten the pot, for every flask of Maker’s Mark you purchase at $23.99, the Warehouse will throw in a package of Gil Thorp Pure Fried Italian Sausage in the bag. Ya gotta request plastic to validate the deal.

And Mimi knows I dig Captain Morgan’s Rum whenever she’s grillin’ my Sausage Mignon medium-rare. On a Dixie paper plate, drinkin’ and feastin’ couldn’t be finer, especially when I remember that the bottle runs at $19.99. Kowabunga.

Come in and have it your way and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.

Comment away. I’m going to use Chet’s Visa card and hit McD’s. Anybody want anything?

ONE-HORNED

ONE-EYED

FLYIN’

PURPLE PEOPLE EATER

Oh, that’s the referee. Never mind.

December 3, 2019

Will Football Last Another 5 To 10 Months?

Filed under: Boredom in Milford, Just plain sad, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 11:09 am

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Ah, Bob Dylan

 

What time is it

Said The Hand

To Charlie when they met

 

5 to 10

Said Charlie

 

The Hand said

That’s what your step-dad’s gonna get

 

Damn, I hate to leave CLASSIC stuff but I’m still trying to figure out what Charlie is wearing under his other shirt.

Now because it appears to be a star, I can’t say that Chance has written

GIL THORP COULDN’T BARF OR COACH HIS WAY OUT OF HIS PERSONAL TOILET IN HIS OFFICE

Don’t you get In-School if that were spotted by some teacher? I think so. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the schools but that or

MS. RIZK NEEDS TO HOT-WIRE HER HEAD OUT OF HER TYPEWRITER

really wouldn’t do justice either.

Oh, okay, one more for you fuddy-duddies who don’t know when to give up

MARTY WASN’T JUDAS ISCARIOT THIS TIME?

Any or all of these inscriptions could grace Charlie’s shirt as long as he doesn’t walk past the principal’s office. And I’m bettin’

DR. PEARL BEGAN WEARING DENTURES DURING THE GILDED AGE

would probably get him in trouble too. Don’t go the way of your step-dad. Charlie. You wouldn’t want to be disgraced being sentenced to wearing a beard that was skinned from some skunk roadkill. Silence is seldom misquoted.

 

BIG shout-out to Iroquois Gardens Apartments of Louisville, Kentucky and their property manager, Melissa Frye. I was pleasantly surprised at the amenities and comfort of my new apartment. Microwave, dishwasher, refrigerator, an excellent atmosphere and space, important for all the books I have and use to get ideas for this site. And Melissa makes a good point, the apartments are run by a corporation but you wouldn’t know it coming into her office. She and everybody else know my name. Looks like personalized service to me. Factor in an affordable price and you got yourself a winner. Stop in and say Hello to Melissa and her friendly staff if you’re looking for a place to live and check it out. I think you’ll agree, this doesn’t compare with many of the apartments in the area. It really doesn’t.

Support Small Business, Gang. You need to go where everybody knows your name.

Now I’m going to take a stab at what is I THINK on his shirt, self-assured Charlie doesn’t want to go the way of his step-dad. I bet it’s Captain America and any time now, if Chet or anybody else continue to mess with Tommy Rich, er, Chance, Charlie will rip off that flannel shirt, fling his shield at these bete-noires and saw ’em in two and Democracy will be restored.

I COULD say that’s a pentagram but there’s no evidence of Charlie belonging to the Milford High School Satan Worshipers Club but I never saw an upside-down cross in the hallway in P1 or in Charlie’s room. I’m sticking with my original Captain America theory.

 

As Charlie approaches Chance, revealing what’s under the flannel shirt

“Smmmmiiiilllleeeee, you’re on Candid Camera”

As Allen Funt comes out of the locker

“Naw, it was one big-ass joke, Chance. Chet Ballard really likes you and never did any of that stuff. In fact, he’s underwriting your scholarship for one of the Power 5 football schools, isn’t that right, Charlie?”

“Yeah, in fact, Nick Saban is coming this afternoon, after he gets done signing autographs at The Bucket.”

 

Come on, you naysayers, Charlie doesn’t pray 5 times towards the Milford Church of Satan. Isn’t this more plausible?

 

We prefer to spend our time

On athletic news

Not wasting our time with some lout

 

And pretend we’ve flipped the lever

And fried his ass to Hell

Leaving no sign of his whereabouts

 

If we could change his mind

If we could alter brain and moral signs

If we could return the way it used to be

We would omit folks with itchy properties

Dig a grave and throw away the key

Focus all our eyes on sporting activities

Scrap his beard and insecurities, you see

 

If only we could change his mind

If only he would change

If we had a gun

We’d blast him again and again

 

And pretend that we’re not happy

Since he went away

Oh, if only we could change his mind

 

Then there’s P2 and this is the raison d’etre of Gil Thorp. Put another way, if The Joker were to rob Milford Federal Credit Union, Milford High School Federal Credit Union, Fort Milford Federal Credit Union, Milford Savings and Loan, Milford Cash Advance (“Just pay back the full amount you robbed by this Friday if you don’t want tbe interest to accrue.”) , Milford National Bank, Milford State Bank, and some kid’s lemonade stand (We’re talking about The Joker, you understand) , Robin is not going to meet Batman on the streets of Milford while Batman is zipping up his cape after a quickie with Catwoman at the Milford Best Western and say “Gosh, Batman, I knew you didn’t have anything to do with The Joker’s crime spree. I knew it all along.”

“Don’t sweat it, old chum. BTW, would you return the room key to the manager on duty? Just tell them somebody dropped it by the ice machine and you were doing your duty as a citizen of the law.”

 

Really, P2 is just a waste of a panel. Why would we suspect that Charlie had ANYTHING to do with all the computer hacking and illegal downloading and performing illegal investigations, executing unoffical business? Like this was a Bonnie and Clyde operation.

That’s right, Charlie steps inside building past security while Chet distracts them by taking a leak in the shrubbery. Chet will get a slap on the wrist and future directions to the restroom and walk away with information Dressed to Kill. Right.

Chance had a hard time calling Chet “Dad”.

 

If ya gotta use the garbage can lid while yuz a Superhero ta fight th’ scum and grime in tha city of Milford except on Tuesday when Milford Sanitary Solutions makes its rounds, ya might be a redneck.

 

Big shout-out to Ryan Roth and Roth’ Pizza of Elberfeld, Indiana. I drove by there the other day and it was a classy operation. I am not surprised as Ryan’s a top-notch individual who was great to work with at TJ Maxx. He sells great pizza and stroms at great prices in a small-town atmosphere. Customer is King with this gentleman. In fact, the only thing bad about him is he hates my favorite teams. Oh well, one can’t have everything. Take exit 29 south off of I-64 in Indiana and take the first exit off of I-164 and follow the signs to Elberfeld. Once you hit Elberfeld, he’s smack dab in the middle of town. Can’t miss him.

Support Small Business, Gang. You need to go where everybody knows your name. Ryan knows mine and has for years.

 

Y’know, I’d hate for those fists in P3 to be bumper cars. I wouldn’t want to call 1-FON-THE-JAWS after my pelvic area got Captain America’d. Nuff said.

 

“And that’s the end of the 3rd quarter here at Mudlark Stadium with the score in this Valley Conference Winter Extension contest, Milford, 27, Oakwood, 10. This is Marty Moon on WDIG-TV, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

On Coach Thorp’s 58,000 acre hog farm that abuts the city limits of Milford, at his homestead

“So you’re saying that if I stop accepting hog meat that was stowed away on The Mayflower that I’ll make more money?”

Robby Howry, fresh from his Accounting 212 class at Milford Community College

“Yes, you will. In fact, we’re studying Tax-credit Procedures that I aced on the exam and there’s a lien surcharge on every crate of pork smuggled out of the ship. But the Milford Town Hall will grant a tax reimbursement incentiv3 on every unused package that Milford High School cafeteria is prepared to dump in the Milford Sanitary Solutions truck.”

“Bull shit.”

“Bull shit?”

“Young man and WDIG-TV, I apologize for the profanity on the air, but you don’t know anything about sausage…”

“…just like you don’t know anything about bookkeeping or coaching?”

“Precisely. We import only the finest pork, some from far-away places, to ensure quality in every bite. Sausage, like Martini & Rossi, only gets better with time. And we use only the finest of spices and condiments to enrich flavor at its peak performance. Import duties are financed by the sausage distillation wing of the processing plant.”

“Wow!!!!!! Nice to know rosemary and sage sold under the table from Laos is honestly financed. And the savings is passed on to the consumer.”

“Gil, did you also tell him that Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage uses no fillers or cheap ungredients in its meat?”

“That’s right, Mimi. Robby, you need to stick to billboards when you’re not reviewing debentures for the quiz. We don’t need Crisco or Elsie the Borden Cow to fatten up our sausage. We use only the finest cuts of Polish Kielbasa so that breakfast and church picnics can experience manna from Heaven.”

“Let me assure you, Robby, I don’t need Crisco or Clabber Girl when I’m frying sausage burgers for Gil.”

“Mmmmmmm, mmmm, why go through the drive-thru at McDonald’s for a McChicken that’s on life-support in the microwave when I can indulge in one of Mimi’s Double Smoked Sausage & Cheese Patty Melts? Tennessee Pride couldn’t process a Junior Whopper with their sausage.”

“Gee, Coach, you’re right. It’s like telling Burger King to make Whoppers out of Veggie Burgers. I wouldn’t change a thing.

“Here, Robby, so there’s no hard feelings after you trashed my husband, here’s a Triple Decker with Onions. And I’ll pour you a Frosty Root Beer, no charge.”

“Oh boy!!!!!!!!!!! I’m in Heaven!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“No, Robby, you’re in Milford, home of the finest sausage in the land. Come get a package of Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage today at your local grocery outlet. Remember, sausage and coaching go together like pork fritters and fries.”

Comment away. I’m headin’ to Milford IGA because I understand that Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage is tastier than George Jones’ Sausage. Except George was adept in his profession but I’ll try anything once.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Vandals Caught While Trying To Excavate Plymouth Rock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Spokesperson from Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage denies any connection with the crime. ‘Our meats come from above the ground.”

Edited to add: Long time readers may have noticed a delay in posting of the images for the strip last week. This was due to an extended sojourn in the Tortolita mountains of the Sonoran Desert, a few photos from which appear below with T. Drew’s permission and encouragement. – TimP

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November 28, 2019

Get Out Of This Comic Strip, You Misguided Puppet.

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For Thanksgiving,  I wish nothing but the finest for all of you. May God have you prosper at work, at home, and with your family.

I am VERY thankful for the TWIMers who keep this thing going. You amaze me, people. What started out with one person has branched out into a pitch-in campaign and that’s what makes the humor that much more effective. In the nearly two years on the staff, I humbly sit back and watch you people write your stuff and I am never disappointed.

I am nothing without Jesus Christ. He makes it possible to write this nonsense and I praise Him several times over. He has blessed me on the site and off the site, i.e., my family, home, work, everyday living, and that makes Thanksgiving truly a holiday for me.

You may worship a different God. If so, give Him your best if you don’t worship mine, is all I ask. Either way, a HUGE thank you for all that you do, Gang. Again, Thanksgiving is not the same without you. You all mean the world to me.

 

Is Chet Ballard in trouble. How else could you explain the extra Magic Marker stains on his forehead, hair, apparel, beard, well, I wouldn’t go that far on the last one. Maybe lice but not Magic Markers. The lack of trimming of his beard or ethics is enough of a smudge mark(s).

Black Bart, Snidely Whiplash, The Joker, Jerry Pulver have all challenged Gilberto the last 60 years. As you can see, in spite of lack of coaching or styling mousse (dips his hair in the same vat where Crayolas are allowed to cool and settle) , Gilberto is always Last Man Standing. What makes Chet think he’d be an exception? When you have a weasel for a School Superintendent suddenly coming across like Wyatt Earp, Chet should have seen the signs. Wrist snapped back into place after Howard Elston nee Elston Howard finally got his Tinkertoy parts FedExed, conversations with Filet Mignon Head the Receptionist, Mrs. Roh appearing on Divorce Court. You didn’t notice, Chet? You might have a fine six-shooter but if Gil’s been lugging around a cannon for six decades…

“I’m Doug Llewellyn, reminding you that if you’re husband hasn’t pared his beard since FDR implemented the TVA program and is a stiff-necked lout with more teeth than moral behavior, and try as you might to tell him not to pick the lock on the door leading into the students’ records, let alone hot-wire the Macys’ station wagon when the Die Hard battery failed in his own vehicle, don’t call Don Corleone and have him dumped in Mudlark Lake. Take him to court.”

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Judge Wapner Orders Chet Ballard To Hand Over Stolen Records Of O.J.’s College Transcript!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“A lot of good that did. We still wound up in second place in the Milford Parks & Recreation Adult Flag Football League.”

 

And to think, Marjie and Janis Ian thought that Mr. Flex-Name, er, School Superintendent couldn’t bring Chet to his knees. Amazing what happens when you actually exercise your authority, especially when the crime was painfully obvious. Guess he got his head out of his butt and saw daylight and the truth, whichever came first. This Bud’s for you, Flex.

 

Now I’m helpless, it’s a killing spree

This travesty and farce will drive me to the sea

It took some time to plan where I’m coerced to flee

The Mudlark team is all coming after me

I had no thought about my own reward

I cheated without Chance or Charlie’s firm accord

Just don’t say I’m

DAMNED FOR ALL TIME

 

Andrew Lloyd Webber couldn’t have said it any better.

 

Now, come on, Chet. Extenuating circumstances? We’ve been reading the Milford National Toilet for 3-4 months and have observed Gil not doing his job because he was riding in the back seat with Friday and Gannon and have watched Marjie conduct what amounted to an audit when she wasn’t puking with Sam Finn over Manwiches  and Canada Dry during the same length of time and you can’t lie any better than THAT????? You better upgrade your prevarications to “I was bitten by a zombie and therefore was not in  my right mind when I walked in with the combination to the records vault at Milford High School Complex that I stole from Dr. Pearl’s purse under her Pond’s Cold Cream and walked away with Chance’s time at Devil’s Island when Chance was rooming in the same stockade with Papillon” if you want to earn your 30 pieces of silver is all I can say.

 

If ya turn in a poacher and the Con-ser-va-shun Officer tries ta reward ya with 30 pieces of silver but ya turn it down and insist on a 6-month supply of ammo instead cuz ya cain’t shoot an 8-pointer with 30 pieces of silver, especially during bow season, ya might be a redneck.

 

P2-now that we’re in the High Horse section of today’s strip NO WAY do any censures or castigations of a general nature occur WITH A HALO SURROUNDING HIM OR HER. I know we’re going for the inspiration angle here but Gil cussing out Kaz because the laundry lady forgot to wash all the jock straps before kickoff with Gil environed with St. Elmo’s Fire just doesn’t cut it.

But let’s examine a few more examples for all you stubborn mules who don’t know when to say “uncle”.

“Gil, get out of the trash can!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Milford Sanitary Disposal, Inc. picked up the trash this morning. The Totino’s  Supreme is long gone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Peaches, I’m pumping as fast as I can!!!!!!!!!!!! Why don’t you go brush your teeth? I should be good to go by the time you come to bed.”

“Darling, quit sneaking out with my dentures!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nobody respects a principal  of the school if she metes out In-School Suspension displaying her gums!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There’s an ample supply under the sink!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Oh wow, Beaver, when Dad comes home and finds out that Ms. Rizk caught you jacking off her typewriter, you’re gonna get clobbered!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Somebody’s been dumping rabbit meat in the Spaghetti O’s again and I will fire the next cafeteria lady caught dragging in Bugs Bunny!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Catwoman, I perform oral sex when I’m off the clock!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now it’s time to send you up the river to the Milford Women’s Correctional Facility!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Always after  me Lucky Charms!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The last one was on the house.

 

I did it cuz I had to, I’m the one who saw.

That Chance never polished all his silly flaws

Moreover there’s an issue that I hate to broach

He lacerated the jaws of his clueless coach

I had not thought about my own reward

Though I wouldn’t mind driving home with Gil’s Accord

Just don’t say I’m

DAMNED FOR ALL TIME

 

And I know that Thorpiverse is trying to create the right mood given the situation at hand but does anyone think Il Barbiere di Siviglia as a Moor is a bit much, especially when it’s mixed in with the clown paint before he lets ‘er rip with Vesti La Giubba? I know Thorpiverse and Pagliacci were collaborating in order to ensure proper effect but putting on clown paint when you’re already a clown, let alone that life goes on even if Mrs. Roh runs off with Steve Luhm is throwing one too many irons in the bonfire at the Milford Pep Rally. And Il Barbiere’s nightmare has just begun, not sidetracked looking like The Joker after Catwoman split on you without signing the divorce papers. Looking like Bozo whwn you’re already Bozo anyway isn’t going to stop Pontius Pilate and his Ring of Fire he borrowed from Johhnny Cash from pointing a finger at you. It’s never too late for Il Barbiere to get his A license and drive semi’s.

 

 

On a recent episode of Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw

Racing his butt off in his Range Rover, Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw, after leaving the iceberg in the background that had more parallel lines, eyes his target.

“All right, Goofy, take off your  mask and let me see your driver’s license and registration.”

“But I’m not wearing a mask. I just tanned a little too long on the tanning bed at Milford 24-hour Laundromat.

“That;s what they all say. But I noticed you didn’t bring any Mudlark Cling-Free sheets. Dead giveaway. They always wind up with static on their Breeze towels when the sun lamp goes haywire and they don’t have an updated registration.”

“They’re holding up my face.”

 

And I remember from my school days when I attended a Model UN Conference. I represented Austria so I was mainly a minor player since Austria never mixed it up with, say, the U.S. and the USSR in negotiations. Anyway, we had an issue on the table that involved Israel and the PLO. Naturally, true to the real world model of the UN, the one representing Israel and the one representing the PLO are slugging it out, the rest of us trying to mediate the conflict, again as in the actual UN proceedings.

And somewhere in the middle of the presentations, Israel is flailing of course at the PLO but then, while discussing a potential agreement, the Israel representative yielded the rest of his time to the PLO, something Israel would NEVER do in the UN proceedings.

That’s why I had to adjust my set on WDIG-TV. I could have sworn I saw Marty Moon tell the truth about Gil. Sometimes the antenna outside gets chewed on by the raccoon in the neighborhood. Santa has been known to have had one Mudlar-K-Cola Non-Alcoholic too many and trip over the antenna while trying to get to the chimney with his bag of toys. And sometimes Donner and Blitzen dump their poop around the area.

If Santa curbed his reindeer, Chet’s in a lot of trouble. Chet’s running out of friends and if Marty yields the rest of his time to Gil, it’s time to head to Antarctica. Hope he doesn’t mind living with penguins.

 

Thank you for trashing his personal file

We’re grateful for info that’s meant to hurt

You’ll be richly rewarded with coins by the mile

It’s a pleasure to deal with a man of your worth

 

I DON’T WANT YOUR BLOOD MONEY

Oh, why don’t you take it, our wages are good

I DON’T NEED YOUR BLOOD MONEY

You’ve hurt Chance’s chances, we think that you should

 

Think of the many ways you can spend it

The Bucket, a steak house, The Milford Lounge

Just look at it as payment for setting things straight

30 pieces of silver is the least we can

Least we can

Least we can

Scrounge

 

“Don’t go away. We will return for Chance’s crucifixion on Jesus Christ Superstar after these messages. This is WDIG-TV.”

 

At the Milford Soup Kitchen on Thanksgiving

“Good Lord, I just swallowed an army boot!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage claimed they used no fillers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Anybody know the number of The Shark?”

“It’s bad enough that one person got nailed to a tree and another soon to follow but while you’re keeping track of the 39 floggings out there, you can wash YOUR hands of your own affairs by calling  1-FON-THE-JAWS. Thanksgiving handouts shouldn’t have to be hazardous dump roped off by the EPA.”

“I got a check for $4,754,968,256 from Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage after The Shark took out his 20%. I was able to buy the ladles at the Soup Kitchen and shave my scraggly beard. I got tired of looking like Chet Ballard with hand-me-downs he got from Milford Thrift Store. People were always asking me about insurance while I was in line getting mulligan stew dumped on my tray. Now I can scrape my succotash with day-old Wonder Bread in peace. Thanks, Shark.”

“Insurance companies are hard at work covering their own end. Don’t let Gil drop a fly in your soup. Thanksgiving is a time to be thankful, not sorting out elephant turds in sausage that Mr. Thorp calls fillers. If your own Thanksgiving celebration is wet from all the pee that one of your hobo friends at The Kitchen let loose on the Cool Whip, that shouldn’t stop you from enjoying the pumpkin pie. Get the money you deserve to replace the Cool Whip and enjoy your own rhubarb pie.”

“I got 39,576 tubs of Cool Whip stuffed in my locker at the Milford Shelter. I can eat real pumpkin pie and turkey plus Jimmy Dean Pure Pork Sausage as an appetizer. The rest of the money I’ll invest in long-term bonds. Thanks, Shark.”

“You heard the man. come reap the rewards of your own handout. One call, that’s all.”

 

Thanks for your patience, Gang. Thanksgiving was truly good to me today. Working with my great nephew in basketball, playing games with the rest of the kids, being with my mom and dad and several nieces and nephews, while enjoying my sister’s cooking and watching Thanksgiving football just gave me several more reasons to be thankful. I hope you can say the same.

 

Always knew that I’d be a frickin’ Mudlark

Always knew I’d be one if I tried

Then when I leave school

I can lounge like Gil Thorp

So they’ll all emulate us when we die

November 26, 2019

The Hangover After The Taking Of Mudlark One Two Three

gt11262019

“Mr. Grey, you idiot. Chance’s files wouldn’t be under Ms. Rizk’s typewriter. Have you considered searching in the file cabinet in Dr. Pearl’s office?”

“That’s the difference between you and me, Mr. Blue. I do my own ransacking and it got me to Nixon’s papers. He turned in the tapes to the Milford Enquirer the very next day.”

“Hey, guys!!!! What the Hell are we looking for? His kindergarten records? His Due Process judgment after what he did to that kid at recess?”

“The concept is very simple, Mr. Green. We want to find anything to ruin Chance so he doesn’t even consider the Manwiches at the two-a-days next season. Utilize your machine gun if you have to in order to open the vault. It’s not on time-release so I’m afraid drastic measures may be in order.”

“Gee, thanks, Mr. Blue.”

“You’re quite welcome, Mr. Green.”

 

And BOY O BOY, to quote Harry Carey, we have hit the jackpot today on the Pantheon of Mysterious Objects.

WHAT in the world is that thing on the Macys’ table. A giant cookie? Gazoo’s flying saucer that got trashed by vandals 2 feet tall? DON’T EVEN tell me that’s an Eggo Waffle. Sure, Kellogg’s is starting a new product line of Eggos with raisins in them the size of a Whammo! Frisbee. If you don’t feel like eating it because you’re hung over like Chet in P3 or you’re on a low-bread-and pastry diet regimen, you can always enter the Frisbee Golf Tournament at Milford Beverage Warehouse with that disc flyin’ high. I’ll hit Captain Rum in par or less every time. Baby, I’m nailin’ that refrigerator door that’s housing the Coors Lite in the Warehouse Beer Den. No need to raise the flag, Gentlemen. In the hole.

Now you eat all your sausage bits from that Bucket Pan Lovers Sausage and Pepperoni Pizza, Mrs. Macy. There are starving kids in Oakwood who would devour a slice of that pepperoni. Oh, you gobbled that up already. My bad.

And does Mrs. Macy carry her Electric Shave apparatus to the table at breakfast time? Does she use it to shave Mr. Macy’s head after he evidently went a little overboard on the Rogaine? I mean, he was Lou Grant a month ago. Now he’s Grandpa Cleaver. The only other reason I can surmise at this point is the turkey they have in the oven. Gotta trim the fat the minute you pull it out of the oven. Leftover turkey with shards of lard is not a Thanksgiving tradition at the Macy’s, that much we know.

Now, I think the canister on the counter IS a cookie jar. When I open the lid, it’s either Oreos or Chips Ahoy! No Keebler Elves disguising it as a Mr. Coffee appliance. Now we’re dealing with Thorpiverse so on any given day, as I learned as a coach, be ready. There is so much parity nowadays in College Basketball. But for now, I’ll stick with my original guess, a cookie jar. Don’t talk yourself out of a victory, especially with 10 seconds to go.

 

If ya get drunk after yore kid hit the game-winning home run in the Milford Optimist League T-Ball Tournament and ya cain’t go ta Chuck E. Cheese’s ta celebrate cuz all them animated musicians up on stage, the ones they hocked from Milford Disneyland Park, are makin’ yore head spin that much more, especially when they’s playin’ the Mudlark Fight Song and Good ol’ Rocky Top, ya might be a redneck.

 

And I have been a fan of Ma and Pa Kettle for years, particularly this episode in P1, Ma and Pa Kettle in the Port-o-Let After They Consumed One Too Many Corn Dogs at the Milford County Fair. It ought to be out on DVD next week. I’ll check Milford Video this coming Monday.

 

“Mr. Brown, check in Coach Kaz’s desk. I understand that he was storing a letter he received from the Milford State Corrections Facility, clearing Chance to play football after not getting violent with his cellmates. The one that talks about his earning a Wal-Mart Good Job button. I couldn’t think of a more damaging piece of information to mar Chance’s record.”

“On it, Mr. Blue”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Brown.”

BUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

“This is Lieutenant Garber here. What are you doing out of Mudlark One Two Three, Blue? I thought you had hostages.”

“I revised my methods, Lieutenant Garber. I found I could garner more hostage money holding someone’s reputation at stake.”

AAAAAACCCHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Gesundheit. Blue, how long you gonna stretch this thing out? I mean, Milford has a game tonight. Surely you aren’t going to rain on a kid’s parade?”

“Lieutenant Garber, we killers do what he have to do to attain the prize.”

“Even if it was Gil’s hair?”

“We killers are cold-blooded, not desperate, Lieutenant Garber.”

 

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Hostages Safe From Mudlark One Two Three After Killers Decide To Raid Milford School Corporation Building Annex For Sensitive Information!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Coach Thorp: “It was just a one-night stand and we didn’t take off our clothes. And it was over 30 years ago. I  married her later.”

 

The consolation prize in all this is that Mrs. Roh actually LOOKS LIKE MRS. ROH. No Picasso distortions (Heard at Milford Arts and Science Museum: “Gravel Gertie looks so natural.”) , no Mary Worth disguised as Tootsie Bumstead, no Lois looking like Hi from Hi & Lois, no Hagar the Horrible With Emphasis on Horrible. She is in prime form as she is, through telekinesis from P1, continuing the message and gloating all the while. Gang, can anyone blame her? Thought so.

But, damn, just when it was about to get nominated in the Oscar Category for Best Improvement in Artwork, the silhouette in P2 took Thorpiverse out of the running. Oh well, there’ll be other Oscar ceremonies.

I mean, Chet is trashy and rednecky with that Dalton Georgia Warehouse Carpeting he calls a beard but let’s not get hasty and draw him like George Washington on Mount Rushmore when the latter forgot to shave.

Joe and Jane Tourist at Mount Rushmore one day

“Oh, look dear, the maintenance crew is sandblasting our Forefathers.”

“Honey, they’re just trimming Roosevelt’s mustache. And Jefferson had some 2-day shadow, that’s what the Park Ranger said.”

 

“How the Hell you expect me to find anything by Chance in Gil’s playbook, Mr. Blue? His whole goddam office’s got playbooks he hasn’t used since they landed on the moon.”

“Patience, Mr. Grey. Go to his personal water closet, you might find a picture of Chance caught masturbating on one of the lockers.”

“If you think for one second I’m going to check under the toilet seat-”

“This is Lieutenant Garber here, do you read me?”

“I read you loud and clear, Lieutenant Garber.”

“Hey, Okay, you got us for the moment. But leave alone the time my partner Lieutenant Patrone hid kiddie porn magazines in the equipment shed.  He was just a teenager. Gil threw ’em out and made him run 100 laps. Don’t you think that’s punishment enough? Gil never returned until basketball.”

AAAAAAAAAACCCCHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOO

“Gesundheit. Whatya say, Blue?”

“We can work with that. We want a better football team, not worthless gossip.”

“You’re a pal, Blue.”

“Anytime, Lieutenant Garber. Mr. Green, it’s optimal that you don’t spray that Cruex Anti-Jock Itch can again. Besides, I’m afraid Gil’s office smells bad enough from the time he failed to curb his dog he brought in one Saturday.”

On the other end

“He bought it, Rico. Now where’s that back-up unit?”

“I called the Milford Police. They’re unavailable until after the reserve game.”

“Ya gotta be kiddin’ me. We got a game on the line.”

“Except we’re talking about saving Coach Thorp’s bacon.”

“Sheeesh, I forgot. Can they leave a quarter early?”

“I’ll ask.”

“Tell ’em split like Thorp and Kaz do at halftime.”

 

 

“BTW, Blue, I understand you know who shot Coach Shaw.”

“That is correct, Lieutenant Garber.”

“Well, can you tell me that much?”

“Certainly. it was-”

AAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Gesundheit. Well, what about it?”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant Garber. I’m afraid we have hazardous material all over Coach Thorp’s game films. You’ll have to allow me a few minutes while we tidy things. (Off the walkie-talkie) “Mr. Green, did you fail to take a Contac again? Mr. Brown, see if there’s Sani-Wipes in Coach Thorp’s gym bags. We don’t want to ruin the 2014 season.”

“Right away, Mr. Blue.”

“How long are we going to put up with TNT snout, Mr. Blue?

“We’ve put up with Gil’s coaching for longer than that. Do you want mucus all over the prairie windows for 60 years, Mr. Grey?”

“Better than waiting for this plot to end, Mr. Blue.”

 

P3 just about says it all. Any of you Mountain fans like yours truly knows that on their classic Flowers of Evil (MISSISSIPPI QUEEN, DA DA DA DA DA, YA KNOW WHAT I MEAN…) was a song titled “One Last Cold Kiss”. The last lines of the tune

Once so proud, he’s beaten now

He will not speak at all

Pretty well sums up the song and Mr. Ballard at the breakfast table. That, or he didn’t eat his Wheaties or that Archway Cookie Herman Munster Always Chows Down On Before He Leaves To Go To Work. But I’m goin’ for the sure out on this bad boy. Don’t prolong the inning.

BTW, did anybody check the score? Look again at Mrs. Roh’s cell phone.

 

“Mr. Grey, I won’t say it again. Hand in your gun, Grouch glasses and Gil’s hair so we can all get out of here.”

Up yours, Mr. Blue. At least Gil doesn’t hide behind these Groucho glasses when he’s confronting the ref.”

BLAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“Gentlemen, let us depart. Rest in peace, Mr. Grey. He was going to work with the Milford cafeteria ladies when he got out of this-

BLAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Mr. Brown is shot dead in the Mudlark Girls Gym. Mr. Green escapes through Mimi’s office with Chance’s Boys Town records, especially the citationwhen he was flogged 150 times for saying Father Flanagan never married because Gil beat him to it, and takes a couple of scorebooks that wouldn’t be used until the 2023 season. Extra Kleenex for his sniffles.

“Excuse me, would you mind turnin’ around and droppin’ it? Drop it, I say.”

Mr. Blue drops his gun, scratching the woodwork in the gym.

“Lieutenant Garber.”

“Mr. Blue.”

“Tell me, do you still execute your prisoners?”

“Naw, we ain’t into cruel and unusual punishment no more. Not since The Bucket was converted from a Bed & Breakfast that Gil’s granddad owned before he croaked eatin’ Munchos.”

“Pity.”

Mr. Blue uses his foot to kick on Mimi’s boom box and turns up volume. The Tremeloes’ “Silence is Golden” and the “Flintstones Chewables Theme Song” is blaring from the speakers, motivational tools Mimi uses to get her kids to handle the enemy crowd during the 5-game season.

Mr. Blue’s ears are smoking and his brain is turning into mush.

“Oh my God.”

 

“We will return to the exciting conclusion of The Taking of Mudlark One Two Three after these messages, here on WDIG-TV.”

 

“Man, I wouldn’t want to be in Mr. Blues shoes right about now. Fans have always said my brain is fried but never literally. My noggin is still intact after that end-around takes a loss for 10 yards.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp here. And I got a better way of handling stress and everyday living. That’s why I am proud to announce my new product, Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage. Now I know a lot of you prefer Jimmy Dean or Tennessee Pride. To heck with them. What do they put in their sausage anyway? Word’s out that when the pigs go to the Milford Slaughterhouse that they shoot them Yorkshires buckshot full of lead. I’ve heard of fillers but this is taking things too far. Do you want to eat scrambled eggs and smoky links with bullets from a .22? How do you stick the rifle in the poor pig’s mouth? The slaughter dude evidently has good aim. Or lots of practice.

And I understand that Tennessee Pride stuffs their hogs with Bucket Burgers. Yuck. Don’t know boutchoo, but I don’t want sausages on the griddle that are laced with Big Mac’s. My sausages use the finest ingredients that are seasoned with the finest of spices, just like my mom used to get at the Milford General Store. Whenever I sink my teeth into Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage, I remember the cumin and the thyme mom used to dump on my pancakes. After she poured Aunt Jemima, naturally.

And Mel Purnell is Goooood but, shoot, who wants a hog on the front cover of the package? That’s why me and Mimi and the kids are on every package that you buy at the Milford IGA or Milford Wal-Mart or wherever you shop. Don’t we look natural posing in front of my cousin’s pig farm? You think Dr. Pearl can pose any better on HER sausage package? And Keri rode a 9-year-old female after the photo shoot. Maybe you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear but you sure can ride ’em cowboy before they become the sausage patties you eat after you’ve eaten your toast and drunk your Minute Maid.

Especially the ones we make at Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage. Come taste the difference and see why we say “Don’t get bitter just because our pigs are better.” You deserve some good eatin’ and you’ll get it with Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage.”

 

Gang, have at it. In the meantime, I would like to pull a plug for Mel Purnell and his family. They are solid people who have done a ton for the community. They prove that the product is Goooooooodddd because the people are. I salute you, Mel and family.

 

WE ARE FLINTSTONES KIDS 10 MILLION STRONNNGGGGGGGGGG AND GROWWWIINGGGG

“Attaway, Daphne!!!!!!!!!!!! You looked smooth on the lay-up. Goshen can’t put their crowd on the floor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Lieutenant Garber and Lieutenant Patrone knocking on the door of the Ballard’s residence. Chet hides most of the pilfered records of Chance in the bottom drawer of his bureau, under all his packages of Hanes he’s amassed over all the Christmas’s he got from his wife. The rest he crams in the Amana stove in the kitchen.

I’M COMING

“How many more do we gotta see?”

“Six.”

“Yikes. Times like these I wish I went into real estate.”

“Come on, Mr. Ballard, we haven’t got all day!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I’M COMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Opens the door

“What’s up?”

“Can we come in?”

“Sure!!!!!!!!!!! Make yourself at home!!!!!!!!!!”

“Appreciate the pleasantries but can you account for your whereabouts last night? Chance Macy’s records were stolen.”

“You’re kiddin’ me.”

“Would I be here if I was kiddin’?”

“I was working.”

“Working? I thought you sold insurance.”

“I’m a forklift operator  for Milford Foundry on 2nd shift.”

“Can they verify that?”

“Garber, while you’re talking to him, I need a smoke.”

“Okay, Rico.”

“Let me turn on that stove in the kitchen-”

I’LL GET IT!!!!!!!!!!!!

“It’s a bit tricky. These Amana stoves are as fickle as Gil’s coaching. There, enjoy your Camels.”

“Thanks, Mr. Ballard.”

“Come on, Rico, let’s go. We’ll be back later with a warrant, Mr. Ballard.”

“Look, I know I’m the black sheep of Milford but I would never stoop so low as to do that. I want my own step-son to succeed on the gridiron but I would never be a mole. Now do me a favor, get the Hell outta here!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Ballard.”

As Lieutenant Garber shuts door

AAAAACCCCCCHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOO

“Gesundheit.”

Lieutenant Garber re-opens door.

And the stove door pops open.

November 21, 2019

If These Doors Could Speak.

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If these doors

If these doors could speak

Superintendent lacking a name

Must have been a hell of a resume

Wondering if he’ll show some balls

For cads around us

If these doors could speak

 

They would tell us that they’re sorry

This plot is trash and dumb and weak

They would tell us that it’s really

On a losing streak

That’s if these doors could speak

 

Amy Grant is here with us to skewer this roast that’s long been in the oven too damn long and likely to taste like the worn-out shoe Hank Williams used to croon about. Y’know

Why do they treat us like refried stew

Why does this plot smell like a worn-out shoe

 

Another time with one of the greats. Right now, Amy is the bill of fare and God Almighty it’s time to pay up. Just days ago nobody wanted to go to the Superintendent because of an implied lack of iron rods in his back even with solid evidence.

Suddenly “The Buck Stops at this Cheap Rural King Mahogany Door” is ready to make a stand after Gil and Marjie and Carole King’s half sister comb the city of Milford for fodder they can use against Bluto. I’m sorry, Popeye wouldn’t be stockpiling the spinach wagon until the end of the episode to send Bluto into next week. Olive Oyl would have long since divorced him and ran off with Dick Tracy. Did you ever see Gravel Gertie flush evidence on Flattop down the toilet because Dick Tracy was a wussy? Please.

“You can come out from under Gil’s desk, Tracy. The Mole is gone from the Mudlark Girls Gym and only took the slaughter balls to sell on the black market.”

So maybe MAYBE John Doe Superintendent will have enough spinach in his file cabinet to confront the problem. Otherwise, those Popeye arms are really pillows caused by excessive Bucket Burger intake. When was the last time Popeye threw Bluto around the 3 panels on the strip getting drunk off some Bucket Banana Split(s)?

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Superintendent’s Name To Be Revealed Today After 60 Years Of Neglect!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I just thought it was time to come out of the closet. Gil’s had his name in neon lights on his vanity license plate. Two can play that game.”

Big shout-out to Karen of New Albany, Indiana. She works at the Kroger on Charlestown Road. Every time I see her, she is always bagging the groceries with a smile. You factor in her desire to help customers who may have a little trouble getting the groceries out to the car and you have a winning formula. She always comes to work on time and I am glad to take her there as part of my job. We need more like her. She represents America.

 

If these doors

If these doors could speak

I wonder what bull they’re exchanging now

Stuck on his Sudoku, 2 numbers down

Crucifying a man so dim

His diet’s Slim Jims

If these doors could speak

 

They would say that this plot owes us

More than cash, stocks, or CD’s

They would explain this plot only

Better go take a pee

That’s if these doors could speak

 

P1-Late one night at 1:30AM at the Thorp residence

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRINNNGGGGGGG

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRINNNGGGGGGG

“I’ll get it, Mimi”

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is your favorite anonymous School Board member calling to remind you of your appointment with me at The Bucket on-”

Lady with a drunken voice

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER TWENTY-FIRST

“at”

3:00PM

“If you cannot make this appointment, please give a 24 hour notice to avoid the $50 No-show fee. I have plenty of information that I hacked from the computer that will run Chance out of Dodge City and force him to continue his high school football career in Samoa while my own son will pull a Keith Smart and score the winning TD with only seconds to go. You don’t know me so don’t try to trace me. Several did down at the School Corporation building but they wound up in the corn field like that idiot in that Twilight Zone episode, y’know, where everybody is genuflecting to some kid because he’ll make someone a corn stalk otherwise. Don’t trash Charlie and wind up being a Corn Flake or Fruit Loop yourself.

I look forward to seeing you Thursday. I’ll be the one with the Harley Race gut and shag carpeting some call a beard.

Goodbye”

CLICK

Come to Jeff Smith Marathon in Edwardsville, Indiana. WOW THEY WERE BUSY YESTERDAY. Sounds like a good business to me. There were people pulling in and out to get gas and to get their cars fixed. Of course, there were several cars in the parking lot either fixed or waiting to be fixed. Busy.

The coup de grace was the attendant patiently helping a lady get her tire inflated. That is the kind of service you get at this place, the standard and NOT the exception. You’re doing great, Guys and Gals.

Come see Crystal who was lining things up like a pro and Bre who was doing that earlier in the shift. They are off Exit 118 on I-64 in Indiana. Soon as you get off, go Indiana 62 west and take the FIRST road on the left. Can’t miss these ladies.

Support Small Business, Gang. Keep America striong. You need a place where they know your name anyway. Crystal and Bre and the mechanics at Jeff Smith Marathon know mine.

 

Oh, so now the generic superintendent is going to take a stand and run Liberty Valance out of town.

“Damn straight I’m not going to let John Wayne steal all the thunder and ram Chet’s head into Liberty Valance’s trailer home. I got backbone, y’know.

Can you help me finish this crossword puzzle? 19 down ‘Wrote Gargantua and Pantagruel’.”

“How many letters?”

“Eight. It starts with an ‘R’.”

“Rotterdam?”

“That’s nine. Hey, Luhm, where’s that almanac?”

 

The Clanton Gang sent to an early grave because the one-size-fits-all knew the capital of North Dakota. Priceless.

“I knew it wasn’t Fargo. That’s what a lot of people answer.”

 

If ya call in a poacher ta th’ Milford Fish and Wildlife Ranger Office but ya wanna leave the tip anonymous cuz that’s yore teammate at Milford Lanes even tho he’s well past the bag limit of skunk, ya might be a redneck.

 

Do all the powers-that-be have trees that grew out of the planet Krypton and get transplanted for scenery behind the desk of said official?

The next time I see Honest Abe or Old Hickory posing in front of a set of Encyclopedia Brittanicas and a mutant poplar that’s accommodated one spider monkey too many will most DEFINITELY be the first time.

Lee and Grant signing the Appomattox papers with that thing in the living room? Who’s?going to take it home with their pistols?

 

“Roquefort?”

“That’s a salad dressing, dumbass.”

“Mr. Generic Superintendent, watch your language.”

 

Don’t get me started on P3. Evidently Charlie Chan IV couldn’t make it in the movies (“You don’t have the look”) so now he settles for a receptionist/hacker position at unknown company, presumably still in the same School Corporation building as Marjie and Mr. What’s-His-Name. And I don’t mind different, hey, the melting pot made America but no way will I ever freeze-dry my hair and use a cupcake mold to finish the shape. What is it about liquids we learned in 7th grade Science, they take the shape of their containers? We have an exception here. Papa John’s and Domino’s could design Pan Pizza concepts based on the top of his head.

Then there’s the conversation with Lurch’s brother. Is he the concierge of the School Corporation? Does he open the door for Mr. Generic Superintendent in the morning? Get his #2’s ready when the latter is about to do the USA Today crossword that Lurch Revisited obtained in the lobby? Light the man’s cigars?

“Yoouuuuuuuuuuuu rang?”

“Yeah, Lurch, we need as much dirt as you can scrounge together on Chet Ballard. The nastier, the better. And don’t leave out when he went streaking in that Chick Fil-A body of his when he was in Milford’s Streak to Cure Breast Cancer. Milford Enquirer will have a field day with that.”

“As you wish.”

 

Which only leads to WHAT THE HELL’S ON THE COMPUTER. Gang, Chet may be a scoundrel (trust me) but it’s hard for me to imagine John Walsh talking about him on America’s Most Wanted.”

“Chet likes to sell insurance when he’s not diving into peoples’ personal affairs. He has a?beer belly only the Milford Beverage Warehouse could love. He goes by several alias’s, including Chet Baker. He was last seen wearing a fake beard he bought out of Milford Novelty. If you’ve seen this man, your tip could save the season for the Milford Mudlarks. Call now at 1-888-GIL-HELP.”

 

They would tell you that he’s Rent-a-Supe

A man with no direction and no life

They would tell you that he really

Needs to have a wife

That’s if these doors could speak

 

“Ronco?”

“They make Julienne fries, Marjie.”

 

“Boy, all this action and I need to unwind and take a cold one. And what better way of relaxing after a tortuous 5-game season with the Mudlark Girls Basketball team than heading down to Milford Beverage Warehouse for all my chilling-out needs?

Hi, this is Mimi Thorp, taking my husband’s place who is on assignment and won’t be back for another 60 years. And man, when I see the selection of fine beers and wines, I’m tempted to add another game to the schedule. Lining up the referees to sign the contracts might require an extra Bud or two, but I’ll manage.

And look what I got lined up here. This is better than Correctable Error. Michelob Ultra in the 12-pack, a steal at $10.99. At that price, we’re trapping at the half-court line so WE CAN get the beer back.

And Maker’s Mark Whisky, sold for an arm and my husband’s hair at some liquor places, is a bargain at $24.99. Perfect for when I need to drown in my beer after my star player misses the go-ahead free throw when we should have blown out Goshen by 60 anyway.

And us ladies are in for a treat. For every 30-pack Busch Light we buy at the rock-bottom price of $17.99, The Warehouse will give you a voucher for free ammo and a shoot-out at Milford Conservation Club. Ladies, time to start working on your aim when those clay pigeons and Svedka Vodka bottles come out of the chute. Shoot, for Svedka, I’ll say “pull” anytime.

Come on down and taste The Good Life and have your Colt .45 ready in the trunk. With prices like these, I’ll get that Winchester Gil’s grandpa has stashed away in Gil’s Conestoga wagon in the back. With ridiculous prices and free chances to pretend I’m aiming at Marty’s head whenever the objet d’art flies in range, I know where I’m going after scrimmage. Join me, won’t you? Only at The Warehouse.”

 

Go at it, Gang. I’m going to look up all the dirt about the guy. I’m sure Rent-a-Supe has an interesting past.

 

“Rottweiler?”

“That’s Fred Flintstone’s dog!!!!!!!!!”

“Ruff?”

“That’s Dennis the Menace’s!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Still love your music after all these years, Amy. Your style never gets old. And you live your Faith.

May Jesus continue to bless you.

 

November 19, 2019

I heard Marjie Rapping, Rapping At My Door.

111919

Uh oh.

Whenever Marty casts that evil eye and leaves the Milford Recreational Sports 60th Annual Darts Tournament, you know something’s cooking between those ears of his. You just don’t execute a couple of bulls-eyes while you observe your overmatched opponent possess the aim of a welder when he has his gloves still on while still trying to solder the Anchor Pub sign back into place. The results are all over the dart board, literally, in back of Marty while he soaks in the Bud and the gossip. Sorta like walking and chewing gum at this point, when you think about it.

“Okay, Marty, you’re up.”

“I’ll skip this round. I have a great chance of winning the Masters 60 & Over Tournament later on anyway. Whose my opponent? Roy Gillen? In the bag. Anyway, Chet, so you say he mooned his kindergarten teacher and got due-processed? Before or after the teachers threw an Oreo in his chest at naptime?”

 

Once upon a plotline dreary, our interest weak and weary

I heard a tapping, tapping at my door

Coach Luhm came in to buffer like no tomorrow

We had no aegis with which to borrow

The buffer and the soap (opera) both caused great sorrow

But you could store one back in the closet

The other remained with us

Evermore

 

If ya gotta pursue the rent-a-trap route from Milford U-Haul after the crow done disturbed yore beauty sleep where yuz fantasizin’ about bein’ arm-and-arm with the 400-pound beauty queen in yore department on third shift at work and it takes forever ta set up the trap cuz the UPS driver forgot ta send the instruction manual, ya might be a redneck.

 

Unfortunately, our TWIMers may prove correct, i.e., Marty may rat out Chet rather than use the artillery Chet provides. I liked Teenchy’s omerta comparision because Marty may not only not recycle Chet’s lowdown on Chance’s truancy from Song Flute class but may use info like that to stultify Chet.

“So what if Chance couldn’t toot “On the Banks of the Wabash?. Hell, I had trouble accompanying the soloist on “MacArthur Park.” Did you ever try to keep up with Richard Harris on a song flute?”

 

Heard blasting on Gil’s speakers out of his Chevy Nova one day while he applies Turtle Wax Lime to the hood, the vocorder proudly proclaiming the message from Parsons’ “Tales of Mystery and Imagination”

While I was vacuuming

And emptying ash trays

I heard a knocking at my door

 

It wasn’t a Witness

No Girl Scout selling

Her fudgies evermore

 

In my amazement

She stood there intending

My assistance to implore

 

A School Board member

Must be dismembered

So we won’t hear

Forevermore

 

Thus quoth Gilberto

Nevermore

Thus quoth Gilberto

Nevermore

 

Nevermore Nevermore Nevermore

Never

Nevermore Nevermore Nevermore

Never

Nevermore Nevermore Nevermore

Never

 

NEVERMORE

 

Thank you to the Milford Chorale Society for the accompaniment to Ian Bairnson, Stuart Tosh, London Symphony Orchestra, etc.

Oh, and kudos to Milford Pawn ‘n’ Carry for the vocorder

 

I mean, Chet better watch his backside here. Which, if everything goes according to script, is really the idea. Chet’s about to get hoisted by his own petard because any time you unload confidential information to Loony Moony, well, you Hooligans know what the OTHER Loony Moony did with those cars. Wound up in Davy Jones Locker at some podunk Holiday Inn, last I recall. Chet, YOU might find yourself in the bottom of the swimming pool at the Oakwood Holiday Inn alomg with Chance’s parole records for the month of February if you continue this conversation at The Pub That Serves Anchors and Onion Rings and Darts That Are Really Dr. Pearl’s Knitting Needles.

Oh, pay no mind to Marty’s leer. He gets that way when he’s welcoming new members of the Wide Path of Destruction. Those Boys Town records of Chance you got FedExed from Father Flanagan ought to be secure at the safe deposit box at the Post Office while you’re attending Marty’s Day of Reckoning.

 

Because I’m really unsure why there’s a tanning clinic under the same roof as a laundromat like I saw recently

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Sent To Minor Emergency Clinic After Overexposure To UV Rays From Heat Lamp At Milford 24-Hour Coin Laundry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“The damn rinse cycle took FOREVER to complete. I had to insert an extra quarter or two just to kick-start it.”

 

And the silken and uncertain rustling of this plot

Killed me-filled me with needless terrors and ennui I have felt in baseball and golf before

So that now, to the stagnation of everyone concerned, I stood repeating

‘Tis some muckraker entreating entrance at my chamber door

Some Grantland Rice-wannabe entreating entrance at my chamber door

That it is and nothing more

 

We will return to this Masterpiece Theater Father Brown Mystery in a moment but first let me explore the meaning of the phrase “to chat up”.

Now I can understand Chet and Marty CHATTING at the Anchor Pub in the family room because ya gotta leave your attitude and your gossip at the entrance leading into the bar. No discussion of Chance’s molestation of Milford Head Start children accusations when he was in charge of leading recess (“Okay, kiddies, grab your private parts and go ‘I think I can, I think I can…”) or when he sent Grandma Macy to Milford General Hospital because she served the wrong Hamburger Helper (“I wanted PORK and pasta!!!!!!!!!!”) .

And I can understand General Lee and General Grant CHATTING at Appomattox when discussing terms of surrender (“Sure, everybody can keep their pistols. Just gotta drop your Winchesters in the bin. So how’s your boy doing? Did you have to hold him back another year?”) .

And I can understand Batman and Robin CHATTING before they break into that deserted warehouse that hasn’t been used since the old ladies moved to Lowell, Massachusetts to comtinue their 18-hour shift of looming and weaving to arrest The Joker (“You’re flunking Phys Ed, Robin?”) .

BUT HOW THE HELL DO YOU CHAT UP?

A better question is

WHO CHATS UP???????????????

 

When Franklin Delano Roosevelt sponsored his Fireside Chats, he never, ever CHATTED UP the Tennessee Valley Authority project. Didn’t CHAT UP the WPA. Hitler was never CHATTED UP like it was North Carolina CHATTING UP Duke or vice versa (FUCK HOLLAND) . I mean, if I want to CHAT UP my Muriel cigar, I’ll go get my Zippo, thank you very much.

Anybody want the rest of these Bucket Buffalo Wings, BTW? Otherwise, I’m going to CHAT THEM UP.

Marjie is CHATTING UP the door in P2. And looks like she got an answer. Those Avon techniques work every time.

 

Open here I flung through Marjie’s peruke, when,

After many a spit and sputter

In stepped Margaret Nutchall’s mom after

Giving Dennis the Menace a/ka Chet

A tongue-lashing

But, with mien or otherwise uninvited, perched at my chamber door

Settled on a bust of Gil when he just used Tegrin Medicated Shampoo on his hair

She settled and the plot did nothing more

 

“…still paying extra for your lodging accommodations? Well, at Milford Motel Econo-Stay, you get a nice quiet room for $27 less than Milford Courtyard by Marriott. When Mimi’s aunt stayed a couple of days while traveling the country, why did she need to pay an extra 27 simoleons for a Gideon’s Bible? She brought her own, there was none in the drawer…”

 

P3-“We had made passionate love at the Milford Motel Econo-Stay…”

Well, what else could it be at this point as people have been doing more investigating than Smiley’s People? I have always liked reading John Le Carre, his deliberate style to FINALLY nail a Doctor No or some Soviet flunky who has engineered a plan to take over West Berlin by slipping past Checkpoint Charlie with the conspiracy hidden in Gil’s hair but do we really honestly have to read about this in Mudlarkland? Before it’s all said and done, Chance will be executed by a firing squad for treason right before kickoff to Valley Tech.

And who’s Ms. Forsman? Is she related to The Joker, given her choice of slacks which runs in synchronization with that villain’s wardrobe? Is THIS the reason why we gotta keep it real in P3 because Chance was seen in the Jokermobile aiding and abetting in the cause when The Joker and his gang set out to rob The Bucket? Well, The Joker doesn’t wear chunky earrings. And Chance may still have to answer for his possible Boys Town record but we don’t think Father Flanagan taught him to be a Commie rat. There’s hope.

Now we have it reduced to “Editor, Reporter, Sailor, Spy” Ducey and her tea time and scones with Mrs. Joker. I can’t wait for this Le Carre novel to be released next month. Oughta be exciting. Definitely more than this plot anyway.

 

Because I’m intrgued when kids sing around the campfire while dad has finally conquered his ED problems as I saw in an ad

 

“…take one down, pass it around, 97 bottles of beer on the wall-”

“Honnnneeeyyyyyyy, I’m glad you brought the kids along for our Milford Marraige Enrichment Seminar but we slid the credit card for the that cabin here at Mudlark Lake for a reasonnnnnnnnn. And I’m hornnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

“Just when we’re getting to the best part? Heck, Mrs. Shaw, I still haven’t opened that other bag of Milford Kwik-ee Mart Munchy Marshmallows? Okay, kiddies, who needs a stick? I can always rip a branch off that sugar maple over yonder.”

“Darling, that’s what the baby-sitter is for. Now put that Beanie-Weenie down and let’s do our own roasting in that nice comfy feather bed, the one that comes with a Gideon’s Bible.”

“Okay, who knows the words to Camptown Races?

Camptown Races sing this song

Doo Dah

Doo Dah

Find Chance’s bio and don’t be long

Oh Doo Dah Day-”

“This Camptown Race is taking way too long. You can always air guitar at the Enrichment Seminar Jamboree.”

“Just when I was doing my best Joe Walsh? Okay, boys and girls, repeat after me

I HAVE ACCOUNTANTS PAY FOR IT ALL

THEY SAY I’M CRAZY BUT IT TAKES ALL MY TIME

“Honey, is your wim wim as lame as that Oscar Meyer Wiener you’re roasting?”

Coach Shaw, getting desperate

“Oh I wish were as hard as this Oscar Meyer Wienerrrrrrrrr

Then my wife would truly be in love with me”

 

The kids understandably befuddled.

“Those aren’t the words.”

 

“When the hot dogs were firing up faster than my Significant Other, it was time to ‘fess up and head to Milford Men’s Clinic. You don’t need a pin oak branch to roast this bad boy and with proven treatment plans that work, isn’t it time you sang “Happy Days Are Here Again” at your next wienie roast? And they left the light on when me and Mrs. Shaw entered the cabin for our own Marshmallow Enrichment Seminar. Come get your own silver maple branch and start roasting the Vienna sausages only at The Clinic. You’ll be glad you did.”

Thanks again for your patience, Gang. I owe you one.

 

As I pondered, pondered the question

Whether my beloved Lenore would outlast this plot

The Raven, fresh from flatulating from a Burger at The Bucket

Reflected upon my inquisitive nature

Insensitive and inured to my desperate plight and the buffoonery therewith

And uttered

“Nevermore”

 

I’M BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN

 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Get to The Clinic. You’ll have 15 minutes before it closes.”

Gil puts “Rocks” back in the saddle, er, album sleeve

November 14, 2019

1, 2, 3, KICK THIS PLOT!!!

Filed under: actual action, football, Jefferson Jeffs — tdrewhardin @ 11:00 am

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And we’re off to the races as we are seeing some football after Gil’s wandering 40 weeks in the desert. And with a lot on the line, there is admittedly some excitement building.

But what better way to experience the equivalent of a hangover than to realize Thorpiverse will find a way to rain on Milford 60th Annual Thanksgiving Day Parade. Maybe Bullwinkle will survive as a float. One can hope.

Still, I’m crossing my fingers that all will be well and that there will be no hitches as two giants have it out on the gridiron in the middle of November. If you’re a football fan, especially high school, you can’t ask for a better script, literally and otherwise.

Even if the Jefferson kicker is catapulting his foot in a perpetually clockwise position so the we learn how the formula 2pi × r was invented, I still think we are on the Royal Road to Football Sanity. Let no man ignorant of designing a decent football plot enter these doors.  Plato couldn’t have said it any better.

So the next time you see your grandma imitate Big Ben with her lower appendages while she’s shopping in the Dairy Department at Wal-Mart, faint not. She will learn, eventually, that the whole is equal to the sum of inane plots and greater than any one of them. She’s just got to see the Big Picture when contorting your tibiae to conform to circumference. The game is bigger than your grandma’s butt or legs, hey, I’m not going to pull teeth even if this plot is doing exactly that.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Parade Float Blows Away, Winds Up On O.J.’s Condo Property!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“When I saw it, I’m wonderin’ how did Raggedy Ann land on my Maserati? The helium ruined the timing chain in my car.”

One thing we have learned thus far. Jefferson is displaying Nike’s new line of cleats, the Cycloid Hurricane special. Those cleats come in handy should Tropical Storm Marty ever hit Milford the way it hit the coastline.

And haven’t we had enough geometry for one season? I have seen more polylaterals on a guy’s hi-top Keds in one game than I ever dream existed in my Geometry I textbook in one semester.

“DOUG FLUTIE HEAVES IT!!!!!!!!!!! AND BOSTON COLLEGE WINS ON A MIRACLE CAT-dude, look at those trapezoids on that receiver’s shoes. I didn’t know Pic-Way sold those in burgundy.”

 

If ya win the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Turkey Shoot ‘n’ Scramble at the Milford Conser-va-shun Club cuz yore opponent’s shotgun got disqualified cuz the rules disallow all weaponry, including Bowie knives, from displayin’ green clovers and blue diamonds plus whatever the hell else they cram in the Lucky Charms box at Milford Paper & Box factory, ya might be a redneck.

 

Now don’t let Thorpiverse fool ya. The game is getting interesting which is hoping it will lull the TWIMers into a false sense of security. Does anybody REALLY think the plot calls for Jefferson to run up the score, thereby rendering Bluto Beardsley Ballard essentially useless for future concerns? Yeah, right.

As long as his son gets 334 yards and a couple of nice TD runs, Jefferson could put the 4th string in the 3rd quarter when they’re up 234-21 and you aren’t going to hear a word out of Bluto. Not to us readers, anyway. Maybe to his son, building him up as the next Red Grange. And MAYBE to Gil, saying he sucks as a non-coach. MAYBE.

But as Franku pointed out, there are parents that just want their own little Johnny or Janie to succeed, teamwork be damned. God, I encountered plenty of those in my career.

So anybody wishing to challenge me that Chet will disappear because the plot took the “let the cards fall where they may” route and that fair play will rule even if Jefferson does wind up kicking Milford’s ass, albeit not by a ridiculous score mentioned above, boy, do I have some shopping baskets from Milford Beverage Warehouse to sell ya cheap. You can always put your marigolds in there when you’re not shopping for vodka and Chee-tos.

The score will be dictated by where Bluto fits in the scheme of things. Yup, he not only evidently has the School Board wrapped around his finger and the Superintendent as a drinking buddy, he’s also twisting the plotline’s arm.

Buy hey, he can always spare a shopping basket for the Superintendent to store his vacation photos when the latter and his wife went to the Cayman Islands from the trip they won on Wheel of Fortune.

“So tell us a little about yourself.”

“I’m a spineless school official who handles brutes with fleas in their beards and a heavy dose of B.O. in order to keep the education process functional.”

“Wow, that must keep you busy.”

 

Gang, any of you Georgia Wrestling on WTBS remember The Fabulous Free Birds, a tag team duo that predictably had “Free as a Bird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd as their mantra when they were introduced? Naturally, they were the good guys and Gordon Solie, the off-gravelly-voiced announcer for years, did his part to build them up.

Not surprisingly, they had a falling out, the way the script many times played out in these things, no doubt taking a cue from Thorpiverse. Anyway, Michael Hays stayed the Good Guy and Terry Gordy became the Bad Guy, calling himself the Dirty White Boy (Foreigner played the song, in case anyone wants to know) and flashing his pillowy gut, sexy in a strange way, every chance he got.

Well, of course, Michael Hays always got a round of applause every time he came out to interview but just about every time he did, Gordy and some flunkee would drag him in the ring and rub his face in the mat. It was entertaining see the different Revlon colors on his cheek every week and many times it caused continuity errors by being on the wrong cheek. Then there were times someone used a charcoal pencil and did graffiti all over his face. They really wanted to get the fans in the 3-row stands in a frenzy over Gordy. Even if they had to use Magic Markers to make his injuries look authentic.

It worked. And the crowd of course cheered on Hays every time he literally got his nose rubbed in it and the Omni, where they wrestled when the Atlanta Hawks were oit of town, was always sold out for this. As Ron Hudspeth, a well-respected newspaper writer for the Atlanta Constitution once said, you can fool some of the people most of tge time.

So when I saw P2 today, I was wondering if that was Gordy doing a number on Tiki Jansen. If Tiki shows up in the cafeteria with Cover Girl Rouge on his face, my suspicions are confirmed.

 

Early one morning on WDIG-TV

“Okayyyyyyyy, Boys and Girls, how many of you want to win free Mudlar-K-Cola Chocolate Fudge Fizz in the 6-Pack Kiddie Size for life?”

YAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYY

“Well, if you do a cannon ball in that kiddie pool of piranhas and don’t get eaten-”

“Bozo, what happened to your face? You got scrapes all over it.”

“Oh that? Well, some mean man with a belly that’s been bathing in Twinkies too long did a really bad thing. But don’t worry, he’ll get what’s coming to him this Friday at the Milford Gardens.”

“Can we come?”

“Well, Boys and Girls, the only way to get tickets is if you stick your head in that lion’s mouth. Now don’t worry, we pulled out his teeth before the show.”

 

Yesterday’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Snoopy Stuck In Sycamore Tree At Milford Country Club Golf Course.”

sub headline

“Golf Pro at MCC: ‘Why couldn’t they have moved the parade to Christmas? We had to move back our Annual Black Friday Golf Shootout-Shotgun Start. We’ll never get Snoopy out before the Mayor does the honorary tee-off.”

 

“Uhhhhhhhh, Bozo, I understand youuuuu have a match with a one Terry Gordy this coming Friday indeed. Care to elaborate?”

“That’s right, Gordon. Friday night, 8:00 P.M. at the Milford Gardens will be a date with destiny. Yeah, Gordy, I saw what you did with Tiki Jansen. Yeah, you thought it was pretty funny when Gil finally did SOMETHING and wiped that tire tread mark off with sandpaper but-”

“Son, it don’t matter where we do our rasslin, ya got the time, I got the muscle ta take you or any of yore other yellow-bellied clowns at the Milford Gardens, Gil’s garage, the Mudlark Girls Gym, wherever-”

“Now hold on, Terry, you’ll get your chance to interview. Folks, we need to take a station break indeed…”

 

Now you have to admit, if P3 is any indication, that we’re in for a doozy of a ball game, even by Thorpiverse’s molasses-sluggish standards. The Jefferson runner in his Howard Twilley Quadrilateral Nike Specials prove that.

It just gets tainted by that connect-the-dot skyline in the background. I mean, really, if I were to use my #2 pencil, the spare I didn’t use at the Milford High School SAT Testing site, I might unfortunately find out that Ursa Major is really a conglomerate of Gil in his shower cap after he had just gotten out of the shower using Head & Shoulders, when all the stars are accounted for? Oops, I forgot Polaris. I wouldn’t anybody to know Gil has hair but no forehead. Well, that’s pretty much the case but that’s supposed to magically reappear if you’ve faithfully been following the pattern in sequence with your #2.

In the end, someone on the Mudlarks surely has Twilleys of his own to keep the score honest. Maybe ones with a frustum?

 

“We’re here, uhhhhhhhhh, talking with Michael Hays and Tiki Jansen. Gentlemen, your visages are not in their proper conditions indeed. Tiki, I understand you’re, uhhhhhh, not too thrilled after Mr. Gordy rubbed your face in the gridiron especially when a one Gil Thorp just stood back and watched.”

“That’s right, Gordon, and Friday night, 8:30 at The Milford Gardens, me and my partner here are going to be taking care of some business. Gil and Terry, you may think this white powder on my face, the kind you line the field with before the game is funny but me and Michael Hays will have the last laugh.”

“Preach it, Tiki. Cuz y’all been flappin’ our jaws about how your gonna run us out of Milford. Well, this Friday, this lipstick on my cheek is gonna come off and it’s gonna go right back on you. Gil, you’re gonna look funny with Maybelline in your hair and on your face.”

Tiki and Michael Hays leave, the 3-row seat audience on WDIG-TV in a lather

“Formidable words, indeed. We’ll be right back after these messages. Don’t go away.”

 

“Man, all this football and rasslin’ is making me dizzy. Of course, you know that stuff’s all fake and I would never hurt Tiki in a million years. I might still stand on the sidelines with my thumb up my ass but I personally witnessed Michael Hays get his scratch mark stenciled in. They had to use Crayolas on Tiki.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp for Milford Beverage Warehouse and boy do we have some colorful selections. This coach is going to get a case of Corona Extra in the six-pack variety after this match, er, game, win, lose, or default. And he’s only going to be forking over $7.49. Hey, that’s what happens when you save up all that loose change from the Teacher Retirement Fund and store it in your Sun Tea Jumbo Jar.

And Skrewball Peanut Butter Whiskey? Choosy moms choose this bad boy to unwind after a long day of grocery shopping for the slumber party for the kids this weekend. No Jif is necessary here and it’s a steal at $28.99.

And The Warehouse has some great news. It is opening up its own gas station, right behind the Milford Foundry. Now you can get your booze and a fill-up practically in the same spot. Just head down a few hundred feet and the nozzle is as good as you drinking up The Good Life.

And with a purchase of Budweiser Black Lager, $10.49 by my count, you can earn fuel points when you’re on the go. Just hand the receipt to the clerk in the window and watch the gallons rack up, even on the diesel pump. B truck drivers couldn’t ask for any better.

And you quiche-eating namby-pambies are in for a treat. With a purchase of Josh Cellars Cabernet Sauvignon at $15.99, you not only are robbing the store but you’ll be robbing the pumps with a free fill-up. Lexus, Dodge Ram pickup, Mopeds, whatever vehicle you used to maneuver to the Warehouse, it all pumps thesame when you use those fuel points like a Snickers bar. Man, that’s some good eatin’.

Folks, bring the whole family down here where you can get your Michelob Ultra to hoist along on your next family outing at Mudlark Lake and still watch the kids pump the gas. Sounds like Quality Time to me. Start your own Fuel Points ledger and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

 

Thank you for your patience, Gang. You all mean everything to me. Our TWIMers are great human beings as well as great commentators. Great combination.

 

CUZ I’M A DIRTY WHITE BOY

 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Gil, head to the Clinic. They have extended for Christmas.”

“Didn’t Foreigner do Cold as Ice?” Gil sings

YOU’RE WILLING TO SACRIFICE OUR LOVE

“Get your butt to The Clinic, Gil.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

November 12, 2019

Elephant? What Elephant? In This Room?

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Drinking my Maxwell House one day, puttin’ the vinyl “Double Fantasy” on the turntable

 

People say it’s silly

Lost and confused

 

TWIMers think it’s messy

Blowing my fuse

 

When Chet exclaims with a straight beard

That Dumbo’s not around

I flip a coin between Gil and Chet

For who’s the bigger clown

 

I’m just sittin’ here watchin’ this plot spin ’round ‘n’ ’round

I really loathe this cruddy show

 

May we depart this hopeless merry-go-round

We just got to let it go

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Bruce Wayne Is Removed As A Suspect In Batman Case!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Milford Transportation Board spokesman said that Batmobile required a B License Endorsement, something not presently in Mr. Wayne’s possession.”

 

Okay, let me first throw my hat in the ring on the legitimate comments by our TWIMers in relation to education and the newspapers.

It has been my experience that the bigger cities (100,000 or more) are able to sustain a newspaper with its own education reporter. My own city I grew up in, which was in the category I mentioned above, has had for several years and currently has a beat writer covering the news pertaining to schools in the area.

The problem I personally am encountering here is, based on my experiences with reading Gil Thorp (“More fun than a barrel of monkeys”) , Milford is about the size of, say, Vincennes, Indiana or Henderson, Kentucky, 2 cities able to sustain a Wal-Mart and possibly a Kohl’s or Home Depot but still only capable of supporting one public high school and occasionally, as in Vincennes’ case, a private high school, Rivet (Rih-VAY), a Catholic High School.

Therefore, it’s dicey whether the Small Town Gazette is going to carry it’s own education section or have the financial resources to support a reporter in a specialized field like education. Anything’s possible but again too dicey for me.

But this is Thorpiverse and anytime you can get a beat writer like Niah Peters in this case to sit on the upper left-hand drawer when it’s locked shut and discuss with “We’re unclear whether she’s the de facto editor” Ducey about the rhino that escaped Milford Petting Zoo, the logic I mentioned above might as well get thrown in the big pot at Milford High School cafeteria along with the other ingredients in the 12 cans of Campbell’s Chunky Vegetable. Use a spoon, you’ll want to get every drop.

And WHO ELSE do you go to if you suspect a problem? I always thought that’s what School Board meetings are for. If there’s a strong suspicion (and this one’s arm pits are smellin’ PRETTY STRONG) that someone’s not on the up-and-up, what else CAN YOU DO? If the rhino is not in the petting area with the rest of the lambs and goats to feed a bottle of formula, do you go to Bozo the Pope and tell him a rhino is NOT in the room with the elephant? I always thought that’s what a zoo director is for. But let me cross-reference my sources. I’ll get back with you on that one.

Then there’s Janis Ian talking to someone with a neo-Jefferson Airplane hairdo-OH THAT’S MARJIE “SCOOP” DUCEY-about the possible repercussions should they challenge Chet to a toro fight at Milford Municipal Bull Ring. I think the gist of the conversation is that el toreador would be flattened by Big Butt Ballard, beard and all, should they go the procedural route. Okay, okay, I know some of you hoity-toitys out there think they shouldn’t ignore protocol and you might have a point.

But I gotta be fair about this and I am therefore enlisting the aid of Dragnet once again to see if we can resolve this one.

1:29PM. It was cool in Milford. The city had just been hit with snow flurries that tapered off right in line with our investigation. Bill and I were transferered over to the Recreational and Athletic Suspicious and Unwarranted Activity Division of the Juvenile Delinquent Department. The boss is Captain Peters.

We were advised to be on the alert for occurences at the Milford football games in relation to a one Chet Ballard. He was believed to be harboring dirty laundry and illegal records pertaining to one of his stepson’s teammates, Chance Macy. Witnesses said they saw him loading that stuff with a spade shovel in his trunk. We could nail him on Milford Penal Code Section 34 Article 9 Clause 103 “Illegal and Unlawful Work-Related Incidents with Intent to Self-Promote Family and Self, Including Domesticated Animals in Household” but without a search warrant, the only other way we could get him to open his trunk and display the spare records and spare tire was if he lost his key and asked me and Bill for a crowbar. The investigation was running colder than a Bucket Slushee.

Captain Peters suggested I talk to the School Superintendent. A fair proposition. One problem. While conversing with him and Gil down at the Milford Lounge, he informed me (the superintendent, not Gil) that this was out of his bailiwick. His job was to make sure the cafeteria ladies at Milford High had plenty of Handi-Wipes when handling the cheeseburgers so kids wouldn’t contract E. Coli or procure slaughterballs for gym class at Milford Elementary out of the catalogue of Classroom Paraphenalia. Fighting a guy whose razor had seen better days and was now shaving cow hairs for better milk production was not his cup of tea or the flask of Jack he was imbibing. The superintendent wasn’t going to get his retirement doing the right thing even if a sleazeball knew how to work the system the way he maneuvered his Trac II.

“Bill, let’s go get something to eat.”

“What about the case?”

“Hopeless. I could run him out of town on a Section 97 “Unwarranted and Illegal Entry into Public Building” but he could say he was in the Milford School Corporation Annex because his diarrhea medicine was kicking in and the Milford Park Public Unisex House was shut down for the season.”

“Back to square one, aren’t we?”

“Looks that way.”

“I heard the Superintendent tips pretty good at Milford Lounge, I’ll say that for him.”

“We could use some tips from him, all right”

Obligatory somber Dragnet music pipes in

 

Yesterday’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Cleared In Batman Case!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I asked the judge if he could see me in my blue Fruit of the Loom’s fightin’ The Riddler. I think that was the turning point.”

 

People say it’s stupid

Lacking a clue

 

TWIMers call it tepid

Ridiculous too

 

When the hippo dances with the crocs

And crush the furniture

Because nobody bothers to duly note

Chet’s self-imprimatur

 

We’re just sittin’ here watchin’ this plot drag ’round ‘n’ ’round

We’re gettin’ dizzy from all the snow

No need to further prod this merry-go-round

Why don’t we let it go.

 

THE HAND IS BACK

 

You Dark Shadows junkies like yours truly know exactly what I’m talking about.

And what a bad time for it to return, participating in a meaningless and pointless discussion that really shouldn’t be on the agenda in the first place. Heck, send The Hand to scare the living daylights out of Chet like it did us Shadows junkies, otherwise, it might as well be doing Karaoke in P2

At 2:34 A.M. in Chet’s bedroom

“You were always on my minddddddddd-”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA, GIL, I KNOW IT’S LATE BUT I CONFESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I POCKMARKED CHANCE MACY’S TRANSCRIPTS SO CHARLIE COULD START AT RUNNING BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE REALLY DIDN’T FLUNK ‘METALS FOR LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENTS’ OR ‘ADVANCE LATIN’!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUST GET IT AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

“Who was that?”

Gil half-asleep

“I think it was Chet. Something about Chance not getting a D- in Geometry 2 because some hand was grabbing his butt and giving him a wedgie.”

 

Well, if anybody has a better suggestion…

Otherwise, we can always call The Orkin Man as long as we’re going to eliminate valid options. The School Board room is going to look silly because it has personnel either on the School Board or in the Administration Building not willing to observe proper practices because it’s overthinking and overlooking the obvious, along with our cub reporters, but the room will be roach-free. I think that’s an even trade-off.

 

And as for P3, Mr. Lennon proves a song is worth a thousand words

People say it’s cheesy

Got bad reviews

 

TWIMers hate the premise

Yesterday’s news

 

When we fear a gutless myrmidon

With scruples in his beard

School Board regulations

Go the way of a rabic steer

 

We’re just sittin’ here watchin’ this tripe fling ’round ‘n’ ’round

We really hate the rigamarole

Why don’t we cease and switch to basketball

We just have to let it roll

 

WE JUST HAVE TOOOOOOOOOOO LET IT ROLL

Got message?

 

Because I’m a Classic Rock fan who saw Hard Rock in an ad but learned that they were referring to a man’s Erectile Dysfunction and the healing powers thereof

In the basement den late one night, the door double-locked, Coach Shaw blasting The Who

“Honnneeeeyyyyyyy, My ears are scorched and so are my flashes. It’s time to come to beddy bye and have some funnnnnnnnnnn.”

“Not now, Mrs. Shaw, I’m practicing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Honey, What are you breaking? I hope it’s not the Chippendale chair that belonged to my grandfather.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Shaw, I have a vise grip that’s holding all these light bulbs I bought at McShane’s Hardware. I’m pretendin’ I’m Pete Townshend and I’m doing a killer windmill with this ukulele, when I’m not smashing it to bits…

LONG LIVE ROCK, I NEED IT EVERY NIGHT

LONG LIVE ROCK

BE DEAD OR ALIVE

 

“Darling, we can do ‘Live at Leeds’ another time. Why don’t you Rock ‘n’ Roll with me?”

“Just when Won’t Get Fooled Again’ s on the turntable? How can you profane a classic like Who’s Next? Heck, I’m doing the part where Keith’s taking a leak at Stonehenge or wherever they hauled that rock from.”

I’LL TIP MY HAT TO THE NEW CONSTITUTION

TAKE A BOW FOR THE NEW REVOLUTION

 

SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Them GE 100-Watt Heat Lamp bulbs will never know what hit ’em with me and Pete smashin’ ’em like overripe pumpkins. Ain’t that the name of a group?”

“Overripe Pumpkins?”

“I thought it was Smashing Cantaloupes”

“Dear, at any rate, at least Loony Moonie dropped his pants on the album cover.”

SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Excusez-moi, Mrs. Shaw, but Roger and me just conked out a lava lamp while twirling our mikes. We’ll clean up the mess later.”

WHY SHOULD I CARE IF I HAVE TO

CUT MY HAIR

I’VE GOT TO MOVE WITH THE FASHION

OR BE OUTCAST

I KNOW I SHOULD FIGHT BUT MY OLD MAN

IS REALLY ALL RIGHT

AND I’M STILL LIVING AT HOME EVEN THO

IT WON’T LAST

“Honey, you won’t be living at home much longer either if you don’t perform a windmill on me.”

SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Just when Quadrophenia is heating up!!!!!!!!!!! And I got some Gorilla-Gro that I applied on my chest so I can have a sexy front like Roger. King Kong twirling a mike to The Punk and The Godfather will drive even the teeny-boppers for Frankie wild. And damn, I thought the Overture would never end. Kinda like the game the other day.”

IF YOU COMPLAIN, YOU DISAPPEAR

JUST LIKE THE LESBIANS AND QUEERS

Coach Shaw blowing on song flute in a well-intentioned attempt to imitate Entwistle’s French horn interlude

YOU’LL START DANCING

 

SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Shit!!!!!!!!!!!!! I smashed my trophy case!!!!!!! Hope the antlers are OK!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“I had to learn the meaning of Hard Rock the hard way. And when my Significant Other was lamer than a dead snake in our back yard, no matter how many windmills I did, I knew it was time to come clean and get my butt down to Milford Men’s Clinic. With proven traetments and proper medication, I can now whip myself in a frenzy from Baba O’Riley and my wife is caught up in the whirlwind and lovin’ it. Isn’t it time you and Pete laid down your guitar and checked in? Your concerts will truly be hard as Rock. Only at The Clinic.”

 

Gang, thank you SO MUCH for your patience. Trying to work this blog in while juggling my new job is a challenge but as Coach Stuard taught me, you learn to get around it. I am thankful for loyal and patient readers like you TWIMers. God bless you all.

 

“IbelieveinMIRACLES

Where you from

You sexy thing-”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Gil, did you forget to go to The Clinic again???”

Turns off Hitachi Sound System in his office

“They were closed for the holiday.”

 

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Shaw Banned For Life From Milford Holiday Inn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Local resident drove the family station wagon into the swimming pool.”

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