This Week in Milford

September 25, 2018

And Gil Screams Eiffel Tower High


Awwwwwwwwww. Gil is in utter disbelief as his team is virtually getting railroaded. No doubt the Oakwood coach did call a time out but us Thorpiverse veterans are used to not holding our breaths when the Mudlark finishes the Mudlark Marathon run from Athens, Greece (where the Olympics all began) to Milford (well, the plot’s always a marathon, anyway) and beats the rest of the world by 2 days, 29 hours, 34 seconds, 1/456 microseconds, lapping France, Kenya, Sudetenland, Maldives (appaently training techniques suck, such as bad nutrition, i.e., dearth of Special K, Lucky Charms, apples, oranges, limes. uglis, mangos, beets, onions, borscht, prunes, etc.) et al only to find out he was disqualified because he skipped the Strait of Magellan when he was negotiating his way from the Atlantic to the Pacific. We’re resigned to our fate, thankful for the day when every ONCE IN A BLUE MOON they win SOMETHING. Nope, gang, Charlie Brown and his band of merry losers can keep on losing and build eternal character along the way and still keep its readership going. Not so in the world of Thorpiverse. Win SOMETHING, preferably a State Championship (Normally that’s wisely the case) or watch EVERYBODY switch over to Dagwood (technically Blondie).  A Doug Flutie like Miracle Bomb from the Strait of Magellan to the other end zone will have subscribers for life.

“Marino heaves a torpedo from 99 yards for the game TOUCHDOWN MILFORD. There’s an injury time out as the explosion caused mass destruction and the game can’t end on a natural disaster but the Mudlarks will likely win as De Windt, though blown in two, still managed to hang on and keep one foot in bounds!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Plus, everybody else got blown sky high!!!!!!!!!!”

If that doesn’t spike subscription sales, Marty Moon’s an astronaut.


And if Gil’s frown doesn’t prove that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, nothing will. That arc on his visage is the route you would negotiate through the Alps from Milano, Italia to Innsbruck, Osterreich. You forgot the Simplon Tunnel, Thorpiverse, assuming it’s nearby. Or just pick your favorite Deutscher Kaiser or Pope and attach an appelation to it. Make this fun.

Then there’s the fashion statement the referee is making. Time was, a referee might get yelled at by the Milford die-hards but  THE BLACK AND WHITE was wider in the stripes. Now, they got that look that Jordache is after. They’ll be hitting the runway at the modeling show at the Milford Expo Center after the game. At least there they’ll get cheered at.


Gang, wouldn’t you JUST ONCE love to see Coach Thorp do a tarantella when he gets waxed like he’s getting in P1? Granted, throwing a chair out on the field might not travel far in the natural grass and the field has bigger dimensions than a basketball court. But the worst I have seen from Coach Thorp the last 60 years are some Egyptian symbols (planet, ibis, North Star, pound sign, pyramid, etc.) out of some Sphinx somewhere along the Nile but I personally would like to see more animation and violent tempers and it starts with P1 in today’s strip. C’mon, Gil, you can do better than that. Scream so that Bulgaria can hear you, yell if the refs got their license out of a Trix box, say something about their mothers, they all have one, throw a helmet or a shoulder pad or a jock strap out on the field, ANYTHING to get ejected. Okay, Unsportsmanlike Conduct for throwing some player’s smelly piece of apparel is breaking precedent but the punting team has botched the snap several times, the referees are killing you and all you can manage is a Smiley face going the wrong way?  I hope the expression isn’t permanently welded. That might cause problems when you, Mimi and family do a family portrait at Milford Studios.

I do gotta admire the Nerfball sailing through the uprights at the Milford Observatory. The Oreo background makes for great atmosphere.


Walking toward the football field

He surely knows where to go

He slaps on his ‘phones

And puts on a show

Feasting on Gil’s fecklessness

And reckless leadership

And that Gil don’t give a shit.


He struts into the broadcast booth

He’s been there ever since

He strolls down to concessions

For a box of Junior Mints


Talking ’bout the game at hand

Thrashing Coach Thorp into sand

We’ll shout at Moon and demand

Try to get his attention

Scream at him

And we’ll scream, we’ll scream, we’ll scream


And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh



I may have missed a verse or two. You might want to check me on that one. Also, thanks to Mimi Thorp for belting out the last verse and proving a suitable replacement for Grant Hart. We know she’s busy with her basketball team. She’ll be even busier this year as the conference upped the schedule by one game. How she finds time to sweat through a five-game schedule and rock with one of the best in the business and still find time for the kids and Gil (well, in bed, anyway) is nothing short of amazing. Scripts have a way of easing up the logjam.


If yore face got permanently contorted cuz that shot of Jack came straight from the well outta some corn field somewhar and ya wind up as a Witch Doctor Exhibit at the Milford Museum, ya might be a redneck.

“And Coach T’s inept coaching strikes again. That pouty gargoyle mien won’t save his ass this time. We’ll be back to wrap things up in a moment. The final score, Oakwood, 31, Milford, 28. You’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”


Coach Shaw is reading The Saturday Evening Post. He’s doing the “Where Do You Think You Are?” section. It’s all the Milfords in all the different states and he’s already figured out Milford, Delaware, Milford, Connecticut, Milford, Pennsylvania, and Milford Indiana, but can’t figure the state Milford, as in Mudlarks, comes from. (“It’s only 5 kilometers to Oakwood?”) While he’s wrestling with an Angel on this one

“Hi, Honey, I have a surprise!!!!!!!!”

“Wow, DO YOU EVER!!!!!!! I’m trying to solve this knotty problem. How many ‘k’s in ‘Mudlarkia’?”

“Darling, how can you indulge in one of Benjamin Franklin’s pastimes at a time like this when I have something in my possession that will alter your life?”

“You finally bought them mag wheels for my Dodge Durango? Wow, I’ll be the envy of my hunting buddies. Them raccoons will get their rings knocked off from all that glitter.”


“Did my mail-order sawed off Winchester arrive today?”


“Daggone it, I need to call the Milford FedEx office. It was shipped Tuesday. It’s already Friday. Looks like I get free shipping on my gun anyway.”

“I have something else that’s free.”

“Honey, you know they don’t run specials on deer tags. That’ll be the day.”

“Nope. Time’s up. Ta-daaaaaaaaaaa”

Shaw’s wife pops in the living room in a black bikini.

Shaw drops the Saturday Evening Post in the magazine rack between Field and Stream and Milford Outdoors Today

“Gloopy glop, um, I think I’ll head down to the Milford Public Library. I bet they’d know about Mudlarkia.”

“Uh, It’s Saturday and it’s 6:00PM and I think they’re closed.”

“Blippy bloop. That’s what you think (Coach Shaw recovering as fast as his brain can process the information) . I heard they were having a bake sale and handing out free cupcakes if you can read 500 Louis L’Amours in an hour. Shoot, the way he uses guns and kills off the bad guy in the end, it’s the same old same old. No Martin Charley Horse or whatever the name Dickens called him to contend with, let alone get on his hands and knees down at the Milford Shelter House beggin’ Oliver Twist for oatmeal and onion rings. Nope, bang, bang, take that you slimeball bank robber, you cain’t run off from Fort Knox with 500 tons of gold in your Conestoga Wagon. Louis’ll shoot you dead if ya don’t watch out. Them cupcakes is as good as in my belly.”

“The library has that many books on one person?”

“Oh, Hell, yeah. Then some lucky winner, if he/she can guess the State Flower, the State Motto, the State Flag, and the Admission Date of Mudlarkia will win a whole chocolate cake. I might have trouble with the last one since I don’t remember when the Carpetbaggers entered into our state but I’m pretty sure it was before the Gettysburg Address but just after the Wilmot Proviso.”

“Dear, why don’t we skip the history lesson and make our own history. We’ll do the 21-gun salute.”

“Because we might have run out of ammo?”

His wife caught off guard for the moment, Coach Shaw gets back on the offensive

“And if we read ‘The Positronic Man’ by Asimov before midnight, we get a $50 Gift Card to Milford Donut Solutions. I can taste those custard-filled chocolate long johns mow. Umm, umm.”

“I’ve never known you to read Science Fiction.”

“I read Clifford Simak and Ray Bradbury right before Game Film sessions. I can break down an opponent’s defense right after devouring ‘Fahrenheit 451’. AND the coop de grass is the drawing for the 2018 Chevy Blazer 4-Wheel Drive. It drivews through snow, salt water, sleet, ice, lichens, earthquake faults, Bavarian Alps, gneiss, permafrost, polar ice caps-”

“Polar ice caps? We’re nowhere near the North or South Pole. We’re in the State of Mudlarkia, remember? We’re practically across the Atlantic for the Bahamas, silly.”

“Blubby, blubby, there’s some snow that never melted at the Milford Wildlife area that the caribou dumped a load on and preserved for several months. If you’re not careful, you could drive your Blazer into the swamp and get eaten by crocodiles.”

“Caribou and crocs in the same refuge?”

“And all I have to do to be eligible for the drawing is read ‘Last of the Mohicans’ in Chinese before the cock crows twice.”

“Honey, you don’t KNOW any Chinese.”

“That’s what YOU think. I have this IBM Word Processor that can translate faster than you can say Rosenthal’s Methods for German. And it’s even been broken down into Cantonese, Mandarin, and Shikoku, in case the judges try to pull a fast one.”

“Isn’t the last one Japanese?”

Ignoring last slight, clinging desperately to his sexual barrenness

“And don’t you need batteries for the translator?”

One last stab

“Hell, I’ll get ’em down at Milford Electronics. It says right here, now where’d it go, ah, here it is, right under one of the electrodes ‘can…’, damn this Vietnamese can be a pain to read, only someone from the Gnomemobile can read it, ‘…only…be…special-…orderdered…send…SASE…'”

Coach Shaw looks up.

His wife is smiling in victory.


“It’s like Louis being surrounded by Black Bart and his gang without any bullets in his gun. You can’t have a happy ending in his novels if the supply office at Fort Leavenworth or Fort Cheyenne failed to order the right guns and ammo in time. We might still be using tomahawks. But at the Milford Men’s Clinic, you can shoot straight without any fear of the Dalton Gang spoiling your wedding. You can get married, get it on in bed that night, free from anyone crashing the party. With treatment programs that work, isn’t it time your wim-wim got the proper medicine and stood and be counted so that Louis can get that 1,345,586th novel he’s been working on? Don’t let Louis go the way of John Wilkes Booth and let him fight his way out of the barn. You’ll be glad you did.”

Gang, have at it. I don’t know which Art Deco bus I’m riding in, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.


In Gil’s Living Room Decor

“Kaz, Shaw was listening to ‘Saturday Night Fever’ over the speakers, wasn’t he?”

“How’d you know, Gil?”

“There’s toilet paper forming a 540 degree angle from the shower stall to the film screen.”


September 20, 2018

I Saw My Life Sail Through My Hands And Get Recovered At The 3-Yard Line

Filed under: actual action, football, Gil Thorp, Marty Moon, Pissy faced Marty — tdrewhardin @ 4:45 pm

Dad, you’re 80 years old today. You are a major reason for this blog. Thanks for all your encouragement in ANYTHING I’ve set out to do. I love you.


P1: “Coach, remember the time when you said that if you had broccoli in your teeth, you’d want to know about it?”

Which typifies the aborted inspiration Coach Thorp attempts to instill in his players. The only problem is, and maybe it’s just me, but don’t you old-timers remember  when Gil was going the Dr. Norman Vincent Peale Power of Positive Thinking Route, the player(s) would perform something that may not have been drawn up in the playbook nor, really, went the way of the Thorpscript but turned out halfway decent? Now it just seems like every time Gil dispenses his Pearls of Wisdom, it reads like a bad Kung-Fu episode.

“Grasshopper, you have nothing to fear from the 458-lb. defensive tackle that you’re blocking this Friday. Just remember your technique, hit him low, and tell him his mother still reads him bedtime stories. Talk trash to him and you can take him out of his game.”

“Yes, Master.”


“Watch where you’re driving that equipment truck. Now we’ll never find him in this high grass.”

And, again, maybe it’s just me(what happens when you develop writer’s cramp in your old age) but do we really need another Polygrip Moment as in P1? I know Gil is 60 years old but if he’s been drinking milk and eating his fruits and vegetables and, in general, been a poster child for the 4 food groups, then, unless his teeth were made out of balsa wood, they should still BE IN PLACE. Otherwise, why does he feel the need to flash those dentures to Freddy or the zombies in the background?

“He won’t suffer any more embarrassing incidents, such as watching his teeth pop out of his mouth and land on the sod when he jumps up and down after his place kicker sends the winning 69-yarder through the uprights. Try the new Polygrip with Fluoride. Occlusive seals never felt stronger and grass stains are a thing of the past. Only at Milford Pharmacy.”


The Milford Police are still baffled by WHO SHOT COACH SHAW. You’d think in a small town that’s been on the planet for 60 years where EVERYBODY KNOWS EVERYBODY in the same period of time that the culprit would have nowhere to run. Well, that’s not entirely true, if I were to shoot a man who barely shows up on the radar at football games but is a weather advisory at game film sessions (The National Weather Service has issued a Shaw Warning Advisory  in effect until 10:15PM this evening, Mudlark Standard Time. There are reports of damaging winds and BB-sized hail. Power lines, as a result of  multiple lightning incidents are down in parts of Oakwood, New Thayer, Lake Forest, as well as the Mudlarkland viewing area. Please seek shelter immediately…”) , I would head to the nearest skyscraper in downtown Milford and lay low on the 63rd floor of the Milford Mutual Tower until this thing blew over. And that’s probably what this psycho is thinking. No headin’ to the Milford Lounge for Miller time after the deed is done.


At the bar counter “Mr. Bates, wanna ‘nuther Bud before I close up?”`

Coach Shaw at the Bates Motel

The shower curtain opens



“Honey, wake up, it’s me. You were having a bad dream. You’re fine, Dear, I’m here. Come, jump on me and let’s have snack to (talking sexy) chase away that leetle ol’ bad dreamie.”




And to address bathrooms in public buildings with stalls that have become as big as a dining room suite

“Gil, we can get a graduate assistant to work on Malouf’s hands. He’s definitely not hopeless.”

“I agree, Kaz, looking at the game film here, I saw a lot of positives. He and Finn-


Coach Shaw appears

“Oooooooooooooeeeeeeeee, man, was THAT a big-time load. Musta been the spicy parmesan in the Domino’s pepperoni.”


And what Gil Thorp strip in any sport, football, basketball, baseball, hockey, bowling, wrestling (HIGH SCHOOL wrestling, not the stuff you see down at the Milford Gardens, you Jerry Lawler freaks) track, X-country, volleyball, golf, curling (just seeing if you’re paying attention) , without Marty Moon enjoying his Lowenbrau Moment (take that over Polygrip Moment anytime) ?

I can see the commercial

“Here’s to good friends, tonight is kinda special…”

Marty and his old high school classmates cram into Marty’s broadcast booth. As long as nobody throws a quick elbow, the Lowenbrau won’t wind up in the cheese popcorn.

“Gentlemen, watching Gil get waxed just makes my night. It just don’t get any better than this.”

“That’s Old Milwaukee, Marty.”

“Don’t rain on my parade, Gene. Anytime I can stick it to Coach T with a kicker with a World Cup foot but Yogi Bear hands, it just makes the Lowenbrau that much sweeter.”

“Yeah, and it’s less filling.”

“Tastes great.”




As Marty squeezes one of his classmates in a Sleeper Hold, we softly hear

“Toniiiiiggghhhhttttt, let it be Lowenbrau.”


Sent forth on a quest from TV Land

Bringing Truth and Justice in our hands

It’s Milkmannnnnnnnnn


Milkman walks into Milford Lounge. He just made a delivery of two crates of 2% and some Philadelphia Cream Cheese Raspberry and Philadelphia Cream Cheese Gooseberry. Happy Hour is never the same without something to top the appetizer, like pretzels or shredded black ham. He’s taking his 15-minute break.

Marty is submerged in his beer. Talk about Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea.

“Why are you drowning in your sorrows, Marty?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Look, I’m in no mood to talk to a guy who’s as out of place here as a stray dog in heat at the AKC International Dog Show. Take your milk and cookies and hit the road, Jack.”

“Actually, Marty, I did bring some Chips Ahoy and some egg nog. I’m still on break so technically the bartender can’t say anything.”

Tired of drinking after his 17th Bud Light

“I got suspended for swearing on the air.”

“Well, Marty, saying ‘Die, you gravy-sucking, testicle-licking, ass-kissing, pubic hair-combing piece of cow manure wasn’t the wisest thing to say. But I was once suspended for two weeks.”

Marty looks up. Milkman is winning him over.

“That’s right, I was released from my duties for telling the supervisor in front of several members of the 3rd shift crew on the Country Crock Cinnamon Butter production line that the milk  was so bad here, there was no difference between that and what came out of an elephant’s boobs in Rwanda at the Nature Reserve. I was young and stupid and without a paycheck for two weeks. Hard to pay the pawn shop for a Gibson Guitar, let alone buy Fruit of the Looms at K-Mart when you have no money. Marty, we’ve all put our feet in our mouths. Maybe you need a shoehorn every once in a while, oh, OK, every week, but we have all said things we wish we could reel back later. Yours is just a 60-lb. striped bass that requires a tow truck to haul in on The Fishing Channel. That’s the only difference. Plus, I don’t wear a goatee. Homogenized milk would look nasty on it.”

“Gee, thanks, Milkman. I’ll go get a gallon of regular milk and apologize to Gil for being such a nasty creep. I’ll even throw in that I shouldn’t have called Mimi a prostitute.”

“Aaaaaaaaa, Marty, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s taken 60 years to wean yourself from your SNAKE nomenclature. It might take 60 more ’til it’s out of your system but you’re getting the idea..

“Awright, Mister, you’re ruining business. Buy a Falls City or scram.”

“Sorry, bartender. Would you like some Philadelphia Cream Cheese Hazelnut before I go?”



Heard at the Milford Adult Book Store between two employees during a dead period (Mondays are always like that)

“You think it was David Greene?”

“He might have attacked Marty Moon that one time but Shaw’s performance was on the Sabbath.”


At the Milford Kohl’s, Marty Moon is trying on some Dickie pants. He’s attempting to find out if he’s gained any weight or grown any since he switched from WMFD to WDIG (“Marty, I swear, you’ve grown since you transferred. You ever think of trying out for the team?”) .

He is currently debating 42/32 or 40/38. His growth spurt perhaps out of control from all the Pabst Blue Ribbons at the Milford Lounge (Milford Enquirer, May 15, 2011 article: “Beer Drinking Stimulates Pituitary Gland, Releasing Growth Hormones, Studies Reveal at the Milford Community College!!!) . He tries on the 42.

There’s a hitch. The problem with dressing room doors is that they’re manufactured from the same company that produces saloon doors. Marty’s dressing room door is created from the same design of the door of the saloon Wild Bill Hickok died at from “Dead Man’s Hand”.


“Peaches, dammit!!!!!!! Can’t you see I’m dressing??

“Oh, you sexy tart, that’s THE IDEA. I thought we might get a little comfy before you try on any more Richards.”


“Whatever, same name, different sex organ, but gets us both erect, that’s all that matters.”

“Peaches, I gotta get my uniforms tried on before I hit the nightshift tonight. Can’t it wait until tomorrow morning? I’ll still have a little octane in the tank before I hit the sack.”

“But someone might sugar your engine, sweetie pie. Come, come, the clerk will understand two adults need for a little fun at the playground.”

“Doll, I’m not rumblin’ at the jungle gym where the kids can see me butt naked.”

“Oh, Marty, don’t be a party pooper. Life is more than Mini-bus manifests and beer nuts at the Milford Lounge, let alone going up and down at the teeter-totter with members of the same sex, even if you’re both butt-naked. Now drop ’em and let’s have a little fun,”

She rips the pants button off the unpaid merchandise only to find out that something else is unaccounted for.

“Ummmmm, never mind.”

“Peaches, you barge in like Jesse James holding up the Last Gulch Saloon and now you just pack u[ and leave with no loot?”

“I’m surprised he didn’t shoot you cold dead with no gold in the vault.”

“Honey, I’m harder than a rock and I’m not even trying. Why don’t you make yourself at home as long as you’ve wrecked my schedule.”

“Kinda hard when you’re not hard.”

“How dare you stiff me like that when I’m trying to do my job?”

“You could bust out of this saloon door and not only would no one notice the dearth of stiffness, you wouldn’t have ANY jobs, payroll or non-payroll.”

The manager walks by

“Is there a problem here? Oh, it’s you, Marty. I see that it’s nothing at all.”

“Rest my case.”


“When you can’t get embarrassed when you’re displaying nothing in your birthday suit, it’s time to hit the Milford Men’s Clinic. They have programs that work, now including Milford Men’s Clinic Quik-Fix Pump injections to avoid those awful surprises like the one I had. I’d rather spend a night at Peaches’ mother’s house. ALONE. Isn’t it time you filled your Dickie pants with more than just pants? So that it’s more than just a pun? Sure you do. My britches feel fine and I do do too. You’re gonna like the way you look. And pump. I guarantee it.”


Comment away, gang. Don’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers.


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Men’s Warehouse Sues Marty Moon Over Unlawful Infringement Of Their Slogan.”

sub headline

“Sharkey Refuses Case. Received a ‘D’ in Copyright Law and Patents at the Richard M. Nixon Law School at Milford Community College, According to a Report.”






In the den at the Thorp household

“Mimi, you didn’t tell me you were into Carl Sagan


Off of (warned ya, gang) Husker Du’s “New Day Rising”, in case anybody’s interested.

Thanks, timbuys, for the insert. You da Man. This just made my day. Enjoy, gang, and thank Tim while you’re at it. He’s VERY creative.

September 18, 2018

A Mediocre Football Game Is Better Than Paintbrushes Chewed Up By The Dog


At a Mudlark football practice one day held at the Luke Bunkin Multiplex Practice Facility:


I wanna be a Gil Thorp Ranger!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


I wanna live a life of danger!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




I wanna…

“Seconds” by U2 is blaring over the intercom at the facility.  Gotta keep the troops motivated. Plus, “New Year’s Day” seems to have improved the punting technique of a few Mudlarks.


Man, this is getting ridiculous. Who better than to turn a no-brainer into a quasi-dilemma? Ya say ya don’t know what a dilemma is? Okay, for all of you who got an “A” in Modern Vocabulary in high school (ME ME ME!!!!!!!) ,  you can take your dog for a walk and let him/her piss on his/her favorite fire hydrant while I explain to the rest of the numbskulls who were pulling wings from flies or tripping little old ladies while they were in the crosswalk on a busy street corner in downtown Milford even as the teacher was trying his/her damndest to define supercalifragilisticgetsmeoutadocious ((I think the second s in the word has 2 of ’em) . “It’s the atomic number for carbon!!!!!! Y’know, the black stuff that blows out your tailpipe?” “What’s atomic number?”

Dilemma, Gil, is when you’re stuck with basically 2 options, neither one very appealing but also have equal merits. To go one way, is to get the bad consequences and the good consequenes of the other and vice versa. Gil, what you said REALLY isn’t a dilemma. Granted, a mediocre punt meant that, well, at least you got off the kick and if the chickenshit punt receiver tries to do an end-around and finds himself cornered by Mudlarks and regresses even further and winds up on their own 2-yard line when the PR should have taken his punishment like a man and started at, say, their own 39-yard line, not great but STILL decent field position, then at least your Mudkarks got SOMETHING out of a potentially disastrous situation.

What GOOD consequences arises to the surface from a botched punt?

“Kaz, let’s screw this thing all to Hell and have Finn sail the damn thing over Malouf’s head and once Malouf picks it up at our own 20-yard line, have him kick it toward the goalpost for a field goal attempt. Rumors are he has a booming foot. We’ll call it Razzle-Dazzle Get on the Good Foot, C’mon, Double Out Right Curl Slant Option Wishbone Formation on two.”

“Way ahead of you, Gil. I’ve got it written in the playbook, on down to Razzle-Dazzle. Should the fullback pick up the nose guard on the blitz?”

“Nah, Finn can botch and chew gum at the same time. He oughta be ready for the gorilla comin’ to sack Malouf.”


I tried to tell you I can’t punt

But I’m never talking to you again

I showed you every way, you grunt

And I’m never talking to you again

I’m never talking to you

I’m tired of wasting all my time

Trying to talk to youuuuuuuuuu

Talking to you.


BTW, that isn’t Tiki’s car at the top of the pile in Husker Du’s “Zen Arcade”. As long as I’m quoting one of my favorite groups, just thought I’d set the record straight.



Sent forth from the realm of TV Land

Bringing truth and justice to our hands

It’s Milkmannnnnnnn!!!!!!!!!


“I like it cold.”


Tiki is moping in his war-torn sedan in the middle of the Luke Bunkin Multiplex Practice Facility. Is there more to life than football? Will Maine ever field an NBA franchise? Does a skunk shit in the woods (more than likely yes on the last question) ?

“…I’m glad you introduced me

And I hope you’ll understand

I’ll be faithful to this bottle in my handdddddd.”


Milkman has just dropped off 3 crate of Milford Dairy Skim Milk  at the Milford 7-11 and is just about to clock out when he spots Tiki, which he’s able to do by the blaring music.

“Tiki, when you’re screaming George Jones, I know things aren’t kosher in Mudlarkland. Why the honky tonk offering on your Close ‘n’ Play?”

“Milkman, my piece of shit just got shittier. It’s got a busted headlight, kids spray-painted “wash me” on the ash tray, and there’s more dents than dimples in a golf ball. To top it off, the car won’t start.”

“Tiki, I think your problem is very easy to solve. One day, my milk truck wouldn’t start and I was putting my Christianity to the test attempting to get to the root of the problem. I kept my profanity to a minimum but it was getting to the point where before too long I would sound like Bruce Willis in “Die Hard” (“Can’t you get the milk truck started?” “Does it sound like I’m ordering a fucking pizza?”) . Finally, my boss came out and calmly and gently put his arm around me and said ‘I believe you need one of these.’ And when I put the key in my ignition, I was able to finish my rounds at the Milford Toyata plant. I was overjoyed that I was able to deliver fresh Milford Dairy Homemade Ice Cream Blueberrry/Cheese Cake to the starving masses. And this (pulling a car key out of a container of  Milford Dairy Reduced Fat Kosher Prepared Cottage Cheese) should solve your problem.”


“Gentlemen, start your engines!!!!!!!!”

Tiki takes the cue, fires up the busted commodity and flies off the Multiplex Practice Facility playing Tammy Wynette’s “Stand By Your Man”, loud enough for Oakwood to hear it.


As Milkman drives into the sunset

“Milk is the Key of Life.”


Now THIS is what gets me. We’ve spent all this time in the Agora with Socrates and Plato debating the merits and demerits of Democracy vs. Republicanism, with Jeremy Bentham, John Locke, Adam Smith, and John Kenneth Galbraith thrown in, I mean, they’re chewing through The Invisible Hand Theory (“No, Plato, the butcher will let The Hand determine if he should tell the customer that his Ground Round has flies in it.” “On the contrary, Socrates, the government should swoop in like John Maynard Keynes on Bad Hair Day and rescue the customer from this rancid set of circumstances and inform him before this customer develops herpes and is therefore incapable of sustaining himself in The Good Life.” ” I respectfully disagree, Plato” said I) , only to have the Romans come in and Rambo the Acropolis, Delphi’s Oracle, the Parthenon, Mount Olympus, and even the Labyrinth, after all that work the Minotaur put into it only to watch it reduced to plaster,  and drive the Greeks to the Rock of Gibralter.” Yeah, Gil, Bad Hair Day is better than dandruff, I suppose, but it looks like a football game, or a sport played of ANY kind, Hell, I’ll accept hopscotch at this point, would keep this strip in character and my sanity in order,  I’m that desperate for the Lincoln/Douglas debate to end and get READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL (“I move that we put a moratorium on this debate so that the good people of Quincy can watch the Bears/Packers game and we resume after the contest, assuming that is acceptable to Senator Douglas.”) !!!!!!!!!!!


Gang, get ready, cuz Gene Rayburn is rarin’ to go with another Match Game 2018 question. Take ‘er away, Big Guy.

Dumb Dora was SOOOOOOOOOOOOO dumb (HOW   DUMB   WAS  SHE???????) , she thought mediocre sex was better than a botched ________________.


Gil and Carrie White one night in the Milford HS chem lab.

“Carrie, you really get me erect. I don’t care what your Pentecostal mom says about you, your dirty pillows are better than Charmin Deluxe at the Milford IGA. You are saved, filled with the Holy Ghost and sexy. Let’s spend the night together.”

Carrie, weary of hearing that line after listening to the song 1000 times on Gil’s 8-track (“Coach, I didn’t know you were a Stones fan”) in his classic ’76 Plymouth Duster still lightly nods her head, a bit shy. Let The Games begin.


The Games are interrupted by a short in the Torch.


“Coach Thorp, you’re a hunk and I don’t mean to be disrespectful, you’re the teacher and coach, but…where is it?”

“Hmmmmmmm, I could have sworn I read more Penthouses than L’il Audrey Comix this week in preparation for The Moment. Is nothing peeping out?”

“Do I need to drop a coin to find out?”

Here, let me look in the Grand Canyon. The Colorado River is trickling here somewhere. Wow!!!!! I didn’t know Gila Monsters lived down this far. Hope they don’t drown but they probably won’t the way my ED is flaring up again. You have any IcyHot? Man, that cactus is dangerously close to my pubic hair. Ah, here’s the Lily of the Valley. Take me to the river, Carrie. Carrie? Carrie?….Carrie?


Gil searches around the house and turns up nada. He combs every nook and cranny of the house, then finally walks outside. He scales the front, careful not to step on Mimi’s plumerias, and heads to the back. He spots an old gravemarker by his Toro riding mower, just beyond the 3-point arc of his basketball court where he works with Keri and Jaime on their game in preparition for their pre-school league where they’re defending champions. Gil kneels and reads the inscription of the grave marker.


Carrie White and Principal Ek burn in Hell!!!!!!!!!!


SUDDENLY a woman’s hand with a Mudlark engraved into a bracelet and a man’s hand donned with a Milford HS gold watch both grab Gil.

Gil yells at the top of his lungs, desperately clinging to his Soul, scraping and scratching and clawing to keep from being dragged down to the pits of Hell.

“Gil, I’m here, I’m here, Gil, I’m here. I’m here, Gil…”


“Boy, what a nightmare. Thank God I had an ED injection ready by the nightstand. Mimi and I had a quickie and I returned to Heaven. Principal Ek and Carrie would have to endure the Lake of Fire by themselves. Fortunately, I would not commingle.

The Milford Men’s Clinic can cure your Erectile Dysfunction as well so that there’s no weeping nor gnashing of teeth. Shoot, it performs better than Sominex so YOU can perform better than Sominex!! I know, Mimi conked out just at the point of climax. You’ll be off to La La Land with a boner the size of a Coney Island dog. But don’t take my word for it, come to the Milford Men’s Clinic at their new location in Downtown Milford, right between the World Trade Center Towers. There’s free parking on the 100th floor. It can’t get any easier than that. My erection seemed to think so. Check ’em out today and check out the view from the Observation Deck on the 98th floor while you’re at it. You can see all the way to North Dakota and Apartment 3-G on a clear day. An erection with a view, now that’s the ticket.”


Gang, go to it. A bad commentary is better than a good Gil episode at this point.


“Hi, I’m Dennis Weaver. I was chased by a crazy oil rig driver all over the country. As a result, I developed Fybromyalgiacenterofibrosis of the panatella and the lateral cruciate ligament. I also received several head injuries, one on the medulla oblongata, one on the right dorsal lymphoid tissue of my cerebellum, and one on the frontal parietal bone, barely missing my left occipital lower cranial cavity, just getting off with a contusion. Then my butt hurt something awful from sittin’ so long, runnin’ my ass off from this lunatic. Thank God for The Shark. He helped me recover my back wages from lost time at work and the insurance company even paid for the IcyHot to soothe my butt. And we even found out that the driver was Charles Manson and that his driver’s license had expired, so he not only received more prison time for his escape but got his license revoked. The company paid extra on my center ventral maxilla for hirin’ him. If ya got a cell phone handy whether you’re at work or sittin’ on the john workin’ out yore IRA, it’s 1-FON-THE-JAWS.”


” I’m Joe Sharkey. Don’t fight Milford Mutual alone. One call, that’s all.”

September 13, 2018

The Ides of Morons

Filed under: What the hell is going on here? — tdrewhardin @ 3:47 pm


Wellllll, we’re lost forever

In a black sedan

Retching from this hopeless plot


The engine’s smoking

And the brakes are squealing

And the tires are damn near shot


A bad vehicle, Baby

And it’s only just begun

A bad vehicle, Baby

Someone fetch me the nearest gun


We don’t

LOVE IT (love it)

NEED IT (need it)

WANT IT (want it)

CRAVE IT (crave it)


Thank God in Heaven it’s only for 3 months


Hoo boy. Let’s talk about me for a minute, to start off “Vulture Culture” from the Alan Parsons Project. What a way to kick off the football plot by observing teenagers illegally (the barricade was stolen, c’mon) kneeling in the street, attempting to imitate Arp. Well, do you go to Sherwin Williams and get those gloppy horse-bristly paintbrushes to do justice to Monet or Matisse? Right, you’re getting the idea. You simply block off a street, running the risk of rush-hour traffic and display your neo-Abstractionist-post-Georgian-Greco-Iberian-pre-Hungarian-Impressionist-Italian-Romanitic-Movement-Deutshcheklassischezeit-Sino-Vedic-Paint-by-Numbers side of you with the right tools. No Crayolas on this project, nosirrreee.

What this has to do with football is still a matter. Has anyone SEEN a football so far? We’ve seen more paintbrushes. Maybe they oughta hock more barriers and line ’em up around the football field. They might run away with the Conference championship, all due to stolen merchandise.


Off same album mentioned above


Somebody out there

Wasting my time

Somebody out there

Comm-itt-ing a crime

If it wins the bacon

It was worth every dime

For somebody out there


Gil playing the strange-sounding xylophone on the song, reported to be Mimi’s spice jars.


And, gang, I’m having a REAL problem with DOWNTOWN MILFORD. Like the Empire State Building is next to Milford High School. And Wall Street is down the pipe from The Pail. Is the Brooklyn Bridge catacorner to WDIG Studio?

I hear the song from The Church, off “Gold Afternoon Fix”, “…back in Metropolis, where nothing can ever topple us…” Ummmmmm, no.



Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Mudlarks Trounce Oakwood, 63-0, for the Crown!!!!!!!!!”

Headline on p.17

“Milford Highway Department Investigating Rash of Stolen Equipment”





“Next, stay tuned as Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw dukes it out with The Wild One and his motorcycle gang as they make a pit stop in Milford. Watch as he confronts the leader and starts a conflagration when he asks the leader how he eventually wound up as The Godfather. Will they burn down the Mudlark gym and ruin Homecoming? Find out only on WDIG-TV.”

Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw pulls over a motorcycle with Harley-Davidson logos all over the jacket. Only a Christmas tree is decorated more.

“May I see your driver’s license?”

The driver takes off helmet.

“Dr. Pearl, I caught you going 75 in a 25MPH school zone. You’re aware that you’re not to tear down here even when children AREN’T present?”


“Any reason why you did it?”

“I’m sorry, I was in the bathroom when the Wild One and his Gang left the Milford Waffle House and I was trying to catch up with them so I could get in free at the Milford/Oakwood football game via Wild One punching in the ticket-taker’s face (“I hate ticket windows, especially at Milford”). We wanted to get front row seats and early dibs on the Junior Mints, Laffee-Taffee, Lemonheads, stale Jiffy-Pop Popcorn and Chuckles at the concession stand. The Wild One promised he’d dump the Cotton Candy man in the garbage can right in front of my eyes. He’s my hero.”

“Where’s your husband?”

“He went to visit his 99-year-old mom in a nursing home in another state. Just thought I’d drag my old apparel from my ’20’s when I was dating The Wild One back in ’54. School separated us and he changed his name to Don Corleone.  Reliving old times.”


“About to wrap this up. I just gave her a warning and sent her to Defensive Driving classes for a couple of Saturdays. Told her to watch her speed and I’d let her expired tag go if I could get The Wild One’s autograph, when he was done pushing around Gil and Kaz, of course.”


If ya held out for more money as a star QB for yore NFL team becuz ya wanted Milford Towing & Hauling rollbacks to have exclusive rights ta luggin’ yore pick-up truck when it breaks down on some rural route that only combines drag race on and/or kin be easily identified by Mr. Green Jeans on the GPS, ya might be a redneck.


Big shout-out to Freddy Johnson of Middletown, Kentucky. Your smile is contagious and you always stay in the fight as you go to your classes and fellowship at Fern Creek/Highview United Ministries, Inc. in Fern Creek, Kentucky. I can tell that you enjoy going and it is paying off as you look better every time I see you. Spike Lee was right. Do The Right Thing. You have chosen to do just that, My Man. Gang, the next time you see Freddy, treat him with respect. He’s earned it.


Oooooooooookkkkkkk, it’s time for Match Game 2018 (didn’t you old-timers like that funky bass when they played the theme song or when the celebrities were filling out their answers with that giant Magic Marker?) and you know what that means. Gene Rayburn is steppin’ to the mike, ready to rock. You got the floor, Gene.

Dumb Dora was SOOOOOOOOOOOOO dumb (HOW   DUMB   WAS  SHE????), she thought if she pulled Tiki’s ____________, his car would fire up.


And the Batmobile makes a return appearance in P2 as crime-fighting works up an appetite. Batman and Robin, when they’re not hobnobbing with the teenagers to promote good will between Gotham City High School (The Appleknockers) and the Mudlarks, they’re chowing down on the Triple Bucket Cheeseburger with Buffalo Bucket Fries and cole slaw. The Liver Cheeseburger causes constipation problems with Batman and he ran out of anti-digestive-system-blocking Bat Flatulator. Not that what they’re eating might not cause problems once they re-enter the Bat Cave (Aunt Harriett: “Alfred, what is that AWFUL smell?” “Oh, nothing, madam, I just fed the kitty a bit too much Tender Vittles”). Anyway, you can’t have the opposite problem, an empty stomach. Nope, can’t fight The Joker and his technicalities when their stomach’s growling.



Welllll, I’m playing football

In a cracked sedan

And I’m throwing incomplete


The piston’s blowing

And the offense stalling

Mired in chewed-through bucket seats


A bad vehicle, Baby

With a lame-ass quarterback

A bad vehicle, Baby

Right down to my 8-track


We don’t

LOVE IT (love it)

NEED IT (need it)

WANT IT (want it)

CRAVE IT (crave it)


Thank God in Heaven the car’s in Gil’s back yard.


Then there’s Lisa Shaffer of Jeffersonville, Indiana. Your respect for people is evident and I can tell you’ve done A LOT for other people. We had a great conversation yesterday as you helped me sort out a lot of problems that were piling up by the minute. That’s how the world goes’ round, gang. Lisa, you’ve made this life better with your kind heart and compassion and I salute you. Don’t ever change. We still need you.


“Ah, Peaches, ya gotta hand it to me. I managed to sneak this bus into Mudlark Lake Resort and nobody’s coming to this trailhead anytime soon. Only people who hiked the Appalachian Trail dare come up here and hike Lost Mudlark Kentucky Coffee Tree Trail. And as long as we’re on a roll, let’s do it Nature’s Way.”

“Oh, Marty, I LOVE how you talk dirty.”

“I even covered the videocam with this Cracker Jack box I found on the ground.  They’ll never find us. Plus, I am helping the environment in more ways than one.”

“Oh, Nature Boy, save me from extinction.”

Marty drops his pants.

Nature Boy went to sleep with wood, with apologies to ZZ Top.

“Marty, there’s something else they’ll never find. In fact, they’ll have to send out a search party on this one.”

“Peaches, let me tell you ’bout the birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees and this thing called love.”

“Marty, you need to buy some Raid, there’s so many roaches in your nest. The facts of life were overrun by bugs at Little Big Horn.”

“Peaches, I’m going to the cell block next to Mr. Bader if they catch me with this contraption. I’m still trying to find a way to sneak it past the security guard. Now’s not the time to pick my brains like this.”

“I’d rather pick that than the dead tulip between your legs. If we get caught by the Mudlark Ranger, I’m not going to tell him how much I was enjoying myself. I don’t want to get an extra citation tacked on my record for perjury.”

“Oh, great, not only am I a fugitive from the law but we’re stuck out here in the middle of nowhere where I could get eaten by a cougar or a bear.”

“At least they’d put you out of your misery with that lifeless appendage attached to you. I wouldn’t go outside. You might get dragged down by the flat tire.”

“Watch me.”

A few minutes later

Peaches hears OMIGOD!!!!!!!!! somewhere in the vicinity of the Lost Mudlark Kentucky Coffee Tree Trailhead sign-in sheet mounted on a stand made from a catalpa tree.

She hears running that sounds desperate and indeed dragging as Marty FINALLY makes it back to hocked vehicle.

“What happened, Nature Boy?”


Peaches can’t withstand the blubbering that is profusely gushing out of Marty  at one end that she wishes was gushing out the other end and is prepared to do her duty as a woman.

Until she sees a skunk running across the parking area.


“Face it, men. I was in a no-win situation. Having to bribe the maintenance man to take the mini-bus back and sneak it behind the auxiliary parking lot just cleaned my wallet. I could have spent that money at the Milford Men’s Clinic and still be able to find a way to smuggle it back without the extra luggage of no Peaches for the rest of the weekend. Watching her speed off to her mother was not a sight to see. Save yourself the trouble and come to the Milford Men’s Clinic today. They’ll restore your sex life better than the birds and the bees can do. And you don’t have to get directions to the Lost Mudlark Kentucky Coffee Tree Trail to get satisfaction to boot. I know I’d like to leave my hiking boots at home when I’m with Peaches. Check ’em out today.”


Shout-out to Michelle Erhard and William Trice(had to squeeze this one in, gang). You have shown wisdom and courage in your more-than-victorious battle with alcohol. The fact that you crusade against people who choose to let alcohol rule their lives has my blessing. Gang, pray for these people and give them the respect and love they need. Everybody needs a cavalry behind them and they’re no exceptions. They deserve one and then some. God Bless you both.


Gang, it’s your turn. Just no Picasso on the streets, please, if you help our friends. “The 3 Musicians might be out of place on Main Street (yes, I know it’s a SIDE STREET but don’t ruin the joke).



Welllllll, I’m at The Pail

In my tacky sedan

Ordering a PBJ quiche


Still explaining

To the guys around me

Why my crate needs a frickin’ leash


A bad vehicle, Baby

Overhaul this plot and car

A bad vehicle, Baby

Neither one will get real far


We don’t

LOVE IT (love it)

NEED IT (need it)

WANT IT (want it)

CRAVE IT (crave it)


Thank God in Heaven

You know the Milford Recycling Centrum

Abuts the higghhhhhh


September 11, 2018

“Don’t Let The Insurance Companies Gouge You On Your Sorry Piece Of Crap.”

Filed under: big arms, lessons learned, Milford Idiots, The Bucket, The Legend of Joe Sharkey — tdrewhardin @ 3:44 pm


“Hi, I’m attorney Joe Sharkey with Sharkey and Sons. You might have remembered me from the ’70’s when I could hit the ball a ton but the plotlines ruined my career. Things happen. But they SHOULDN’T happen to you. I might have lost 2 fingers but I sued the sawmill company and live in a nice subdivision, Mudlark Chase, for my efforts. You can live on Easy Street too for your lost appendages. If you or your loved one have been injured in a car accident or your automobile winds up like P2 where you can’t tell the difference between that and Archie’s Jalopy, call The Shark today at 1-FON-THE-JAWS. Insurance companies are hard at work making sure you get no more than your hand can handle out of a gumball machine. Let us fight for you and get you the money you deserve.”

“Hi, I’m Melba Hateley and my back was thrown out when Marty Moon backed a Milford Mini-Transit bus out of Milford Beverage Warehouse and rammed my Mo-Ped. I was getting a dried prune liqueur after a hard day at Milford Foundry when Mr. Moon forgot to check his blind spot in order to make up for lost time after being held up in line in the Warehouse on his lunch break. He was so determined to get his Vodka and run, he rear-ended me and threw me several feet, almost winding up in the Milford Sanitation Truck. I was in the hospital for several weeks from my injury plus a couple more days from Milford General Hospital Garbage Removal and Dermal Disinfecting Procedures. I needed just compensation for my lost wages. Thank God for The Shark.”

“Just remember, one call, THAT’S ALL.”


Well, gang, I think you can deduce where I’m going with this one. P2 just got the ball rolling and took things out to orbit.
Thanks for the tip, Tiki. I needed a few pointers on how to break the ice with people I’ve just met. Show ’em my ’69 Ford Mercury 400 V-8 that’s holed up at Milford Scrap Metal, Inc., explaining how I’m going to maneuver this vehicle out of the yard in time for the Milford High School Prom next Spring. “And the winner, for 2 tickets to the Milford Imax Theater, for the vehicle most likely to be sold piece-by-piece on E-Bay…”


Tonight at 8, MST (Mudlark Standard Time), catch all the action as Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw battles the streets of Milford to harness drug traffic caused by a gang of Mudlark punks. Will he make it out alive in time for the next film session? Stay tuned for another exciting episode right after The Jetsons right here on WDIG-TV.”


Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw steps of his Texas Mudlark Ranger Cruiser after pulling over a mini-van with 5 teenagers.

“I need to see your driver’s license and registration.” as he spits towards the road. He has made the mistake of expectorating his Red Man Bubble Yum chaw towards a serial killer on the lam before (“Whoops, sorry”, holding off the psycho’s urge to pull his Colt .45 from under the seat, especially when Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw handed him a Bounty-the quick picker-upper).

Items are given to Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw. Everything is in order, down to the VIN.

“I have a search warrant on a suspicion of your smuggling electronic cigarettes across the county, part of a ring from Milford to Oakwood.”

“Sir, we just came from football practice. If you’d been there, you’d know.”

Trying to recover face that’s been lost now and for 60 years

“Yeah, well, what’s that in your cup holder?”

“Those are candy cigarettes, peppermint and lemon-lime. Want one? Besides, we’re not allowed to eat something after a grueling practice?”

Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw never accepts bribes, plus it wouldn’t mix well with his chaw, getting nasty images of him spitting THAT combo on the road and heads back to his squad car. Later, on his cell phone to HQ

“I think we can close the book on this one” as he nukes a raccoon in the parking lot of the Milford General Baptist Church with his chaw.

AS closing credits on the show appear on the screen, Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw is seen returning to his original identity, sipping Milford 7-11 Diet Cherry Cappuccino while dissecting game film with Coach Kaz, the kittycat meowing in the MTM Enterprises logo (spinoff from the Mary Tyler Moore Show?-no way) signifying the show is FINALLY over-well, until the next blow anyway.


P1: Who knows what lurks in the minds of teenage boys with nothing but nasty cars in their possession that he perhaps hot-wired in a farmer’s pig-sty somewhere, fresh with pig doo-doo in the trunk? And is willing to divulge and share with his friends so that his friends too might be dragged down on the vessel Charon to share the same fate as Proserpina? Where souls suffer day and night because Marty isn’t there from the Milford Transit Authority even if Marty flunked the oral portion of the B License exam because he forgot to memorize the weight of a B vehicle per se? They can no longer make fun of his slamming on the brakes at an intersection because the Thorp kids got too careless in the streets? THE SHADOW KNOWS.

That, or it’s a murder scene of Frankenstein. Hope the Milford Police had plenty of “Do Not Cross” tape on that one.



And of course, I drew a blank just when that next Classic Comedy Schtik, a la Moby Dick or Great Expectations was ready to emanate from my brain. Just not my day, gang.

And I’m just a little antsy over WHO SHOT COACH SHAW? Maybe that’s the reason the ideas flow until they hit the floodwall. Yeah, that’s it. My Christian Conscience is stemming the spark of creativity. Don’t let Do The Right Thing get trumped from artistic expression.


If ya bought a car because ya got a fetish for a beat-up sorry-ass-excuse-for-a-car-ta-drive-ta-work-on-third-shift-at-the-Milford-Foundry but ya kick the tires just ta make shore ya git thar, ya might be a redneck.


Okay, gang, back by popular demand, Gene Rayburn is back at the helm for Match Game 2018 ready for you to keep those wits a-blazin’. We’re ready, Gene.

Dumb Dora was SOOOOOOOOOOOOO dumb (HOW   DUMB   WAS  SHE?????), she thought Tiki meant______________ in  Micropolynesian.


Shout-out to Elizabeth Thompson in Louisville, Kentucky. She goes to school as a volunteer to help tutor and make sure kids get their lunches and offer encouragement, especially to the underprivileged kids. This is a much-needed service and the best thing is it’s FREE. Elizabeth, the kids lack something when you’re not there. Keep being that parent that perhaps some of these kids don’t have and keep nagging them to aspire to greater heights. They’ll thank you for it when they get older. God Bless you in your efforts.


Today’s headline from the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Cleared of Charges in Coach Shaw Shooting!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Key witnesses confirm he was at a Jehovah’s Witness Convention in Richmond, Virginia; plus, the gloves to the weapon were several sizes too small and used for gardening.”


A shout-out is in order for Better Bargains on Cane Run Road and Lower Hunter’s Trace Road in Louisville, Kentucky. They have great buys on many items, including chips and drinks. Just walk in the door and you’ll see a display case with nothing BUT chips. Love it. They have several grocery items reasonably priced not to mention a few goodies (yum yum!!!!!) like Hostess and Little Debbie. Skip the Wal-Mart route and come on down and indulge. The staff has ALWAYS been nice and friendly to me and that just tops off my feelings towards this place. Gang, if you’re in the neighborhood, stop on in. Support small businesses. You NEED a place where everybody knows your name.


And I’m not EVEN going to comment on P3. People in the graveyard behind The House of the Seven Gables KNOW it’s The Bucket, NOT The Pail. Stuuuu-pid. That’s right, Ren, tell Stimpy that it’s The Bucket, NOT THE PAIL.


“Well, Coach, sounds like another runaround session to me. And we’ll be back for some final thoughts after this. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field


“Man, I’m like James Brown!!!!!!!!! I FEEEEEELLLLLL GOOD!!!!!!!!!! No more ridin’ around in that wheelchair like the pony at the Milford Wal-Mart!!!!!!!! I’m ready to tackle the world!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Great, Honey, you can tackle me first!!!!!!!!!”

“Blubba, blooba, bleeba, I might fumble the snap. Plus, I wasn’t good at the wraparound technique when I played. Hit ’em like a ton of bricks and hope they fall like a set of dominoes.”

“Well, you can jump on this player once you’ve knocked her cold. It’s not as if I’m returning the fumble for a 99-yard-score.”

“I wasn’t very fast. By the time they were at the 20-yard-line on the other end, I just went to the bench and doused myself with the water bottle”

“You still have to get up for the handshake after the game.”

“Glippy glop gloopy, ippy oppy, ooppy, la la la lo lo, I was a poor sport. If we didn’t win by at least 35, I hit the showers behind the Coach’s back. I had no respect for a bunch of sissies, especially when they played like girls.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What do you mean? I got all the paperwork filled out for that unicorn tag during bow season. I even dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s.”

“The female end of things?”

“I’ll have to check Doe Season on unicorns,especially with a handgun. I’m not certain if you can use a Sig Sauer. I didn’t find that in the huntin’ manual.”

“I’m a girl, Honey.”

Coach Shaw scratches head in slight confusion

“You’re not listed in any season. I could have sworn I didn’t see you. I’ll write a letter to the Game Warden.”


“Well, as you can see, I did a poor rendition of ‘Hair’ and I just flat out didn’t see the horns from the unicorns. When Coach Kaz showed me where the Milford Men’s Clinic was on the Milford Mall map, I got there and boy, did they open my eyes to all the treatment plans available. My erections showed me YOU ARE HERE and we went from there to Xanadu. To stand within the Pleasure Dome, indeed. I never read this Colby Jack Taylor but he musta got erections by the bucketful in that cave he found. But, men, you don’t gotta go to Mammoth Cave for you to get it on at the Holiday Inn Express with your honey. Stop in at the Milford Men’s Clinic today. Eliminate the bats in your cave and free your significant other. You’ll be glad you did.”

Gang, you’re on. My dad is going to tow the car to our core business and see how much we can sell to Jasper Engines. They always need used parts.


“Hello, I’m Spud Witherspoon. My hearing went tone-deaf after The Pirate Network blew a load at Marty Moon. I got a settlement with TPN after I lost my job on the Milford & Oakwood Express as a conductor because my hearing went all to Hades. One day, the train almost collided with a Union Pacific because I couldn’t hear the train whistle, signalling take-off. I had to call The Shark. Now, I’m a new man after TPN paid for my Beltone and I got my job back after 6 months. No more landing the M & O on Gil’s back patio. And my lost wages paid for my son’s scholarship to Powell College, the same school Gil wussed out on.”

“You heard the man. If you’ve been injured in an accident, call 1-FON-THE-JAWS to get your share of the pie. One call, THAT’S All.”


Heard somewhere at the Milford Mall

“How ’bout the owner of the Milford Girls-a-Go Go Club?”

“Negative. He was at the Milford Convention Center for the Billy Graham Crusade.”

September 6, 2018

“Hi, Honey, I’m Home!!!!!! Guess What? We Found a Unicorn to Take Moose’s Place!!!!!!!”

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 4:20 pm





In the town of Milford

Where they’re backward

And there’s room to roam


Unicorns run rampant

But that won’t dampen

“Hi, Honey, I’m Home!!!!!!”


Gang, I died and went to Bucket Heaven. I am exposed to a whole smorgasbord of ideas given today’s propensity to leave things wide open for the Milford & Oakwood Express to sail through. Let me count THE WAYS.

Guess I better get the appetizer outta the way first. Is anyone as shocked as I am to see Marjie and Marty in the SAME PANEL??? Was there a typo in the lithograph(“No, No, the instructions were very clear!!! Marjie and WALTER CRONKITE were to be interviewing Gil!!!!!!”)? And then the nagging question presents itself, i.e., “…Marjie, what say we go to Milford Motel 6 and exchange notes? I’m still not convinced Gil can dig up another QB but maybe your steno pad has somebody on the Freshman squad. Peaches is going to visit her rich aunt in Hilton Head. She’s trying to get back into her will. There was a technicality in a clause Peaches and her aunt’s lawyer needed to iron out.”) Well, I guess we better not rush things. Still keep Marjie and Marty at a panel distance. I’ve never known Gil to fight 2 sharks at one time(although Jaws 5 would be fascinating-“Gil, there’s another one behind you!!!!!!!!”), and this is really breaking protocol. Bruce Lee taking on more than one thug at the same time in the Milford Public Square? Just doesn’t happen in those old grainy b/w martial arts flicks. Gil and Bruce Lee would get their brains beat out otherwise.


Shout-out to Linda Wilcox who lives in Jeffersontown, Ky. Linda, you have a lot of spunk and energy and you’ve proven that when you live independently, you promote The American Way. You come to work, come Hell or high water and you do a great job when you’re there. I salute you.


If yuz willin’ to pay luxury tax on yore huntin’ license fees just to say ya killed a unicorn with a bow, ya might be a redneck.


NEW AND INTERESTING???? Marjie, we’re at the Milford practice football field, not Cannes Film Festival. Trust me Quentin Tarantino will NOT be with the practice squad. Even Marty isn’t putting his foot in his mouth on this one. It was like Deacon Jones’ Dairy Queen “More Burger than Bun” sales pitch several years back. Y’know, if I want a burger, I’ll go to the Milford DQ and if I want bread, I’ll go to Milford Donut Solutions(“The answer to that growling stomach at your office at 8:45AM”). Will you PLEASE streamline your questioning towards football? We get enough running around, what with subplots resembling Peyton Place(Hoo boy, lemme count the ways) without this interview likely to show up on Entertainment Weekly. I can see it now

“Coming up next, Jack Nicholson has agreed to play defensive tackle for $8 million, backing off from his original demand of 15 mil. A bond issue will foot his contract. Coach Thorp will switch the football field over to artificial turf. All after this.”


We were once a sports strip

Without bad scripts

In a honeycomb


Now the plot’s in the gutter

Tough to utter

“Hi, Honey, I’m Home!!!!!!!”


Gang, the most significant insignificant member of Coach Thorp’s coaching staff, and Milford Theater in general, and I refer to Coach Shaw, was shot in the back while leaving Milford Girls-a-Go Go Club after a performance one night. The good news is that he is fine but will need back surgery and will be in a wheelchair for a couple of weeks. But given his strength, after observing several decades of his being a rebel soldier who winds on the Death List when it comes to the Tara in “Gone With The Wind”, when in reality he should be Rhett Butler, he will walk again.

In the interim, only one question remains



And was Tru Standish old and interesting? Sure, Marjie, saith Gil. We’ll bring him back during Ratings Week in case the plot winds up like golf, dazed and confused and in the cell block next to Mr. Bader. Oh, you wanna talk football? Sure, Marjie, take your time. I’m sure your stat sheet is in your trunk somewhere. Marty and I will talk about our fishing trip. No sense in hosing him one more time. He learned his lesson. Did you look under your spare tire?


Time for Match Game 2018 again. Sharpen those thoughts and get ready to rumble. Gene Rayburn, you’re on.

Dumb Dora was SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO dumb(HOW   DUMB   WAS  SHE???????),  she thought she could _____________ the tackling dummy after Gil told her to get down and dirty on it.


We were once a sports strip family

On your comic syndicate

Now we’ve changed our style

And it’s been a while

Since the plot’s been legitimate


P2: “Gil is confident, knowing he applied the New and Improved Konkrete-Seal Poly-Grip. Yup, no more embarrassing interviews where Steve Luhm has to use the Weed Whacker to find his dentures on the football field somewhere. He can withstand the onslaught of stupid questions that are non-football-related and not fret whether his dental work is sliding around in his epiglottis somewhere. He will never perform another aerial stunt off the precipice with his teeth in front of Marty Moon ever again. Coach Thorp, only unicorns make life better. Try some today. At the Milford Pharmacy or wherever fine plots or denture products are stocked.”





“Dr. Pearl, the State called again and they said they needed those Sophomore Verbal and Math Scores by the end of the wee-Uh, never mind.”


Heard at the Milford Sports Pub over the din of clacking billiard balls at the 8-Ball Tournament

“Ya know, it mighta been Mr. Bader”

“He’s in jail, stupid.”


The coup de grace is P3. Marty, you’ve got that look that Gumby is after. But at least the topic is germane to football, albeit slightly confrontational, typical Marty. We don’t know a unicorn’s butt from a hole in the ground who Mike Filion is but the readership is assuming that we’ll be filled in.

“Who’s that unicorn over there? He just dropped a pile on the 30-yard-line.”

“Oh, that’s the new guy, Filion.”

Wellllll, I’ll gamble my subscription to the Milford Enquirer that that particular conversation will not transpire. That said, Marty is no doubt itching for revenge after Gil put him in his place during basketball season. When he’s tame as a unicorn colt, that does not bode well. Nobody’s going to convince me that if he can’t have his way with Marjie(I mean, trading questions with Marjie? Marty’s interview prowess being shared with another Homo Sapien? Think about it) or Gil, that he’s going to take this lying down. There will be no “Marty Takes His Spanking Like a Man: The Sequel.” Trust me on this one.


Gil and Kaz in Gil’s office one day

“What about Ms. Rizk? She’s always alone.”

“The police ruled that out, Gil. She couldn’t have had a gun and a typewriter in her hand at the same time.”


“And that’ll wrap up another useless interview with Coach T. For my money, a hippo would do better than a unicorn at QB. And we’ll be right back after this. This is Marty Moon with WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”


Coach Shaw in his wheelchair at his house

“Damn, Honey, I can’t get out for awhile. I’m going crazy. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Oh, Darling, since we’re all alone, well, we’re 2 mature adults, let’s go to the bedroom and let’s sock it to each other.”

“Blubba, Bubba, I think I’ll go call my buddies and go huntin’.”

“Dear, you can’t, you’re in a wheelchair, remember?”

Yeah, but the new public lands they opened up right behind Milford Wal-Mart has a handicap-accessible area by one of the deer blinds. Man, those 8-pointers won’t know what hit ’em when I stick ’em with my bow. I’ll have some good eatin’ tonight, especially when I fry the deer meat in Pam.”

“Don’t you have to go UP the tree to get to the blind?”

“Yabba, Dabba, well, you see, it’s on a gingko tree and it’s even got a chair lift. I can climb the Stairway to Heaven with just the push of a button.”

“I didn’t know gingko trees grew in the woods. It seems like they’re around libraries and shopping centers.”

“Yeah, well, the Milford Isaac Walton League created an emergency fund to slow their near-extinct status. Now they grow like weeds. I can take my pick of the litter.”

“And if it’s near Wal-Mart, what if you miss? What if the arrow get’s stuck in some kid’s lungs?”


“She had me there. It was time to face up to my other handicap and hit the Milford Men’s Clinic and ‘fess up to the problem. With treatment plans that work, isn’t it time YOU restored your intimacy? Check ’em out today. Oh, they even have a ramp leading into the store. No more having to ask 3 teenagers to heave-ho me up a couple of steps to win the day on erections. I can sail on in to The Horny of Plenty. The Milford Men’s Clinic. It’s time to get your pleasure back, Men.”


“Marty, I can find my way in. You didn’t have to go into the mall withall the that construction at the front entrance.”

“Coach, we’re required to accompany you from the bus to the place of business. It’s in my manual. I’ve had concrete abutments fall on me before.”

Thanks to Dorothy Barbour for her contribution to the last conversation. I am praying for you and hope all is well.


Gang, comment away. I’m going to enter the Milford Rodeo in just a few minutes. I oughta be able to ride that unicorn for 6 seconds this time.


Now we’ve got to endure

A plot with no cure

For any decency

That won’t stop us from hoping

That we’ll be coping

And DEFINITELY not be moping

God, we need more doping

“Hi, Honey, I’m Home!!!!!!!

Hi, Honey, I’M HOME!!!!!!!”


“And that’s the way it was here on the practice field at Milford High School on September 6th, 2018. This is Walter Cronkite. Good night.”




September 4, 2018

Watching Milford Football From TV Land

Filed under: Coach Kaz, Coach Shaw, Gil Thorp, hideous scar faces — tdrewhardin @ 4:51 pm





Sent forth on a quest from TV Land

Bringing truth and justice to the landdddddddd

It’s Milkmannnnnnnn!!!!!!!!!!!!


Milkman valiantly comes through the back door, past his arch-nemesis, the Coke machine

Gil sitting dejectedly in front of a pile of Miller Lite cans at the MCC

“Why the long face, Coach Thorp?”

“Oh, the golf plot’s over and I never got to see who won. I was so busy promoting it and giving tons of advice, then I got carried away with my drinking. And now, I’ll never get to enjoy the fruits of my labor.”

“Well, Coach, even though the plot stunk out a rhino’s butt and you needed heavy duty Pampers on that bad boy to stanch the stink, take comfort that the plot was as predictable as the sun rising in the east and that those losers who cheated and couldn’t golf moron status on the IQ meter got what’s coming to them. They had to call a rollback tow truck to haul off the trophy for our heroes.”

“Good deal!!!!!!!!!!!! Wilson and Tony deserve it. What happened to those cheats?”

“They were guillotined in the Milford Public Square at the crack of dawn this morning as part of a purge to eliminate bad boys who push bad plots WAY past the breaking point. “Only ‘Hi, Honey, I’m Home!!!!’ pushed the envelope any further but they were out of Milford’s jurisdiction and the courts could do nothing. I gave them a bottle of skim milk, they smoked their last Winstons, then the priests read their Last Rites. They left the earth in style.”

“What about Mimi? I forgot all about her.”

“Well,  she almost ran off with Gilligan but the Skipper hauled him back due to mutiny and so you get a reprieve. I say a cold bottle of milk on the house plus another quick snort from the Milford Men’s Clinic oughta do the trick.”

“Gee, thanks, Milkman.”

Too late, Milkman is off to help Moose with his batting average.

“That might take a whole case of 2%, Moose.”


Oh, and there’s Coach Shaw, fresh from his tour at the Milford Girls-a-Go Go Club. Does he ever COACH? I’m sure part of the job description is watching game film but you DO play football on the field. Why do I get the feeling that when Milford is playing Oakwood in a driving rain that Coach Shaw is on the computer playing  Electronic Arts XB1 Madden NFL 19.

“Who won?”

“The Raiders.”

“I mean between the Mudlarks and New Thayer!!!!!!!”


Really, I am scratching my noggin attempting the impossible, i.e., remembering when Coach Shaw taught a Mudlark how to block, how to tackle, the proper technique for putting on your jock strap, how to steady the tee so the football won’t fall off on the kickoff, how to do the Ickey Shuffle, the Sack Dance, The Fun Bunch Celebration, REALLY, WHAT IS COACH SHAW’S ROLE ON THE TEAM? What did Gil tell him in the interview process?

“Okay, Game Boy, we’ll start you off watching hours and hours of videotape, then we’ll progress up to a cup of Sanka after 18 hours, then we’ll bring you on the field after Tod Andrews leaves. After 40 years, you’ll know the playbook like the Gettysburg Address.”


“Gilligan, this plot is promulgating obfuscated shards of ambiguous and equivocal minutiae.”

“Yeah, Professor, and it’s pretty confusing too.”


“Don’t tell me how to do my job!!!!!!! I may not have liked getting suspended but I’m getting the hang of this bus thing. It’s like riding a bicycle.”

“But, Mr. Moon, you’re at the Milford Greyhound station.

Ashley Bishop, that one’s for you, My Friend. Keep tutoring the students to greater heights. Your ideas gave me a great deal of inspiration and keeps my blog a-goin’ Who knows, one of your students could take my place. Keep up the great work.


And then there’s the 3 blind mice in P1 which I’m presuming(tread lightly, T. Drew) is the warmup for the football plot. Now why aren’t they watching Nick at Nite like their next-door neighbors in P2? Hey, the family that promotes boring football plots together watch the same programs together. You’re not gonna pull one on us, Thorpiverse. If Coach Shaw, Thorp, Kaz, whosoever’s on the john in Gil’s toilette, have to watch Joe Friday Marathon Night on Tuesday, so do the other 3 people. We’re team around here. You can’t win if you’re not of like mind and purpose. We all stomach another episode of Petticoat Junction or call it a season.

Oh, and then we’re trying to get fancy bouncing around software lingo. Oooooooookkkkk, so Coach Kaz is not a dumb jock and he goes to the Milford Computer Palace when his eyes are not fixed on Monday Night Football. Yeah, there’s an association “Montana, hitting Rice on a slant, at the 45, the 40, the 30, the 20, the 10, TOUCHDOWN!!!!!!!!!! And the 49ers lead 24-21, over Dallas early in the 3rd quarter.”

“Shit, I knew I should have gotten more cartridges. Honey, I’ll be right back.”

“Would you get some milk and bread while you’re out?’

“Sure. Does the Milford 7-11 still close at 11?”

“No, I think they’re on extended hours ’til midnight.”


Nick at Nite presents


A young Dick York is in a typical domicile in Milford. He is getting ready for the Homecoming Game tonight as Milford takes on Goshen

“You want to look dignified, classy, and clean for tonight’s game. But you also want to kick some booty. In other words, you want to look SSSSWWWWWWEEEEEELLLLLL. All right. Let’s begin.

First, be sure your underwear has just come clean out of the dryer. No sense in the nose tackle smelling the stink from your fart stains when you’re in formation. And you don’t want that static cling on your butt(as our young York double-checks his derriere).

Then, take a shower, making sure you use plenty of soap. It’s also a good idea to practice blocking by burying your shoulders against the tile wall(young York with his mouthguard in place, banging the wet walls, causing Dad down below, who’s reading the Milford Enquirer, to wonder what is going on).

Then, brush your teeth. You might lose half of them for tonight’s game, but no referee wants to pick up green teeth. There’s a 15-yard penalty for said offense.

Next, practice the pre-game handshake. You can practice with your dad, grandpa, your neighbor, the mailman, the meter man, the paper boy, your dog. It might not be a good idea to tell the paper boy ‘we’re going to run your ass over with a lawn mower’, but the other said personnage is perfectly acceptable(young York doing pre-game handshake with Lassie and Rin Tin Tin).

Then, practice your tackling. Use the front yard and practice with your girlfriend. When you get smacked a million times from the rejection of your advances, you’ll be ready to tackle The Refrigerator tonight(York displaying black eye and bruises all over his face.)

Oh, you also need to practice running with the football. You’ll have to go to Milford Wal-Mart to shoplift one. You’ll need speed and agility and a good lawyer for this one but if it gets you that late game-winning TD, it was worth a night in jail, plus the fees Dad has to pay the bail bondsman(young York running past the 80-year-old door greeter who’s trying to stop him).

FINALLY, eat a good hearty meal. You can’t play football on an empty stomach. Eat plenty of vegetables and a good steak for the energy you’ll need tonight(young York eating such plus the Chef Boy-R-Dee he’s hiding under the table out of the can).

These things should make you a winner and still be a toady under Coach Thorp’s system. Isn’t that SWWWWEEEEEELLLLLLLL?(As young York rides off with Gil and his family in his Rolls Royce to return to their chateau)”


If ya picketed in front of TV Land’s headquarters and organized a sit-in at the same place because they didn’t have enough huntin’ and fishin’ presentations on Nick at Nite, ya might be a redneck.”











Neil Greenwell, I dedicate the last one to you. You do a great job at UPS and the company is a better store for your efforts. Your cheerful outlook on life is a blessing on me and I KNOW you make your co-workers better by your example. God Bless You, My Man.


“And that wraps up this Tournament. Why Coach T. wasn’t at his own Tournament is beyond anyone’s comprehension. We’ll be back for some final thoughts after this message. You’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”


Mimi gets ready for bed, a bed much smaller since Gil returned after his vacation at MCC(See previous post).

She has “It’s Your Thing” from The Isley Brothers blasting from the boom box. She’s gonna be a hot time in the ol’ town tonight.

Until Gil drops his pants. Then she forgets to turn on the oven.

“Gil, are you really up to this? Because that isn’t the case, otherwise.”

“Mimi, I’ve been waiting for this all week. It’s been a Hard Days’ Night and I was sleeping like a log in the MCC locker room.”

“There’s something else that went to sleep and it wasn’t your feet.”

“Mimi, I’ll just take some Nyquil and wait for The Moment. I get a lot more aroused when I’m sleepy and relaxed.”

“It appears something else OD’d on Sominex.”


“What could I say? I was a goner and so was my Significant Other and I don’t mean Mimi. We were both Down in the Hole. Then Wilson and Tony suggested Milford Men’s Clinic. Their fathers had a Lazurus for a weapon as well until they hit the Milford Mall and went down to the place next to Orange Julius. Slurping a Cherry-Lime Fizzy Freeze with an erection at the corner booth. Ummm, ummm, Life is good.”


Two Brits, ina record store one day, sizing up “Emotional Rescue” from The Rolling Stones

“Sooo ‘at’s wher’ they got th’ idea for ‘Doon in th’ ‘ole.”

“Blimey, eye deedn’t now ‘ey were Gil Thorp groupies, ya now?”


Gang, comment away. My Colts are gonna beat Coach Shaw’s team on Game Boy. Luck will be playing this time. Just watch.







Coach Kaz opens the door and catches Gil in his boxers again.

“Gil, is this chronic?”

Gil turns off school intercom

“Hell, Kaz, I couldn’t paddle a kiddie raft to shore with the oar I had yesterday. I couldn’t even get up for ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’. I had to boost my dosage and get this CD from Milford Music Exchange.”


September 1, 2018

I’ll Send An SOS To This Plot

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 2:15 pm





Gang, before we go any further, is it me or do I notice that one of the heroes is Jaquan who took advantage of the Pearle Vision Center Buy One Pair, Get The Second One Free. Hmmmmmm, or maybe Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s son took up the game of golf and changed his name to avoid the publicity(YOU’RE KAREEM’S SON????)?

Well, nagging question aside, Gil’s Tournament is on the verge of commencing any day now and I’ll bet a Bucket Liver Cheeseburger and throw in a Bucket ‘o Buffalo Wings that everybody out there in Never Never Land, whoopsy-daisy, flush Todd Rundgren out of your cranium, T. Drew, READERLAND is just flat-out anticipating the moment. Yup, the Dalton Gang, the Clanton Boys, Jesse James and his thugs, Robin Hood  and his band of Merry Men, Morgan’s Raiders, Pretty Boy Floyd, Vlod Dracula, Sweeny Todd, are going to get what’s comin’ to them in Gil’s Tournament. Sure, they ain’t gonna win on Gil’s turf, are they?

Well, I can’t do it all, and with the help of one of my favorite albums, “Regatta de Blanc” from The Police, liberal portions of the same will be distributed through this post. Enjoy.


Stuck inside this hopeless plot

Waiting for relief, YO!!!!!!!!

Cannot take another day

Of feeling like a yo-yo


I’ll send an SOS to this plot

I’ll send an SOS to this plot

I hope that someone gets my

I hope that someone gets my

I hope that someone gets my

Football in a bottle


What Marty Moon was doing vocationally while he was suspended.


“Look, gimme a break!!!!!!!! I’ve only been driving for 2 weeks!!!!!!!

“I understand, but any fool knows you don’t use drawstrings to secure wheelchairs on the bus.”


Okay, gang, Gene Rayburn is your host for Match Game 2018 and we are rarin’ to go to answer the question, aren’t we? Sure we are. So w/o further ado, take ‘er away, Gene.

Dumb Dora was SOOOOOOOOOOOOO dumb(HOW   DUMB   WAS  SHE?????), she was afraid Gil, while trying to encourage her for Gil’s Tournament, would touch her ____________ to fire her up.


Gang, c’mon, admit it, you’ve applied too much Aunt Jemima Reduced Fat Sugar Free Burnt Oak ‘n’ Maple Syrup to your pancakes in the morning because you were reading the paper following your favorite team or even on bated breath waiting to see if the Dalton Gang is ACTUALLY going to win at Gil’s Tournament(notice bold face print and I think you know the answer). And, of course, SOMEBODY will come along and ask “like some pancakes with your Burnt Oak?”. We get that sloshy feeling in our stomachs, knowing the pancakes are drenched with syrup and we really don’t need to chew.

That’s EXACTLY what’s happening in P1. Hmmmmmmmm(quoting Gil), hand me a barf bag, puh-leeeeeaaaaassssseeeee. Let’s continue this Socratic method if it GOD FORBID were to continue

“Did you comb your hair and use Vidal Sassoon Lime-Scented Mousse on it?”

“Did you wash behind your ears and under your pits?”

“Did you use deoderant? There’s a 1-stroke penalty if you’re smelly from all your sweat. The Tournament Official doesn’t look too kindly on golfers who reek like a squirrel in heat.”

“Did you change your underwear? Wilson, you lost last year because they said your Fruit of the Looms were a light brown. They estimated it musta been 5 days since you changed pairs.”

“Did you eat up all your vegetables and drink all your milk?”

“Did you brush your teeth, including  your wisdom teeth in the back?”


What IS going on through the minds of the Bad Boys of Golf? Hmmmmmmmmmmmm


I hope that we don’t choke

Playing on the course

Gil will watch so we don’t cheat

Playing on the course

To think we’ll win is just a joke

Playing on the course

The script dictates we won’t repeat

Playing on

Playing on the course


So they say

We’re wasting our fees away


I guess it’s a price we pay


We’ll stop cheating, come what may


We may as well stay



Gang, someone is starting ugly rumors that that last drum bit was done by Coach Shaw. He’s on guitar, REMEMBER? I mean, his calypso licks on “Walking on the Moon” are to die for(Andy Summers was in the hospital with hepatitis, if you’re wondering), but one instrument at a time!!!!!!! You mean some of you are unfamiliar with Stewart Copeland? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.



“Okay, Sir, here we are.”

“What do you mean, here we are? We’re not even close.”

“Look, don’t argue with me. The GPS is pretty darn accurate and I have other passengers to pick up and drop off. Now get going, I have a schedule to keep.”

“Mr. Moon, there’s a lot of cow manure in this cornfield. Where do I step?”


Thanks to Dennis Gore for the last comedy idea. He is in a wheelchair but goes to work every day with purpose and a plan as a government employee. He has an excellent comedy routine that EVERYBODY should see. Check it out on Google. In the meantime, I salute you, My Man.


Gil’s Tournament really sucks

We know who’ll win

The Good Guys will reign supreme


But Gil never tells you

Of the shitty things

That fouls up his grandest schemes


One golfer broke his neck

Athletic Fund just bounced the check

Poor Tony swung and strained his hips

The concession stand char-broiled the nacho chips


And it would be OK on any other day

And it would be OK on any other day


Coach Shaw really doing his best Clapton on this killer tune


The Bad Boys are coming

In their limosine

They have all the toys in hand


And the Good Guys are steaming

Waiting for revenge

While matters get out of hand


A Top-Flite’s wedged in Wilson’s butt

A Mudlark badly missed the cut

Pepsi cost 1000 bucks

Gil’s intro speech just really flat-out sucked


And it would be OK on any other day

And it would be OK on any other day

And it…


“The other guitar is complete bullshit”

“Sorry, Coach Shaw. Andy didn’t want ANYBODY going near his guitar collection in the garage.”



“Sure, Gil, Scout’s Honor, I will not cheat. If it takes 20 shots to sink it in the hole on a par 3, I will put down 20 shots. This is a Gentleman’s Game and I intend to continue that belief even if this is a Loser-Leaves-The Town-Of-Milford match. I heard West Palm Beach has some nice condos. Great place to raise a family.”


Okay, let’s transcend Gil’s thought process in P2 to The Presidential Oath


“Okay, put your hand on this Pocket King James Version Bible that I bought in the discount rack under the ‘Andrae Crouch and the Disciples-Live at the Mormon Temple’ CD at Zondervan and raise your right hand and repeat after me.”

Wilson puts left hand down on Bible and raises right hand

“I, Wilson Casey”

“I, Wilson Casey.”

“Do solemnly swear.”

“Do solemnly swear.”

“That I will uphold the laws of the PGA Constitution.”

“That I will uphold the laws of the PGA Constitution.”

“That I will call every stroke as if Arnold Palmer was looking over my shoulder.”

“That I will call every stroke as if Arnold Palmer was looking over my shoulder.”

“To write my score in the scorecard honestly and with malice toward none.”

“To write my score in the scorecard honestly and with malice toward none.”

“That I will faithfully execute my status as a gentleman even if it means I’m really Gil’s flunky.”

“That I will faithfully execute my status as a gentleman even if it means I’m really Gil’s flunky.”

“That I will preserve, protect, and defend the PGA Constitution and the sanity and honor of this comic strip to the death or be banished to The Wizard of Id, whichever comes first.”

“That I will preserve, protect, and defend the PGA Constitution and the sanity and honor of this comic strip to the death or be banished to The Wizard of Id, whichever comes first.”

“So help you Gil.”

“So help me Gil.”


Rebecca, you brought a smile to my face the first day we met. You are very bright and articulate. You have made a difference in peoples’ lives through your determination and hard work. I enjoyed talking to you and hope to see you again. You just never give up. You exemplify The American Way. God Bless You.


This Tournament really sucks

And makes me pull my hair out

I’d come on over

But I have to watch this thing play out


Can’t we play Football

It’s this month

Can’t we play Football

Not next month


If you’d defend the PGA Constitution with your shotgun cuz the Commies called the President of the United States on his Hotline and said they wuz gonna do a Pearl Harbor on the Milford Golf Course, ya might be a redneck.


Then there’s P3. The real inspiration for the Dumb Dora schtick earlier, I’d overlook the corniness of it(sheesh), really, it’s a “Ward telling Wally and Beaver not to worry, you’ll still eat dinner tonight even if you don’t win even though you’re supposed to beat these losers because the script say so” Moment until I notice the splotch on Gil’s shirt. Yeah, Gil, your Gentlemen are gonna kick some tail(would you expect anything ELSE in this horribly predictable chain of events?) and be a Gentleman at the same time and STILL impress the media and Tournament Officials and the movers and shakers with that Red Man Fine Cut Black Licorice Flavor Chaw on your apparel. I can see the photo shoot when the winners pose after the “Tournament”.

“Okay, everybody, SMILE. Uh, Gil, can you cover that spot with your name tag?”


I can’t stand this Tournament any more

It bites the big one and is such a bore

The losers will fold to no one’s surprise

The question that burns will up and arise


Does everyone puke the way I do?

I only puke at plots that stew

Does everyone puke the way I do?

I hope this plot just fades from view


Gang, it’s your turn. This Kodak Moment is brought to you by Mudlar-K-Beer. It’s not a Cola but it’s not root beer. It’s K-Beer, dumbass.


“Bed’s too big without you

Bed’s too big without you

Bed’s too big

WITHOUT YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!”


“Mimi, I know that I’ve gotten carried away with this Tournament. But I’ll take you out to The Bucket this week. I heard they have half off Bucket o’ Shrimp on Friday. We can chow down and unwind. We’ll leave the kids with your mother. She’s been watching them for 30 years, you know she’ll say ‘yes’. Whattya say? And they’re serving wine. No, no kidding, the Milford Beverage Commission approved it this week.”

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