This Week in Milford

June 18, 2019

J-a-m-i-l-a Spells “Gilligan”.

061819

God, I love it when the 7 dwarfs come to Milford High School. Is that Doc on the left? Man, he must have hit the Nautilus program hard. And Sleepy on the right? Snow White in between? Wait, she couldn’t have shrunk, if I recall my childhood years at the matinee.

Wait a minute. (Slaps head with a fraternity paddle) Those are MILFORD STUDENTS. And, I presume, they are at Milford High School on their way to class. If I were to play Devil’s Advocate for a sec, I could argue that they’re at Milford Mall, somewhere between Elder-Beerman and The Great Outdoors(“Wouldn’t Jamila look good in that fishing outfit? I like the flannel shirt. Christmas shopping is DONE”) or entering the Milford Civic Center to head to Second Floor, State Revenue Department, Room 247, to pay a delinquent tax surcharge. Baseball uniforms get harder and harder to purchase every year, I reckon.

But I think I better stick with the original premise, they’re in the building of Milford High School, even if they look like GI Joe Action Figures, and are going to class.

Funny how the topic du jour happens to be the baseball team. We Thorpiverse veterans are used to the baseball team getting its A– whooped by an Oakwood here or a Valley Tech there by an occasional 22-1 score, Berrill managing to fit all the carnage in 3 panels BUT WE SAW ACTION!!!!!!!!!

Now, the only way we can receive news on how the season went is through The Leakey Foundation. Yup, if ya wanna know how Lucy turned out or how the Mudlarks fared against New Thayer, you’ll have to keep digging, hoping the flunky for the Archaeologists Team hits the bone this time. It won’t help matters to find a random Mudlark’s ERA by hitting Lucy’s toenail.

It’s pretty damn sad when we have to go through the little bungee cord at the Milford Museum of Arts & Natural Sciences, make a voluntary contribution of $32,458(“Run the card through again. It didn’t read it.”), only to wind up in the Diego Rivera Collection and find out the baseball team didn’t do diddly. Naturally, when it’s posing next to Karl Marx and Leon Trotsky to satisfy Rivera’s leanings, you reap what you sow, but that’s beside the point. Anything belonging to Friedrich Engels stays in the stands with Engels, $40 buttered popcorn and $35 hot dog and all, and what’s on the Mudlark diamond stays on the Mudlark diamond. Leave Lucy in the ground.

Next thing you know, we’ll be learning the baseball team’s whereabouts in the Milford Enquirer.

Oops.

“Jamila, take a look out the window.”

“OMG, the baseball team is like a worn-out vacuum cleaner, they be suckin’ pretty bad. ”

 

Come to Jeff Smith Marathon in Edwardsville, Indiana. If you take I-64 in either direction, it is just off Exit 118, south of the expressway, take an IMMEDIATE left once you get on Indiana 62 off the X-way, headin’ west.

Jeff has built an established clientele based on great customer service, reasonable prices, and they got the best mechanics in the business. Then factor in great gas at great prices and  friendly clerks (Hi Crystal) and, Gang, I’m believin’ you have a recipe for success.

Then come down the hill to New Albany, Indiana and take care of Jeff’s brother, Mike, at Mike Smith Firestone. He and his wife are always there with a smile and will give you the same great service and great prices. Man, when my tires were shot, Mike was there to put ’em on and I left with my arm and leg. Don’t get no better than that. And any mechanical problems have ALWAYS been dealt with swiftly and many times I got the vehicle back the same day. Sounds like a winner to me.

Come see for yourself and take care of people like Jeff Smith and Mike Smith who ALWAYS take care of you. Gang, you need business people who run great businesses who know you by name.

And I’m in agreement with Moon Mullins, History 101 or any course with 3 digits affixed to the subject (e.g. Mandarin Chinese 302, Advanced Auto Mechanics 212) does ring of college material.

That said, has ANYBODY EVER seen a class being taught where the blackboard is IN BACK OF the students? Whether it’s Driver’s Ed Night School 415 or Physics 301 or Term Paper Issues 102, it has come to my attention that when our Guest Lecturer at Milford High School who is subbing for Ms. Rizk because Thorpiverse ran out of plotline ideas teaches the class, he really has to have the chalkboard BEHIND him if he’s to outline Journalism Ethics on the board. The objet d’art is doing no good behind the age progressions of Elroy Jetson and Sherman Peabody. Or are we viewing our future Fantastic Four?  Hey, I could see Grace Jones as one of THEM.

Nahhhhhh, Swiss Miss trying to be Ben Grimm? And wear the appropriate outfit? Think we better go back to the Welcome Back Kotter Even If You’re a Crappy Paid Sub Now approach.

Okay, okay, so Ms. Rizk is still at her typewriter and they’ve been carting in Domino’s the last 467 or more days(lost count, sorry) when she’s not on the Bread-and-Water diet and we are seeing an ACTUAL TEACHER. Well, don’t that beat all.

The one tbing we know IMMEDIATELY is that he’s been on a steady diet of Rolaids worrying about the Lady Mudlarks in the Playdowns(like Ned yesterday mentioned, We THINK that’s where this is heading). Given that this is, indeed, not a late entry somewhere, i.e., NBA Playoffs, our Joe Blow teacher still needs to have the chalkboard BEHIND him when he’s teaching the class, before or after he blows off steam from losing sleep over the Lady Mudlarks versus Wellington. Still not sure what he’s teaching but since I don’t see slide rules or calculators on the desk, I don’t think it’s Trig 213 or Algebra 433 or Set Theory 231 or Gaussian Ethics for Advanced Algebra Teaching 333. We just know he gulped one too many Tums.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Lost Treasure Uncovered In Inca Empire Excavation!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Scientists reveal that Gil was on his second trip to the mound with Milford trailing Madison, 5-3.”

 

“Jamila, put down that Mad magazine and come to the window.”

“My Lord, look at them Aussies. They’re bigger than that giant prehistoric kangaroo the Leakey Foundation dug outside of Brisbane. No wonder why Linda quit the team.”

Come to Sister Bean’s Coffee House in Louisville, Kentucky. They are on New Cut Road, approximately 2-3 miles south of the Watterson Expressway. Check out the espressos, lattes, and, of course, coffees in many different sizes and flavors. I go in the drive-thru and am AMAZED at what they have to offer on the menu. For a small business not associated with any major chain(e.g., Starbucks), I AM IMPRESSED. They also have scones, muffins, and brownies in case you like go-withs, which describes yours truly. Factor in friendly service and this writer thinks it’s worth the trip. Come see for yourself.

Support Small Businesses. They make America great.

Gang, remember the Gilligan’s Island episode when Gilligan dreams he’s a dictator of some country? A Latin American dictator in exile finds himself landing on Gilligan’s Island, which precipitates the dream.

That’s EXACTLY what I thought of when I saw P3. Either she’s in the dugout or she’s in the movie “Topaz” where she is Fidel, waving at her supporters. If the latter is the case, I have a little ditty to support her seizure of power, thanks to aiding and abetting in winning the Valley Conference Championship

“Fidel!!!!!!!!! Fidel!!!!!!!!! Way to strike Los Yanquis out with your fastball and slider!!!!!!!!!!!! Mimi taught you well!!!!!!!!!”

Oops, wrong record

Here we go, sung to the tune from “The Little Dictator” episode from Gilligan’s Island

J-A

M-I-L

A

Anything else spells disaster

 

Guaranteed beyond any reason

To hoist us through this hopeless season

 

J-A

M-I-L

A

Anything else spells doom

 

She’s the one who will soon

Be pitching us out of June

 

O Jamila, for me.

 

“But Coach Mimi, I don’t want to be your puppet!!!!!!!”

“TFB. Who do you think has been pulling the strings when you and Jocelynn have been bossing everybody around?”

 

If ya quit the Men’s Slo-Pitch Wednesday Night Modified Industrial League cuz yore manager reminds ya too much of Che Guevara, a dictator plus he’s got the nastiest flea-bitten beard known ta Mankind, and ya doesn’t play fer no Komm-ya-nist who needs ta mail order ‘lectric Shave bladez pronto, ya might be a redneck.

 

“Are you tired of your car wearing the ‘Wash me’ tag as if that’s an extension of your license plate while your dog hasn’t had a bath in God-knows-when to the point where your neighbor is wearing a clothes pin on his nose? When the dog’s OUTSIDE????

Hi, this is Coach Kaz and if you answered yes to all of these questions, then come to Milford Super Car Wash Emporium Incorporated and you can get your pride and joy through the ringer. Oh, and your pet a good cleansing, to ward off any further confusion.

I was amazed when me and my honey went through the cycle and saw all the different soaps and suds being applied to our car. It was like being in a washing machine, watching Tide and Borax and Turtle Wax all acting in collaboration on the windshield and on the hood down the car door windows and over the trunk to give that Lexus a spit shine of its life. The Turtle Wax Lemon Lime coat even got the eagle poop off the windshield that I got when I was hunting squirrel last Fall.  I never that I’d see the day when I could say that I enjoyed watching Scrubbing Bubbles break-dancing around the hood ornament. Man, this car wash put on a show. Wish the baseball team could have performed even half as good, especially when fielding grounders. The Scrubbing Bubbles would have gotten the mitt on the ground and thrown to first for the out.

Then the drying was the Grand Finale. No using Pampers 18 Months Collection to dry on this bad boy of a motorized contraption. With soft brushes and HAL Computer technology, my Lexus shined like the Lady Mudlarks. And we didn’t need Mussoloni or Jamila to polish off the hood. A second coating of Turtle Wax did the trick.

Speaking of trunk, once we got Tiger out of it and dragged his butt over to the Dog Wash, we were again stupified at the way the dog washers were able to make him Comfortably Numb while applying Head & Shoulders and Milford Soap Connection all over his anatomy. Tiger won’t have dandruff until, well, maybe the golf season. Saved a fortune on any carpet cleaning in our living room. Then drying him off and combing was no sweat. I’ll bet smelling clean makes any animal cooperative. I’ve heard a few goats have graced the Dog Wash and are Lassie when they leave. And I’ll have to remember lacing Milk Bones with Sominex when I take him here again.

A clean car and a clean dog that you can put in the back seat? I only regret we couldn’t put a Valley Conference trophy next to Tiger. Come to Milford Super Car Wash Emporium Incorporated today for that spotless pick-up truck or Cadillac and Rin Tin Tin in the bargain. You’ll be glad you did.”

Get after it, Gang. I’ll be paying homage to Gilligan this afternoon. He has a way of dealing with those Yankee Imperialists.

 

“Geez, Gil had a suckass season. Got beat, 24-1, by the Azteca Civilization? No wonder why it got buried in Peru.”

 

“No problem, Gil. We ought to be able to fit Dumbo in Drive-Through #1. That’s where all the semi’s go. And we have plenty of Turtle Wax Raspberry Formula. Ordered the drums last week.

 

“Jamila, quit going over the pitch sequence with Jocelynn and come over here and look out the window.”

“Oh, forever more. Look at Gil’s golf game. ’nuff said.”

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June 13, 2019

It Is Better To Spike The Volleyball With My Friends Than To Make The Final Cut On The Olympic Team With My Enemies.

Filed under: Just plain sad, Milford Idiots, What the hell is going on here? — tdrewhardin @ 7:57 am

061319

Or something along those lines. I don’t know if she got that inspiration watching the Avogadro’s number of stars(you think that’s where he determined the number of molecules, reading this plotli-nahhhhhhhhhh, he and Galileo were at The Bucket, chompin’ on Bucket Pita Salad and Mosel Wine, hoping the Pisa Tower, now The Milford Tower Senior Citizen Retreat Center, didn’t fall on them) in P1.

Being a Christian, one of my favorite Scriptures comes from Proverbs: “It is better to eat soup with someone you love than steak with someone you hate.” A very good lesson and ONE of the lessons Linda learned along the Long and Winding Road that was this plot.

The trouble was, were you as confused as I was trying to figure out what in the name of Scratching at the Volleyball Net were the teams Mimi was talking about? College teams? Teams in the WNBA???? Is there a League in the Galaxy? Last I checked, Linda you’re still in high school. Okay, Confucius say, that if you’ve lost the drive for your favorite sport, playing sandlot leagues at the sand volleyball courts behind the east parking lot at Milford Lounge is perhaps your Viagara.

But whaddup with all this name-calling? For all we know, Mimi memorized names out of the Milford Phone Book, left dangling in a deserted phone booth at the S-Mart. Boy, that’ll up my score on the Persuasibility portion of the Milford Vocational Aptitude Test. Just locate the nearest enclosed stall, maybe in the lobby by the snack bar at Milford General Hospital from where I’m standing, and I’ll ace it, fer sure.

And we had to go through hats and hippos back to hats so this plot apparently could save face, that’s right, Linda decked out, hat and all, like Aretha Franklin, just so this plot wouldn’t take a beating in the Rating Sweepstakes. Milford had Captain Kangaroo and Bozo the Clown on the other channels, y’know.

“Okay, boys and girls, if you’ll keep your head out of your rear ends(Children’s show, keep in mind) and listen to the coaches, you can wind up just like me. Ol’ Bozo is makin’ a good living because he didn’t overextend himself and he bloomed where he was planted.”

I think that’s speaking for itself. I’m gonna go check and see if “Good Morning, America” is on yet. I understand they’re interviewing Iron Butterfly. AND as a special treat, they’re doing the full-length version of “In-a-Goda-da-Vida”. That’ll kill Mimi’s name-calling in the Ratings War, don’t you think?

 

Who shot Coach Shaw?

“Suspect was seen with a hippo on the dashboard. Says it’s some kind of good luck charm.”

“Run the hippo through Ballistics. See if it matches the bullet that went through the juke box at The Bucket.”

“Way ahead of you. In fact, witnesses say suspect shot at Coach Shaw because he couldn’t stand Slim Whitman’s ‘Red River Valley’ being played. Shaw evidently was a big fan. Went to see Slim play at Milford Amphitheater right after Mitch Miller Singers and Perry Como.”

“Will do.”

 

Now is everybody satisfied that this will be the end of this charade? Because David’s dad reminds me of that song by The Doors

 

DAVID WALKED ON DOWN THE HALL

“Father?”

“Yes, Son?”

“I want to kill this plot.”

“Ask your mother.”

“She said it was OK.”

“Fine with me.”

BLAM

 

It is VERY tough for me to want to say anything smart-ass in P2, chiefly because it hits too close to home.

Therefore, for all you people out there who have kids in sports or are thinking about it, here’s a few tips along the way, things that worked for me

I had 3 things I told my players in Babe Ruth League Baseball or when I followed my nephew for 12 years, all the way to high school, primarily baseball and cross country

1) Give 110% at all times

2) Listen to the coaches and do everything they ask, to the best of your ability

3) Come prepared. The best teams are not always better-talented but they come to play

Regardless of what the scoreboard says at the end of the game.

 

A few other things. Don’t let your kid argue with coaches or umpires. That’s YOUR job. And if you do have anything to say, keep your voice low and know what you’re talking about.

Therefore, learn the rules, from the rule book all the way down to the local yokel guidelines.

BE THERE for your kid, no matter the record or the sport. You might have played basketball but if he or she likes canoeing, then the 3 rules above apply and you support him or her to the best of your ability.

If you criticize, criticize in private, praise in public. Coach them up until high school, then let the coaches take over. Nothing irritates a high school coach more than an armchair coach. If you work on something, it better be good and with the approval of the coach of the team your kid is playing on.

Only have positive things to say about other people, teams, coaches. Otherwise, say it to their face or not at all. For those of you wanting your kids in sports, I’m throwing in a freebie

“Silence is seldom misquoted”

LEARN THAT ONE BY HEART

 

Finally, MAKE SURE your kid understands that SCHOOL COMES FIRST. Don’t EVER give him or her the impression that winning a championship at the expense of his or her performance in school is tolerated.

I follow my own advice. I follow the local college baseball players in the Minor Leagues with the understanding GET YOUR DEGREE. As the old saying goes, very few will make the Pros. The rest of us better have something to fall back on. The idea is to make them better people anyway.

Don’t get me wrong. A couple of guys I follow got called up to The Show. That’s when making academics a priority gets sweeter. In the end, make sure your kid is academically eligible so if he or she is in that championship picture, you can dance a jig or two like I did.

Otherwise, ALWAYS have something to fall back on. The other day I read where one of my players was a manager at a Radio Shack. Another one is a team leader at PPG Industries. That’s when I knew us coaches did our jobs.

 

It’s worth it, Gang. Stay with ’em. They need you.

 

We move onto P3 where Linda is making the decision of her career with a platform in the background borrowed, rumors say, from the “Shiny Happy People” video. Wow, that old man’s got some energy. I hope I have that much chutzpah pedaling a Hostess Ding Dong w/Sprinkles skyline when I reach that age. Then he’s got those huge cauliflower trees. I knew Herbicide Technology does wonders but this is an old man behind the scenery trying to lug some Asparagus Redwood around David’s house. And all that dancing and singing from Kate Pierson of the B-52’s? No, David’s dad, don’t call the police. You’ve already proven enough of an asshole so much I wanna hit your bald pate with a wet cauliflower, preferably the one with the pine needles in it.

ANYWAY, that off my chest, I’m still debating what Linda means by friends. As in, find a volleyball net someone threw away in the garbage can for Trash Day, put it up on the same tree where Beaver hangs his tire swing or target practice for pitching baseballs, call 5-6 girls(or boys if ya wanna go co-ed), choose up sides and play without keeping score? Not a bad idea and if Linda can manage her competitive juices along the way, more power to her(NO, BEAVER, THAT WAS OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!).

Or does she want to play with friends in a semi-competitive environment, Sand Volleyball League Matches down at Milford Beverage Warehouse? Well, as long as she doesn’t buy booze, I’m sure The Warehouse woild be willing to bend the rules since they need the money to keep the League going. I don’t think sales of Guillaume de Vergy Brut is financing this venture.

All righty then, Linda, get that bikini out of the closet, call some girls, sign the liability forms saying you won’t hold the Warehouse responsible if you let another softball or volleyball slip through the cracks because you were too pissy-faced about Australia and looks like the fun will never stop.

Beyond that, I’m scratchin’ my noggin, trying to figure out what playing with friends entails. Then again, that’s a Hostess Cup Cake skyline that old man is luggin’, isn’t it?

 

“It looks like Linda’s learning a lot about life. And that gives me the opportunity to announce the 1st Annual All-Comers Double-Elimination Sand Volleyball Tournament sponsored by Milford Beverage Warehouse held this Saturday at their newly-constructed state-of-the-art Sand Volleyball facility.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp speaking on behalf of The Warehouse and when I saw that they didn’t just dump some dog-poop-infested sand from Mudlark Lake, I was highly impressed. With volleyball nets that the Olympics use to determine Gold Medals and chalk lines that’ll put a church softball field out of its misery, shoot, I’m gonna skip the links this Saturday.

They have Tournaments for all ages and skill levels. In fact, Mimi and I just turned in our form for the Co-Ed Bracket, Bloodhound Division. Gotta take it easy when you get into an exciting Tournament like this. I understand Tod Andrews and his 360-pound, one-tooth cousin entered the Golden Retriever level. He insisted that she can move and spike, even in the sand and with all that luggage. We’ll see.

Linda, if you’re within range, you need to come on down with David and have him watch you play. With bleachers vulcanized from the finest tungsten mills of New Thayer, he can down a Bud, as long as he’s accompanied by his asshole-of-a-dad who does double duty, BTW, lighting up the courts with his head. Copper light reflection technology is so avant-garde, geez.

Don’t you want to watch David and Pennytop go apeshit, oops, gaga, over your Grade A performance? Sure you do. In fact, the Female Bracket, Snippet Division was judged the most competitive Division by the Milford Volleyball Conglomerate. Geez, Louise, Linda, playing with friends while still at the top of your game, plenty of brewskies flowing, and the Bud Man’s in the house? And he’s in the Caped Crusader Bracket, Beagle Division, so hop on over to Court #2 with your Bud Lite as he battles Batman and The Green Lantern. Lools like everybody’s partying like it’s 2099.

And with beer and wine specials too low to advertise over the radio, you have a winning formula for a killer Saturday night. Sorry, the FCC wouldn’t renege, even after we waived the fee for their entrants in the Co-Ed Bracket, Government Employee Division. You’ll just have to check out these specials yourself while you’re down here, partying for your life.

So come on, get pumped, get rowdy, get ready, get wasted for the Tournament. The Bucket couldn’t even begin to know where to go, they’re too busy bribing City Officials and concocting illegal Bond Issues, just to get a Liquor License when they should hire the Drott man and dig up their own courts. Right now, they’re just digging a grave.

Come watch Mimi and I tough it out this Saturday and get a cart full of goodies to stuff in the trunk. It don’t get no better than that. Only at Milford Beverage Warehouse.”

Comment away, Gang. I still think the backdrop has the color of a Hostess Twinkie during the day. I’ll ask the old man when he’s back from break.

 

Today’s headline from the Milford Enquirer

“O.J In The Finals Of The Men’s Bracket, Greyhound Division!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“How’d I get Cochrane in the Draw? Isn’t that a conflict of interest????????”

 

 

“A six-pack of Zing Zang Bloody Mary is HOW much?????Damn!!!!!!!!! I got that five dollar bill in my back pocket somewhere. Oh, shit, are we still live????? I hope the FCC was at a Port-O-Let.”

 

 

 

This is The End

My only friend,

The End

 

Also Sprach Jim Morrison

 

 

June 11, 2019

Betcha By Golly Wow Your Team’s Gonna Suck. Good Answer, Mimi, Good Answer.

Filed under: freak hands, huge earrings, Milford Idiots, Mimi Thorp, Pointy Fingers — tdrewhardin @ 2:44 pm

061119

So now, with the Conference Championship and the plot, as a result, on the line, Mimi meets Linda Carr out on Main Street in Tombstone for a showdown. Better make this good, Mimi, Wyatt Earp is at The Tombstone Bucket downin’ a hard one (you know how Bucket Hard Cider Shakes can affect the large intestine) and the Clanton Boys are pointin’ a gun at the sock hop cuz The Bucket still ain’t got its Liquor License. They likely to shoot first and ask questions later. What happens when you don’t take “no” for an answer.

 

Betcha by golly wow

That your team is gonna hit the pits

Forever

 

Betcha by golly wow

That we’ll suffer through another blitz

Of volleyball

 

The group of choice, The Stylistics. They have always been one of my favorites. I dunno, that falsetto voice with a chorus behind him, plus catchy melodies that go for the throat. They got my respect and have for decades.

 

If yore volleyball team goes through another losin’ campaign cuz yore setter don’t know how ta spike a cow bladder over a clothesline and yore server scratches over the second grease stain that demarkates the dimenshuns of the volleyball court, ya might be a redneck.

 

And now I’m confused. I know that Linda was with a traveling volleyball team and that she wanted to go for the gold, literally and figuratively, by hooking up with the big boys rather than accept a full ride scholarship at Milford Community College and play volleyball there.

Fair enough. I’d say a bit overambitious but she’s a teenager learning about life. I get the feeling she will know where she stands in the grand scheme of things.

But now we have Mimi rattling off teams I have never heard of and I’m bettin’ the readership never heard of, the reasons almost having to do with Mimi convincing Linda to, what?, go full bore with the softball team? Convince her that being Michael Jordan on Milford Community College could land her as an early round draft pick in the National Volleyball Association? That Australians know more about kangaroos and dingoes than they do about volleyball? That her volleyball career is gonna crash-and-burn on Ayers Rock if she doesn’t find new friends and quit hanging around the volleyball thugs? I’m sure things will start to unfold and the Finger Math lessons that Mimi took at the Symposium for Teachers With LD in Mathematics in the interim are paying off in P1. Look at her using the Enumeration Method, reducing those volleyball teams to a status equivalent to a group of church members playing pick-up volleyball at the 4th of July picnic at Milford Park. I’ll never try to spike it down the music minister’s throat after Mimi has reduced volleyball to ashes.

Just don’t let those volleyball thugs spray paint YOUR volleyball net or badminton net, if the former is still in the garage and is buried somewhere under the riding mower, in your front yard. Might wanna call the Sonitrol man on that one.

 

There’s a spark of ennui before my eyes

Apathyland appears so bad, I cry

Never thought this fairy tale would cease

Mimi’s calculator endows me with state of peace

This plot’s “Police Squad” in disguise

Full of bull that’s homogenized

 

Betcha by golly wow

Linda will go back and spike it up Gil’s derriere

Betcha by golly wow

Mimi will be watching, learning to design another play

 

Ooooooooookkkkkkkkk, so before we leave P1, I’m still not satisfied with who these teams are that Mimi is listing, though I THINK they’re the local yokels Rockville will be playing in their quest for another conference title and, perhaps, Linda’s chance at a spot on the U.S. Olympic team.

“Yeah, sure, I think the Pirates have a chance at the NL East Title if they can get “Pops” Stargell off the DL. And with Trout and Sutcliffe, the Cubs ought to be right there with them. Man, speaking of Mudlarks in the dumpster, why did the Cardinals EVER trade Hernandez???? That was worse than the Carlton-for-Gil trade. I think Dr. Pearl was the GM at the time. What did they get in return??????  Henry “Hank” Finkel, Joe Sharkey, and a bunch of volleyballs. Yeah, I know the Cardinals are stingy with their money but look what happened. Finkel went on to the Celtics where he continued his Off-The-Bench-When-The-Team-Needs-A-Body-When-The-Starters-Lose-Interest status, Joe lost his fingers trying to catch one of Hernandez’s line drives, or was it Silent George Hendrick, and what are they gonna do with a bunch of volleyballs?????? Watch Ozzie do flips over them between innings??????? And Hernandez won another World Series. Linda, stick to water polo.”

Boy, finger math does wonders, doesn’t it? Fred MacMurray was onto something.

 

If I could catch a falling volleyball

To throw at some random player’s head, big or small

Order rainbows in my favorite shade

To show this plot ends, that it will fade

Write it off as bas nouvelle

Anything but a prized Nobel

 

Betcha by golly wow

It’s the one we hope will ride to Mars forever

Betcha by golly wow

And always will our hate for it keep growin’ strong

Keep growin’ strong

 

 

Now it’s bad enough that P2 is representative of the Frida Kahlo collection that is gracing our comic strip today but do I have to get Robmize mad at me by continuing discussion of trades like what is going on in P2? Okay, Linda, the Cubs shouldn’t have traded Lou Brock and wound up on the Australian National Team but the Cubs needed cash, some pitching and a right-handed setter with power. Perfect with that wind blowing out.

Linda is perhaps playing one card too many and I think that is where Mimi is going with this. Well, she had the volleyball schedule of the National League East down cold, give her credit. I’ll bet she even knew Lee Smith’s ERA. Hey, gotta be in the know when you’re trying to close it out with Rose (Wind blew out to right also, Rose a switch hitter, yes, I’m onto that) , Bench, and Morgan in the lineup WITH that wind blowing out. Still, Mimi is desiring Linda to ride on Trigger and ride off into the sunset, the sun shaped like a Spalding volleyball, then dismount off the horse and get her ass over to the softball complex. It might get a bit more complex (pardon the pun) than that, but that HAS to be the gist of it. We’ll know if there’s no volleyballs or horse chips in the dugout.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Brian Eno And Herb Alpert To Colloborate On ‘Volleyball Fusion In Tijuana’ At Milford Memorial Coliseum!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Eno points out acoustics of bouncing volleyballs and synthesizers works perfectly at his venue, particularly on ‘Zorba the Greek’.”

 

Linda, Linda, please listen to me, says Mimi in P3. Not only are your fingers shaped like Ore Ida Fries like mine, you really shouldn’t bet on volleyball. The odds makers don’t read page 4 of the Milford Scoreboard to see who won between Milford and Oakwood (“Milford won in 5 sets. Joe, go to a phone. Tell the OTB guys, Milford with a 2 1/2 spread on New Thayer. Hey, the Mudlarks are the home team!!!”) and we need you for this Tournament. Plus, I’d like to put my hands down. Edward Scissorshands is due to show up anytime and he’s been flirting with me. I’ve tried to tell him that I’m married to Gil but he keeps insisting that my Ore Ida Crinkle Cuts look sexy, especially soaked in Palmolive. Can you just say yes and skip the Jimmy the Greek tripe?

Hell, no. I like my Casual Bud Powell “April in Paris” attire that accompanies my corn dog appendages and I need to find a way to stretch P3 into a topographical nightmare because P4 would get a grievance filed by the  Amalgamated Printer’s Union. Betcha by golly wow, I might even sing another Stylistics tune like “Stone in Love With You” or Break Up To Make Up.” It can fit.

 

 

You know, with all this talk of volleyball and softball and newcomball and hopscotch and squash and Lordy knows what else Linda McCartney is involved in, we sometimes forget that people die.

Hi, this is Dr. Pearl, on behalf of Milford Funeral Solutions. That is what happened to me recently as my second-cousin-twice-removed-uncle-cum-father-in-law passed away at the Milford Senior Care Center. His life was full, having been the oldest Civil War Veterans, fighting for the Union in the 171st Wisconsin Corps of Engineers. Somebody had to build the bridge across the Mississippi to lead the charge against Pemberton at Vicksburg. He was rewarded with a fine pension but, MacArthur was wrong. Old soldiers do die. He may have digested his 1,000,000th Big Mac by the time he croaked but they still meet their Waterloo.

The people at Milford Funeral Solutions understand that with a peoples’ non-stop, hectic, go-go, seat-of-the-pants schedules, that they are surprised when one of their relatives dies. Land o’ Goshen, when I learned that Lieutenant Wilfred B. Harrington bit the big one at the Senior Center, I was at a staff meeting discussing ways to cut costs on the repairs of the football team buses. When they slipped the note, someone thought I was thinking about the expenditures on the Alison transmission that put us over budget.

That’s where care and compassion and a good casket that doesn’t cost as much as that transmission comes into the picture. They showed me the adjustable reclining board where he was laying in state to set my mind at ease. It’s important when he’s being embalmed because I have bad images of Elmer’s Glue being applied to his scalp and eyeballs, not to mention Canola oil being applied to his body to keep blood, semen, mucus, etc. from needlessly seeping out and damaging the merchandise, even if it’s dead merchandise. A dead Sears Die Hard battery deserves a decent burial, complete with minister to spread the ashes.

And after all the embalming and he is airlifted from the board to the casket, it’s nice that he will get a nice viewing with his arms folded the proper way. The last funeral home shoved my father’s hands in his pocket and he not only cut himself with the Boy Scout knife but the suit ripped. Try explaining to a dead man why his seersucker has a hole in his crotch. Embarrassing.

AND Milford Funeral Solutions was voted “#1 Funeral Home in Milford” by a reader’s poll in Milford Today. When they can lay my relative’s sword and engineering tools, straightedge included, so that they can be buried in one fell swoop so that the casket door can close smoothly, all at a fraction of the cost of the other funeral homes in Mudlarkland COMBINED, you have a business that will keep growing. No argument from the gravediggers.

Come to Milford Funeral Solutions today. And to show how badly they want your business, if your uncle or mother-in-law, etc. dies this month, they will pay for the funeral notice in the Milford Enquirer. Why go through the pointless worry of how many grandchildren Grandpa Thorp had when Milford Funeral Solutions can do the Finger Math? Just bring the ad that is printed on the Internet, download it, and your troubles are over. No more concern of whether your aunt was from New Thayer or Madison.

Isn’t it time you lay your troubles to rest along with that sword? That was fool’s gold anyhoo, I understand. An alchemist’s dream. Come to Milford Funeral Solutions and put Excalibur 6 feet under.

 

Gang, comment away. I still think Lou Brock can help the Lady Mudlarks win the softball tournament. Speed on the basepaths is important.

 

 

“No!!!!!!!! Don’t fold Gil’s grandpa’s arms like that!!!!!!!!! He looks like an accordion!!!!!!!!!!”

June 6, 2019

Moral Of This Story: Animals Should Leave The Sale Of Buttons To Ol’ McDonald.

Filed under: Just plain sad, Milford Idiots, Mimi Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 8:44 am

060619

Teamwork Good. Button-Selling Bad.

Well, let’s not get hasty here. Me, for what it’s worth, talking about buttons ad nauseum in a game when the focus should be on THE GAME no question cost them a win.

And I know Mimi is trying to prove a point but ordering Classics through Milford Book-of-the-Month Club and passing out a leather-bound volume that was once read by Woodrow Wilson when he was relaxing at the end of the day in his pipe and slippers after a long bitter day of negotiations concerning the League of Nations in the name of teachable moments is simply outta here. Take charge, Mimi, and leave the Bull Moose Party out of it.

 

We were lost

In doubt

Pissed and steamed

That this tale

Went further south

 

We were lost

In doubt

With buttons being shipped

Obscure and duty-free across the coastline

 

This sale is bigger than the both of us

It’s bigger than the women’s gym

We were lost

In doubt

Petrified at the travesty

And impulsive whims

 

Gang, I remember when Paul Westhead was coaching the Lakers back in the late ’70’-early ’80’s and they had just acquired Magic Johnson (who BTW hated that moniker and responded better to his preferred Buck or Earvin, the latter being his real name) through the Draft.

Westhead was not on the greatest relationship with his players anyway and when Magic stepped in, in fairness, he did defuse much of the heat directed at Westhead, though he really wasn’t wild about his coaching ideas as well. Never one to question coaches, even I still raised an eyebrow when Westhead was trying to implement complex, half-court schemes on a team that was built to run. A team with Michael Cooper, Jamaal Wilkes, and Earvin Johnson would do that. Though they won in 1980 with those same ideas, it not being all gloom and doom, they were unceremoniously bounced out of the Playoffs the next year by a Houston Rocket team that included Moses Malone, whose early entrance into pro ball was finally paying off and his stock was ever-rising. Tenacious rebounding and dominant, well-timed, sometimes-out-of-nowhere shot-blocking had a way increasing in value on the free market.

Anyway, in a crucial game where Westhead has everyone in the huddle, he designed a play where it was just pretty basic, Folks. Magic, throw the ball into Kareem, and Kareem, you dunk it or do your sky-hook, ball game. Okay, good enough.

But then, Westhead pulls Magic over to the side. Magic, unaware of what Westhead has on his mind NOW, found himself listening to Westhead quote Shakespeare (Westhead being a HUGE fan of The Bard)

“Earvin, If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well/It were done quickly.”

Say what?

“Coach, you DO want me to lob it down low to Kareem, right?”

 

Well, I had a “Say what?” moment this morning as Mimi was continuing her over-extended teachable moment with an analogy that, and I’m really trying to be as nice as Magic was to Westhead, really fell flat on its face.

First off, Mimi, you’re right. In “Animal Farm”, the Oppressed did indeed become the Oppressors, a point George Orwell was attempting to drive home in relation to the Soviet Union. Once manhandled by the Tsars down through the ages, Stalin wasn’t much better, slaughtering indiscriminately in the name of Freedom. And it wasn’t just Stalin.

But that’s where we part company. At no time did I think our eager-beaver button-selling duo were ever exploiting the masses through the sale of said merchandise or being expoited themselves. Yes, what turned out to be a nifty motivational tool to boost team morale went awry, the same way the Hippo Concept did, our Hippo Hero getting practically thrown into the dumpster when it didn’t win the 1960 World Series. Yeah, Bill Mazeroski, you heel. Way to leave the poor pachyderm to rot in the junk pile after you put it to the Yankees.

But I’m still scratching my head wondering where Mimi got the idea that that made them slave owners at The Tara. Boy, now I know where Gone With The Wind got its name. Teenagers being teenagers, they got swept up in an idea that could have used better judgment. It’s okay to recognize achievements, especially unusual ones. And they learned that not reining this one in cost them several things, including a ball game.

But Mimi, leave Rhett Butler back in West Virginia, which is where he came from and where he BELONGS. Slavery really wasn’t the issue here. No more “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”, puh-leeease. Nobody’s smuggling their TCFS button on the midnight Underground Raolroad.

Hey, I know. Next time go basic. How ’bout “The Little Train That Could”? Was really more apropos for a button-selling, under-confident and under-achieving team, anyway. As long as you’re not going to take charge and make ’em do the stairs, that’d be the first choice off the shelf at the Milford Public Library.

 

And, not surprisingly, Westhead was fired after the season. Anybody who remembers Jerry Buss, owner of the Lakers, knew he was the George Steinbrenner of the NBA, i.e., quick to pull the trigger on a coach if that poor soul was not up to Buss’ standards or mood, for that matter. Buss did a mercy-killing on this one. Thank God, Mimi didn’t dish out “The Last of the Mohicans” to Magic or Kareem.

“Kareem, if the sky hook isn’t falling, you could disappear like some of our Native Americans did when the white man began to settle.”

“Mimi, I want to see you in my office. NOW.”

 

Timbuys, your Kinks video inspired me. You gave me a brilliant idea. Sung to The Kinks’ “Lost and Found”

 

The baseball season’s out to lunch

A hurricane hit it and sent it to Seychelles

No double plays or infield flies

The tide just swept it and swirled it straight to Hell

 

And Captain Elbert Thorp

Said shiver me timbers

Focus now on making putts

Guys, get loose and limber

 

We were lost

In doubt

Golf awaits

Leave your glove at home

We were lost

In doubt

Take a drop

There’s no more sliding into home

 

This crap is bigger than the both of us

It’s really reeked a smelly pace

Batting donuts are a rare commodity

Dunkin’ Donuts came and took its placcccceeeee

 

Guitar solo from Dave Davies. Best in the business. Thank God, Marty and his ukulele are at Mudlark Lake Resort with Peaches. I shudder to think.

 

Ol’ McDonald had a farm

E-I-E-I-O

And on this farm, he raised some ‘Larks

E-I-E-I-O

With some Buttons, Buttons here

And some Buttons, Buttons there

Buttons in the slop

Buttons in the john

Buttons in the chaw

Buttons in the stall

Some in hen’s eggs

Some in goats legs

Ol’ McDonald was in the sling

E-I-E-I-O

 

Well, needs a little polish but what children’s song showed up on Billboard Hot 100 the first week? It takes a while to wind up on Casey Kasem’s desk.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Marty Moon Defends Rate Hike At The Warehouse At City Council Meeting!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Between a tall boy and riding Trigger, I think you know my preferences.”

 

Assuming that we’re still in the gym, the light in P1 too far away to be the Communist Debriefing Room in the M. C. Escher wing of Milford High School, we now confront the hangdog mien that is Molly and Nancy in P2.

Really, is this something Ward Cleaver is gently putting Wally and Beaver through the rinse cycle over at the end of the show? I can only imagine the premise at the beginning.

“Ward, would you talk to Beaver? He threatened to punch Eddie Haskell’s lights out if he didn’t wear a ‘Red Scare Rules!!!!’ button at school. He has Lumpy Rutherford in tears because he won’t show off his ‘TCFC’ lapel.”

“Of course. I have a sales convention in Honolulu to attend but should be able to catch the red-eye flight back to Milford and give him a heart-to-heart talk by the end of the show. BTW, what does ‘TCFC’ mean?”

“I think the kids are saying ‘Too Cool For Communism.”

 

“Gosh, Beav, when Dad finds out you stuck a frog down Polly’s butt because she wouldn’t wear a ‘Stalin Sucks’ button on her dress, you’re gonna get clobbered.”

 

“Uh, Beaver, I think you owe Polly and Lumpy an apology. And I want no more of this button business. You’re old enough not to shove anti-Communism ideals down people’s throats. Leave that to Nixon.”

“Gosh, Dad, you’re right. I’ll go tell them I’m sorry. From now on, I won’t force ‘Eisenhower Is Too Soft On Mao’ unless they ask.”

“Well, the trip from Oahu to Milford was worth it after all. Come on, what say we hit The Bucket for a Bucket Root Beer Float? And some Bucket Garlic Cheese Fries?”

“Gee, Dad, you’re the greatest.”

 

Okay, okay, if you can conjure up any better methods to address the sourpuss status in P2, I’m open for suggestions.

Then there’s the word “Lite”. How in the name of Wilfred Funk did that crawl into the English language with that kind of usage? Now, I THINK it is being emoloyed as a suffix, much like we’ve attached the word “-gate” to suggest a scandal big or small. Y’know, from the word “Watergate”, the hotel where Nixon engineered the infamous break-in to wiretap a slew of Democrats. I think we’re safe to not call this latest caper “Button-gate” (yet) , and we have the Bud Lite distribution and discussion to thank for that.

So now, Molly and Nancy will no longer pour Miller Lite in their 2% Milford Dairy Milk carton to calm their nerves before the game or they’ll be runnin’ laps in the gym. That’s fair. I think Mimi has a firm-lite grip on the situation, what do you think?

“Molly, I can smell  your breath in the 3rd row. Did you pour Michelob Lite down your Yoo-Hoo again? Gimme 20 around the horn.”

 

If ya poured a fifth of Jack in yore Hawaiian Punch right before the SAT exam ta handle the stress and ya managed ta hang on ta yore #2 pencils and calkylator, not ta mention slip past the proctor so that ya eventually scored high on the Verbal, ya might be a redneck.

 

We were lost

In doubt

Wondering what

Mimi plans to do with all these buttons

 

We were lost

In doubt

Just in time

For the Customs boat to raid them

Off the coastline

 

It appears we are tying up loose ends in P3. Molly Hatchet and her Amazing Technicolor Trapezoidal Butt is evidently bent on making amends and following George Harrison’s advice to use the power provided, free to everyone. This is love, you know. The button says so. Another one says “‘Cloud Nine’ is a Killer Album”. I told Molly to print that one after she snubbed me the first time. Hey, plugging The Beatles and The Rolling Stones for 50 years counts for something, as long as we’re making restitution.

Anyway, Tyler is going to get his Gideon Bible like he should have gotten in the dresser drawer at the Milford Marriott and we can just move onto summer. Not holding my breath, but at least the Gideon Bible is annotated. Last one was printed by Archie & The Gang and you know how Jughead Jones cuts corners just so he can leave early out the back for a burger down at Pop’s Choklit Shoppe.

 

“You know, when I see a kid ridin’ Buddy Budweiser here at Milford Beverage Warehouse, my cup runneth over. That’s why when The Bucket flares up with libelous statements and false charges, it makes me want to grab the Budweiser Clydesdales and run over anybody not nailed to a booth who’s in the middle of a Bucket Triple Decker.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp for the Warehouse. And I’m here to set the record straight. Yes, at the City Council meeting, someone DID propose a User Fee for the horse. But that came from a regular patron, Marty Moon, not us. In fact, when we found out, we were livid. And it was for 75 cents, not the $1.00 that the absentee owner of The Bucket suggested. He’s dyslexic and apparently got the Consumer Price Index mixed up.

Either way, Marty should know better. Proposing a rate hike on a kiddie horsee just to keep The Beer Institute from lobbying against higher taxes on his prized Falls City just about beats all. Marty’s always been a headline-grabber but competing with The Beer Institute for good press in the Milford Enquirer just to eventually promote his show shows you can’t always have your Falls City Dark and drink it too.

Gosh, darn, we are ready to fight back against the dark side. We know our patronage is very educated and literate. After hiring Gallup Polls to run a survey, we found that 53% of our customers have at least a college degree and that 81% overall graduated from high school. Throw in the 37% that matriculated from Milford Vocational and Technical Institute, and by gum, you have an army that can read the warning label on the back of a Cutty Sark. Shoot, I’m personally proud of a man who has a Master’s in Refrigerator Technology and Logistics who can buy a Louis L’Amour at our magazine rack in the Daiquiri Aisle.

So Milford Book-of-the-Month Club has joined forces in its fight for a more enlightened citizenry by offering you a special deal. If you sign up for a membership in the Book Club between now and July 4th, the Warehouse will give you half off your next purchase of your favorite 12-pack.

Boy o boy, Michelob Ultra, was 23.99, now slashed to a dozen simoleons and the FedEx dude delivering James Fennimore Cooper? I’ll have plenty of ice in the cube tray.

And Miller High Life, at 19.99 a pop and  T.S. Eliot’s “The Love Songs of J. Alfred Prufrock” will most surely go together when I’m on the hammock after a long day at the links, shootin’ one too many Topflites in the lake.

Or if you’re a Bud Man, you can be like Harry and pretend to say “Cubs Win!!!!!! Cubs Win!!!!!!” while slurping on a Bud at a laughble $11.00. Shoot, that’s like having 6 free Buds with a “Lady Chatterly’s Lover” in your bosom. Harry would have been proud.

But these deals won’t do no good until you come on down and see for yourself. Bring your photo ID, your thirst, and your dictionary, in that order so you can do so readin’ and rockin’. C’mon, did you ever try to read “The Pickwick Papers” while trying to scoop some Bucket o’ Marinaded Shrimp down at The Bucket? Our Absentee Landowner not only can’t get his facts straight, he gets Bucket Lasagna all over the pages of “War and Peace.” And the stains don’t come out of the leather bookbinding.

And when you have that “How The West Was Won” and a Drury’s in the checkout lane, tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

Gang, it’s your turn. I’m hangin’ my  head over this plot. So what else is new?

 

At the International Date Line

“Commodore, we have an interesting case. Plenty of swordfish and “Oakwood Bites” in the trawler. Think we should call HQ?”

June 4, 2019

The Baseball Season That Was, Until It Wasn’t.

060419

Gang, are you as confused as I am right about now? As Ned mentioned yesterday, we have learned to live with one-size-fits-all school schedules at Milford High School for quite some time, allowing for graduation ceremonies to be sometime right after the Fourth of July, or maybe that was Burgers and Fries day in the cafeteria, Hell, I forget which.

So while we’re munching on a Quarter Pounder here in the cafeteria before 5th period chem lab and pursuing the class project Design an Atomic Bomb in 1000 Words or Less, Sheet Metal and Crayolas are Permissable, it is left to us to ponder what DID happen to the baseball season. One day, David Walter does an Ozzie Smith fielding job to help the Baseball Mudlarks save the day (and perhaps this strip from extinction) , the next day we have girls talking about hippos and buttons.

And we couldn’t even stay on topic with hippos. Okay, Jamila Moses had a good luck charm she liked better than the Cabbage Patch dolls at Milford Toys ‘R’ Us and, damn, the concept was working until Rally Pachyderm failed to deliver in the 9th and we had to send a hobbling Kirk Gibson to the plate. And to think, it could have been a hippo rounding the bases on that homer hit off of Dennis Eckersley, doin’ the chugging motion while rounding second base as Whitney Houston is somewhere in another dimdnsion accompanying the hippo with “One Moment in Time”. Ah, the gods can be cruel when it comes to fate.

Even the hats that Jocelynn Brown doled out weren’t spared the Black Hole that made everybody look like Dionne Warwick. So it was left to the buttons which have become a national obsession and have driven baseball out of Milford. I know, have Jocelynn dish out those hats for the baseball team, enabling those involved to retain a sense of community. Hey, I’m all for the baseball team and the softball team posing in a group photo wearing Bud Powell fezzes on their heads. We’d be back on-topic anyway. I’m confident there’s a fez that’ll fit Gil’s buffon perfectly.

Don’t you think it’s better than what we have NOW????? What was the point? If reading “Animal Farm” was supposed to be a motivational tool to promote teamwork and commitment and FOCUS, well, “4 legs good, 2 plots (or more) bad”.

“Studying the book wasn’t good enough. You were supposed to READ it. 50 laps around the gym, girl. And don’t let me catch you cuttin’ corners or you’ll start all over.”

Okay, okay, so Mrs. Vince Lombardi is not in Mimi’s genes at this point but we’re still left with more questions than answers after Mimi, appearing to be TAKING CHARGE the other day and still with a bit of urgency in her voice in P1, is leaving us on the edge of the cliff as to what the punishment, if any although I get a sick-gut feeling that is indeed in her bag of tricks this time. No more crack the whip only to find out the whip is just being used to hold the concession stand door on its hinges until a carpenter from the Milford Carpenter’s Union Local 808 comes Monday for much-needed repairs.

If ya harbor the same cast that appeared in Animal Farm: The Movie II-The Year We Make Contact in yore house by takin’ a shower with ’em, sleepin’ with ’em, goin’ to Milford Drive-In Cineplex with ’em, jug of buttered popcorn included, plus tax, lettin’ ’em do the cannonball in yore swimmin’ pool, lettin’ ’em use yore washer and dryer, and takin’ ’em out on a Friday to The Bucket cuz they got 4 Legs Get 1/2 Off On Selected Items On The Menu After 8:00PM Night, ya might be a redneck.

 

And before I leave P1, I WAS hoping Mimi would end this comedy of errors with some good old-fashioned discipline OF SOME SORT. Make ’em do laps, as mentioned. Smack their knuckles with a ruler. Restrict their diet in the cafeteria to only bread and water for a week.

But noooooooooooo, Nancy has to ask, because Pat Sajak isn’t saying, what she’s won. Milford gym has turned into Wheel of Fortune. If I read the entire book twice, epilogue included, that trip to Mudlark Lake Resort is in the bag.

“Marty, you animal. You’re taking no prisoners this time. And I thought this cabin was booked solid through September.”

“Simple, Peaches. One run-through of the “Annotated Version of How the West Was Won” and Vanna took care of the rest. She managed to convince the 90-year-old couple to shift their vacation to Holiday World in Santa Claus, Indiana. I got the keys on Monday.”

“Ohhhhhh, Marty, you know how to talk dirty.”

And how do you study for something with no test or quiz involved? Do you tell Mimi you were chanting “Hare Krishna” while reading the part about the horse getting shipped off to the glue factory? I know Molly is doing her best roundabout answer of I Didn’t Read The Damn Thing, Thank You Very Much. But make the alibi believable. Reciting mantras of “Clapton is God” while reading about pigs and sheep sending a mule to the guillotine on Bastille Day is really unnecessary.

Mimi, I think your strategy is backfiring.

And, believe me, I’m all for unusual motivational tools as long as they work. One year, Indiana University Men’s Basketball played so badly that Bob Knight told them they played like horse crap (confident that the language was stronger than that) and just flat-out said “You’re on your own.” A couple of rookies and some newer players were aghast that he would dump the team like this but Joe Hillman reacted as if this was no surprise. So he got Daryl Thomas to get the plane reservations and tickets (I think they were going to Minnesota) , Brian Sloan to call the hotel in Minneapolis for reservations, Steve Alford to call a couple of restaurants in Minneapolis to reserve a couple of tables, etc. Finally, everything is set up and rarin’ to go, and by the time they arrived in Minneapolis, they got off the plane and subsequently went as a team to the lobby, where Bob Knight proudly awaited. Coach Knight had made his point. Needless to say, they won the game that night against an excellent Minnesota Golden Gophers squad.

I am still waiting for Mimi to get off the plane.

 

“We now return to ‘Daily Living with Dave’.”

Certainly a far cry from “Double Plays from Dave “, which is not only as awkward as it sounds, we’re spared the agony of bad literary style because double plays for the baseball squad is about as frequent as double dips of Bucket Turnip Torte ice cream.

And I’m not liking him at home on a computer with street clothes on. This can only tell me he’s not been at the ball park in quite some time. Which means he must have been doing OTHER things. Now I think it’s stretching it to say he’s been Nordic skiing in Milford Natural Area. Gang, hate to break it to you but you’ll have to set your sights somewhat lower. Yeah, that’s right, he was in a pick-up basketball game in his driveway court with Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Pippen couldn’t make it because he was sick with the flu.

So when Linda called, he had Kareem at H-O-R-S (“Bounce the ball off Gil’s hair, go through the loop of the chunky bracelet, bank it in.”) . And it makes me wonder, now that David is accounted for with no double plays up his sleeve, what Linda has on her mind. It doesn’t appear, due to the lack of scars, that Mimi sent her to the rack. But if we have to patronize the same saloon that Matt Dillon and Miss Kitty use Groupon coupons for, Mimi must have done something.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Suing Milford Beverage Warehouse After Nephew Thrown From Buddy Budweiser!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Penny caught in the slot chute, causing Buddy to buck, sending nephew 50 feet in front of the Modelo display.”

 

So now we anticipate, judging from P3, that Linda is going to get pissy-whiny-faced about the “punishment” Mimi must have doled out. I can’t imagine hanging around a bunch of Aussies that are thwarting your dream to be a U.S. Volleyball Olympian is really Paradise so being asked (not coerced, if we’re dealing in reality here) by Mimi to gracefully back away from a bunch of roughneck Crocodile Dundee’s so that you can concentrate on a sport that might land a scholarship and thereby doing something strange called “Paying for your Education” is clearly in order.

And Linda might live happily ever after if Sheriff Dillon didn’t have to deal with a shootout caused by one the Dalton boys drinking too much Blue Motha coffee. Kinda makes me wonder what kind of liqueur Miss Kitty spiked it with. Probably some cheap K-Mart Liquor special if it was only $2.15.

 

“Y’know, I just laugh when Coach Thorp takes shots at The Bucket, especially in its endeavors to procure a liquor license. His butt is showing out of his Haggar slacks if you believe some of the tall tales he’s been broadcasting.

Hi, this is the Absentee Owner of The Bucket. What he’s NOT telling you, because the Milford Courthouse Docket was not printed until after his latest ad was that there was a proposal on the table by the very owners of Milford Beverage Warehouse to raise the User Fee on Buddy Budweiser to $1.00 and to surcharge a value-added-tax on select brands of liquor, the latter of which to cover the costs of replacing the ‘B’ on Buddy’s saddle. If some patron discovered that he’s being charged extra on his case of Drewry’s to refurbish a fake Mr. Ed, I bet he’d have a cow. I don’t even want to think about the reaction from the wine connoisseurs when the more expensive Milford Valley Grape Deluxe gets blindsided with heavy tax increments.

But at The Bucket, we have our own riding horse, Bucky, and it is STILL only a penny. If the owners of The Warehouse want to pocket the extra money in the name of Uncle Sam just to finance their Rolls-Royce, that’s their perogative but tell the truth while you’re at it.

Because here at The Bucket, we still charge ’50’s prices because we’re still stuck in the ’50’s. We can go out on a limb in our quest for the Holy Grail and finally nail that Liquor Permit next to the First Dollar because ours isn’t a perfect world. Charging $1.00 for Bucket Triple Cheese and $.50 for Bucket French Fries and still be able to satisfy The Good People who desire The Good Life has long been a goal of The Bucket. And if they want to ride Bucky while they’re waiting for their Bucket o’ Marinaded Shrimp Combo, overflowing with shrimp, onion rings, and a tall boy of Bud Lite, who can blame them? Doesn’t a Michelob Dry taste better when delivered by a sock hop on roller skates with your order of White Meat Chicken Sandwich Combo, especially when you’re washin’ own the Bucket Buffalo Fries and a packet of Bucket Mac ‘n’ Cheese? Mmmm, mmmmm, good.

And this Saturday, as a way of expressing our thanks for over 60 years of your business, The Bucket will let all kids between the ages of 1 to 18 ride Bucky for free. That’s right, save that penny for the gumball machine later. Ride ’em, Cowboy and chow down on the menu at The Bucket. Wow, hope you don’t have plans on this exciting day.

But you won’t know until you ignore Gil and his cohort, Sonny Corleone. The way they both tell it, we’re only in it for the money. Yeah, that’s what happens when Honore Vashon is on the City Council. As if Milford and Steve McGarrett don’t have enough to worry about.

Either way, the door is open this Saturday. In fact, the only time our doors are closed is when we close at night.

Is there a message here? You decide.”

 

Gang, it’s all yours. I’m gonna try that Blue Motha coffee, remembering I have a post to do on Thursday. But I can afford $2.15. And I promise I’ll pay back my sister.

 

Gene Rayburn, thanks for stopping in. What’s the latest?

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought ‘Animal Farm’ as owned by a group of _________________.”

 

“Mr. Vashon, with all due respect, there’s no way The Bucket would survive on the island of Maui. Too many resorts and restaurants.”

“Ooohhhhhh, that’s where you’re wrong, McGarrett. We did a survey and found that The Bucket Sharkburger was 10 times better than Logan’s Steakhouse or the luaus on the island.”

 

May 30, 2019

“Big Brother Is Watching You. And Wants A Button Too.”

Filed under: actual action, Mimi Thorp, softball, TCFS — tdrewhardin @ 1:38 pm

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“I’ll give you $500 to call off the deal or you can find out what’s behind Door #3 that Carol Merrill is standing by.”

“I’ll take what’s behind Door #3.”

“He says he’ll go for Door #3. Carol Merrill, show him what he’s won.”

Johnny Olson, moonlighting from Match Game Mudlarkia, with the call

“It’s a year’s supply of BUTTONS!!!!!!!!!. That’s right, Monty, buttons out of the stovepipe, buttons out of that elephant’s butt that Carol Merrill is riding, it’s raining buttons everywhere. In fact, on your next trip to the Bahamas, the button-powered Cessna will land you safely to the Nassau airpo-”

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sorry, Gang, I just had a nightmare. Maybe that button-shaped Bucket Cheerios and Pepperoni Pan Pizza did the trick. Couldn’t have been the Frosty Root Beer. That’s shaped like a bottle.

And this one is spiraling out of control. What began with hippos as good luck charms changed for the worse into a Button Robber Baron Campaign that only a Rockefeller or a Carnegie could appreciate. I can’t even imagine John Rockefeller selling his share of 3 street blocks of Milford, plus some of his oil shares in Oakwood Oil, Inc., his drilling taking place out on an open field next to Tod Andrews’ property, just to get his hands on a billion TCFJPG (Too cool for J. P. Getty) . I’m guessin’ he’ll leave the John Rockefeller gym alone, y’know, the girls gym at Milford. He figures he’ll get SOME usage out of it this coming season. They can’t go 2 seasons without girls basketball, the script won’t allow it. Besides, he doesn’t want the rims to rot or he’s going to have to order another tax write-off through his accountants.

Believe me, there are enough buttons to share the wealth. I understand Hannibal is coming into town after negotiating his elephants through the Alps. Geez, I heard the route between Milford and New Thayer was dicey but if I have to leave my Freightliner, trailer included, at home and ride an elephant with Gil and Mimi, I’d rather sample the Bucket Prune Juice (made from concentrate).

And General William Rosecrans is also expected to hit Mudlarkland before this evening to earn a button and also a Medal of Honor (same difference, I suppose) after his decisive victory at Stones River. I was told Molly would enough buttons for the members of the Army of the Cumberland.

BTW, General Braxton Bragg declined on behalf of the Army of Tennessee. He telegraphed Molly that the Rebs were not into moral victories.

And how can I forget Murderer’s Row? Babe and the Iron Horse and the rest of the ’27 Yankees without some form of recognition, TCFRS (Too cool for Red Sox) ? The button is the rubber-stamp of their dominance that season, a reminder that you can cheer on The Bambino and still call yourself a Mudlark.

 

 

Did I leave anybody out?

Oh, Heavens no, can’t let the ’19 Black Sox get a button. I already have a TCFBSWCADTC (Too cool for Black Sox who cheat and deserve the chair) securely fastened to my Arrow Sorts Shirt. I’m sending a message.

 

I am VERY reluctant to announce the passing of musician Leon Redbone. I confess that I was not a big fan of his but that doesn’t stop me from admiring his contributions, significant and big. He had a nasally voice that crooned the tunes, his guitar-playing crisply and obediently following along, singing songs mainly from Ragtime, Jazz, and Tin Pan Alley. In fact, he revived those genres in a mighty way after they had been phased out in the late ’50’s and ’60’s with the advent of Rock ‘n’ Roll. He proved you could love Rock ‘n’ Roll AND those styles too (I’m living proof) .

A frequent contributor to Saturday Night Live, and rightfully so, he was 69. I miss you already, Big Guy. Just have that concert ready when I cross the threshold in the sky. I’ll be a ready audience.

 

I’m going to go out on a limb and say that in P1, they are warming up and are employing the old “Pitch and Catch” method. I ruled out Rosenthal’s, he dealt with foreign languages, not buttons and softball. No boomerangs. No frisbees. No frisbee golf. They are in their uniforms not because they work for the State, directing cars to SLOW in a construction zone, but because they are actually preparing for a softball GAME.

Therefore, since ships are no good to ship goods and thereby earn profits if they are safely anchored at Port of Milford, I’m gonna take my S.S. Minnow out for a test drive on Lake Michigan and say those are foul lines they are pitching and catching around. No demilitarized zones anywhere near Milford and I have never know Mudlarkland to straddle the Mason-Dixon Line.

Glad I got THAT conundrum solved. I can concentrate on Squaring the Circle and the Four Colors Problem.

 

If ya wear a button that says TCFIL, or Too cool fer Izod and Lexus, while yuz mall-walkin’ yore bloodhound at Milford Shopping Mall and only stop to let him go wee-wee behind the Milford Chick-Fil-A dumpster, located 50 feet behind the Food Court sign, ya might be a redneck.

 

And you’d think that our anti-heroes, the ones who are dragging down the word TEAM into a pile of doggy doo doo that Luhm amassed from the softball outfield grass would get their comeuppance and learn from their loss the other day. If anything, they’re proving resoundingly that there is an ‘I’ in the word “selfish”.

I can hear Stengal now: “Doesn’t anybody around here want to play this game?????”

Mimi really ought to be asking the question but she’s too busy playing 20 questions in P3. Is being too cool for 20 questions bigger than a bread box? I’ll go check Roget. He oughta know that and the answer to a clue in the New York Times Crossword I am alternating between that and the Concordat at Milford presently being ironed out in P2. A supplement to the Adams-Onis Treaty, Napoleon can have Idaho back in the Louisiana Territory, Jacksonville can be a French Colony including the guillotines to deter rebellions to his rule and, oh, can wear a button, TCFB (Too cool for Bismarck) . Ah, the compromises humans must go through for peace at any price.

Spain, BTW, can still have the Okefonokee Swamp. Last minute addition to the deal.

 

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Mitch Miller Singers Guitarist Sent To Milford General After Accident At Milford Amphitheater!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Throws out back after attempting Townshend Windmill maneuver on the song ‘Tuxedo Junction’. Out for 8 weeks on Tour.”

We come to P3. I THINK Mimi is trying to go the Foghorn Leghorn route, engineering a funny, hoping the ladies will get the hint and flush their TCFO (Too cool for outhouses) buttons down the toilets at the Milford Softball Complex facility.

The strategy of choice is, I’m presuming, Orwell’s Animal Farm. Y’know, get rid of the drunk farmer and let the animals run the asylum. But they gotta do it as a team, utilizing the motto “Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad, One Plot Pathetic”, or something to that effect. And I’d even play along with this odd attempt to inspire and motivate her players were she not standing in front of one of the worst-designed backstops I have ever seen since P. K. Wrigley sold the Cubs (Don’t hate me Robmize, I was trying to hold back, the A & W chili dog forced it forward) .

If I have to fire up the troops in a Salvador Dali lookalike painting, my career as a coach will go the way of the dinosaur. But at least there are drawings of them in caves somewhere. My career wouldn’t survive the rough draft.

I am really honestly trying to figure out if the backstop is FOLDED IN or concave or FOLDED OUT or convex. You really need to figure this out before First Pitch as you really don’t want to send your players out of the dugout on the wrong side of the ledger. It’s bad enough that Mimi is still NOT TAKING CHARGE and resorting to leatherbound editions of The Classics as a text for her Gipper speech but speculating where the infield is located might send things over the edge.

“Hey, coach, some vandals moved the outfield to Diamond #3.”

And a late throw-in, judging from Mimi’s attire, MTV logo included, we now know the kind of women that populate the planet the Kanamits live on. They could save the trouble of UN Peace Conferences and just send a few of these Mimi Models out of the spaceship at strategic locations, i.e., malls, bars, NFL Monday Night games, Garth Brooks concerts, etc. Guarantee they’d have a menu by the end of the week.

 

 

“And that wraps up another loss for the Lady Mudlarks. Coach Mimi Thorp, your Father Flanagan approach isn’t working. We’ll be back to wrap things up in a moment, with the final score, Madison, 3, Milford, 2. This is Madty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

As Mimi does a swan dive on the bed in her negligee, she awaits her unsuspecting victim.

Gil enters. He is still reading about Stephen Curry in The Sporting News while still brushing his teeth.

SPLAT

“Gil, enough on the Golden State Warriors. Time to take charge of me.”

“Mimi, he got game. I was enjoying the part where he basically took apart Portland single-handedly.”

“Speaking of taking apart-”

And then I was going to read the team-by-team breakdown of each team’s chances of making the Super Bowl. They say Mayfield may lead tbe Browns while Roethlisburger is still nursing his left testicle and is questionable-”

“Gil, come to-”

“After breaking down the Chargers’ chances, I want to read that article on Hank Iba. I didn’t know his brother was a transvestite. Man, TSN is REAL thorough in their research.”

“Gil, to bed, pl-”

“Then the Yankees are talking trade again. Andy Pettite for Hack Wilson and ol’ Hoss Radbourn. I knew they needed right-handed power-”

“Gil, aren’t some of those players from the past, say, Dead Ball Era.”

“Honey, I just read them, I don’t bother to look it up. That’s what Statistical Abstract is for. When they pay me to do a piece on Christy Mathewson’s Polled Heifer collection, I’ll be the first in the barn”

“Gil, are you having erectile issues again?”

“Mimi, if you think I’d stoop low, literally and figuratively, for a Hereford-”

“Gil, I mean NOW.”

Mr. Horse makes a cameo appearance and pulls the front of Gil’s pajama bottom

“Hmmmmmm. Nope, I don’t think I see it.”

 

“Face it, when you have to resort to Mr. Ed to address your erectile issues, it is time to renew your focus and head to Milford Men’s Clinic. I regained my sex drive, i finished that article on Polled Herefords and Mr. Ed is back in his stall. Now, if only my wife would take charge herself. Oh, well, 2 out of 3 isn’t bad, or, oops, ah well, close enough, we’re playing horseshoes. And be as erect as one today. Only at Milford Men’s Clinic.”

 

Gang, the phone issues are out to get me again. I apologize and truly appreciate your patience. Your readership is NEVER taken for granted.

 

“Ed, can I borrow one of your magazines again? I have a date tonight and I want to be ready.”

“Sure, Wiiilllll-bur. Look under the 2nd bale of hay on the right. Erectile issues again, Wiillll-bur?”

 

“I don’t know if Infield Fly applies on Convex Fields, Coach. It’s still under review.”

 

 

 

 

May 28, 2019

Women Not At Work

Filed under: Boredom in Milford, general nonsense, Gil Thorp, Mimi Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 6:25 am

052819

Speaking of Australia, the group “Men at Work” was the inspiration behind today’s title, as some of you might have surmised.

And why not? The plot has gone from bad to hopeless. Not only did Linda Carr blow the game, with help from Molly Wonka and the Chocolate Button Factory, through their myopic view of teamwork, BUT NOW Mimi is handing her her luggage at the check-out gate.

Gang, as Robmize mentioned, nobody more than me believes in giving EVERYBODY a chance to play more than me, regardless of ability. Lordy, the run-ins I’ve had with churches, regardless of denomination (ALL GUILTY, none left out, trust me) , over the years because what they SAY about people getting a chance to play and what they DO are 2 different things.

That said (as far as I’m going with the church concept, in other words) , as long as a kid gave me 110% effort and tried to listen to what I ask, to the best of their ability, especially in Babe Ruth League Baseball, I shook the dude’s hand at the end of the game. That simple.

But handing Linda her Samsonite after a half-ass performance on the field is just the culmination of a Button Crusade gone awry. The pilot and the co-pilot crash-land the plane into a field somewhere, right on a pile of crushed automobiles because they couldn’t flush their petty differences down the airplane potty (plenty of room to dump doo doo like that, y’know) ? I hope the plane was insured.

Mimi, really, it’s called TEAMWORK. Rather than be a concierge for Milford Marriott Courtyard Suites in P1, why don’t you TAKE CHARGE and basically not tolerate this obvious breach of concern for the team? Because she’s hoppin’ on the next 747 and God knows where that’s going. Oh, Australia, I forgot. There’a convention in Brisbane. She’s the keynote speaker. How to Let Problems Affect You During The Game Rather Than Talk Them Out BEFORE First Pitch. I’ll catch the next flight out of Indianapolis so I can get an early seat.

 

This Memorial Day week, I would like to remember Leonard Thomas Hardin, my grandfather, who was a World War I veteran serving valiantly as a cook. A finer man cannot be found when it came to his services and sacrifices.

Then I would like to remember my step-father, Gabriel Feltner, Junior, a World War II veteran who proudly served in the Navy aboard the USS Merryvale. He fought in essentially 2 Iwo Jimas and received a generous GI Bill for his services. No argument from me.

Gang, where you can, take 5 minutes out of your day to thank a Veteran. If you can’t do that or are comfortable doing it differently, fine by me, but please, please, thank a Vet. They appreciate it so much and it makes our Nation stronger.

 

“Just stick the portmanteau on the bed. I’ll unpack later. Right now, I gotta take a bodacious dump. Here’s a fin for your troubles.”

“Gee, thanks, I can pay my AAA bill for the month. The John Conti packets are by the Mr. Coffee. Water is straight outta the faucet next to them.”

“Thank you.”

 

Oh, cry me a river in P2. So she blows the game because she didn’t care because she’s stuck with a U-17 Basketball squad that won’t be selected in next month’s NBA Draft? And they’re all from Uruguay? Yeah, travel can be kinda dicey between Montevideo and La Guardia this time of year. Can’t book a flight too early.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with dreaming big. This is America. But ya still gotta take care of business where you’re planted, something that wasn’t done against Madisom.

Really, if you don’t make the plays in Rockville, either cuz you can’t or won’t, and won’t seems to be the order of the day in the eyes of Pennywise the Clown, to whom Linda is spilling her guts to, what makes you think you’re gonna make ’em when they light the Olympic Torch? What are you going to do, pull some Matchlite Fluid out of your bra when the Torch doesn’t catch flame from your Zippo??? Not the time to be handing you your Samsonite.

 

Because I was taken a little aback by a headline about Felix Cavaliere, a member of the Young Rascals which basically stated “Felix Tells All!!!!!!!”, something that was startling but more than likely not earth-shattering, given their popularity with “Groovin'”, “Good Lovin'”, “How Can I Be Sure”, plus they were not noted for heavy controversy

Today’s headline from the Milford Enquirer

“Several In ICU After Rioting At The Milford Amphitheater For ‘The Mitch Miller Nostalgia Lane Tour de Brasilia ’19’ Rears Ugly Head!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Consternation traced to a few senior citizen couples going overboard while dancing to ‘Yellow Rose of Texas’.”

 

“I can jump higher than the water fountain!!!!!!!! I deserve another chance!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m going downstairs to the breakfast room and try to catch the Olympic Track coach before he leaves!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“You better watch your Lucky Charms intake, Sluggo, or you’ll have trouble getting over the water sprinkler!!!!!!!! And watch that flab, it almost took my nose off!!!!!!!!!”

“SHUT UP, FATS, don’t make me go psycho when I can clear the St. Louis Arch!!!!!!!!!

“Oh, sure, Sluggo, and the Eiffel Tower’s down the street, next to The Bucket Annex. Don’t strain an Achilles soaring the heights.”

“SHUT UP FATS!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Hey, you’re the one stuck with Men at Work at the track complex. Not my problem, Sluggo.”

 

Who can it be, messing up this plot.

Linda and Molly

Let it go down the pot

 

Who can they be now

Who can they be now

Who can they be now

 

I’ll fax Men at Work for the answer.

 

If ya dropped out of the Monday Night Co-Ed Industrial League, giving the Milford Foundry softball manager 2 weeks notice so he could buy some time to find a suitable replacement that can bat opposite-handed (hittin’ over the short porch in right field a bonus) and can still field cuz ya wanna concentrate on makin’ the U.S. Olympic Bowling team by takin’ extra practice, and Bud, down at Milford Lanes, ya might be a redneck.

Then there’s Gil. Yup, fresh out of the oven, ready with the bon mot to a question the TWIMers have answered the last few days.

(Sigh) Okay, so we’ll listen to Gil’s opinion but we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out what’s behind Door #3. In the end, I’ll cart of the GE Washer and Dryer that Carol Merrill is showing in Door #2.

 

 

 

 

 

Y’know, I just got wheelchaired out of Milford General, glad to have been released from the COPD machine monitoring your a-fib, among other afflictions that are too Greek or Latin to air over the radio, here in the parking lot ready to drive home when I hear The Bucket accusing the Milford Beverage Warehouse of profiteering off of the riding horse, Bronco Buckweiser, a service we provide for the kiddies up front while Daddy goes trottin’ off for his own share of The Good Life. For a penny, boys and girls have ridden on their own adventures and enabled customers to walk out of the store able to ride off into the sunset with girlie and a 24-pack of Bud in the same saddle.

Boy, the fill line some attornies will stoop to in order to get a Liquor License. The Bucket claimed we are raising our price at the horsey to a quarter to offset the Alcohol Transport Tax passed by the Milford City Works Commission, thereby keeping The Beer Institute of our backs. Boy, they’ve been taken for a ride all right and that one is worth more than a copper, several times over. At least, Bronco Buckweiser stops jumping up and down when your little Johnny or Janey is ready to get off. The other horse might wind up in court.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp here on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse, ready to set the record straight. Bronco Buckweiser is not for sale, except to The Brady Bunch and any kid thereafter and forthwith, and the damn contraption still costs a penny. I know, my son got one from the bums pitchin’ Lincolns in the alley in exchange for my son’s Joe Schlabotnick card that my son swiped out of Charlie Brown’s back pocket. Yeah, I’ll admit it was awful for my son to crush Charlie Brown’s idol but at least later on he went to Charlie Brown’s slumber party. They kissed and made up with no fondling involved. My kid’s rear end was unblemished from any seizures.

Can’t say the same for these cads who opt to play post office with a kid’s ride and to answer the ante to such debauched tomfoolery, The Warehouse is ridin’ to the rescue with these thirst-quenching price stoppers.

How ’bout a 24-Pack Michelob Ultra for $22.99, good at your next cookout with family and friends or if you want to engineer a slumber party of your own at, say the Milford Community Center gym? You can invite men AND women, in case anybody calls the cops on on unfounded suspicions and save a buck or two. Hell, I’ll run a nudist colony at the Community Center at those prices.

Then we have Samuel Adams in the 12-Pack for only $14.76 while a 12-Pack of Heineken can get through the Door Greeter’s merchandise checker’s radar for a steal at $13.53. Hooooeeeeyy, thank God the checker gun’s AAA batteries last longer than the Energizer Bunny.

Planning on watching the races and doin’ the OTB to boot? No problemo, The Warehouse is offering free cell phones for every Bulleit Bourbon purchased. Gotta have a phone handy while you’re sippin’ some of Kentucky’s finest, don’t you? You can do all that and still do a cannonball in your swimming pool. Man, makes me want to wheelchair to your party. Just don’t get the wheels wet.

And to show that there’s no hard feelings between us and The Bucket even if their legal team doesn’t know a riding horse from a tricycle, we are taking off 3 dollars, you heard right, 3 dollars off your next purchase of Gato Negro Cabernet Sauvignon if you’ll bring in a proof of purchase receipt from The Bucket. Bucket Mini-Cheeseburger, Bucket Chicken Broth, Bucket Borscht, Bucket Triple Fish Sandwich with extra Bucket Tartar Sauce, shoot, it doesn’t matter, if you ate it at The Bucket rather than Milford Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market Snack Bar, it is legal tender at The Warehouse. Man, me and Foster Brooks are ready to trade in our Bucket Spaghetti O’s platter with Fries receipt for a Menage a Trois Merlot Blanc.

Hey, come on in, the water’s fine. And so’s the horse. But you and your small fry will never know unless you stop by Milford Beverage Warehouse. And when you do, drop the copper in the machine, ride to help Lone Ranger rescue Tonto from the Trotskyites, and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.

Gang, go at it. I’m going to help Linda with her free throws. There’s a Uruguayan who’s a dead ringer. Can never get enough practice.

 

 

“Sluggo, those have to be the worst concrete slabs Gil is using for trainers. How will he win the 1600 in those shoes?????”

“SHUT UP FATS!!!!!!!!! At least he’s wearing shoes in the park. Last time he slept on the park bench, he was barefoot as he was advising Luke Bunkin on some trader tips.”

 

 

 

“You serious, Coach. Sell the Milford Foundry stock now? Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to mash your toe.”

May 23, 2019

Chef Gil, This Plot Has Been Chopped

Filed under: actual action, Just plain sad, Madison Time, softball, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 12:37 am

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You’re kidding, right? It’s this much of a no-brainer, kinda like someone handing you a $100,000 check when you’re leaving Milford Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market to take your groceries to the car. No strings attached??? Just don’t forget to sign your John Henry on the back when you cash it at Milford Federal.

Still doing a mental background check on the person the implementer of such largesse, well, gee, duh, if you’re caught up in “Tippicanoe and Gil Thorp too” buttons, worried more how they’ll play on the free market than THE ACTUAL GAME ITSELF, isn’t that another way of saying YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW???? Yeah, it’s rocket science when you forget “There’s no ‘I’ in the word ‘team'”. We gotta go back to kindergarten to figure that out????? Linda, right now, I wouldn’t give you a scholarship on Romper Room’s intramural team.

 

“Coach, since you’re not going to do much coaching until, say August, loosely speaking, you understand, do you mind if I take a vacation?”

“No, Coach Boone, you only show up around the Playdowns anyway. To paraphrase Dylan, you just want to be on the side that’s winning.”

“Coach, that’s not entirely fair. I watched you work with your kids the entire afternoon practicing their putts at Milford Golf Course because you got tired of maxing your credit card at Putt Putt by teaching them how to negotiate the windmill. It was as exciting as watching paint dry teaching them how to avoid a bogey on par 5 dog leg left Shoot Through The Bazooka pin, but the cashier at Putt Putt was proud. Little victories in everything.”

“Oh, Hell, Boone, take the whole summer. If you can’t handle having to endure physical activity for long stretches at a time, take your candy ass to Wheel of Fortune for all I care. Win a trip to Bahamas and get lost.”

 

The trip to “Worst Cooks In America” is getting off to a resounding start, doncha think??? Hope Coach Boone brought his ‘A’ game.

 

How’ bout dippin’ into the ’80’s for a little Talk Talk?

Funny how the crowd observes my every move

I walk with lack of privacy at school

I wish I’d never paid 39 pennies

For the El Dorado

 

They just drool

 

I ask myself

Can I make it to a stall

 

 

It’s my badge

Don’t you forget it

It’s my badge

You touch, you’ll regret it

 

I like how timbuys mentions “just plain sad”. What other scenario can be drawn from today, especially P1? Gang, do what you want but I ain’t touchin’ P1 with a 10-foot pole. She is puttin’ on a clinic. Good arm extension, hip rotation, eye on the ball, level swing, ball poppin’ off the bat at a good angle. Guarantee it, Walt Hriniak is taking notes and he didn’t do that often.

But do we have to learn from The Joker about how to swing a bat because Batman was out in the Batmobile too long???? Yeah, it is, indeed, just plain sad when this clinic is coming from the other team. F— you, Mudlarks, and quit pullin’ your head when you swing. Correct me if I’m wrong Thorpiverse old-timers, especially from the Berrill era, but wasn’t some of the tips we’d see flashed on the screen not only educational and an added bonus, it actually came out of GIL’S MOUTH???? I know I’m not going to Tod Andrews’ Oakwood Baseball Summer Camp Junior High Division to learn how to use 2 hands and squeeze when you catch the ball.

The Philistines are teaching the Israelites how to Punt, Pass, and Kick.

 

Then there’s P2. What can ANYONE say????? It is going 180 degrees away from P1. Just about ANYTHING that’s right in P1 is wrong in P2. Players with heads up their asses, putting their own selfish agenda before what’s going on  the field. How can I mention fielding technique? I had a saying when I was coaching Babe Ruth League Baseball, “What do you tell the player who knows everything? Nothing.” In P2, rest my case.

 

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“USF Holland Semi Collides With TCFS VW Company Van!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Miraculously, no one was injured. Semi on the way to The Bucket to deliver guacamole chips.”

 

“Coach Boone is pulling the chips out of the oven-he forgot to add KC Master Bar-B-Q sauce to the recipe. You have 10 minutes on the clock, Coach.”

 

“So Coach, what are you making, if I may so ask?”

“I’m serving up a Guacamole Chicken Salad Tostada en los Frijoles Morenos y una Copa del Vino Merlot Fresco serving for 8 people. This has to be seasoned just right, especially when I lay the Grippo’s on the sheet pans.”

“Absolutely. I noticed you’re using Bar-B-Q chips. Aren’t you a little concerned that the judges might have Grippo’s breath for days?”

“Way ahead of you. I solved that problem watching ‘Trisha’s Southern Kitchen’ one night. She doused a pint of chocolate cherry liqueuer all over the Baked Chicken Gumbo, Sauteed in Nabisco Cheese Nips .I understand Trisha only needed a half a pack of Certs when she performed with Garth for a Nashville charity event.

 

If ya burned the guacamole chips and sneak out the back down to Piggly Wiggly, buy out the store of Golden Flake Cheddar ‘n’ Sour Cream Potato Chips, stick ’em in the bed of yore pick-up, lay the tarp over ’em so the judges don’t notice when they’re on a smoke break, then smuggle ’em to the cupboard on a commercial break, ironically enough Lay’s Vinegar Chips one of the sponsors, ya might be a redneck.

 

Being stalked by everyone

Green with envy

Can’t even approach the water fountain

 

Need a hall pass to Chem or French

Econ field trips are simply out

 

What a mountain

 

I ask myself

Can I buy a Twinkie from the cafeteria

 

 

 

 

 

It’s my badge

Don’t you forget it

It’s my badge

You just don’t get it

 

After coaching the linebackers for 2 strips while Gil is off another Big Adventure, Coach Boone returns for prep time.

“Okay (flush) , I put the guacamole sauce in the microwave. While that’s sizzling, I will get the chicken ready. (To himself) Goddammit, I told KFC I wanted white meat this time. (To the audience) Fortunately, I have a glass bowl ready, sitting by the Cocoa Pebbles, whattya know. I dump the chicken strips in the bowl, add a pinch of paprika, a pinch of cilantro, add a tablespoon of raspberry red, half a teaspoon of orange orange, and a quarter cup of green clovers and a half cup of yellow moons.”

“Coach, you think Lucky Charms will mix evenly in the bowl with Green Onion Grippo’s Chips.”

“I had to try something. I’ve already used Grippo’s Bar-B-Q Chips for my other secret recipe. Besides, it’s no different than making a free safety whose family is from Laos line up with the outside linebacker whose dad’s a hog farmer. They talk out their differences and BOOM BABY!!!!!!!! Next thing you know, we stop the tailback at the line of scrimmage. Friends For Life do that.”

“Just don’t forget to add Contadina Tomato Paste so the flavors don’t overwhelm. And some Lysol. The yellow moons got a little chewy when I sampled the product.”

“Thank you, judges. And I’ll add a few drops of iodine so that the acid-base reading is close to ‘7’ as possible.”

 

Then P3 is the culmination of the failed “Keep Cool with Cool Buttons” campaign. Yeah, I reckon you need to call the whole damn nation/keep the tailgate down with your glove if you don’t want another “Dewey Defeats Truman!!!!!! moment at the Mudlark Softball Complex.

Madison is just simply dancing in front of the Mudlark dugout, doing their best Travolta rendition, complete with disco ball. The spotlight is going back on the team bus with the rest of the Philistines. Lady Mudlarks, you’ve been chopped.

 

“Coach, I don’t understand. Weren’t you going to add guacamole chips to your dish?”

“NO!!!!!! Those were the appetizers to hold down the fort while I work through this. Kroger ran out of store-brand Restaurant Chips. I want this Guacamole Chicken Salad to be just right. The soy sauce clicked with the blue diamonds so CYA in that regard. But I got some Dorito’s Cool Ranch under the sink in case I gotta go to Plan B.”

 

Ooooooookkkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is back to help skewer this plot. Take ‘er away, Gene.

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooo dumb  (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she wore a button that said ‘Too Cool for ________________'”.

 

“Coach, you ARE aware you have 5 minutes?”

“And your point is?

“The Guacamole Chicken Salad Tostada en los Frijoles Morenos y una Copa del Vino Merlot Fresco looks a little overdone. I can see au gratin potato stains all over the green clovers. And I’ve seen better cooked chicken at Mel’s Diner. I’m not sure Alice would even eat that Waffle House in Paradise.”

“HA!!!!!!!! That’s where I’ve got you judges where I want you!!!!! I want you to THINK I’m burning the merchandise but not only am I going to marinade it now, but the slight sizzle, or overcooked as you say, will bring out all the flavors, especially all the anise. The Trix portion of the dish won’t know what hit it. Honey Nut Cheerios pieces and Kroger Restaurant Chips simmering in a cream cheese marinade sauce? Like to see Thorp do better. He can barely marinade water.”

“All right, we’ll see what happens. You’re the cook. I just hope you come through with the Chocolate S’mores and Louisiana Lightning Sauce mixture that you highly bragged about.”

 

I snuck into the dugout gate

With my Holy Grail

Locked in the gym bag, best know the combination

 

Only “All The Way With LBJ”

Stopped TCFS hardware

 

From world domination

 

 

Convince myself

Mussolini ran campaigns better

 

 

This is my badge

Don’t you forget it

This is my badge

You can’t even pet it

 

This is my badge…

 

As Gil rides off into the sunset with one of the ostriches, rumor has it thst he was at the Savannah Section of Milford Nature Area

 

“Chef Boone, congratulations, you have earned the distinction Worst Cook in America. I wouldn’t feed this concoction to starving children in China, let alone on my block. The chicken was chewier than a Nerfball, the lemon juice was overbearing with the Cocoa Puffs, and don’t even go there with the guacamole chips. I could buy better chips from a street vendor who sells chili dogs at lunch.”

“I’m just getting Lay’s Potato Chips and KFC  Breast Dark Meat and maybe the mashed taters in the pee cup that comes with the chicken. You sure you didn’t take a urine sample yourself in this slop?  I’d be drug-testing you for stupidity at my restaurant right now. How you can have the audacity to mix Chic-Lets and oregano just so you can spice up your dish is more than a travesty. And the raspberry red was undercooked. Don’t quit your day job.”

“Chef Boone, or maybe just Mr. Boone, since you can’t coach or cook. Why in the world are you using Arm & Hammer Baking Soda after you take it out of the oven? You needed to mix it in to give the chips a more even texture. your chicken was raw and the substitute Tater Tots ‘n’ Vine Ripe Tomatoes that you got from your grandfather’s recipe didn’t really replace the guacamole chips you ran out of. Ever heard of Pam? Chef Boone, you’ve been chopped, I’ll save the trouble before the commercial break.”

 

“Thank you, judges.”

 

“HUGE HUGE shout-out to the staff in 5 Core Unit of the Intensive Care Unit at University of Louisville Hospital. They have waited on me hand and foot during my stay here and have done it with a “Service with a Smile” atmosphere. It would not be fair to name names, since there were many of them and the beauty is, many would rather not be mentioned anyway. Classic unsung heroes. You factor in the Medical Team that has stayed with me patiently throughout my recovery and you have a recipe for success. I can see why my nephew, a medical doctor himself, highly recommends them. A big THANK YOU is in order to these people who make a difference in our lives.

 

Comment away, Gang. No, I’m not getting autographs from the Madison players. I won’t go that far.

 

“What can I say? I need to use more Pam and canola oil next time. I appreciate the judges’ honesty as they’re only trying to make me better. I’ve chewed out a nose guard for not wrapping a guy when he’s tackling him. It’s all in the execution.”

 

“You callin’ me a candy ass???? Shoot, you couldn’t ride an ostrich through the Picnic Area!!!!!”

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