This Week in Milford

November 19, 2020

No, Rosey, Winning At Milford Is Like Brushing Your Teeth.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 12:50 pm

Whoa, Nelly. Nothing like a juvenile Roosevelt Grier to come in and do what he should have done at the BEGINNING of the plot, not after Gil belatedly rung out Frick and Frack for not being team players/getting distracted by a girl who’s not a team human being. Good call, Thorpiverse. This is like General Philip Sheridan (“…only good Indian is a dead…”) sending in reinforcements a day after Little Big Horn. Gee, Rosey, you were in the group doing all the calisthenics. You didn’t notice the sniping? Oh, you were at the water cooler from heat exhaustion, I understand. Otherwise, you would have used your helmet, to paraphrase Ernest P. Worrall in “Ernest Goes To Camp”, to jack a few jaws and pass out some knuckle sandwiches. No catering trucks needed (we hope-Jay’s Tas-Tee Knuckle De-Lites??-my my) . Luhm will sweep up the loose teeth later on. Right now, you’re just trying to send a message.

And why are we still lingering on this “No ‘I’ in ‘Team'” concept? You’d think that after Gil gave a stern lecture that could be heard from his office to the Mediterranean Sea that they would have learned and we were waiting with bated breath for that lesson to be applied in the Jefferson game. But like Pete Townshend sung, Stardom in Milford, that’s all they got. And oodles of rain.

Okay, so maybe the NEXT game, they’ll start heading in the same direction. Because the only time that really happened in the Jefferson game was on the bus ride home. And they STILL weren’t talking to each other. But they weren’t really doing that BEFORE the game. Hello. Gil’s tirade was just a weatherman’s forecast of 80% chance of showers? The weatherman getting it right was little consolation. And so was a plot misdirection. Next time, Thorpiverse, don’t wait for the game AFTER the game with the awaited Real World Model to make your point. Goofus and Gallant would never wait until the NEXT issue to preach that good manners and walking old ladies like Dr. Pearl or her ancestors across the street and holding the door for women at The Bucket or not telling Mimi there’s a fly in the Country Tyme Lemonade is essential for a starting position at quarterback and getting caterers like Jay’s Subs or Nick’s Pizza to cater the rain-soaked contest with Jefferson.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Jay’s Subs Delivery Driver for delivering these 128, 564 subs to this game. That monsoon must have been terrible. Would a $3000 tip cover it?”

“Nahhhhh, I work for peanuts and the good of mankind. When I see those kids chowing down in a downpour, it hits me right here. Working for Coach Thorp gives me warm fuzzies. Just send the money to the Valley Alternative Used Book Fund.”

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Dr. Pearl To Appoint Sergeant Schultz As Head School Patrolman At School Board Meeting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Expertise in handling of POW’s cited, particularly in addressing issues in school parking lot.”

And here we go again with stupidity shot at us from another angle. Like I’m going to go to Coach Thorp and say “Coach, put me back in. I want to run up the score and 56-3 isn’t good enough for me. We can make it 80 before time expires. We’re wearing them out.”

Like Coach Thorp is going to respond “Sure. You left too many damn points on the table anyway. I told you to eat your vegetables and do extra push-ups. If you’d done them upside-down, the score EASILY would have been 70-3.”

Trust in Christ because Gil don’t sponsor no flops.

Larry Bird played for Springs Valley High School, essentially a consolidation of his hometown, French Lick (as in “Hick from…”) and West Baden Springs, right down the street from French Lick, and his teams were decent and beat up on a lot of the Southern Indiana schools in the area but found the Bloomington schools and the pesky ones like Jasper and Loogootee to be the bugbear, as those schools were with ANY of the other schools, especially at Sectionals and Regionals and beyond. But one of the reasons why he was a top player was his coach had him convinced that if he was practicing 100 free throws, the superstar at Paoli High School or Crawford County High School was practicing 101 FREE THROWS. 500 jump shots? Dude down the pipe at Bedford or Vincennes was practicing 501 JUMP SHOTS.

“Great throw, Rapp. You upped the score to 71-3. I knew you had it in you.”

Coach Thorp butts in

“Yeah? Well there’s somebody shooting lay-ups on the courts of French Lick who would have blocked the field goal. You need to practice penetrating the defense 501 TIMES!!!!!!!!!! And hitting the tire with your throws 502 TIMES!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

You think the moral of this story, judging by P1, is you can never be too far ahead of your competition?

Hi Crystal. This is how familiar I am with Jeff Smith Marathon in Edwardsville, Indiana. With COVID-19, they are STILL busy. Keep moving those cars in and out. And people were coming in and out for gas too. And they have excellent gas at great prices. Then come down the hill to Mike Smith Firestone in New Albany, Indiana. They were also busy despite the pandemic. Their parking lot was full of automobiles. Looks like job security to me. Folks, if you’re in the neighborhood, come on down and get treated right like these two businesses have treated me and my dad. You won’t be sorry.

Support Small Business. You need to go where everybody knows your name. They know mine.

Rosey, you’re missing the point and I’m not talking about the ones Rapp or Thayer should have scored if they didn’t have their heads lodged up their butts from all the rain.

Rapp never said he was bitching about his PT. He was complaining that the score could have been higher. And that could have been Thorp imposing another tight leash on things, particularly Rapp, who was loose in his interpretation of the playbook. In other words, Rapp could have had beaucoup playing time (we’ll never know, T-verse is into soap operas, not statistics) but all he did was just gift-wrap the football to Charlie Roh or Chance Macy and any deviation from that plan as going to be severly punished. Flutie Miracles was going to earn running steps up and down the station until the break of dawn.

Now, Rosey, as long as you’re going to get your jock strap stuck up your hind end over questionable motives, I’ll concede that PT is an issue. And Rapp was complaining about that, no doubt. But really, the overriding gripe was Gil’s wrenching Rapp’s game into a vise grip so that the quarterback was the Salvation Army passing out toys to kids at Christmas.

What do you WANT Rapp to say?

“This game went longer than Hall & Oates ‘I Can’t Go For That’ but Coach Thorp knew what he was doing. This time he bought a notebook at the bookstore so that he could carefully calibrate everybody’s playing time. I know I got my share. Hey, Rosey, as Groucho Marx once said, ‘From each according to his ability to each according to his need’. I’m glad he didn’t pad the game against these scrubs. The other coach put in his junior varsity? Classy of Coach Thorp to keep the score within 50. The freshman game ought to be a cinch. He’s got my early vote for Valley Coach of the Year.”


The John Fogerty rocker may be a bit loud, sorry to say.

Satisfied, Rosey?

If ya got 1000 dead squirrels in the back of yore pickup and ya got the cab cover on ’em so that rain don’t spoil the meat when ya skin ’em cuz yore daddy said told ya when ya wuz 11 years old that yore spelling bee buddy wuz out in the woods treein’ with the bloodhounds and sub-se-cuent-lee killin’ 1001 squirrels behind yore garage, ya might be a redneck.

“And remember, Gil, there’s another coach in the Valley Conference who’s working on getting it on the green 10,001 times.”

“Shut up, Kaz, and let me putt.”

And to continue this confrontation that’s more stink than poop between Rosey and Rapp

“….playing time?”

“Not really. If I was, I wouldn’t be taking ‘The Gospel According to Gil’ that the Gideons pass out at the stadium entrance. I am complaining about your breath. Did you have some Wheaties with Nutra-Sweet before kickoff? And do you need for me to spray D-Con on your face?”

At least the fans look like people in the background. I was worried that the Zombies had infiltrated the stadium again. T-Verse must have heard the complaints. Who wants to go through the turnstiles with a buzzed-out butthole determined to eat you alive? That IS running up the score when your team is losing or about to lose. We have enough on our minds. T-verse must have called for extra security.

At the State Department of Public Instruction, in the Commissioner’s Office

“And remember, Dr. Pearl, there’s always somebody filing 10,001 reports before the deadline…”

Is P3 going to start ANOTHER PLOT???? I was half-joking the other day on my other post but looks like T-verse is serious about continuing the travesty. We missed the part where Rapp and Thayer kiss and make up and prove to be a two-headed monster against Jefferson. That would have been a nice way to round out a runaway plot, Godzilla and his Siamese twin scaring the Jefferson players off the gridiron and Milford winning by forfeit. The fake scenery as in the movies where you can see all the plywood that comprise the Empire State Building or Mudlark Stadium still might have been dicey but the important thing is that Rapp and Thayer lived happily ever after and we could use the hook on Peppermint Potty and get her off stage and sweep the rest of her baggage and that particular plot thereof under the shag carpeting.

But it was not to be. Now it’s Rosey’s and Thayer’s turn to argue and cuss and body-slam each other over how the team should be run even if you realistically have coaches (supposedly) foot the bill on that one. But in Milford, why let truth get in the way of bad plot development?

“He’s a selfish bastard who only thinks of padding his stats and throwing chair patterns when 10 guys are covering his receiver because he has a flair for the dramatic even if the game’s on the line and it’s 1st-and-goal on the 1-yard-line and a simple plunge in the end zone will win the game. What about it?”

“Your mother wears army boots when she’s plunging in the end zone!!!!!!!!!!!”

Lord, please, I beg of you, don’t let this carry past Thanksgiving. In Jesus’ Name.

“And remember Mimi, somebody out there is grilling 10,001 London broil steaks. And mixing 10,001 gallons of Country Tyme Lemonade. Can’t let The Naked Chef beat you.”

I was not going to say ANYTHING about the trees. I was going to be nice for once.


We used to observe those globules on a slide when we put it under a microscope. Then took notes of it and turned it in as part of our lab assignments. Man, the paramecium is spreading all over the Shiny Happy People sky. That or one side of the herbiage or mismanaged forestry project received a hefty helping of Miracle-Gro. At the rate it’s going, some satellite may crash into it and cause an ugly mess on the field. And we’re already dealing with one between Thayer and Rosey. Many cuss words and finger-pointing but no damaged satellites near the concession stand. Just hope to God Challenger isn’t flying anywhere near the overnourished horticulture. Talk about seeing the forest from the trees. I think the forest swallowed the trees. It shows.

“And Grier and Thayer are at each other’s throats. Geez Louise, you’d think the team lost. Well, under a Coach T. team, you never know what could happen. Reasonable adults are there to separate the two. And we’ll back after sanity is restored. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

In French Lick, at the basketball courts off Larry Bird Boulevard, Mrs. Shaw pulling off Indiana 56

“Honeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, I’m horrrrnnnnnyyyyyyy. And what are you doing shooting lay-ups?”

“Quit bothering me, Mrs. Shaw. I’m working to get to the top of my game. You play the way you practice. If you lollygag on these bunnies, you might as well throw it in Patoka Lake down the road because you won’t be prepared to make the easy 2 when the opening tip meets opportunity.”

“Honey, I had a different idea of laying up. And the West Baden Hotel is a wonderful place. I have a reservation with a bed that’s comfy enough for the both of us.”

“No way!!!!!!!!!!!! Gil always told me that if I’m going to take Milford Parks & Recreation Men’s Industrial League Basketball seriously, that somebody, once he clocks out on second shift at Milford Foundry is coming here to French Lick and practicing 10,001 lay-ups. I’ve already done 1,745 of them. I might need to break and go down to Huck’s to get a Slushee and Subway for a $5 Footlong for dinner but I’m in this for the long haul.”

“Darling, put the basketball down and come wid your widdle bunny wabbit and have some fun.”

“Mrs. Shaw, you don’t get it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Those lay-ups plus those 10,001 staggered wind sprints will not only help me beat that team of losers at Milford Foundry by at least 20 points, I’ll be more solid than the asphalt I’m practicing on. I already can run faster than those buggys the Amish drive around here.”

“I bet the horses have more fun than we do. And the Amish too, for that matter.”

“Look, I read an article where things like rebounding off the backboard 10,001 times enhances male performance. I’ll not only outrebound anybody that the Rec League throws at me but I’ll be Tarzan of the West Baden Hotel.”

“Jane would love to see you there.”

“Oh, I will. But you can’t just turn on and off male performance like a water faucet. That’s why I’m practicing 10,001 free throws. I’ll be hornier than the coyotes in Hoosier National Forest after hitting nothing but nylon. And don’t even think of taking me on in H-O-R-S-E. I’ll go Mr. Ed on you while reaching climax.”

“I bet Mr. Ed goes to bed with his honey before you beat Larry Bird in H-O-R-S-E.”

“She had me there. And my feet were getting sore from getting up on the asphalt from all those suicide drills. It was time to ‘fess up on my problem and hit Milford Men’s Clinic. With proven treatment programs that work, West Baden Springs Hotel was a welcome sight to put my masculinity to the test. I did better in bed than at the 3-point line. My percentages were better anyway. Come solve your own double dribble problems and get out of the 3-second lane before the refs cry foul. Only at Milford Men’s Clinic.”

Rosey ought to mind his own damn business. But you tell him. I don’t have the guts.

God bless you, Gang.

Mike Knappe calling Domino’s Pizza

“That’s right, it will be this Sunday at Milford Softball Complex Diamond #1… Of course, the tournament is still on…No, I only want 4,000 pepperoni pizzas…No. No!!!!!!! No Lowenbrau!!!!!!!! High School Athletic Rules prohibit alcohol consumption…Sure, we’ll take all the Breath-Mints you can stuff in the garbage bag…Got it? Cool…Thank you, we’ll be waiting, and remember, Nick’s Pizza is assembling 10,001 Turkey Stroms even as we speak, so get a move on…”

“Colonel Jessup, did you order Coach Thorp to carry out the Code Red????”

YOU’RE GODDAM RIGHT I DID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Which player? There were three of them.”

November 17, 2020

Which Plot? We’ve Stomached Three (Or More) Of Them.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 12:58 pm

And just like that, the scene changed from guys pissy-faced about a game they really should have won even with pissy-faced conditions to Miss Permanent Pissy Face putting a damper on people who are taking one for the team. It is like those whirlygigs that fall out of maple trees each year, spinning out of control to the ground and if you dare try to catch one, you’ll get dizzy fast. We’re still recovering from that charity event that was more charity than event. The free food sent by Mr. Rooney, the same teacher who crucified Mike Knappe before underwriting Domino’s Delivery, backs me up on that claim.

Can’t we develop the kiss-and-make-up scenario between Rapp and Thayer before going back to somebody with a personality of a turtle at your local Fish and Wildlife Area? And apparently it’s getting old with her fellow volleyball players. We got hit with a miserable rainfall that was all wet in more ways than one and all we got between Rapp and Thayer was a long bus ride back to M-town with not a word between them.

Usually in the Berrill years, if guys got an ass-chewing for their “I” before “team” approach, they not only would not have been dragged out of class but the next game was when Lessons on Life would be liberally applied. The only thing being applied at this juncture is the precipitation. We are dealing with too many plots and not enough plot development. We were expecting Rapp or Thayer to take charge and get the team out of the mud and not only did they both fail in that regard but then we abruptly switch over to Peppermint Potty spewing more of her venom, this time in the direction of the volleyball team. Potty, they were just innocent bystanders. Raising a stink when the volleyball team isn’t anywhere near the Pottys to poop? No wonder why you went through three schools.

Oh, I get it. Potty will have a team meeting with the football team and tell them to get your head out of Gil’s hair and that she’s seen better football in the hallways at Valley Alternative. Then she’ll go on to help the volleyball team win State, tell Mimi where to stick it since she knows less about volleyball than basketball and coaches to suit that perception, then run off and get married and live in a remote part of Saskatchewan and live by the Call of the Wild. She’s big enough to chop wood.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Entire Team Quarantined From COVID-19!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Gil: Thank God they sanitized the tables at the Club. Life has no meaning otherwise.”

Okay. So Thorpiverse is going to throw Shakespeare in 115 acts instead of the usual 5, plot of all trades, master of none. I will try to get my eyes adjusted to the set. Try.

“…with two Conference losses, stick a fork in Marty’s goatee, it’s Spaghetti O’s-

“Why is there water coming out of your locker? It’s washing away your UPS package of Barbie dolls down the hallway.”

“Peppermint Potty, don’t you care about your school? Do you have to be Maureen and dump bad meat loaf on my parade?”

“No, seriously, it looks like the same rain shower that dumped on the football game. I could have used some on those jerks when they wouldn’t get the hint.”

“That same rain is carrying your lipstick case and your mom’s ammo in the Home Ec class.”



And P2 is just a bad tire retread. Like we couldn’t figure out that Peppermint Pot had been to three schools. Okay, Thorpiverse, I got the ticker counter

1) She’s now at Milford after taking a tour of the town and complaining how crappy it is, yet the hog feeds from the trough. Let’s get the obvious out of the way. Even THAT isn’t a given with all the runarounds we’re getting on these plots or mini-plots or nursery rhymes that extend longer than the couplet rhyme scheme

Mary had a little lamb

Whose fleece was white as snow

And every time that Mary spiked the ball

The lamb was sure to go

There were two wolves who were wanting to

Get in Mary’s pants and eat the lamb but

Mimi came out of her office with a sawed-off

Shotgun and fired about 12 rounds at these vermin

Who were more concerned with bitchy women

Than football and had to be sent back to their

Pen before the Milford Petting Zoo closed for the


What rhymes with “bitchy”? Itchy??

2) She was at Valley Alternative. But this is like in the movie “A Few Good Men” where the judge rebukes Tom Cruise when Cruise is being redundant in pleading his case. “Lieutenant Caffey, I think we’ve covered this.” No truer words spoken. T-verse, what part of “She went to Valley Alternative because she’s a brilliant student but possesses a nauseating personality at the level of the egg nog you forgot to use to bake cookies with and you are compelled to pitch it in the trash compactor” do you think we DON’T understand?

3) This one’s wide open. We don’t know the third one and who’s REALLY going to investigate? Friday and Gannon would rather dole out parking tickets while riding in that little meter maid wagon than attempt to fish out her whereabouts on her third option. She could be at Westview with Funky and Les and the rest of the Scapegoats, Archie and the Gang at Riverdale, Boys Town in Omaha, or with the rest of the convicts at Folsom Prison singing “Ring of Fire” at the Johnny Cash gig and she STILL wound up at Valley Alternative. Enough snooping for me. Oh, look, I think I’ll hop on the back of the wagon with Joe Friday.

Because I thoroughly wonder why people are investigating some of the venues where they shot Hogan’s Heroes

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Mudlark Football Players Complaining Of Concentration Camp Atmosphere At Practices!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Anonymous source: ‘The senior class was not particularly thrilled with Colonel Klink running the calisthenics”

Now whatsa matter Potty

Ain’t you heard of my school

It’s number 1 in the State

So be true to your school now

Just like you would to Gil or your guy

Be true to your school-


Strangers in the night

Exchanging glances

Wondering in Gil’s bed

What were the chances

We’d be sharing love before the night is


“And that was Michael Bolton with another Golden Oldie on the Lite Favorites from the ’50’s and ’60’s Afternoon here on WDIG. We will update you on the shooting between Rapp and Thayer in the football parking lot after the Milford Stockyard Report.”

And P3 is just full of possibilities. Sure, she has a hard taco shell to match a wide wet burrito butt and that may be as hard as the chunky bracelet that Becca is wearing. I’m not sure. And don’t you love this positive spin to attempt to save face for a lady who needs to take her attitude and shove it? There is no such thing as a girl with a shitty attitude and a butt that looks like the Chimichanga from Hell. Bad parenting and a bad home environment was responsible. She needed good examples and better potty training. She wouldn’t wear her psychological helmet on her head so that nobody can penetrate her inner psyche if she would read more of Miss Manners and less of her horoscope. Isn’t Miss Manners by the crossword? Or maybe it’s next to the wedding announcements.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“The Diner Severely Damaged After Bombs Found In The Dishwasher!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Corina’s mom: I knew when everybody was distracted by the players at the volleyball game that the back door would be unlocked.”

And with Peppermint Potty walking off into the sunset (we wish) , what does the future bring? Because again we’re still left on hold with Frick and Frack who may or may not iron out their differences at the QB spot. Maybe they can go to Gil’s verandah and broker a solution. Hey, lemonade and Mimi-grilled BBQ steaks have spawned ingenious game plans between Gil and wife. And Frick and Frack may be able to compromise on Peppermint Potty. Frick gets dissed by her on odd-numbered days and Frack gets dissed by her on even-numbered days. Works for me.

“Aren’t you confused by all these plots running around like stray dogs on the streets of Milford? Thank God I kept it in my pocket and didn’t have that many children zig-zagging in the Thorp household.

But I’m not here to talk about plots and dogs on the football field on 4th and 9. Hi, this is Coach Thorp for Milford Beverage Warehouse. Many of you have wanted to know what you can do to start your own bourbon business. Now I don’t mind taking calls collect but here’s a better solution and I won’t get woke up at 1:30AM.

Milford Beverage Warehouse has started an exciting new program for you entrepeneur wannabe’s out there. It’s called Builders for Bourbon. It’s simple. When you purchase products from our abode, the Warehouse will supply you with a kit, depending on your level of interest.

Some of you are chickenshit and don’t want to go whole hog. You want to make some Maker’s Mark but you’d rather keep it in the backyard. That’s to be expected. So if you purchase $50 worth of merchandise from the Warehouse, they will send you materials, chemistry set included, to get you started on your path to prosperity right in your own basement. Some of you may need to move the table electric saw but you have to give in any relationship.

Some of you are a little bolder. You have some property and don’t mind it when people stare at the pipes and the runoff. You are the kind of person to tell the EPA that they couldn’t monitor a forest fire when Smokey the Bear’s in charge. Hey, you’re on your way. That’s why with a purchase of $100 worth of liquor, the Warehouse will send Milford Small Construction to build on your site. Man, don’t you want a patio with pipes running everywhere? You can just sit and watch as Kentucky Straight, No Chaser Bourbon is being brewed to perfection, all while the squirrels are staring in curiosity and the does are running from the bobcat. And you’ll have customers ringing off the wall at your new business to boot. Sexy.

Now some of you jump in the swimming pool when there’s rumors of sharks. You DEFINITELY belong in the bourbon business. If you don’t max out in your credit card purchasing booze, The Warehouse will send this same company to build out in the woods off of some farmer’s cornfield. A random drawing will determine your venture of danger. Man, isn’t it exciting dodging the revenuers and still supplying somebody’s mansion with Four Roses Bourbon at the Kentucky Derby? I almost went for it myself but Mimi put her foot down.

If you have an itch, come scratch it at the Milford Beverage Warehouse. Come build your own perilous paradise and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.

Gang, quit throwing all these plots at me. I may have to call Milford Animal Control.

God bless you, Gang.

November 12, 2020

Good Thing The Message Isn’t Muddied. There’d Be Cleat Marks Everywhere.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 12:39 pm

In the Milford locker room

Pick a little talk a little pick a little talk a little

Cheep cheep cheep talk a lot pick a little more

Pick a little talk a little pick a little talk a little

Cheep cheep cheep talk a lot Gil is truly God

“Hey, did you hear what happened to Thayer and Rapp?”


“Gil chewed ’em out because The Music Man was trying to teach them teamwork and they told him to stick his act in one of the 76 Trombones.”

Pick a little talk a little pick a little talk a little

Cheep cheep cheep plot is dead Gil is ultra-hot

“Hey, did you hear what happened to Coach Thorp?”


“He renewed his wedding vows to Coach Mimi at The Diner. Maureen was the Maid of Honor.”

“I thought she played the organ.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know about the wedding.”


Pick a little, talk a little, this plot is sooooooooooo


“Hey, did you hear that Coach Thorp caught Thayer and Rapp in the boys room grabbing each other’s private parts?”


“Coach made them do steps up and down the stadium for 2 hours. Yelled at them that next time, I want the whole team in the boys room. We grab and fondle as a team.”

“So when’s the next Grab-in?”

“During lunch on Tuesday. Be sure to have a hall pass.”

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Injures His Lumbar Section While Kneeling To His Wife At His Vows Renewal At The Diner!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I don’t care how they did it in ‘Moonstruck’, Danny Aiello never wore a thong jock strap while proposing.”

What is the player doing in P1? Eating his arm????

Gang, I remember the Nixon staffers being interviewed during the Watergate hearings and these guys were practically thugs. H. R. Haldeman was brutally cold. No feeling to him whatsover. He just stared through the interrogation team. And the same could be said for G. Gordon Liddy. His treatment of John Lennon was a joke. He had Lennon looking like Charles Manson when Lennon was trying to get citizenship in this country. Wiretapping and illegaly seizing his files were not uncommon for Mr. Liddy.

And some of you might remember the Saturday Night Live sketch where someone is interviewing Liddy while Liddy is in his backyard at the grill. And when the interviewer notices no burgers or dogs, Liddy said that was because he was going to grill his hand. I’ll spare you the details but you get the gist, I assume. Unfortunately, that sketch wasn’t far off the mark. Liddy was a desensitized scoundrel.

So is this what the plot has come to, Music Man ladies questioning and gossiping whether the Music Man is actually a coach and football players sautee their radial and ulna while engaging in gossip???? I think we can answer the first one. No. The Music Man has been pulling one over the town of Milford for 60 years no matter how many times Mayor Shinn insists on checking The Music Man’s resume. The second one? Do you want me to answer that? Seriously?

If ya git bamboozled cuz The Music Man thinks 76 Trombones would be a nice addition ta “Take This Job And Shove It” when Johnny Paycheck performs in concert at the Milford Outdoor Amphitheater, ya might be a redneck.

Pick a little talk a little pick a little talk a little

Cheep cheep cheep talk a lot grab a hunk of crotch

Pick a little talk a little pick a little talk a little

Gil Gil Gil talk a lot coach a lot less

Thayer was caught for child molestation

He’ll be benched all night for Friday’s game

The team will run laps until damnation

Gil cited lack of teamwork as to blame

Pick a little talk a little pick a little talk a little

Cheep cheep cheep slurp a lot drink a lot less

“Hey, Joe, did you hear that Mr. Moon dumped Peaches for that cute librarian at Milford Public Library?”


“Marty was checking out ‘Broadcasting For Dummies’ when he spotted her in the Non-Fiction department. He treated her to Milford Diner on the first date. Heard she loved the Au Gratin Potato Night.”

“What’s that got to do with Thayer going in to whine to Coach T. about losing his job?”

“What does this plot have to do with the price of tea in China?”

Ooooooookkkkkkk, I think we’re getting a handle on the problem at this point.

And Gene Rayburn is back to minimize the mud-slinging and dearth of teamwork. Gene, you never let us down

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought The Music Man in Milford was really __________________ in disguise.”

And what better way to dispense with the gossip that ensued from the tail-whipping Rapp and Thayer received from The Music Man (“…you don’t act like a team, and that starts with ‘T’ and that starts TROUBLE…”) than to have 2 schmos partaking of the rampant rumors while one schmo is slobbering in his Gatorade. For that deep down thirst for more mudslinging, it would appear. Tommy Lasorda, the great Los Angeles Dodgers manager who won the last World Series before the Dodgers edition this year, would be patient until the team REALLY hit a snag, then he would lay into his team and give them the butt-chewing of their lives until the paint peeled off the wall. Needless to say, they would go on a tear after that. We not only can’t even find closure to the Thayer vs. Rapp Debate and find MORE mud piled on the avalanche of gossip despite the tirade by Coach Thorp, we’re getting grossed out watching Crest with Fluoride oozing out if the dude’s water bottle. And that spells trouble.

Marty Moon on the podium

“Coach T. is a fraud!!!!!!!!!!! His real name is Gilgorich Thorpachev!!!!!!!!!!! I have legal documents here in my-“


Gilgorich dodges another bullet like he has the last 60 years

Pick a little talk a little pick a little talk a little

Rain rain rain Tackle little run his ass over a lot

“Hey John Doe, did you hear that it was raining cats and dogs because Thayer was a crybaby about PT and it caused Coach Thorp to dance like he did when James Brown was gettin’ it on to ‘Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag’ and ‘Nothin’ Beats a Fail But a Try, Part 1 &2′ at The Apollo in ’68 and Bootsy Collins liked it so much he invited Coach to hop on stage with the rest of the brothers and they funked and flailed and juked and jimmied and shook and shimmied and were able to show their pelvis’s slithering like a snake unlike Elvis back in ’56 and that’s what caused the downpour in P3?”


Awkward silence

“Well I bet Elvis would have been more patient with Thayer.”

And we have NO CLUE who is who in P3 although that does appear to be an “M”. Hard to tell in the rain. And I am no football guy, my brothers did the honors, but that has to be the worst tackling technique known to mankind. My nephew played football one year and I remember one of his coaches telling the team WE’RE NOT BEGGING THEM TO BE TACKLED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This rain-infested individual is at the altar call. Give him a Bible and a “Holy Joe” tract and send him on his way because the running back is bound for glory. Bound towards the end zone anyway, no matter how much crotch-snatching Holy Joe is doing. His crotch might be too slippery in this downpour, Holy Joe.

“Gil, Did you hear that Dr. Pearl finally ran off from Mr. Dr. Pearl?”


“She didn’t that flu shot at Milford Pharmacy. She was afraid of needles.”

“….and at halftime in this drenched affair, it’s Milford, 7, Jefferson, 0. I’ll be back in a moment with the stats after a word from our sponsors. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“My, my, how some of the hearsay can become cancerous and malignant to our well-being which precludes the development of our inner concepts that foundationalize our status in the top of the food chain. Gossip hisses indeed. Loose lips and loose ears crushed Napoleon at Waterloo.

Greetings, this is Mr. Dr. Pearl and I have an entirely different concept to discuss and frankly, between you and me, it has me worried. The grand people at Milford Bath Works have been entangled in an imbroglio through no fault of their own. We were confronted once by Mr. Sharkey when his client filed a negligence suit against MBW after he slipped and fell in the tub and broke his hip. Mr. Sharkey falsely claimed that because the walk-in tub included a Jacuzzi and that only a certain material in the tub structure itself could handle the whirlpool mechanism, a matrial allegedly slicker than regular tub ingredients, the company failed to notify the client of this disclaimer in the instruction manual. We were on the side of Law and Order however, contrary to that rapscallion Sharkey.

We were notified by the Milford Police that the same day he purportedly stepped in the walk-in tub, he had an alcohol blood level count three times over the legal limit. We were able to weigh the scales of justice in our favor because this client was ruled by the judge to possess an impairment in judgment and momentary lapse of reason and presumably lost control when skinny-dipping in the walk-in tub the way he drove into that utility pole. The judge wasn’t about to ruin MBW’s good name from someone’s careless drinking binges. If he wants to get loaded off of Budweiser before walking in the walk-in tub with his rubber ducky, that was his own cross to bear. Don’t blame the company when he can’t walk a straight line in front of Barney Fife.

And now we have another lawsuit pending. An octegenarian lady has claimed that the shower spigot was improperly positioned at an angle that caused the water flowage to make contact with her pacemaker. She cried foul when the mechanism went up in smoke along with her abdomen and lower chest.

Let me reassure you that the engineering department at Milford Bath Works have done their homework and have executed the proper calculations to ensure quality and craftsmanship every time you commence with the shower head. Mr. Sharkey has the shower pointed as usual at the wrong armpits.

We can and will prove that she had to have been situated upside down as her pacemaker was traced to her collarbone. Unless she spent several minutes aiming the shower head at the collarbone but by then her head would have burned off from the mini-explosion. Difficult to walk into a walk-in tub in that predicament, don’t you think? The headless horseman will have to cut its losses and purchase another pacemaker.

And with all these obstacles that lay before us like your Saint Bernard blocking your path to a world of bath tub liberation, we feel that you too can utter “Down, boy” and your dream walk-in tub, which can now be financed easier because our salesmen no longer work on commission, will be a new found reality. Like getting baptized in the baptismal pool on easy credit.

But Heavens, don’t take my word for it. Come see how we can install a new creation in your bathroom and compel Mr. Sharkey to stick to ambulance-chasing all at Milford Bath Works. Your Paradise without the apple tree.”

Gang, we’re not begging people to laugh at my comedy blog. And put your wallets back in your pockets.

But God bless you, Gang.

Pick a little talk a little pick a little talk a little

Cheep cheep cheep talk a lot lick a little more

“All right, I want to know who’s been starting the shit around here. I want names or you’re running to Dr. Pearl’s retreat house and back.”







“The Mayor.”

“Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.”

“Richard Clayderman.”

“Slim Whitman.”

“No way!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Slim started shit over in England for 20 years!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Meet me at the gate in 15!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Hack a little run a lot wheeze a little run a lot

Barf barf barf Gil’s a butt needs a new career

“Coach!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know who shot Coach Shaw!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!!! Who in the heck was it???????”

“It was-“


November 10, 2020

Your Mother Has A Face Like Franconia Notch!!!!!

Filed under: freak hands, Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 11:20 am

Uh oh. When Coach Thorp is displaying his Old Man of the Mountain visage, we know issues are getting down to cases.

Old Man of the Mountain was a piece of rock sticking out of the mountains of New Hampshire that, logically, looked like a gigantic face of an old man. For centuries, it had been like that as many influential people, including Nathaniel Hawthorne and Daniel Webster, made a special note of it in literature and otherwise. New Hampshire’s state highway markers used the Old Man on its design (and still do) .

Unfortunately, due to several factors, the structure collapsed in May of 2003. Several attempts were made to create a replica but were shot down for several reasons, many of THOSE obvious reasons. Realistically, you couldn’t reconstruct history as if it were a Lego block. Let memories take over and give the Old Man a decent burial. Wise.

I was fortunate enough to see the structure before it collapsed and it was truly a geological fascination. My own memories are positive and make me glad I could see nature come alive.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Old Mudlark of the Mountain is calling in the last people you would think would be part of this schism on the football team. C’mon, Gil, if you’re going to get pissy-faced over football players establishing their own agendas, you get to the heart of the problem. Blaming Dennis the Menace and Ruff for the catfight between Marcia Brady and Jan Brady isn’t really going to get anywhere. We haven’t seen Charlie Roh and Chance Macy for any more than a cup of coffee and when we do, they’re being sent to the lions over the finger-pointing that Will Thayer and Terry Rapson instigated in the first place. God almighty, what a plot-starter (as if we can stomach another one in a long line of plot stubs) . Chet Ballard is back with a vengence. And he proves it by calling Gil at midnight at a phone booth, using one of his socks to disguise his voice, on a deserted Milford 7-11.

“Yeah, Coach? You don’t know me but I caught Charlie and Chance sitting apart from each other at a volleyball match. And that caused Will and Rapp to flip each other off and sit on opposite ends of the scorer’s table. Me? Just call me a friend.”

I hope they throw the book at you, Chet.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Old Mudlark Of The Mountain Collapses Just Shy Of O.J.’s Condo Suite Property!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Dude, I heard some heavy rumbling and I asked my neighbor, why are buffalo stampeding Milford????”

Gil, if you want to deal with the cliques on your team, you address it IN PRACTICE!!!!!!! Dumbass, you don’t call people out of class to deal with a problem that needs to get settled between the lines. Sure, there’s times to encourage players to show up at games as a unit because you do want them thinking in the same direction. And some coaches make that mandatory. I agree wholeheartedly.

But A) My nephew’s cross-country team showed up at football games in a different section from, say, the girls basketball team. They STILL supported each other. B) Your team is sitting in different sections stemming from issues you chose to neglect until Mimi broached the subject over coffee and Edy’s Low Sugar Chocolate Ice Cream. Some teams pull together at the time of kickoff while yours is sniping at each other AT SOMEBODY ELSE’S GAME. How in the name of Jerry Pulver do you expect them to join forces when it counts????

And pulling players out of Biology Lab Class is going to instantly fix the issue???? Charlie Roh was identifying body parts on a dead pig he dissected before the student assistant dropped him a note from Coach Thorp instructing him to drop what he’s doing and get his butt to his office pronto???? Just don’t drop that dead pig on the floor on your way out, Charlie. You can identify the duodenum later.

And how far do you go with this, Gil? Are you going to make players run laps because one player’s family reunion was at one shelter area while the other player’s family reunion like the event closer to the river???? Pull them out of French where they were conjugating the subjunctive case only to inform them that they have to do 100 knuckle push-ups because players sat in different parts of Milford Cineplex at the matinee showing of “Bambi”? Better not divide the group of football players into 2 tour groups at Mammoth Cave. Gil will have you doing 1000 wind sprints in the parking lot when you exit the cave.

THAT’S WHAT PRACTICE IS FOR, OLD MUDLARK OF THE MOUNTAIN!!!!!! Well, I’ll concede you couldn’t pull ’em out of gym class. Not when it’s YOUR gym class. Heaven forbid.

If Old Mudlark of the Mountain collapses and lands on yore modular but yore renter’s insurance covers a replacement modular and yuz able ta continue takin’ showers in the new’n ta wipe the grease off yore hind end and shave the butt hairs in the bargain, ya might be a redneck.

Gang, I don’t know what you think but this is one of the lost “Leave it to Beaver” episodes. Wally and Beaver are on the Milford Little League team and they attend the school play (“As You Like It”) and the team sits close to the orchestra section while Beaver is nowhere near, discovered by the assistant principal in the senior citizens area.

“Golly, Beav, how could you be such a dope? When Dad finds out you were behind the popcorn machine, you’re gonna get clobbered.”

The extent of any crisis in Beaver’s world. Or Mudlarkland. Same difference.

At the Milford Comedy Club Open Mike Night

“…and The Beaver asked Wally, ‘I lost my lunch money in the smoothie blender. Could you spare some until this Friday?’ And Wally said, ‘What do I look like, Old Mudlark of the Mountain that dropped off the mountain and crushed The Bucket Drive-In cars????'”

A keg spigot can be heard

“Well, hey, it’s Coach Thorp’s first night. He’s a little nervous. He’ll knock ’em dead this Friday…”

And whattup with P2 anyway???? They get these notices in P1 wondering who in the name of ‘Watha could be paging them and for what purpose

“Is The Mayor going to pull off a FOOTBALL scrimmage? Do we need to bring our pads? Is Jay’s Subs catering again? Their reuben sub didn’t agree with me. Almost got food poisoning.”

But nooooooooooo, Old Man with the Mouth has to weigh in his two bits after getting a virtual nagging from his wife the night before. Yes, Honey, I’ll get some milk and eggs at the store and talk to the team about there being no “I” in the word “Bleachers”. And I’ll take out the trash later this evening.

And why do the players feel the need to deliver a short list of who was there, who was sitting with them, where they were sitting? What do you want me to do, Coach, have a clipboard handy at the Steve Miller Band concert at Milford Outdoor Amphitheater? Sure, we all lit our Zippos in unison demanding an encore. We were all dancing together when Steve performed “Jungle of Love”. With the girls, naturally. We’re a team but we’re teenagers.

Coach, you’re not only accusing A.J. Foyt of being the getaway driver for Pretty Boy Floyd when you call in Charlie and Chance, did you expect them to yank out a who’s who roster at the volleyball match out of their lunch box? OR the Steve Miller concert.

“Chance and Charlie, I want a compendium of everybody who was in attendance at Milford VFW Post 158 for the Lawrence Welk Halloween Hootenanny, typed and double-spaced.”

Where’s my Turabian “Elements of Style”? This might take a while.

P3 just absolutely takes the cake. Beaver and Wally are in trouble because they don’t know where Eddie Haskell and Lumpy Rutherford were sitting? Gil, this isn’t a pop quiz. Shoot, this isn’t the principal’s office. Some schmuck on the football team is going to get due-processed from school because he didn’t know if his teammates were sitting in the nose-bleed seats? Yeah, lay the paddle on the next kid who can’t recite the section, row, and seat number of the guy sitting next to him. Be sure to get a witness. You know how procedures can be.

Earth to Gil, that’s what PRACTICES ARE FOR!!!!!!!!!!!! You already have two pimples on your butt, Thayer and Rapp but you address the problem by putting more fluoride in your toothpaste. God, no wonder why you lost a couple of weeks ago. If somebody farted, you’d get to the root of the stench by spraying Endust. Yeah, it solve a problem or two but you still have problems lingering.

Competition is healthy and the Rapp-Thayer stand-off could make for a better team if handled right (Don’t leave an opening, T. Drew) . But Chance and Charlie are about as team as you’re gonna get. They ended the competition by playing better. Now end your own self-destructive rat race by coaching better.

Overheard by a couple of tourists at Old Mudlark of the Mountain State Park

“Where’s Gil face? It was there a minute ago.”

“Crap. And I had the camera loaded.”

“And we’ll be back to see if that locker room tirade did any good. The football team heard an earful based on what I heard through the wall. Hopefully, that might light a fire in the volleyball team. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“Folks, it’s scary when a team is not pulling in the same direction, isn’t it? When you see two mules heading in opposite directions for a bale of hay when, if they’d sit down and talk about it, they’d head in the same direction and both would get a generous portion of the pie, er, bale of hay. That’s what I would do if I were a mule. And when mules sit together in the bleachers, they can make a lot of noise. It might distract the volleyball team to see how mules got in the bleachers in the first place but you learn to tune out the crowd anyway.

But I’m not here to talk about mules heckling the opposing team. Hi, this is Coach Thorp on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse. And do we have a problem. Studies performed by the Milford Community College Medical School have turned up some alarming statistics in relation to people’s health. The studies noted that 81% of the general populace in Milford will not get a colon screening because of the fear of discovering cancer in their bodies. People perish for lack of information, don’t you know.

Now, Folks, Yours Truly has had one done thanks to the latest promo engineered by The Warehouse. The Good People here were concerned about losing customers over needless suffering so they joined forces with the Milford Minor Medical Clinic to assuage the fears and paranoia that pervade when a colon screening is suggested. And they enlisted my help so that the masses could see that if Coach Thorp can take a few minutes out of his busy schedule from teaching his own kids how to look the putt all the way to the pin to undergo preventive medicine, by gum, the masses would shout “Sign me up!!!!!!!”. You should have seen the line.

But The Warehouse wants to sweeten the pot by offering you its best merchandise and still make sure your innards are alive and well. That’s why the Milford Minor Medical Clinic will be here for the next two weeks waiting for you to let it all hang out.

And what better way than to purchase Busch Light in the 30-Pack 12 Fluid Ounce cans for a ridiculous price of $18.99, then once you have made your purchase, you’ll get a voucher to earn a free colonoscopy. That’s right, The Warehouse has cleared some space by the Cheetos display to put down a couple of beds. My goodness, they just stick a plastic tube up your butt after they’ve euthanized you and before you know it, if the medical team doesn’t find any polyps, you can walk out with booze and piece of mind. C’mon, save that $20 bill you were going to tip the lawn maintenance man with and take care of your health. Sorry, they won’t numb you with the booze you just purchased.

Some of you feel comfortable lying on a table and getting scanned. No problem. The doctors borrowed the EMT ambulance from the Milford Fire Department and constructed a temporary sofa. And with a purchase of Jim Beam Bourbon in the 1.75 Liter bottle for a price you’d pay Milford Powerball, you can lie in LaLa Land while the nurses use the latest advanced radioactive technology to detect any lumps in your descending colon or ascending colon. Dang, I didn’t know there were so many colons. I knew I should have studied harder on my 5th Grade Health Final.

Then there’s some of you who want to take the Fecal Immunochemical Test. In plain English, you poop in a cup and the doctors test your sample. Thank goodness, Port-a-Pot gave in on that final concession and and allowed unlimited number of stalls in the parking lot. I don’t blame some people. I wouldn’t want to take a poop test if there were people already lined up at the bathroom. This way, you’re guaranteed free access to the throne or The Warehouse will throw in a free can of Milford Vending Beer Nuts to go along with the required purchase of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay at a poopy $10.97. Shoot, for that price, I’ll be headin’ to the nearest stall and dead-bolting the door. Just hope it has toilet paper. Hard to do a poop test without Mr. Whipple.

And there’s some of you who want to have litmus paper determine the deal. For a $39.99 purchase of Jack Daniels, you can have doctors employ a special kind of paper that sends chemicals to the affected area. Because these chemicals are extensive, they can send a reading back up through your esophagus and be accurate at that in as little as 5 minutes. Geez, isn’t it nice that you can get stoned softly with her song and run a strong chance that the only lumps you have is the one in your throat? I’ll get stoned like that tonight when I put the kids to bed.

Folks, what more can I say? Get your booze and your colon both in one piece and be able to live a long life thanks to both of them and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

If Dad finds out you took a poop test without any toilet paper, you’re gonna get clobbered.

Otherwise, God bless you, Gang.

“Now, Beaver, if you and Wally and your other teammates promise to sit together during the school recital of “Les Miserables”, I promise to take you all to Opening Night of “Deep Throat: The Sequel” at Milford Cineplex.”

“Gee, Dad, you’re swell.”

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Milford Museum of Natural History To Reconstruct Gil’s Face From Remaining Fragments!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Museum Spokesperson: ‘This could take a while.”

November 5, 2020

The Fool On The Hill Lost His Eyeball In The Bleachers.

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

Well on the way

Head up his butt

The jerk with a thousand complaints

Is caught in a malicious rut

But she never listens to him

She can see that he’s just a fool

And he doesn’t have an answer

This stupid fool on the hill

Sees the game from the bench

And the eyes in his head are glued to thisssssssss

Flippant wenchhhhhhhh

And to add insult to injury, the continuing Magical Mystery Sewer is periodically interrupted by Milford whitewashing a team that is getting white-washed for several reasons 1) In the Berrill days, Berrill’s favorite pro team wasn’t winning and had to find his victories, especially of the win-in-a-landslide variety SOMEWHERE. No better place than drawing some hapless linebacker begging for the Milford back to let him catch up so that that linebacker wouldn’t look so desperate on the comic pages 2) COVID-19 is hitting Milford’s opponents and while Gil has issued mandatory quarantines at his players’ residences, his opponents’ coaches have turned a blind eye to wild parties held in their respective gyms with booze and sex flowing like the Lethe 3) The other teams are just simply pretty damn bad. There is something in the water at Milford. The psychics confirmed it last week on WDIG-TV.

And why not make it a whitewash? Why try to do justice to strategy when it has been completely drained and sluiced towards Thayer and Rapp eyeing for the prize, even if this is arguably the biggest Booby prize at the Milford County Fair?

Remember the Droopy episode on the Tom & Jerry Show where Droopy is competing with Big Bruiser (forgot the name of the heel, work with me here) in an Olympics setting and Big Bruiser does everything to cheat in any of the events but Droopy finds a way to win, usually because the chicanery being employed backfires on Big Bruiser? Then when Droopy is about to be crowned champion, Big Bruiser finds a way to sneak a letter to the judges that falsely says that Droopy admitted cheating in the whole competition. The crown then goes to Big Bruiser who is then about to be rewarded with a kiss from a beauty queen that gets unveiled. Once the veil is removed, this beauty queen turns out to be uglier than sin, chasing Big Bruiser to kiss her, they both running off into the fading scene that ends the episode.

Isn’t that what we’re dealing with here? Gil, Rapp cheated to get on the first string by slipping a $20 bill in Coach Kaz’s pocket. Fine, Thayer, you not only will start this Friday but your other prize is a dinner-for-two at The Diner with Corina Canker. Hope you like Lobster Bisque because she really digs seafood. And Ritz crackers in her Lobster Bisque.

I’ll be sure to mark my calendar.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

” Coach’s Race Too Close To Call For Enquirer To Declare A Winner!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Coach Thorp: I am confident I will defeat Coach Kaz. I have too many friends down at Milford Country Club Lounge.”

At the Milford Annual Olympics

NEXT EVENT!!!!!!!!!!! LOG ROLLING!!!!!!!!!!

“I know I’ll knock off Thayer, I don’t care if he IS wearing skates he hocked out of Milford Roller Rink.”

The TWIMers have frequently discussed chunky bracelets and it is hilarious when they do.

But I’d like to talk about a more serious problem. Yes, the wildlife is adversely affected and forest fires triple whenever this problems recurs. I am talking, of course, of chunky landscaping. Bears find it hard to shit in the woods when the collage of trees pasted on the sky faintly resembles the state of Michigan. And this is what happens when you don’t put out that match when you’re picnicking somewhere in the Schwarzwald.

And whattup with the sorry-ass excuse for the Panhandle of Oklahoma hanging from the right panel? The tulip tree is the Official Tree of the State of Indiana and I have yet to see a tulip tree, and I’ve seen many, possess a branch that extends from one end of the state, passing by the Indy 500 track, to the other. You could have a condo on that branch if you wanted a treehouse. When the frost is on the punkin’ and the Cadillac’s on the elm, if James Whitcomb Riley were to contribute to this discussion.

Day after day

Match after match

The fool won’t get the hint

That she’s a forgettable catch

But he never listens to her

Or the barbs she appears to hurl

He’s so swallowed in this enigma

This fool for this girl

Sees the game from the bench

And the eyes in his head sees the game, doesn’t flinch

Oh, look, I didn’t know Yardbird were big volleyball fans. Are they going to perform “For Your Love” and “Over, Under, Sideways, Down” after the match?


That’s Rapp and his buddies going up the bleachers to find a seat. And maybe I’m a wet blanket but I have yet to see teenage boys, especially athletes, especially football athletes, dressed like they were going to perform at The Sands. The only person missing from The Rat Pack is Frankie but I think he’s at the ticket window still arguing that high school volleyball admission prices were a nickel when he attended them in high school. Oh, and Peter Lawford. Frankie never forgave Peter for giving away Mimi at Gil’s wedding when Frankie was lavaliered to Mimi.

I’ll be sure to be the Sharp-Dressed Man at the Valley Conference Tournament. I’ll find a corner of the bleachers to seat those 3 women that are accompanying me.

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Kaz Confident After Latest Voting Gaffe In Contested Coach’s Race!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“One of the pollworkers forgot to take the absentee ballots out of the bathroom stall at The Bucket. It’ll make a difference.”

NEXT EVENT!!!!!!!!!!!! JAVELIN THROW!!!!!!!!!!

“I’ve stuffed more buckshot in this bad boy to blow up a cow. Thayer won’t have a chance.”


“Mommy, is Daddy going to be OK? He looks miserable with that stick in his butt.”

“Here, Keri, here’s a 50. Go buy as much Laffee Taffee as you want.”

And WHAT THE HELL IS VOLLEYBALL NIGHT???? Thorpiverse, this isn’t bowling. There’s no such thing as Bumper Volleyball Leagues or Milford Voll-a-Rama. Nobody drinks beer and bowls when it’s their turn at a volleyball match. I have yet to hear anybody accused of having a volleyball gut. Nobody spikes a gutter ball. And there’s humans to return wayward shots, not a machine that spins your ball back for you. Pinspotting has yet to grace the courts of volleyball.

But T-verse, if you want to put Volleyball on a par with Bingo Night, well and good. I just don’t think Yardbird, Five Man Electrical Band, The Rat Pack, Lawrence Welk’s Trumpeting Troubadors, The Mills Brothers, Louis Armstrong’s Hot Six, or a group of football teenagers will be in attendance.

NEXT EVENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 50-METER SWIMMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Who stuck linseed oil in Thayer’s swim trunks? He has a butt bigger than a beach ball. You could stick a libero in there.”

That has to be the WORST crotch shot I have seen in quite some time. Thorpiverse, I know Rapp is a blowhard but I do believe Rapp’s mom cleans the lint trap in the dryer when she’s washing her son’s clothes. This is like an off-version of Alien when the warning sign of another monster growing out of your person is greaseballs all over your private parts. I know I’ll make sure there’s no Quaker State 10W40 when I throw my clothes in the wash tonight. Don’t want any freakazoid distracting me when I’m watching Corina Canker set up a Mudlark for another kill.

If ya stick hog chitlins in somebody’s bat so’s he can’t take a level cut when swingin’ at the Red Dot in tha weekend Slo-Pitch Softball Tournament, ya might be a redneck.


During the match


“A warning is issued to this gentleman. Second offense will lead to a disqualification.”

“Sorry, Ref, I got carried away executing a 3/4 nelson when I grabbed his Significant Other.”

God, no wonder why Rapp’s crotch is black and blue.

Gang, doncha love the Jets and the Sharks staring each other down in The Grand Canyon to win the hand of Maria the Tactless Wonder?

In the first place, this is just absolutely bad teamwork. No coach encourages their players to go to a game and sit on the opposite ends of the stadium. Coach Thorp, you have failed. We were eagerly anticipating a healthy, albeit slightly campy, competition at quarterback. Instead, it metastasized to a ridiculous standoff with a girl who has a nauseating personality and eats lobster soup to beef up her volleyball act. Girl, you’ll be a woman soon.

But then THE MAIN EVENT. They want Corina Canker and they mean it. One of them would literally give his eyeball for her. An eye for a hand, tooth for a tooth, this is getting down to cases. And doncha dig the close-ups of Kramer versus Kramer, intent on getting the Gold, not just going for it. Looks like a grandiose stage to me.

And I’m sure glad that Thorpiverse did the close-ups so we know for certain who’s losing his eyeball in this whole fracas. Otherwise, I’m wondering why Bazooka Joe is sacrifice his eyeball while engaging in combat with Mort. I was going to surmise Bugs Bunny getting his eyeball blown out by Elmer Fudd (“Be vewy, vewy quiet. I’m hunting eyeballs. HAHAHAHAHAHA.”) but reasoned that Rapp doesn’t have rabbit ears in his Bill Haley ‘do. One other guess was Billy and Jeffy from The Family Circus and it’d be a good sibling rivalry but they’re too young.

And isn’t it nice that Thorpiverse made the distinction of who’s losing his eyeball in the bigger picture. Without those close-ups, it’s like that True-False test you took in high school. Yes, there’s a 50% chance you’d get the answer right. But there’s a 50% chance you’d get it WRONG. And with that close-up, I’m out of No Man’s Land. Way to keep the scorecard current, Thorpiverse.

NEXT EVENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 3200 METER RUNNING!!!!!!!!!!!

A few minutes before the gun goes off

“Who put Dickie Work Boots in my gym bag????”

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Milford Police Calls In Extra Security After Latest Incident!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Cherry bomb thrown amid Thorp and Kaz camps outside Milford Gym where votes are being tallied.”

NEXT EVENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FOOTBALL TOSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

Rapp didn’t try to subvert the event after Droopy threw one long enough to reach the picnic area. Cheaters not only never win but they rarely throw Flutie Miracles.

The team never listens to him

They know he’s one big fool

They don’t like him

The Fool of the School

Sees the game from the bench

And the eyes in his head

Sees his chance get simply wrenched

Gang, I still think Droopy ought to start. He’s about the only one around here not flirting with Coribs Canker. But you’re still a winner in my book. God bless you.

“Coach, I cheated in every event.”

“I appreciate your honesty, Will. Use my name as a reference when you’re applying at Harvard. The winner of the Milford Annual Olympics is Terry Rapson.”


“Rapp, Here’s your Milford Voll-a-Rama $50 Gift Card, your free pair of Nike Runners, and your free videos “Remember The Titans” and “The Life of Grover Cleveland Alexander”. I understand Ronald Reagan was the lead in the last one. Oh, here’s your trophy.”

“Gil, aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Mimi, Bing Crosby didn’t play Alexander-“

“Silly, the Grand Prize!!!!!!”

“OH YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!! You have won a date with le creme de la creme. Coach Shaw, roll back the curtain and see who Rapp will be taking on a date and maybe beyond!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“CORINA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PULL ”ER BACK, PUH-LEASSSSSEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“No, unfortunately she tested positive for COVID-19. And my players are babies to me. I don’t want any of them getting The Plague if I can help it.”


“Rapp, say hello to Dr. Pearl’s grandmother, Mrs. Lucretia Maybelline Pearl. The Milford Caretenders Facility was kind enough to allow her a few hours of freedom. They said her heart rate was steady, she just had hip replacement surgery, and they’ll fish her dentures out of the commode later. Isn’t her Dolly Madison wig sexy????”


Behind the dumpster at Milford 7-11 later that night

“Pssssst, ma’am, do you know if they locked her up for the night?”

November 3, 2020

Dump Your Attitude In The Chute With The Rest Of The Dirty Trays.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 11:49 am

Let’s get this one out of the way FIRST. Not being a volleyball expert, though I give the sport its due, it is pronounced LEE-buh-roh with a strong minority preferring Lih-BEAR-oh. I personally am going to go with the first pronunciation.

The libero was introduced in the late ’90’s as a welcome addition to strategy. The libero can only play defense, cannot block or spike the ball, but can dig for the spikers to spike. The libero also has to wear a different color shirt from his or her teammates to distinguish it from the rest of the players. The libero can substitute for any player on the court at any time BUT can only go back out for the player he or she substituted for. My guess was it helped a team that was on a roll to stay in a roll by shoring up its defense with a defensive specialist plus you had another fresh pair of legs that need only concentrate on setting things up the kills for the big dogs. That makes sense.

And leave it to Thorpiverse to play politics with this one by getting it mixed up with the word “Liberal”. Without wishing to espouse my personal views, it is with a great anount of doubt that Hilary Clinton or Allen Colmes will be the designated setter for some 6-8 gorilla to ram it down the other team’s throats.

Oh, I get it, T-verse was just trying to be funny. T-verse, with that kind of cheap humor, don’t quit your day job. Actually, you might want to quit that one too. I’m sure there’s plenty of LEE-buh-roh’s who would want to set things up to make a decent storyline. We’ve had enough of bad plots being shoved up our butts.

“Coming up next. Joseph Biden, the libero, will tell Pat Buchanan, the conservative, why cutbacks in volleyball in Milford Parks & Recreation Adult Leagues in the name of balancing the budget would only serve the rich who play volleyball.”

Can’t see it.

Congratulations to the Doobie Brothers getting inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. With songs like “Listen to the Music”, ” China Grove”, “What a Fool Believes”, and “Jesus is Just Alright”, they certainly made their mark on the airwaves in the ’70’s and early ’80’s. Long overdue.

I was bemused when I was on the elevator yesterday and I saw where the first floor had a star next to it. Apparently some people have a problem understanding when to get off the elevator

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Accidentally Stumbles Upon Exquisite Orgy-Party Thrown By Hugh Hefner At Milford Towers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I was going to my dental appointment and I accidentally pressed the 37th floor when I wanted the 36th.”

And it’s bad enough that Jughead had to tote along his bag of hamburgers and spread them out all over the bleachers but now we got Moose practically playing Donkey Kong.

“Duuuuuuuuhhhhhhh, I didn’t know you got killed when a barrel came at ya.”

I have long been a supporter of women’s athletics, capped nicely by my high school recently winning another state championship in girl’s golf (I have also been a long-time opponent of a class-system in Tournament play-when you win, no sweeter feeling than to know you’ve beaten EVERYBODY) . I also had two nieces for cheerleaders.

But when the football team from my high school would go to a girls soccer match or girls volleyball match, they PAID ATTENTION TO THE GAME. They didn’t hit the pinball machine out in the hallway. Game over.

But let’s humor Thorpiverse and okay, T-verse, wink, wink, guys bring their cell phone and play Mario Brothers like Moose is doing or going to the concession stand and see if they can sneak pickles and onions off the condiment table like Jughead is doing because he’s too damn cheap. Moose Mason became the Pac-Man champion because he went through a volleyball season longer than the homer referees that Mimi signed to contracts. Reggie Mantle and Bootsy Collins will perform “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag” at halftime in honor of James Brown. Mr. Lodge will be on vocals. Sounds like an event-filled evening. And if Milford wins, I understand Mr. Lodge and Mimi will sing another number from the Godfather of Soul “Get on the Good Foot”.

I saw a cartoon where Dennis the Menace had to sit in the corner because he flushed his socks down the toilet

“Dilton, what are you doing facing the wall? The match is this way. You missed a great spike by Milford.”

“Sorry, Archie, I just didn’t know those tube socks belonged to Coach Thorp. They were preeettttyyyyyy smelly.”

If ya use a liberal to help ya win yore Milford Foundry Company Volleyball League Title even tho he don’t like guns but ya win 2 cases of PBR as sort of a trade-off and ya git drunk with that liberal and Gil and Kaz, etc., ya might be a redneck.

And if football players are going to show no interest in the volleyball match, what better way of expressing your lack of interest when everybody ELSE is yellin’ their ass off (“RAL-LEEEE!!!!!!!!” “RAL-LEEEE!!!!!!!!!”) than to entertain yourself with Madden NFL?????? Do you get excited watching Corina setting up a fellow Mudlark for the kill or do you try to maneuver Lamar Jackson around Too Tall Jones on a quarterback draw? Or if a Mudlark comes up with a key block, is it really bigger than using your buttons to sack Cam Newton on a safety blitz? And honestly, can anyone see Moose Mason adept at a quarterback sneak by using his physical dexterity (mental dexterity is another can of worms) to shove Patrick Mahomes on a 4th-and-1? And Moose simultaneously watching Milford winning the set?

“Duuuhhhhhhhhhh, I pushed the button for Coach Thorp to send Charlie Roh on a fly. And he got called for holding. I think I’ll watch the game.”

Match, Moose. But you’re making progress. Milford wasn’t built in a day.

Special edition to the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Caught On Milford Condo Suites Elevator For Several Hours!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I went one floor too many. I thought the snack bar was on the same floor as the pedway.”

At the Thorp household one evening

“Mimi, I understand you have a Liberal on the team. You know if there’s one thing I won’t stand is some welfare cheesemouth serving the ball.”

“Gil, you need to stop going to the MCC Lounge after work and start coming to our matches. We have a JV game tomorrow.”

And HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED AT THE MATCH??????? Rapp, you were too damn busy negotiating Mario and a football through an ocean full of creepies and ghoulies and sharks and jellyfish and Principal Ek’s body to even notice. Hey, I read recently “The Most Dangerous Game”, the classic short story about a man who has no feeling for the animal he kills getting hoisted by his own petard when he gets stuck on an island that is inhabitated by a lunatic who hunts humans for sport. This arrogant butthole becomes the lunatic’s next target.

So if you’re General Zaroff, Rapp, and you’re sizing up your prey as you have for several weeks when you’re not giving the lip to Coach Thorp, watch the damn match. Rainsford would have gone back to civilization and had a Victory Parade thrown for him by the time you got your head uncorked from your phone and your butthole and realized you’ll have no human to grind up for your pea soup. Do you have that much gall? Flirt with her, then watch The Flintstones when they’re changing sides, or otherwise?

“Coach Thorp, if you can escape my grasp and my bloodhounds by six in the morning, you’re a free man.”

“Will you throw in getting me to my staff meeting on time?”

And, boy, is P3 leaving an opening wider than a Gil truck to plow through. I’m just going to venture a few guesses as to what the sign is saying in the background.

“Please dispose of this dirty plot that smells worse than cow manure under a heat lamp after reading.”

I think someone is invoking The Mercy Rule but let’s try again

“Corinna, we don’t need any more of your dirty obnoxious attitude besmirching this strip. Only Maureen on All-You-Can-Eat-Lobster-Claws Day at The Diner exhibits a more piss-poor demeanor.”

True, but I don’t think the School Board would expend the necessary funds for that particular piece of signage.

“Gil, get your dirty mind out of the gutter when you’re watching Dr. Pearl wiggling her hips down the hallway. You have a wife, you know.”


“Please place dirty Ho Ho’s, Twinkies, and trays here.”

Either one’s a long shot. Flip a coin.

Heard fifteen minutes before practice

“Kaz, I don’t care what my wife says. No Liberal will play strong safety on my team. They can get their own food stamps.”

“And that’ll wrap up the volleyball match here in Milford High School with Milford defeating Tilden 25-13, 25-17, 22-25, 25-16. I’ll have final stats in a moment. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“Folks, the COVID-19 has hit sports events all over the country but the good news is that Milford Community College has been cleared by the Mayor of Milford to play this season under limited seating capacity guidelines. This includes tailgate parties.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp on behalf of Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage and why let people throwing up on their bumper keep the whole party from a-happening? Get a mop, shove it in the nearest drain in the parking lot and move on.

The MCC Football Stadium has been generous in their terms when it comes to tailgate parties. No semi’s as they are deemed a COVID-19 hazard, God knows what you could pick up on Route 66, otherwise, as long as your car is at least 15 from the other car, you can put on a Bacchanalian orgy amd the parking lot security guard won’t care.

Ummmmm, ummmmm, that leaves ample opportunity to be grillin’ some Gil Thorp All Natural Sausage. Put mustard and some horse radish on that bad boy and you’ll be rarin’ to go by kickoff. You might pass some gas a few times during the game but you’ll be socially distanced so nobody should smell it.

But some of you want Gil Thorp Italian Sausage Links. Perfect, especially when some butthole forgot to bring his microwave and Totino’s Sausage Supreme. Just listening to it sizzle is music to my ears. Then fill up the plate with those links, buffalo fries, some M & M’s you had left over from the concession stand last week and Paradise is yours. Yelling at the referees on a full stomach never tasted better.

And if your buddy forgot to bring the burgers because his wife is finally leaving him, no better time to get the Gil Thorp Spicy Bratwurst out of the cooler you stuck underneath the Lowenbrau. Fire up that grill, get those Ritz Club Crackers and Totino’s Pizza Rolls out from under the driver’s seat, and you’ll have a feast better than one delivered by the Uber Driver and his tray full of Whoppers from Burger King. Who goes to a tailgate party with burgers pre-grilled? Not I.

Come get your own package of Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage today and be the life of the party at your next Milford Community College football game and find out you don’t have to wear a lampshade over your head to be one.”

Gang, don’t get me caught in these Libero vs. Conservative discussions. This is a comedy blog, not Crossfire.

God bless you, Gang.

At the Milford Nudist Colony Roundtable Discussion

“Mommy, Daddy said that old lady’s mouth looks like cheese. I don’t see any Swiss cheese.”

“Here, Keri, the Schwan’s truck just pulled up. Go get some ice cream.”

October 29, 2020

Grab Your Emergency Helmet, You’re Mopping Up.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 9:34 am

Now I’ve seen it all. EMERGENCY QUARTERBACK???? Thorpiverse, if the game is getting out of hand and based on the captions that stretch things occasionally, that’s the case, I’ve heard of 3RD-STRING quarterbacks, I’ve heard of reserve quarterbacks, I’ve heard of Darren McBride quarterbacks (going back to the days, admittedly) who took the starting quarterback’s place even though McBride had a serious heart condition because Gil was too much of a dumbass to develop OTHER quarterbacks because he was too busy teaching life’s lessons to the rest of the team (“…and remember, ALWAYS have something to fall back-hold on, what’s up. Our starter injured his knee tripping over a bucket? Again? What are we going to do for this Friday’s game?”) , but EMERGENCY QUARTERBACK???? Less time at the Lounge, more time on the practice field, Gil. You might learn something.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Sneaks His Nephew Out Of The Bleachers In Milford Parks & Recreation Adult Flag Football League!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nephew Scores Winning TD!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“The other team filed a protest but it won’t stand. Each team is allowed one emergency utility player per season.”


You old-timers know of what I speak. Blondie and Dagwood could be in the Milford Department Store arguing over whether to buy boxers for him or L’eggs for her and the janitorial crew, some unshaven, some smoking stubby cigars, some both, staring at Blondie and Dagwood sparing with each other. Or Dagwood could be at the gas station and Dagwood wants unleaded in the car but Blondie wants gasohol and while they are at an impasse over the issue, passers-by that looked like they got stoned at Mick Jagger’s latest party watch the couple in apparent consternation. Or Dagwood could want Will to start at QB and Blondie want Rapp with Gil and Kaz and Coach Shaw and Dr. Pearl and Mr. Rooney staring in the background, well, I think you get the gist of it.

But what Chic Young-induced character is in the background today? Gil with a beard he bought at Milford Novelty Shop? Some redneck who lost his way to the Talladega 500? What on earth could he possibly be doing there besides taking up space? I’m pretty sure it’s not the Galloping Gourmet in disguise, about to slip a recipe for meat loaf in the referee’s pocket.

Then there’s the angle. Granted, Thayer (assuming) could be throwing to the side but with the intensity and presence of mind he has in his face and in the pass, that BETTER NOT BE DR. PEARL about to receive the pass. Unless she steel-plated her dentures.

So with the notion that he is throwing downfield, what are the referee and Captain Kangaroo disguised as Waylon Jennings doing IN the background???? The referee has an excuse. Mr. Jennings can’t say he was looking for Buddy Holly, Big Bopper, and Richie Valens after the plane crashed. That was in Iowa and nobody has established that Milford is in the Hawkeye State. Oh, I know, he IS a coach and he forgot to return to the sideline after the ringing out the referee on the last call.

Or he can bail out and say he was another cheap Dagwood Background Character who was watching Gil and Kaz argue over the bar tab at Milford Lounge. Flimsy but workable.

If ya is in the background when you wuz watchin’ yore 3-year-old shoot his first clay pigeon ta smithereens with a semi-automatic rifle, beatin’ Gil and Kaz at the Milford Conservation Club Open Shoot,ya might be a redneck.

And the Milford receiver has a right to dance the schottische like they do at Milford Oktoberfest, they’re so far ahead, leastwise that’s what the captions say. But like Steve Martin said about cats, do you trust them?

We’re just going with Thorpiverse’s word but a plot that was about to develop into a virtual sibling rivalry at the quarterback spot got diverted to two guys blubbering and slobbering after a female who possesses zero tact, intense volleyball talent, and a shaky hand when it comes to Uno? Better check that orange 3 card in your mom’s sleeve, Ms. Attitude.

And now we have Mr. Emergency Quarterback about to enter the scene. Equivalent to taking Nick the Bottom Weaver’s role in that ridiculous play about Oberon and Titania in “A Midsummer’s Night Dream”, I am holding my breath. A THIRD suitor to act like a dog in heat over Penelope With A Chip On Her Shoulder? Get on the field first and show some game before you start showing up at volleyball matches with a rise in your Levi’s. We haven’t even SEEN Mr. Emergency QB and visions of plots resembling the Mississippi River Delta are already on tap.

So the next time the captions say that Milford is up on Central, 105-0, at halftime, I’d do a little troubleshooting.

Gang, recently I listened to an ad from a local jewelry store announcing that if you weren’t satisfied with your diamond engagement ring or could find a cheaper ring, you received it free. Hmmmmmmmmm.

Mr. Dr. Pearl backing his car out of the driveway

“Honey Bun, may I ask what your purpose is?”

“I’m going back to Milford Diamond Supply. I saw an ad at Milford Flea Market, Darling Doll.”

More fun with geometry today. While our hero in P2 is performing the Milford Dance Hall Country Line Tush Push, check out the acute angle the fence is entrenched with in relation to the football field. I’m not holding my breath the day Thorpiverse ceases to draw athletic venues at the edge of the Cumberland Foothills. And I’m at a loss deciphering which direction the football is coming from. Safe to say, it has to be coming from the right; I never caught a pass in intramural football at its rear unless I forgot to bring my bifocals and my hand-eye coordination was off that day. But again, you gotta watch it with Thorpiverse. What if the score was 106-0 when T-verse said 105-0? Hey, as Coach Stuard taught me, it all counts towards the final score. And given that the football DID spout from the right side of the panel wall, why is the Central defense collapsing from the sidelines? God, no wonder why they’re winless. Trees that grow out of and into other trees and high school football players that jumped over the tilted fence to defend a pass. And Thorpiverse is STILL bull-jiving us on the score. I’ll just call Milford Enquirer for an update.

“Mommy, why is Daddy taking apart the vacuum cleaner?”

In the den at the Thorp residence

“I knew I stashed Mimi’s engagement ring in one of these hoses…”

4th Quarter

“…and Emergency is our 3rd-string QB.”

“Who is?”

“No, Kaz, Who is our 1st-string QB.”

“For what?”

“Damn it, Kaz, What is our 2nd-string QB.”

“In case of an emergency?”

“NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Emergency is our 3rd-string QB.”


“THAT’S OUR FIRST!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“What if there is an emergency?”

“NOOOOOOO, TWO GUYS CAN’T PLAY ONE POSITION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Who’s our running back?”

“Kaz, don’t you read the roster? Who is our 1st-string quarterback and Tomorrow is our running back.”

“I gotta know today, Gil.”

“Today is the principal’s assistant.”

“We have a principal’s assistant today? What’s that got to do with football?”

“Today calls the School Board in case Dr. Pearl gets sick.”

“Why do I care if Dr. Pearl gets caught in an emergency?”


“Why is Dr. Pearl our emergency quarterback? You didn’t even give her a tryout.”

Gene Rayburn is back to knock some sense into this plot. The stage is yours, Gene

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought the slanted fence at the end of the field kept in the ___________________________.”

And speaking of game show hosts, I will croak if this Fleming dude a/k/a Emergency is the great-great-great grandson of Art Fleming, who hosted Jeopardy! back in the ’60’s and early ’70’s. From crack quarterback who only got his number called as a last resort to semi-popular game show host of The $20,000 Pyramid, gee, what a career. And it all started when Gil and Kaz decided to coach in the 4th quarter. Way to take charge, Gentlemen.

“And Coach T. is calling off the dogs and putting in his 4th-string quarterback. The whole squad will get some quality time here in the 4th quarter. With the score, Milford, 137, Central, 3, we’ll be bsck after these messages. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“Folks, you know I would never run up the score. I would hope that you think I have more class than that. I offered to put in my middle school team so I wouldn’t embarrass both schools. Their coach said ‘No’. My concience is clear. But we had them in cleats and pads in the tunnel just in case that coach changed his mind.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse and I’m not here to get on my high horse and pat myself on the back for sending our kindergartners against an overmatched opponent. I was listening on my radio one day while I was trimming the hedges and Milford Fine Jewelry Ltd. was flapping its jaws about how their stones were so wonderful that if you could find a 13 carat diamond necklace, ring, bracelet, crown on your tooth, etc., at a price cheaper than theirs, you would get that treasure free. God almighty, I had to settle the owner of The Warehouse down after he was cussing black and blue over such brazen tomfoolery.

Well, he could have taken them to task but no sense in throwing good money after ruby gemstones that land in the kitty litter box. Who wants a wedding band with Garfield’s poop all over it? No, he decided to call their bluff and up the ante. And you the customer might get some free golden bracelets and a Schlitz. Life is good.

So if you are getting married and you want to buy that JUST RIGHT wedding ring and you read that a 14-carat diamond mined from the choice pits of South Africa runs at a nominal rate off the shelves at Goodwill, The Warehouse will not only put the ring in your shopping cart but a bottle of Jim Beam 1.75 Liter Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey when you make a $20 purchase at the store. Great balls o’ fire, just bring a fifth of a $100 bill and buy a Busch Light 30-Pack in the 12-Oz. cans and my wedding is saved and I can celebrate with some hard liquor? You be the judge.

Now some of you have a hard time financing that class ring for the high school graduate in your family. Not a problem. Sometimes class rings are at fire sale prices at Milford Apothecary but word doesn’t get out fast enough. Not everybody has a high school senior going to MIT. We’ll fix their wagon and Milford Fine Jewelry Ltd.’s too. For a $15 purchase of Starborough Select, The Warehouse will add a case of Bud Light 12-Pack and the emerald-studded class ring for that lucky graduate about to enter the Welding Department at Milford Vocational & Trade School. Hey, gettingvthe difference on the price from those braggarts and knowing one day that grad might weld his refrigerator door back on the appliance at a fair rate, you know The Warehouse owner is getting the better end of the stick.

Now some of you don’t like to rush into things. You still want to live loose but still have the sure out by the end of the beach party. Hey, you’re among friends. With a $30 purchase of Tito’s Vodka in the 1.75 Liter bottles, The Warehouse will grace you with that $1000 engagement ring that sold for $2 at Milford Auction Services plus kick in a 24-Pack of Michelob Ultra in the 12-Oz. cans and EVEN give you a free 3-Lb. bag of Lays Sour Cream Potato Chips. With booze securely in the trunk, chips in the back seat and the ring in the ash tray, the only thing missing from this Rolls-Royce environment is a beautiful girl. Sorry, The Warehouse took her from that jewelry store as part of the deal.

Now some of you might not be getting married or graduating from reform school but if you’re thirsty, come on down and see what The Good Life has to offer. And if you can get her to have a change of heart, just bring the ad and we’ll call it square. I bet that jewelry store full of stuffed shirts wouldn’t even call a cab. Not for honest taxpayers just wanting a decent ring at a decent price. Come on down and see what we mean and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

Gang, the score was 125-0. I was there. I didn’t need to read captions.

God bless you, Gang. You make it happen.

“I don’t care who you put at quarterback, Gil. You can’t coach worth a damn.”

“I Don’t Care is at nose tackle, Kaz.”

October 27, 2020

We’re Running Out Of Ways To Stay Interested.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 9:36 am

The hip bone connected to the

Knee bone

The knee bone connected to the

Neck bone

The neck bone connected to the

Ankle bone

The ankle bone connected to the

Gil bone

I think you’re seeing a pattern here.

And it’s getting down to cases when Corinavirus is practicing digs in her Fruit of the Looms. Remember that commercial when that silky singer with the pop jingle sang “Whose underwear is under there?”, like I’m going to execute an investigative internship to determine whether Gil is wearing Hanes or Boxers once he walks out of the office with Starland Vocal Band doing the music and conforming the lyrics of “Afternoon Delight” to an underwear commercial. If the commercial was centered on Corinavirus at this present moment, we’d have the Mormon Tabernacle Choir crooning about how much of an “Afternoon Delight” it is to spike in your Hanes. Way to take one for the team, Corinavirus. As long as the team gets the “W”, you’ll wear Milford Vending plastic bags, huh?

See? She’s not the attitude people make her out to be.

Continuing the inexplicable, i.e., being more outward in the usage of Charmin (“Wipe, wipe, wipe!!!!!!!!!! Wipe, wipe, wipe!!!!!!!!!! Wipe your boot-ayyyyyy…”) , rather than the euphemistic messages we used to get (“Mr. Whipple, we KNOW what to do with toilet paper besides SQUEEZE it.”)

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“WDIG Fined $25,000 By Milford Censorship Board After Incident Involving One Of Their Ads!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Board spokesman: ‘The Committee deemed it inappropriate to showcase Mr. Moon maneuvering certain movements with Scott Towels in WDIG’s men’s room while on public display.”

How about a little Moody Blues, Gang

Some days it’s gonna put us on hold

Some days you wanna shoot it on a pedestal on high

I don’t know if it’s Gil

I don’t know if it’s Kaz

I don’t know if it’s both of them

Not knowing what to do

When they’re running out of ways

To pique the reader’s interest

They’re running out of ways

And this WHOLE DAMN THING started when Rapp and Thayer were vying for the starting QB spot and trash-talking each other along the way. Well, that’s been flushed down the toilet along with the rest of the Charmin roll and now they’re fighting over a girl who shows up to practice in her one-piece bikini and digs at volleyballs and anyone who dares ask her to the prom.

And where’s Mimi? Oh, I forgot, she’s only doing volleyball just because somebody needs to stomach Corinavirus being a royal pain in the ass. She non-coaches better at basketball. Omigod, that reminds me (unfortunately) . Are we going to have tolerate Corinavirus in hoops?????? Is she going to take the baton from Alexa and shove people out of the way just to be more intimidating and aggressive? She’s pretty well shoving people out of the way now. Just ask the Plexi-glass Boys in P3. Corinavirus should have no problem with the Mark Jackson Backdown Rule after giving them beaucoup stiff shoulders.

Still, the question remains. Where is Mimi? Does she do her grocery shopping while Marcia and Jan hold Corinavirus’ hand????? They ought to be paid penalty overtine today. Did she take the kids to Six Flags over Milford?????

On the Six Flags over Milford log flume as it’s going up the incline before it starts its maniacal course around the maze of runways

“Mommy, weren’t you supposed to be at volleyball practice?”

“Uhhhhhhhh, here’s a poncho, you don’t want to get your tub of popcorn wet when we go down the big one.”

Oh, my bad, she’s in a meeting with Dr. Pearl and Andy Rooney. They’re discussing how to engineer Corinavirus getting an English credit and still have Corinavirus take Mimi’s Advance Basketweaving because Andy doesn’t want another Mike Knappe. That’s the most logical explanation at this point.

And maybe we can steer this back to the original QB controversy and leave the meandering to the log flume. Hey, we won’t get splashed.

If ya show up at softball practice in yore underwear cuz ya lost yore pants at the pool tour-na-mint the night before and ya’s wearin’ ones with least amount of brown stains on ’em, ya might be a redneck.

And when it comes to this plot so stale

There’s more twaddle lodged between us than Gil’s play-calling line

I can’t believe it’s Rapp

I can’t believe it’s Will

I can’t believe that both of them

Are clueless just like Gil

And we’re running out of ways

To spark a tinge of interest

We’re running out of ways

Attaway to egg on Ms. Forgot My Volleyball Attire So I Put On The First Item Out Of The Lingerie Drawer, Melanie Safka and Spaghetti O’s Head. As long as we’re going to engage in another diversion after we had our hopes up the week before, i.e., paying the price for some long-yearned-for action marred by Coach Thorp’s never-yearned-for stupidity, we might as well listen to these ladies slowly evolve into Corina’s way of thinking. Try to think of it as a Harlequin Classic in reverse. The Many Loves of Corina During a Volleyball Match. Hey, I didn’t say Corina was going to fall in love; quite the opposite. But just because you stand out on the track doesn’t mean you’re going to stop the Love Train from whistling through. You’d have better luck spiking the volleyball in your Hanes. But shoot, I’d be entertained watching Marcia and Jan contrive all the ways to leave your lover at a slumber party and passing those ideas onto Corinavirus. Okay, the romance novel might not have a happy ending, i.e., the Milford & Oakwood Night Express decimate the slumber party but tragedy has to be a part of any plot, either in a romance novel or right here in Milford.

At the Charmin commercial audition being held at Milford High School Auditorium

Mike Knappe sitting before an interview team

“Do you have any problem with pulling down your pants and exposing your butt to the camera?”


“And applying a few tissues to wipe your butt all the way to your crack?”

“I’ve had plenty of practice after the junk food I’ve ingested. And my potty-training will cover the rest.”

“Great. Be here tomorrow for a second interview at 9:30AM, sharp.”

And, fair enough, “I got a brand new pair of rolling skates, you got some colored Fruit of the Looms for volleyball” and Spaghetti O’s Head are just going to go with the flow and put up any resistance.

No “But they’re both cute. Give them a chance”.

No “But you’ll have a wonderful time at Homecoming Dance”.

No “We bet their moms didn’t plant a bomb in the Dutch oven like your mom did at Milford Diner”.

So let’s egg them on, shall we? Help these ladies help Corina find 50 ways to snub your lover

“If I get a date with you, I get to go with you at Coach Thorp’s End of Season Bar-B-Q. And I get first dibs on thr corn on the cob.”

“If I get a date with you, you have to eat this Graham Cracker Spinach Surprise that The Mayor gave me at the Valley Alternative Honor Roll Banquet.”

“I got cooties.” When you run out of excuses and you need an emergency way out of town.

“You quarterback slightly better than Coach Mimi devises volleyball plays.” This can be directed at Will or Rapp, nothing in the rulebook that says which person the 50 ways are being slung at.

“Your butt is showing.” A bit like the pot calling the kettle black. Therefore, use only if Will or Rapp is pointing a gun.

“Didn’t Andy Rooney kick you out for finding a table knife in The Iliad you were reading?” Throw ’em off with misinformation, that’s the stuff. I might use that in case there’s a dispute on my electric bill.

“You QB better than Gil calls plays”. We’ve already used that one. Don’t beat a dead horse.

Lt. Frank Drebin at The Diner

“So when’s Milford’s next volleyball match?”

“What do I look like, a calendar?”

Slips Maureen a $100 bill

“They’re having a Milford High School Halloween 2020 All-Comers Invitational this Friday. Tilden, Goshen, Valley Tech, New Thayer, and 4 other doormats to fill out the plot until Election Day. Payment to enter must be made by this Thursday. Please send check or money order. No cash.”

Why is Will Thayer dressed like Mr. Bader’s dad? Are we watching Gil Thorp or Truman Capote’s “The Glass House”? The scene would make sense, exchange with the prison guard your day-old pepperoni pizza for some inside info on how to get into Corina’s head. Alan Alda’s character might have stayed alive. Oh, and replace Dr. Pearl with Vic Morrow’s character. The school needs some discipline.

And help me decipher what is the bill of fare today. It appears that Will has a carton of milk and generous portion of Duncan Hines. God, no wonder why Corina is turned off. No girl likes to date a guy with Coconut Cake breath. Use Scope to remove germs and any lingering Upside-Down Cake odors.

Rapp’s palate isn’t much better. No girl likes to be in the backseat with a guy who has a cheeseburger Velcro’d to his wrist. And his cohort across the table is pondering a way to devour his Hillshire Farms slab of bone-in ham in one bite. And to complete this Pantheon of Mysterious Objects potpourri, the artillery shells used at Danang are filled with Coke, water, Kool-Aid, prune juice, Nestle Quik Strawberry, Ensure Reduced Lactaid, and some Mott’s. Can’t forget apple cider.

At tbe Charmin 2-Ply Flower-Printed Bath Tissue shoot

“No, no, no, Dr. Pearl. Don’t wipe your butt and leave the Port-O-Pot until I signal you. The cue is ‘She’s still taking a dump, Mr. Whipple’. The camera inside is on time-release. It won’t steer you wrong. And relax, it won’t show the wart on your left hind end.”

And we complement our menu with some light reading. Nothing could be better than to read about Route 66 in the “S” section of Encyclopedia Britannica and indulging in a Whopper on your carpals. I used to take the whole World Book set to high school Chem when I was shaky on the elements. It was a chore lugging the shopping cart full of encyclopedias up the steps but thank God for Nautilus machines. Learned carbon-14 was an isotope that way.

“And we’ll be back after these messages. I don’t have the volleyball score but assuming Coach Mimi has a flunky with a score book. This Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“Honnnnnnneeeeyyyyyyyyyyy, I’m hornyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I’m looking for Mister Goodbarrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m look-“

Coach Shaw is in the den, in an ESPN shirt he special-ordered for Christmas and a jock strap he goes hunting in, upside-down against the wall, doing 100 push-ups. “Fortress Around Your Heart” by Sting is floating from the tape player.

“Honey, why are you in a jock strap? I knew I smelled something. I thought my plants were dying and needed water.”





“Oh, hi, DeSEVENar. Can’t talk now. I’m trying to work up my sexual appetite. My wienie oughta be a slab of T-bone by the 77th push-up if I’m readin’ the chart in Milford Iron and Calisthenics Monthly. I’ll have a diving board by the time I stand up.”



“Darling, you look horrible in that jock strap. Even if you get erect, the bungee cord is keeping me from seeing anything. A rebar couldn’t rise up from the pubic hair. I hate to think what your other private parts are trying to accomplish, if they’re not suffocating.”


“Now look what you made me do!!!!!!!!!!!!! I gotta start over. It’s gone back to ‘Semi-Limp’ status. I was at ‘Hard Enough To Write On A Piece Of Paper With A Bic’.”

“Right now, I wouldn’t draw on that piece of paper with a crayon.”

“That’s what YOU think, Mrs. Shaw. I’m going to use these 5-pound weights and do some shoulder presses. 1000 reps and the sex’ll get hotter than a snake’s ass!!!!!!!!”

Coach Shaw changes the tape player





” Hoo boy, that worked up a sweat!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“I wonder if it would feel like a snake’s-

“Mrs. Shaw, you know what your problem is????? You think too much!!!!!!!!!! I got this erection problem licked!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m going to do 5,000 side twists and I’ll bet I can have coitus with a hippo in the Nile!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“It’s just that watching a washing machine turn back and forth in a smelly jock strap that attracts the mice in the basement is not my idea of fun.”

“Oh yeah?????? Well, I’ll have you know that I can run in place for 15 minutes and get it up with a grizzly bear. Without her cubs, naturally.”

Coach Shaw changes tape player over to Sting’s “Children’s Crusade”.

“I’ll make you a deal. If I can check your status at 7 minutes and the grizzly bear is satisfied, I won’t make you take these EREC-3500 tablets.”

“She had me where she wanted me. She knew and I knew that all these exercises were wearing me out and not getting me any closer to being a man. I was out of shape to run in place anyway and I took the jock strap to the laundromat. But you can get your own fun and not have to listen to ‘Go you chicken fat, go’. With proven treatments that work, isn’t it time to get your sex life better THAN a hippo? And you don’t have to hang upside-down to swallow a tablet. Come to Milford Men’s Clinic and take charge of your manhood. You and your wife will be glad you did.”

I just hope that Gil doesn’t show up at Milford Lane Midnight Bowling League in his boxers, I don’t care what any of you say.

Can’t believe we’re running out on Gillllll

Can’t believe we’re running out on Gillllllllll…

“I wouldn’t date anybody who accidentally dragged out Dr. Pearl’s dentures when he was kissing her.” Oh, my, we’re cuttin’ deep.

Gil coming out of the locker room

“How was the toilet paper, Gil?”

“Luhm, I’d rather wipe my ass with your mop than that sandpaper you put on the toilet paper roll.”

“Cut. Gil, this is no time for sarcasm. We only have a half hour before the volleyball match. Let’s roll from the beginning.”

A voice barks out

“Charmin Toilet Paper Locker Room Scene, Take 23”


“Andddddddddd, action.”

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