The fun never ends in Milford as The Hammmmer’s blind magic rubs off on another Mudlark hurler. No-hitters aren’t that uncommon in high school sports given the frequent talent disparities across teams, but it’s a little surprising that a girl whose making the team came as a bit of a surprise* throws one in, what, her second or third start? Madison must really suck this year.
The Capitols’ suckiness extends to their sportsmanship as well. The sports world is full of egregious examples of fights breaking out during postgame handshakes; Juwan Howard v. Wisconsin (speaking of Madison) is only one in a long line. I’m not inserting any here but you can go to YouTube and take your pick. What set Big Barda off here? Was it that Dorothy didn’t take her glove off to high-five right-handed? Does it really matter if you’re high-fiving and not shaking hands?
What should be interesting (that is, should be interesting but will probably be disappointing) is the response to Big Barda’s elbow to the back. Dorothy has already turned the other cheek, but will her catcher – who previously threw hands at her – start throwing hands in her defense?
*Note that both Dot’s making the team and hurling the no-no both elicit one-word responses from Keri.
And the zaniness continues as we learn one can pitch with his eyes closed and still throw strikes. Proves that Milford MVP is someone who isnt even on the team anymore. Gil, thats another shot at your non-coaching of all things Milford.
P2 the very teacher of blind pitching intimates that pitching with ones eyes closed is not recommended by most doctors, and can have some nasty side effects, such as hit batters, ejection from said game, and possible suspension from team/league.
P3 Tobias proves that ballet lessons and baseball are seamlessly connected. Do one, get good at the other.
Gee, I didn’t know what HBP meant until Thorpiverse was gracious enough to spell it out for the ignorant masses like myself. The baseball cognoscenti really have it made in the shade. Thank you for enlightening us because I personally thought it stood for Hamm’s a Big Problem.
Now that I’ve used Primal Scream Therapy to shake all the sarcasm out of my person, what was the purpose of listing an interpretation of this term in the first place? Okay, yeah, there’s no doubt there is somebody who has no clue what HBP means. Well and good. But this is a SPORTS strip (sometimes in name only) and the vast majority who read it are knowledgeable about sports and HBP is a “See Spot Run” concept to them. And the people who don’t know, well, the computer has opened up a world of information, thanks mainly to the Internet. You can look it up, as the famous saying goes.
I appreciate the gesture as the explanation is one of convenience and will help SOMEBODY unfamiliar with the term. What makes it somewhat hard to swallow is the context surrounding it. You’re getting Romper Room explanations in plots more byzantine than all those rooms in Umberto Eco’s “The Name of the Rose”. Gil might appear out of room #538 in your friendly neighborhood cathedral with a Sesame Street book explaining logarithms. Okay, kiddies, this book has nothing to do with logs anymore than dogmatic has anything to do with dogs. Don’t get Galileo’s Dogma and Lassie confused.
Then there’s the bombastic narration that’s making this patronizing tripe even worse. I took the privilege to take baseball for granted???? Huhhhhhhh?????? I can decipher James Russell Lowell prose better than this piece of doggerel flashing across the screen. If I wanted Milford characters to wax poetic, I would have checked out plenty of Nathaniel Hawthorne novelettes at the Milford Library Bookmobile that stops in front of Milford Foundry every Tuesday. Do not go gently into my catcher’s mitt. Throw where last Mimi’s ailanthus tree by the garage door bloomed. Oh, this is out of the cradle slowly a crock, no question. Gil is singing a song of himself because he’s full of what I can’t spell and it rhymes with mitt. And it isn’t spit but like hand grenades and horseshoes, close enough.
Gang, bear with me, I just found out a few moments ago that my great-nephew and his 4 x 800 Relay team in High School Boys Track qualified for State. I am obviously one proud great-uncle. But you know what? I couldn’t have done it without the support you have given me over the years. YOU make it happen. It’s YOUR victory as well as mine. Without your encouragement and advice, This Week in Milford ceases to exist. YOU are the reason we are here. I NEVER take any of you for granted. God bless you all.
Frank’s contributions are NEVER taken for granted also, especially his take on Crankshaft. Talk about horsing around while Rome is burning. This week just cranks it up to another ludicrous notch. At the beginning of the week, he’s got to go to the bathroom but has nothing to read when sitting on the john. Okay, I get it, we’ve all been there. But HOW LONG is he going to debate this issue because by my count, he’s pissing in his boxers looking for a stray Reader’s Digest. Is he going to go full poop on Saturday, lacking even a Popular Mechanics to draw from?
“Oh no, we potty train our dogs. That’s not their urine. Ol’ Cranky didn’t receive his mail-order ESPN magazine in time. The postal station manager said the computers were down.”
Then I started thinking. You KNOW Gil isn’t immune from these situations. I have an evil streak in me. Heh heh HEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHH
“Mimi!!!!!!!! I have to take a dump badddddd!!!!!! Where’s my Sports Illustrated????”
“Did you check the laundry room????”
“Why the #%*^+ would I look there???? How’d they get there????”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. The cat pooped again and the kids didn’t change out the litter box because of the school play. And all the towels were in the wash.”
“That’s *+=#% swell!!!!! Now what am I going to do????”
“Here, my Better Homes & Garden has a lemon cake recipe written by Bob Knight. Enjoy.”
Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer
“Crankshaft Airlifted To Milford General After Tumultuous Event!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“Mr. Crankshaft lost his Mud Mountain Murphy program and started experiencing bowel movement complications on his way to the stall.”
Gang, you Thorpiversean veterans surely remember when the radio (usually) announcer’s comments would show up neatly in a nice caption box in a corner. Berrill was way ahead of his time. That’s why I laugh every daggone time I see the “Play-By-Play By Zeus” commentary bursting in on the action. Who’s giving the descriptions next week, Thor???? I remember the well-respected Tom Sowell once talking about the time he taught at Howard University and some student said that he couldn’t understand why he flunked the exam. He studied for two hours. Sowell said he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and proceeded to tell him that he spent two hours just prepping for lectures. Point well-taken. Anyway, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry when I see the caption balloon dangling from the panel edge. Like it’s hanging by a thread, anchored by the Goodyear Blimp. Is this another one of Charlie Brown’s kites that got tangled up by the foul pole? I can see it now
“Gil!!!!!! Get those Prince Valiant thought balloons away from Heehaw’s bed!!!! I’ll not have her watching him undress Mary Worth in his dreams!!!!”
Or
“Mr. Dr. Pearl!!!!!! Get your mind out of the gutter!!!!! My bridge club members can see what we do when we’re on vacation in our Winnebago!!!!!!”
Or
“Oh God, Francesca!!!!! Not when I’m eating my Chile con Arroz Sumergido en El Agua y La Cerveza!!!! Can’t you think about your surgery presentations another time?”
Who says this has to be confined to America?
“[Lim Tak-Shi!!!!!! He is just an exchange student!!!!! You can dream all you want of his pitching in Fenway but I paid for the textbooks, remember?]”
And last and certainly least, Coach Thorp, how many batters are you going to let Blind Man’s Rough plunk before you yank him for a pitcher that did get his eyes checked recently? No way did Coach Sparrow EVER go that far when some pitcher could find the batter’s helmets better than the strike zone when my nephew played ball. Lost pitchers and lost caption balloons, never a dull moment when Thorpiverse is on the mound.
At Milford FWA picnic grounds
“Mimi, I gotta pee pee bad!!!!!! Where’s the outhouse????”
“Gil, you’re out in Mother Nature. It’s one big toilet.”
“But I understand the outhouse has Penthouse next to the extra rolls of Bounty!!!!!!”
Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer
“Heehaw In Fair Condition!!!!!!!! Will Be Transferred Out Of ICU This Week!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“Milford Adult Care spokesperson: ‘She was obviously rattled when the hallway restroom lacked the necessary resources for perusing while relieving oneself. We put in a maintenance order for a magazine rack yesterday.’”
P2 is making absolutely no sense whatsoever. We went from knocking them on their butts in P1 to a bad Kodak Moment in the next panel. Let me assure you that when Coach Sparrow went out to the mound his first question wouldn’t have been “Was your dad a plagiarist? Because you’ve plunked half the lineup and you’re not finding the strike zone.” Then what would be the point of apologizing that your dad was Pretty Boy Floyd when your pitching is suckin’ pretty bad?
Again, no Coach worth his weight in Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage Breakfast Blend would allow his pitching staff to send the majority of the other team’s batters to Milford Minor Emergency Care Clinic because a couple of the pitchers were cousins of Stevie Wonder. Then continue this inanity by asking if his dad is running around on his mom? Oh, that’ll explain why your Valley Conference ERA ballooned in the month of May. Ward Cleaver had those urges for Aunt Bea and therefore Beaver suddenly sucks at throwing a curve to complement his fastball. That makes sense.
Well, you better get your act together because Luke Loser just went overseas to recruit a mega-talent who evidently has a dad who only drops his Haggars at night for the one to which he said “I do” at the Seoul Justice of the Peace. You can’t afford to let your hair down. Or your ethics. Don’t be Luke only without the fetid goatee.
Yes, I realize family problems can affect a kid’s game. But let’s not make this a ridiculous soap opera. There’s a kid carrying some excess baggage and then there’s the Bronx Zoo. At least, I HOPE George Steinbrenner didn’t get to be a millionaire plagiarizing Ellery Queen magazines.
At Dr. Pearl’s domicile
“Honey Britches Sugar Lumpee Lumps Bumpee Bumps Tricky Ricky Icky Sicky Stinky Fink Lilac Lover, have you seen the National Geographic’s? I have diarrhea in the worst possible manner that plagues all mankind.”
“Look under the Breeze towels in the closet.”
If ya refuse ta do Nature’s duty at the FWA spider-web-infested outhouse without a copy of Guns & Ammo that’ll retro at least back to 2016, ya might be a redneck.
P2 also slightly reminds me of a Night Gallery painting. “The Messiah on Mott Street” comes to mind. This kid lives with his grandfather (played by the great Edward G. Robinson) who is dying to the point where he has one foot in the grave. This kid runs into a congenial black man (played by Yaphet Kotto-“Mr. Big” in the James Bond classic “Live and Let Die”.) of whom he manages to bring back to this old man’s flat. Somehow, this man manages to summon a great wind and eventually the old man not only recovers extremely well, to the consternation of his doctor, but obtains solid financial footing thanks to a resettled old debt.
Were reality and fantasy to dance as adeptly in the world of Thorpiverse. But alas, reality got splatted like a bug by Jumpstart and fantasy went the way of Alfred Hitchcock’s monthly detective series that Crankshaft is currently reading after snaring it and still making it to the john before ol’ Cranky splatted all over the commode. I wouldn’t want Jumpstart using an old newspaper rag on Cranky’s crud.
Late Edition to the Milford Enquirer
“Milford Foundry And Local 814 Reaches Agreement!!!!! Contract Ratified, Ending Potential Strike!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“Reading material was the linchpin. Management agreed to foot the bill for bathroom amenities in addition to contributing an extra .25/years of service to pension fund.”
Now let me get this straight. According to P3, the moral of this story is to hope to God your kismet is not in the hands of a father who wrote like John Updike because he wrote John Updike so that you don’t wind up like Ray Charles as a result but if discretion is the better part of valor, pitch as if Dutch Rennert was behind home plate because he’s consistent and be thankful because this may be the last time Dutch umpires because he may get a stroke and share the same bedroom with Heehaw and you may go blind and crazy when Homer the Umpire calls the balls and strikes behind home plate and you may be pitching your last if he doesn’t call the corners. I don’t know about you, but Aesop couldn’t sum it up any better.
Oh, and read Our Daily Bread so that a tornado can come in and raise Heehaw from the dead. You can’t overlook any detail.
REX ALERT!!!!!!!! REX ALERT!!!!!!!!!
Fred & Wilma have departed from Glenwood Across The Universe Tourlines and are momentarily comforted that Jack the Ripper was not in their trunk after Jack escaped the brig. How he escaped is another ridiculous narration for another time, although witnesses could have sworn some stranger with a hoodie was on his knees pleading with Mud Mountain Murphy for pocket change to indulge in tomato soup and crackers at the Glenwood Cruise Snack Bar & Grille. Plus a life preserver in case he needed to jump from the ship again. Mud wasn’t going to give back his old songs but did have a Truck Tyler 5 x 8 available. Truck and Rex must be at the same casino because neither has emerged since Clinton balanced the budget.
Sources have alleged that Rex was hiding in the bushes near the backstop and learning how a blind man can teach high school athletes how to throw on a dime. Rex was seen taking notes, then leaving in the direction of The Bucket. No word if he pulled into the drive-in area. Anybody who notices a Glenwood vanity plate is asked to call the Milford Police Tipline immediately. Your call will be confidential.
“Doesn’t all this Rex-searching make you hungry? I was reading where Mud Mountain Murphy was considering getting a vasectomy and that just got the juices flowing in my salivary glands. I didn’t want to leave my refrigerator devoid of the finest sausage east of the Allegheny Mountains when poring over the surgical procedures necessary to tie ol’ Mud’s tubes. I’ll bet Tennessee Pride wouldn’t know the first thing to catering a smorgasbord when ol’ Mud goes under the knife.
Hello, this is Coach Thorp for Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage. Sometimes we get bored and so the excitement of watching Fred & Wilma traveling on the Florida Turnpike and then turning in at the end of the day at a sleazy motel abutting an alligator pit just brings out the finest in our pork products. Just listening to that bacon sizzle and crackle while John Walsh talks about the supposed whereabouts of Dr. Rex in the same venue as the Foque Monster is a match made in Heaven. Believe me, Gil Thorp Italian Spiced Duodenum Sensitive Bacon Strips is the perfect cuisine along with your favorite Kool-Aid when the Glenwood Missing Persons Bureau personnel track the woods in their quest to flag down this enigma wrapped in some raccoon hides because he is tired of raising bratty little snots. Man, the aroma.
But that doesn’t mean that Fred & Wilma are on the run. They know how to slide their Visa card if they want to enjoy the benefits of the motel towels they’ll stuff in the trunk at check-out time. And kibbutzing all this paraphernalia when you are microwaving Gil Thorp Sage ‘n’ Nasty patties is a wonderful combination, like throwing pepperoni on onions when ordering Domino’s delivery. Wash it down with a Schlitz and watching Fred battle his manhood as he goes under the sheets with Wilma or the mice is a meal extravaganza.
And if you really want to be in total ecstasy, check out Truck trying to hit on Melba after he just ordered the omelet. Hey, I like watching Crankshaft utilize his gold digger he uses in his yard because he’s too cheap to use his pocket changer but it’s even more entertaining when Cranky is literally full of poop endeavoring to read Chairman Mao’s Red Book while wiping his extremities and chowing on some Gil Thorp Pure Artesian Water Mild Sausage with scrambled eggs, toast, and a Bud. I’d like to see Tennessee Pride try to top that life-learning lesson. They can’t. They’re too busy coughing up enough to tip Melba at The Diner. I bet Truck Tyler is their accountant.
Folks, when you want the finest in sausage, you know where to go when you grow up. You can lick up the pieces Tennessee Pride loses when loading the box truck or you can score a winner with Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage. I can tell you, we never received a citation for littering. Come pick ip a package today and see why. Your taste buds will be grateful and so will you.”
Gang, Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know which one is going to buzz by you when you’re blindfolded. I don’t know, I never wanted to find out.
God bless you anyway, Gang.
In the faculty lounge restroom
“Who brought all these Encyclopedia Brittanicas in here? There’s a bunch stacked by the hand blower.”
Hello gentle readers, teenchy here. tdrew is MIA and so in the spirit of continuity I’m dropping Tuesday’s strip so that we can move on to Wednesday’s. Will check in on him directly.
The jayvee Lady Mudlakrs get pounded by Goshen and Dorothy isn’t happy about it. Keri continues to slide into apple not falling far from the tree mode, trying to tell her erstwhile nemesis to shake it off.
Meanwhile Coach Ochoa pulls a chestnut from a 30-year-old movie, albeit one that most ball-and-bat players know well. Wonder if she’ll tell them to avoid the clap next.
That’s it for Tuesday. See you in a few with Wednesday’s thrilling strip.
We have a great action shot in P1 of a batters bat meeting a ball, but unfortunately (again) it takes place a sneeze away from the fence. And the fence magically disappears (again) within the bat/ball view. New category forthcoming for this.
Looks like just as in Little League, right field is patrolled by a weak fielder, or at least a non-star. Inma is wearing a hijab, which is no big deal (my boss at work wears one, but of course thats at work, this is a ballgame) so we’ll let that go. Matter of fact, a lot of softball players dont even wear caps, so the hijab is even less strange looking. She takes an odd path to the ball, turning her back on it like Willie Mays in the ’54 World Series, then faces the field and catches the ball over her head. If she’s looking where the ball is in P2, the catch should be made with her back to the play and her right arm on the other side of her head. You turn around completely like she did after running full speed, you aint catching the ball like that. Feel free to discuss, but thats my take.
And P3 has a certain cloudiness that wasnt present in the other panels. How close is she to the fence by now? (Hey there’s that hole in the fence again!!)
I’d also think that hijab may get in her eyes as its waving around behind her.
And gotta nitpick on the noises – KRAK is a wooden bat sound, PING is more appropriate for an aluminum bat. WAP is what John Madden said about a football hit; THUMP is better for a ball hitting a mitt.
First off, what happened to Marty???? I really haven’t any problem with Cami’s second cousin twice removed broadcasting the softball games but was this a last-minute replacement because Marty got off the wagon again?
BRRRRRRRRIIIINNNNGGGGGGGG
BRRRRRRRRIIIINNNNGGGGGGGG
BRRRR-
Click!
“Hello?”
“Tami? This is Melvin Muckley with WDIG. Listen, Marty drove into a ditch tonight. It’ll take two hours to tow his vehicle out of the sewage. Can you cover tonight?”
“Sure. I need the overtime.”
Moreover, NO announcer mentions a catcher’s uniform number when he or she is going to the mound to settle down the pitcher. What will Thorpiverse think of next, 20-second ad spots?
“Wow, Gil, your Everly Brothers hair isn’t flaking like Frosty the Snowman anymore.”
“That’s because I use the new and improved formula Head & Shoulders, in your grocer’s freez-“
PLAY BALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Or
“Gil, I am enjoying this, you’ve been going deep lately. Not in the kiddie pool like you used to skinny-dip in.”
“Mimi, Milford Men’s Clinic just revolutionized fun in the bed with this new wheat germ oil-“
LET’S GO!!!!!!!! DON’T GO OVER THE PITCH CLOCK!!!!!!!!!!!
How about
“This is Mabel Ruth Pearl. I had a sexy 734-lb. body but I could stand to shed a few pounds.”
“That’s why she drinks the new Ultra Slim-Fast. Two delicious shakes and a sensible Marie Callender’s Sweet and-“
THAT’S YOUR WARNING!!!!!!! NEXT TIME, IT’S A BALK!!!!!!!!
Okay, Keri, go settle Dorothy Ditz down. The ump called time to pee in the cup anyway.
Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer
“Coach Thorp Denies Crabgrass Character Is Hiding Out At His Residence!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“Why would Miles be over here? I haven’t seen anybody in his Hanes sleeping in Heehaw’s bed.”
Day 17 (maybe) of Fred & Wilma attempting to crack who the shaman was that was brainwashing Mud Mountain Murphy and compelling him to play like Crabgrass. Little wonder this quack and Miles were hiding in the captain’s quarters, under the bed. They only got out to take a shower to avoid being smelly. We will keep you posted about Mud’s possible Them Muddy Boots Stinking Up The Laundry Room Tour and if Miles went to the Glenwood Cruise Lounge to hide by disguising himself as a bartender as the story develops.
We now resume our regularly scheduled Gil post.
Frank raises an excellent point. High School Softball and College Softball has fortunately grown at a rapid pace the past few decades. My high school didn’t even field a team when I was roaming the hallways. But when my nephew played High School Baseball, the only time we received any radio/TV coverage was in the postseason. Now the local TV stations would broadcast highlights of regular season baseball games between high schools, especially if a conference championship was on the line. My nephew was shown once rounding 3rd base to score the winning run. It happens.
But today Thorpiverse is broadcasting this like it’s Indiana versus Purdue with Bob Knight and Gene Keady exchanging pleasantries and trash talk. The only thing missing from this North Carolina-Duke shindig is Dick Vitale. Frank, I’ll bet you and the readership will LOVE this one. One day, Dickie V. was hyping up the Tobacco Road Rivalry and he is going his usual bananas. Oh baby, it’s the Michaelangelo of coaches going up against the Disciple of The General. It’s scintillating, shimmering, sensational. Danny Ferry is a Diaper Dandy and Jerry Stackhouse is on my All-Windex team. Just spitting out the accolades. But then this just. Absolutely. Took. The. Cake. Dickie V. gets so carried away that he just blurts out “I’LL CRAWL TO THE GAME TONIGHT, BABYYYYYYYYY” and he heads towards the camera as if he was going to be true to his word. The spiel shut off, mercifully. Did we really care to see if the producer held him to that? Don’t even ask.
Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer
“Marty Moon Beats Intoxication Charge!!!!!!! His Attorney Clears Up Any Possible Misunderstanding!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“Our defense team explained to the judge that he was sober when he was on all fours headed to the WDIG studio.”
Fred & Wilma have yet to return to the bedroom, citing ensuring that the Fake Ravi Shankar be escorted by the Glenwood Cruise Security to the brig. We will report any connection to medical issues as this story develops. Dr. Rex Morgan has appeared on Have You Seen Me? milk cartons lately but a I Will Sing ‘Rex’s Muddy Boots’ Tour is underway. In exchange, Dr. Morgan will give a free examination to Mud Mountain Murphy on the condition he doesn’t drop his trousers. Film at 11.
If you’d crawl to the Milford Guns & Ammo Shoppe ta git yore huntin’ license renewed, ya might be a redneck.
Keri means well but she is giving the worst advice any Coach can give a player. And it’s really a contradiction in terms
“Try to relax.”
That’s normally the problem when you’re trying to settle a pitcher down, in this case. He or she have butterflies that are raging out of control and it takes coaches who need to stay calm if they want that player to do the same. Many times, it’s easier said than done but as Coach Stuard taught me “The coach is the tree, the players are the branches.” If you’re nervous, they’re nervous. If you don’t sweat, they won’t sweat. Therefore, it’s absurd to tell a kid to TRY to relax. That’s the problem. They’re trying too hard. That’s why, again, it’s important for coaches to relax themselves. They stand a better chance of the players doing the same thing. Otherwise, you might as well tell Dorothy Ditz to Hurry Up And Wait. She’s definitely running to stand still. Hmmmmmm, she and the mini-plots have something in common.
Now to interpret Keri’s other remark, my guess is that Dorothy is exaggerating her windup, which makes decent sense; when a pitcher is uptight, he or she does overextend his or her body rather than use a more fluid efficient motion that clearly works better. And in a perfect world, that advice would be well-founded and we get on with the game. Not in Thorpiverse. Somehow, other mini-plots to mini-plots will emerge and there are other ingredients that get thrown into this bowl of pottage, necessary or no. Soon, Keri will add
“Oh, and change your toenail polish. No wonder why you’re not getting any respect as a pitcher. And who’s your hairdresser? Madge? She does nails and Palmolive commercials. And have you smelled your breath? What did you eat before got here? Barbecue ribs? Did they serve the whole cow? No wonder why I didn’t see Elsie on the Borden label this afternoon at lunch. Hey, you want a Klondike Bar? Amelia’s wagon is over by the Smokemaster.”
No worries. We still have until Memorial Day to sort this all out. Amelia’s Chuck Wagon should be serving pork fritters by then.
Speaking of Gene Keady and Bob Knight, there was the time when Knight had his Texas Tech Raiders ready for, say for argument’s sake, the NCAA Tournament. Knight was set to coach against one of Keady’s former assistants (I apologize for forgetting the name) . At a luncheon, everything is going peachy until this assistant gets up to leave when Keady called his name and summoned him to the side. Saying it so that only those two could hear, Keady said softly, “Don’t let that son of a bitch beat you.”
Late Edition to the Milford Enquirer
”Media And The Public In Consternation At Principals Luncheon Over What The State Supervisor Of Education Whispered In Dr. Pearl’s Ear!!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“‘Don’t let that son of a bitch keep his job as Mudlark Baseball Coach’ was ruled out.”
I’LL CRAWL TO THE GAME TONIGHT!!!!!!!!!!
“Gil, get up and hand me your concession stand reports. I have a deadline this afternoon.”
They did manage to lower the fence to reasonable dimensions. I don’t feel like I am sharing the same space with Red and Andy; Samuel Norton is nowhere in sight. We still have work to do with the polka-dotted sky. One mock job at a time.
And the foliage once again is interesting. This shouldn’t be a precursor to “Godzilla versus The Smog Trees” but I’m not entirely certain on that. If you discover leaves covered in soot and Carbon-14 lacing your latte at Coffee Cantina, the evidence is out in the open. This definitely demands a verdict even if the judge may take awhile as he is pulling a Crabgrass on us. I hope he is not in his Hanes in Gil’s closet at this point but as the musical once said, anything goes.
I’LL CRAWL TO THE GAME TONIGHT!!!!!!!!!
“Cami, don’t be THAT intimidated by the parents.”
Late Late Edition to the Milford Enquirer
“Marty Moon Cleared Of Charges Accusing Him Of Distributing Alcohol To A Minor!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“You guys print what you want, I wouldn’t let Crabgrass touch my Bacardi & Rum if he gave me his dad’s TV. It’s busted anyway.”
What is this with the Poor Richard’s Almanac getting yanked out in the middle of the game? Then Keri, as the Gil Thorp Go Comics readers have noted, seems to be in ecstasy over flaunting the “Hook ‘em, ‘Larks” sign. Anyway, the little adage that Tami Rami Sami Ochoa is hissing, well, to tell you the truth, has nothing to do with the game at hand. Sure, we could stretch this adage and MAYBE argue that Dorothy is an extension of Keri. But the apple tree comment merely signifies “Like father, like son.” Dorothy is not the daughter of Keri and so is probably not going to sleep under the same roof with her, let alone the same bed. Dorothy isn’t going to indulge in Honey Nut Cheerios just because Keri had a bowlful. Dorothy isn’t going to bitch about the Lou Brock-for-Ernie Broglio trade just because Keri has her Bucket Burgers stuck up her butt over it. Dorothy isn’t going to crash into home plate like John Mengelt tackling the line judge to avoid the tag just because Keri did a kamikaze pilot routine into the same location. Keri just gave her a pep talk. She wasn’t explaining to Dorothy the Facts of Life. There’s a difference.
I mean, does anybody really think the next time Dorothy gets in a bases loaded, no out jam that Keri is going to tell her “A penny saved is a penny earned?” Really now.
Rob is going to kill me, Rob is going to kill me…
“Time is being called. Keri is out there now to tell Dorothy that ‘A bird in the hand is worth two in Gil’s Bud’. We’ll be back to see if that gets her out of the potential winning run crossing the plate after these messages. This is Tami Rami Sami Ochoa and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”
Along a random street in Milford at 11:03PM, Milford Daylight Time
I’LL CRAWL TO GET ME HARDER!!!!!!!!!!
I’LL CRAWL TO GET ME HARDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I’LL CRAWL TO GET ME HARDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Honeyyyyyyyyyyyy, I’m hornyyyyyyyyyyyy. Stand up and come back hoooooooommmmmeeeeeee!!!!!!!!”
“NO WAY, WOMAN!!!!!!! I told the 24-hour pharmacist-on-duty at Milford Apothecary that I would crawl to get my free Eli Lilly Pharmaceutical Sex Enhancement Pills. He agreed if I made it in the next two hours. Now git along little dawgy!!!!!!”
“Honey, I have the Milford Men’s Clinic EREC-2453 Oreo Cookie Double-Fluffy medications. They get your pumped up so nice and flaky and tender and erect. And all you have to do is open the mirror door.”
“But I talked to the pharmacist and he told me that by the time I took two with a glass of water that beavers will be chasing me to get all the wood they need. It’s nice to get horny and get a guest spot on Wild Kingdom.”
“Darling, you won’t make it at the rate you’re going. It’ll be 4:00AM and they’ll dispense of the medicines in the garbage truck to be burned into the atmosphere.”
“Like Hell they will, Mrs. Shaw!!!!!! They know my credit’s good. They know I’ll call if I have any problem getting there in time. I just have to get over the track by the time the Milford & Oakwood Express make their nightly run to the coal mine. I promise, there won’t be any Carbon-14 or lumpiness in our sex life after I get to the Apothecary window.”
“But you can get on my track and there’s no time limit. And this caboose wants the engine to ride all over its back so we can make more railroad cars.”
“Woman, did the horse take a piss break on the Pony Express? Did they bring a stapler to nail down the last spike at Promontory Point? Did Zebulon Pike ride on Pokey and let Gumby carry the supplies up Pikes Peak? Sometimes you have to stand up and be a man by crawling as if you were going to sneak into King Tut’s residence and blow him up and the rest of the Commies and whoever Hell else made bombs at Tarshish. That’s how Sodom and Gomorrah got its comeuppance.”
“I wish you’d crawl all over me because I assure you there are no land mines except the ones in your head.”
“Leave me in peace, dear!!!!!! I still have an hour and forty-three minutes. My patella is killing me but I will play through the pain-“
The Milford Animal Control shows up
“Ma’am, have you curbed your Saint Bernard? I saw some dog doo at the children’s playground down the street.”
“My patellas felt like Edy’s Soft Vanilla anyway. It was time to ‘fess up and get off the mat and conquer the problem. Conquer it I did. Them Fluffy Cookies may have given me the worst case of Oreo Halsitosis but me and my honey got under them sheets and thrust and partied to the crack of dawn. And we ain’t stopping any time in the near future. If you want the cream to dip your Chips Ahoy into, get your derrière down to Milford Men’s Clinic today and dunk your donuts in bed and at breakfast time. Only at The Clinic.”
Gang, Hurried work is worried work. Hey, I heard that from The Skipper on Gilligan’s Island. Why can’t it work with Dorothy when she’s in a bases-loaded jam? Think about it.
And God bless you, Gang.
BRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIINNNNGGGGGG!!!!!!!
BRRRRRRR-
“Hello?”
“Dickie V.? Tami Rami Sami called in. Can you do the game on Saturday?”
“SHOOT, I’LL CRAWL TO THE GAME-“
“Dickie V., this isn’t Duke-North Carolina. It’s another Milford JV game.”
Not a lot to complain about today. First two panels are on point. The ball with speed lines and without seams (second time we’ve seen it this season) makes me think of the old Jack Elrod Ball in Mark Trail.
Third panel shows that Whigham still sucks at drawing home plate and the lines around it, as well as at continuity with the batter. He was a righty yesterday, which may not be that big of a deal. At all levels of baseball a batter can change sides until the pitcher comes to a set position to pitch, and the batter may switch sides as many times as he chooses. There, I gave you an out, Chief. Now go study this diagram.
We don’t know explicitly who the Bobcats are although canonically Central is the Bobcats. The turquoise unis kinda give off an old Marlins/D-backs vibe. Hope every Milford opponent doesn’t have to wear them. They’ll start to stink after a while.
On to baseball and the Mudlarks’ season opener (?) against (?) and those are only two of the blanks we’re left to fill in.
It has to be a home game since the grand slam delivers instant victory. How does a team that loads the bases and wins the game with a grand salami struggle? Ask anyone who’s had the frustration of watching their team puts lots of runners in scoring position and fail to bring them home. Not really a blank, and might explain Marty’s kinda blase home run call.
No, the biggest blank is drawn (along with that hexagonal home plate) in P3. NASA might’ve seen Dee’s homer from space but no one here on Earth saw it. We did see Dee twist his ankle touching home, though. A bit odd to see only one player – and that one not the on-deck batter – out to congratulate Darius. Could be one of those intentional cold shoulders players often get coming back into the dugout.
It’s early in the season; plenty of time for the team and the writer of the strip to find their rhythm. The veteran artist, on the other hand, should have found his some time ago.
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This Week in Milford 
