This Week in Milford

April 12, 2018

Marty Moon: The Straw That Stirs the Milford Drink


Today’s strip just serves to bring the glaring plot holes, inconsistencies and missed opportunities into stark relief, not unlike Marty’s face in P2.  Without belaboring the obvious – oh, who am I kidding? Let’s belabor the obvious:

  1. If an Aagard scores 26 points and there’s no one there to report on it, does it make a sound? Last winter’s saga of Aaron and his opioid-addicted mother ended with his transfer into the protective custody of the Hiatt-Brown family. Rubin brought Aaron back this season, but Big Ken Brown is no longer around to make things happen. Couldn’t those loose ends have been tied up in a panel?
  2. Nice use of parallel drinking by the not-broadcasting broadcasters, one with hooch, the other with Yoo-Hoo (or does that just say “Poo”?). The glaring sign behind Marty’s head must be meant to offer a contrast to his apparent sour mood. It also offers a nice segue into a song parody but I fear those days are behind me. The idea that WDIG can’t or won’t run games without Marty to call them borders on the absurd. Absurd doesn’t begin to describe the Milford Pirate Network’s approach to the games. If they’d been up front about why they popped up then played it straight, they’d still be on the air and no one would’ve cared that there was no coverage from Marty and WDIG. But noooo, MPN based its whole schtick on taunting Marty, so no Marty, no MPN. For that matter…
  3. … no Marty, no Gil to antagonize or be antagonized by Marty. Hence Gil’s call on Pocket Square Sporting Radio Station Manager to no doubt try to get Marty back on the air. As with his meeting with Marty, Gil’s on neutral ground where drinks are involved but this time it’s only coffee (unless Gil’s secretly making it Irish).

If all this is a pivot towards turning this strip from Gil Thorp into Marty Moon, I could be persuaded to stick around. The travails of a drunken shock jock looking to redeem himself to unwitting victims of his shock doesn’t cover new ground but it has potential.

late metapost: Over lunch I came across this article about Latinos attempting to assimilate in the American South. No one in the story is Puerto Rican, but it touches on an angle Rubin has chosen not to pursue to much extent in this arc.


March 30, 2018

MPN improves its image

Filed under: actual action, basketball, Gil Thorp, Marty Moon, Milford Weirdos — robmize2013 @ 4:23 pm

Well I have to say I like the hot chick in the MPN shirt way better then the clown in the pirate hat with his parrot. Hey I’ll even go to games to see her instead of Mister Pirate. Heck with staying home on Youtube. But how the hell are they listening to Marty that closely that they can hear his mistakes?? I’ve sat next to broadcasters before (High School Cube mostly ) and you can hear them, but its not like you really Listen to them with the supposed roar of the crowd. So again we have one good thing and one bad thing. If its good drawing its nonsense dialogue. If its good dialogue its shitty artwork.

How they got the logoed shirts is somewhat a mystery but its possible these days with the internet and ordering obscure stuff from obscure websites. My fantasy baseball teams name  is the Flying Tigers and I have a logo And a t-shirt with a design on it that I wear proudly during baseball season.

Back to the artwork — what the hell is that guy doing with his arms up to Martys left? Starting a wave? And who runs like that in basketball? Looks like a fuckin track meet. # 13 is looking the other way and NOT RUNNING. No wonder Marty cant concentrate – he isnt sure what sport he’s announcing anymore. Of course I’d have other issues :)



February 28, 2018

Somehow, I Don’t Think This Is Helping Ad Sales

Filed under: actual action, basketball, Chunky Bracelets, freak hands, Gil Thorp — timbuys @ 11:21 am


So, you’re a manager or perhaps the owner of Los Morenos restaurant, the new (and probably only) Tex-Mex restaurant in Milford if you don’t count Taco Bell. You’ve been told by the incessant sales guy who only orders shots of bottom shelf tequila and eats a LOT of free chips and salsas to tune into the game. What’s going through your head in panel one?

Meanwhile, we get an interesting reaction shot in panel two as we see that Paloma has nearly fully assimilated into her new hometown, chunky bracelets, exploding eyeballs, freak hands and all.

Panel three has my full attention, although I’m not quite sure about number 31’s defensive technique there. Is he about to hammer Jorge* number 50 in the back of his neck with an elbow? It’s been a pretty chippy game from what we’ve seen so far.

Bonus points: I’m trying to decide what Whigham was going for on that logo in panel two. My guess?

Dove Icecream bar

Also, I like how Paloma is doing kind of a reverse Vulcan salute with her left hand.

* Further research (no, I don’t know what is wrong with me that I researched this) reveals that Jorge is number 33.

February 27, 2018

I’ve Been in the Station with a Man With No Name, It Felt Good to Just Soak in the Fame.

Filed under: actual action, basketball, big arms, Marty Moon, Milford Idiots — tdrewhardin @ 4:45 am


Aaaaaaaaaaaaa, your mother puts soy sauce on her refried beans!!!!!!! Boy, gang, that felt good. I am pumped like Marty to catapult some more mud at Georgie, The Dove(thank God she ran for cover to her tent in her backyard), Krusty’s niece, Ernie, and whoever else attempts to play King of the Hill on the playground at recess with the WDIG god himself, under the pretext of political correctness. So Jorge had nothing to do with this back-and-forth melee. Who cares? Mudslinging takes no prisoners.

I’m beating this in the ground, I realize but Anonymous Calculus Dude a/k/a Herb Tarlek (as duly noted by Ned, good one, BTW, I’d forgotten about WKRP and glad you brought it up) is beginning to worry me. He’s not just passing through, briefcase in hand, returning to Levittown on the planet Oblivion after conversing with a Thorpiverse main character, such as Marty Moon. No, he’s got his own coffee mug with the WDIG Good Housekeeping Seal IN HIS OWN OFFICE!!!!!!!!!! How’d he swing THAT by Marty? Usually they come out of the walls when the janitor’s closet is locked but noooooooooo, Herb is evidently livin’ large in his own corner of the world, with a view of the WDIG Hall of Fame on top of that.  What’s his secret? Are pinstripes and Gucci shoes on the horizon? Lexus for the company car? Don’t have to fill out a W-2 form every time he appears in the strip? Next thing ya know, he’ll have his own Mr. Coffee and won’t have to sneak a brew or two out of Marty’s office. The price of moving up in the corporate ladder. Things take time.

And you whippersnappers are in for a treat as Sister Mary Elephant returns to Milford. Let’s listen.

“Okay, classsss, classssss, be quiet, class, classsssss, SHUT UPPP!!!!!!!! Thank you. Okay, class, your homework assignment is   a 1000-word essay, ‘How I spent my weekend in my backyard’. I want it typed and double-spaced, 8 1/2 x 11 stenographic sheets, use good grammar and punctuation, due on Monday”

“Oh, no way, Sister. Man, all I ever do in my backyard is smoke reefers in my tent, eat Twinkies and Beanie Weenies, wash it down with a Yoo-hoo, and listen to Marty Moon run down all us Puerto Rican’s.  I mean, he’s a prick. You expect me to write 1000 words about that moron?”

“Now, claassssss, I know you got it in you. One of you might be the next Thackeray.”  “Say who???”


“Sister, I don’t know about this Jackie Ray or Jack a Train, or whatever, but if he’s like ol’ Marty, I’m gonna punch his lights out.”

“Now, claassssss, be creative, use some poetry, it doesn’t have to be cold writing. Show some feeling!!!!!!”

“Sister, I GOT IT!!!!!!!!!!!! I GOT IT!!!!!!!!!

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Look out, Anonymous Calculus Dude

’cause I done peed on your shoes.”

And why do we have to have a basketball game, literally in the middle of the strip, when the Gladitorial stage of the mudslinging is just heating up? Do you pull the refried beans out of the microwave well before the beeper says “Done”? Why can’t we just skip it, heck, we’ve relegated basketball(football, baseball, lacrosse, hockey, etc.) to second class anyway, and just beeline to THE MAIN EVENT!!!!!!! C’mon, Thorpiverse, I was beginning to get interested and Jorge drives for a layup, of all things.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa, your mother drives a Bueno Product truck when she’s on vacation to the Smokies!!!!!!!!!!!! YESSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!! Score another one!!!!!!!!!!!! If I get good enough, I’ll be on the Hall of Fame wall for sure, right between Herb and Marty. Mudslinging is not for the faint of heart. If you want to be on the porch with the big dogs, ya gotta suck it in.

If ya have had yore fill of the Krabmeat Enchilada and ya get the El Nopal Super-Size Doggie Bag ta take home ta feed yore bloodhounds, further validating the term “doggie bag”, and then proceed to sprinkle  some White Queso Sauce on yore Schlitz later on while watching Dallas in yore recliner chair, ya might be a redneck.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Moon in Hot Water over Gaffe with Milford El Nopal!!!!!!!!!!”

sub head line.

“What’s the big deal? I complained to the waiter that there was half a roach in the Quesadilla Fajita del Pollo and this jackass reporter in the next booth starts typing.”

My final (reluctantly speaking) installment in Black History Month is Arthur Crudup, a very talented Bluesman, noted for writing excellent Blues standards, such as “Mean Old ‘Frisco Blues'”, “So Glad You’re Mine”, “My Baby Left Me”, and “That’s All Right”. The last one was famously recorded by Elvis Presley and became a smash hit. I am angered and outraged that he did not get just financial compensation for his music. In fact, he wound up in later life working as a barge worker, all the while suing the companies that took him to the cleaners. He died in 1974, litigation still in the works. Please spread the word about a man who deserved better.  Love your music, Big Guy.

Racism can be eliminated when we realize we can’t do everything but we can do SOMETHING. If EVERYBODY would do SOMETHING, hate becomes a thing of the past. We can then look forward with hope.

Gang, it’s your turn. I’ll be reading some more “2000 More Insults” if you need me. Gotta stay sharp.

February 24, 2018

Goin’ to the Rack With Controlled Assertiveness. Now That’s Milford Basketball.

Filed under: actual action, basketball, huge earrings, Mimi Thorp, shadow figures — tdrewhardin @ 4:20 am



And Mimi, as billytheskink has insinuated, comes out of retirement to return the Mudlarks to the Glory Days!!! We can only hope that the Lady Mudlarks will build on this victory and personally bettin’ they can when Paloma is not engineering Sit-Down-Protest-of-the-Week. And, baby baby, I like her moves to the bucket. She’s got some Cheryl Miller in her. Never mind that a couple of Goshenites appear to have left their seeing-eye dogs in the locker room but we gotta start somewhere. So one Goshenite is completely out of position because her defensive stance is 180 degrees (give or take a few degrees) away from the person she was intending to guard (Paloma, for those of you keeping score). That’s Goshen’s problem. Since when do we educate our opponent on the proper technique especially if we’re just reading the strip and enjoy, along with our fellow Milfordites, the Christians getting fed to the lions, not to mention getting dunked on? Berrill, for eons, promoted Bacchanalian feasts of opponents being fodder for the bloodthirsty Mudlarks. Besides, Paloma got game.

Gee, if we can only stash this 2-out-of-3 basketball concept in a bottle and save it for later when Marty Moon gets nasty as I promise you he will because a few naive teenagers didn’t understand not to wake up a dormant snake. Don’t let him slither out of his snake hole at WDIG studios. And with Mr. Anonymous Calculus Dude who Moonlights as an Ad Salesman for the Station aiding and abetting in the crime, this could get ugly. You know it’s a bad omen when the Anonymous People are seen more than once.

“Hey, Marty, you forgot to flush the toilet again.”

“Sorry, Anonymous Calculus Dude. Hey, since you’re still in the strip, can I count on you for some mudslinging when I broadcast the Milford Girls Basketball game with New Thayer this Friday?”

“Sure. My wedding with Mrs. Anonymous Calculus Dudette is this Sunday and the rehearsal is on Saturday and I haven’t been written out of the script yet, so Fridays are free.”

“Super!!!!!!!! Here’s that ‘2000 More Insults’ I ordered from the Milford Book-of-the-Month Club. Pore it over and I want at least a hefty Manila folder of material a half hour before the tip.”

“Will do. BTW, I bought some Lysol and placed it on the commode lid.”

Well, anyway, we got a fist bump from Mimi. Maybe that’ll slow The Snake to a crawl. Fist bumps have a way of turning the tide in Thorpiverse. And the plot might get interesting. Wouldn’t that be something.

If ya buy a jalopy straight outta the Estado de Chihuahua and ya fix it up with dual exhausts, fix all the points and plugs, stick a 409 in it, purchase some expensive mags, instead of plain ol’ Bridgestones, with money you don’t have, then, as a coup-de-grace, proudly display yore Confederate flag decal on the front bumper at the Milford Car Show, ya might be a redneck.

If ya use the same tractor to haul illegals under the tarp of a trailer across the border as the one competin’ in the Milford Major-Modified Tractor Pull later that night, ya might be a redneck.

Today’s Black History Month entry is a long personal favorite of mine, Roberta Flack. She is the first, and still the only, solo artist to win Grammy Record of the Year 2 years in a row, “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” and “Killing Me Softly With His Song”. She has 3 #1 hits, the 2 just mentioned plus “Feel Like Makin’ Love”. She has gone on to do several collaborations with Donny Hathaway including “Where is the Love”. Robert Christgau, a well-respected critic, was not terribly kind in his remarks on her, basically saying she was essentially a Light Favorites fixture. I vehemently disagree as I have found her music to exhibit the complexity, depth, and soul needed to create beautiful music and still have a listening audience. Even those not a fan of her music will admit she has a shrewd ear for melody that keeps us coming back for more. Please spread the word about a very beautiful lady and another one VERY dear to my heart.

Gang, I’m bumping your fist because you’re the tops. Let’s see if we can get the Milford contingent to focus on BASKETBALL for once.

February 21, 2018

So, Did Marty Roll His Double RR’s?


Panel One: That elbow from Oakwood #5 coulda just as easily been called the other way.

Panel Two: Marty is a real jerk.

Panel Three: I mean, seriously, just a true jerk.

Minus points: Nice mug, Karina. Did you buy it online using your |||| brand laptop?

February 9, 2018

Marty taking over this storyline – Yes!

Filed under: actual action, basketball, Exploding Eyeball Syndrome, Marty Moon — robmize2013 @ 7:55 pm

Its about time we focus on someone besides the mindless student-athletes parading around this strip. Now we have the kids listening to his broadcast and critiquing his nickname for Jorge. Who cares how long we play hoops – its the Marty Moon show and god damn I am happy. Bring on some real controversy!

February 8, 2018

Glory, Glory To Old Georgie


I think the only hurricanes Marty’s been exposed to are the ones at Pat O’Brien’s, amirite? That would have required him to travel to New Orleans and, judging by his tone-deaf pronunciation of Jorge’s first name, he’s probably never left his mom’s basement the Valley. Then again, ask a New Orleanian to pronounce “Chartres” and you may think otherwise.

Equally tone-deaf is Marty’s assessment of the impact of Hurricane Maria on Jorge’s life. I’m willing to bet Paloma heard Marty, or someone from the Milford High Token Libertarians Club heard him and will tell Paloma about it over an enchilada burger at The Bucket. If this leads to Paloma starting a campaign to get Marty fired, I’m all in. Odds are it’ll only lead to Gil shaming Marty into an on-air apology to the Padillas. Wonder if we’ll see Jorge’s name spelled out phonetically when that happens (“Whore-hay”)?

Meanwhile, as further proof of his cultural assimilation, Jorge’s transitioning into the Aaaaron Aaaagard Woody Woodpecker ‘do (or is it the Andre frohawk?).  Try not to stare at his freakishly large right hand too long.

metapost (a bit after 3pm EST): I see over at the ‘mudgeon (again, folks, I don’t look at the CC before I post, honest!) a good bit of outrage at Marty’s tone-deafness and an alleged response from Rubin himself, to the effect that Rubin has put these words in Marty’s mouth to make an example of him. We’ll see how Neal makes Marty eat them.

Much discussion of the life and death of Roberto Clemente in our comments today as well. I make no attempts to disguise my age through my commentary, but I am really going to age myself now by admitting that I saw Clemente play. Granted, my age was in the single digits, but I saw him play nonetheless. I remember being shocked and grief-stricken when he was lost, not unlike what I felt when Thurman Munson was killed several years later but made even more tragic by the humanitarian effort Clemente was trying to carry out. Here’s an image of Clemente on his 1960 Topps baseball card, looking unamused at being referred to as “Bob.”


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