This Week in Milford

October 18, 2018

A Funny Thing Happened To Me On The Way To Gil’s Office

Filed under: actual action, football, freak feet, Gil Thorp, Just plain sad, Pissy faced Gil — tdrewhardin @ 4:05 pm

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“Something appealing

Something appalling

Something for EVERYONE

A comedy tonight”

 

Oh, this isn’t “A Funny Thing Happened  On The Way To The Forum”. I was confused for a sec. When I saw those Roman Colosseum seats in P1, I was led astray. And while I’m being led down the Wide Path to Destruction, it occured to me that it really wouldn’t be a good idea to lug Orville Redenbacher’s Jumbo Popcorn and 26 bottles of Canada Dry Ginger Ale and 37 cups of Coca-Cola and 15 boxes of M & M’s Peanut up Mount Everest. You might want to have that all airlifted if you plan on sitting in the top row to watch Milford get thrown to the lions.

And do you old-timers (like moi) or even movie watchers in toto (like Bolek and his munchkins) remember that Roman guard in the same movie who was the biggest bully this side of Pug and his Uglies? What instigated the misunderstanding was the Miles Gloriosus pose Tiki is displaying in P1. Well, I suppose there isn’t any distinction between being out of your element by assuming the role of a cornerback-nee-kicker and  consequently getting bummed out from interfering with the receiver, the shot of the play appearing to be a good call so he can’t blame the zebras (not the ones in Marty’s condo in Mudlark Lake Resort to avert any further consternation) and his heartbreak over the loss of Philia, sort of the Juliet in the movie (Although the death was staged in the movie although you could really say that for this plot, really not much difference BETWEEN the movie and this plot thus far when the final penalty flag lands to the ground) , grabbing his helmet in a state of mourning over the loss of Philia/getting a flag thrown on him that decides the game although it’s hard for me to imagine his singing a dirge for the penalty like he did for Philia in the movie. But stranger things have happened. Just don’t throw your mouthpiece out in the woods, Miles. Philia would have wanted you to exert self-control. Not worth it.

THEN I didn’t see Buster Keaton running out of the poplars onto the field to do a Franco Harris Miracle Run so I knew this was Thorpiverse. Unfortunately. Buster was more entertaining.

 

I would LOVE to give a shout-out to Delisa English of Louisville, Kentucky. She is bubbly and vivacious and though confined to a wheelchair, her spirit, her will, her determination, her intelligence, and her love of life know no bounds. She went to a job-finding agency to show she can still cut it in the workaday world. SHE CAN cut it, gang, and she has my blessing to pursue her dreams along the way. Delisa, you deserve to be recognized because you represent America. Can-do lives on, thanks to you.

 

Because I am unclear on the concept when I saw a restaurant this past week displaying as part of its logo “Scratch Kitchen”, I will enlighten myself by exploring a couple of  (or more) possibilities.

At the Milford Clay Oven, The Taste of the Himalayas, Scratched to your Satisfaction

Gil complains to the manager

“The chicken in this Chicken Tikka Masala wasn’t scratched sufficiently. It tastes like a Goodrich tire. At least a Goodyear tire has more texture.And the kiddie fries from the Children’s Menu barely got scraped. How many times did you say you sent them through the nutmeg grinder?”

“Gil, did you mention that the Vegetable Korma weren’t massaged properly?”

“You bet I did, Mimi. I told him the Lima beans didn’t have enough scratch marks like a an old 45 “Elvis Presley-Burnin’ Love” when you and the kids were in the Clay Oven Playland.”

 

If ya complain to management at the Milford Fazoli’s that the kitchen crew didn’t apply enough deer rub in the deer meat when ya wuz chowin’ down The Sampler (spaghetti, lasagna, eggplant doe alfredo), ya might be a redneck.

 

And I am REALLY unclear on those helmets in P2. Since the plot has been executing more dancing than football, I know for a fact that the kicker is not only kicking the football (Buster Keaton out in the woods somewhere to retrieve the ball and thereby do some more running) but kicking up his cleats, er, heels to “Skip to my Lou, My Darling”. Okay, THAT out of the way, IS THAT REALLY A ‘J’ on the side of their of their helmet or the State of Louisiana? Well, we’ve solved one mystery after much debate over what state Milford is located. We’re making progress in geography if not in this plot. Maybe we oughta put a Rand-McNally Atlas under the Christmas tree to expedite things since Christmas might be the turning point of the plot.

Shout-out to Elaine Weisbard of St. Matthews, Kentucky, who has shown me that though she is legally blind, it has NOT stopped her from shopping, socializing with friends, and giving of herself to other people. She gave me some bananas the other day as a gesture of her kindness which she has extended to MANY people. She still lives in a house and manages the household with aplomb and skill. She has done the right thing and it shows. I salute you, Elaine.

 

At The Bucket “Where Scratching is our Business”

“This Bucket Triple Decker Cheese Burger IS made from scratch. Do you want to see the cows in the back of the restaurant? There’s a semi from that farm delivering more Angus cows at our delivery dock. You never heard of Roadway?”

One possibility I ruled out

“Sir, I’m sorry, the grill cook has psoriasis BIG TIME. Would you want another Livercheese Burger?”

“Uhhhhhhh, no, quite all right. We’ll just head down to Denny’s”

 

Marty, finishing spraying the fire extinguisher to a couple of passengers on the Milford Transit Authority mini-bus

“Mr. Moon, we wanted the heat turned on but “Extra Lake of Fire” was a bit much.”

Thanks to Luther Gideon and Mary Simpson, both of Jeffersontown, Kentucky for the above idea. I hope and pray you are doing well. Both of you mean A LOT to me.

 

Last BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST is P3. Gang, when my nephew was in a batting slump for his high school team, he NEVER got called down to the Principal’s office. Didn’t get Due-Processed if he ran through the 3rd base coach’s sign, didn’t serve In-School Suspension if he dropped the ball with the game on the line.

So what the Hell is Tiki doing in Gil’s office? Hard to imagine they’ll be talking about conjugating “Etre” in French (“Now repeat after me, Je suis, Tu es, …”) .

Over the intercom in Tiki’s Intro Auto Mechanics class, xylophone serving as the prep signal

“Mr. Shop Teacher?”

“Yesssssss?”

“Is Tiki Jensen there?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Would you send him down to Gil’s office over that fuck-up that cost the game?”

“He’s in the middle of a test. I’ll send him down after that.”

“Thank you.”

 

And what’s up with these dark figures in the background. Are they going to stage a sit-down protest if Tiki gets the paddle? Gil, at least go get Kaz as a witness so that proper procedure is followed. We really don’t want any “Gil Must Go!!!!!!!!!!” rallies in the front of the gym.

Or maybe Tiki is being burned in effigy. Yeah, that’s it.

 

 

All righty then. Based on my approval for  robmize’s analysis of the newly-introduced characters in the plot 1-2 weeks ago, especially the so-called kickers, I thought I would try to round this thing up in a synopsis to bring sense to it all.

And what better way than with a POP QUIZ, oh, you know, I’ve beaten this in the ground, I’ll admit, but one that is UNEXPECTED, an unfavorite pasttime of a student who thinks that no way will Professor Kingsfield will Pearl Harbor us with a 1000-point quiz after the student has been scuba-diving in Mudlark Lake all day long and up to the wee hours of the morning to go trout-fishing with a Sports Illustrated Bikini Model of the Year. Talk about the spider feasting on the fly.

HOWEVER, YOU, gang are the fly (or flies) in this case and I’m going to enjoy the Hell out of wearing that Bozo the Clown bow tie that Kingsfield always wears while I deliver to you on your desk, along with Spicoli’s pizza, a short pop quiz. Now, if you’ve been paying attention and taking notes the past 2-3 weeks, the pop quiz should be easier than combing Kaz’s hair as long as you don’t utilize a rake. And #2 pencils only. You may begin.

 

Matching

A) Tiki

____ A generic teacher who warns the students

a semester ahead of time that there will

be a pop quiz by the time the next sequel

“Gil and Mimi Get Brainwashed on the

Planet of the Apes” is released at the

Milford Cineplex. His great-great

grandfather was killed in the Little Big

Horn ambush when he gave the order to

smoke signal “You may fire when ready,

Sitting Bull”.

B) Tiki’s sister

____ America’s favorite movie critic and

kicker. He has proven you can kick and

chew Mike and Ike Cherry Drops at the

same time while slumbering through

“Gone With The Wind”. Mad at Coach

Thorp  when Thorp took his kids out of

the theater right before Sherman’s March

to Atlanta so that they could get to

Milford Go-Kart Extravaganza before it

closed and drive on the reputed longest

track in the world or the horse-guided

kiddie track.

C) Joe Bolek

____  A guy who sells used cars at the Milford

Auto Auction and kicks on the weekend

for the Mudlarks and the semi-pro team,

Milford United on the weekend in his

leisure time.

D) Mr. Hand-Professor Kingsfield-Mr. Price

____  Groupies who have really added nothing

to the plot and are really nothing more

than celebrated supernumeraries. Look

at them as those ugly gremlins in

“Phantasm” alongside the Lurch-like

man toting that Gil’s coffin down the

street and you’ll see the correlation. One

groupie’s dad was in the middle level of

the pile at The Who concert in Cincinnati.

E) Joe Bolek’s friends

_____  A female who is not only nameless but

we haven’t even SEEN yet. I think the

state penitentiary is holding her over

another week until her credit record is

cleared. Then the Parole Board will

stamp “Approved” for her and Red so

that they can wend their way down to

Mexico and build an ocean liner.

Did you ace it? Do you think you might have missed one? Never fear, unlike Kingsfield who can be such a dick about these things, I am offering extra credit to make your score a perfect speciman or even turn up the fire if you’ve been studying. Good study habits are essential if you want to pass the Board scores for Milford Community College.

Anyway, have at it. What have you got to lose?

F) Marty Moon

_____  A lady who appears occasionally to break

the monotony (the TWIM staff and readers

finishing the job), and one of these days,

she will get married to God knows whom,

maybe someone off Craig’s List filed under

“desperate.” Elvis is dead, so is Frankie,

and the latest report confirms she is in a

casual relationship with Moe the

Bartender

G) Peaches

_____  A low-down snake and vermin, with slime

added to the mix, related two generations

back to Sabrina’s ghoulies who has been

Gil’s tormentor and evil twin Dutch evil

twin since the advent of the Atomic Age.

He possesses the mouth of a city sewer,

has brains at a comparable level, plus a

goatee, confirming he never outgrew his

’50’s Beatnik days. When he was a cub

reporter for The Mudlarkian, 1st Period

Journalism class, writing scores and

commentary for Gil’s bowling prowess

(boy o boy) , Gil was the star and captain

of the squad. Principal Ek, BTW, was the

co-captain.

How did you do? All perfect scores and beyond will receive a coupon good for a Bucket Fulla Lasagna and Succotash and must be redeemed by the end of the month. For a dollar extra, add tater tots and a medium drink.

Gang, fire away. I need to get in shape so I’m gonna help Buster go get some footballs. We both just gotta watch the poison ivy around a couple of ’em.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Sues Milford Clay Oven, The Taste of the Himalayas, Concerning Overdone Lamb In His Lamb Tikka Kebab Happy Meal!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub head line

“Man, all that scratchin’ that lamb meat on some Clydesdale’s ass gave me the runs bad.”

 

As the Thorps go to the cash register to pay for their food

“Was everything OK?”

“I’ve had better Tandoori Chicken Salad scratched on a rubber chicken!!!!!!!!”

“Gil!!!!!!!!!”

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October 17, 2018

Milford @ Jefferson: Haiku

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The Jeffs are wearing

Helmets that look like Dartmouth’s

Or pencil sharpeners

 

Another team dressed in

White at home, like the Cowboys

Or Bayou Bengals

 

When did the players

Stop wearing wristbands and switch

Over to Fitbits?

 

Tiki Jansen won’t

Be getting torched on this play

Saw that pun coming

 

But wait, he’s been flagged

For making a reacharound

Not in the shower

 

Marty Moon cannot

Believe his eyes; dancing ice cubes

In front of floodlights

 

That’s liquor talking

It’s just some good old lens flare

Lay off the rotgut

 

 

October 16, 2018

Ooooooooooo, This Has Already Gotten Messy

Filed under: actual action, football, hands in the air, Jefferson Jeffs, Marty Moon — tdrewhardin @ 3:50 pm

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“This football is afflicted with boils, warts, and the bubonic plague. Oh, and zits. I ask everyone in the congregation and you out there in TV Land to pray along with me and all my other zebras in Christ. Lord, I lay hands on this pigskin and cast out all diseases and afflictions in the name of Jesus. Help this football rise up and walk and receive a double portion of your Spirit. We know that Beelzebub has tormented him throughout the game and Satan, we order you in the name of Jesus to release your grip so that others may grip it, either to look it in the tuck for that 89-yard TD reception or when the Milford Mudlark or Jefferson Jets (Hell, I don’t know their nickname, Thorpiverse didn’t brief me ahead of time ) score the winning TD because the RB didn’t fumble it because of Godly stronghold on the ball. We lay hands in Jesus’ Name. Amen.”

“We know who you are, you are the Son of God!!!!!!”

HOLD THY PEACE AND COME OUT OF HIM!!!!!!!!!!

Legions and legions and legions of demons come out of the football and head toward the trees behind Gil’s office. Small wonder they’re so deformed. Pizuzu must be possessing the poplars on top of the elm tree and mulberry bushes.

“Good as new, Coach Thorp.”

“Thanks, Jesus.”

 

So at this juncture we’ve negotiated a slightly bizarre twist in the scheme of things.

We NOW have a punter kicking for the team, although we had to tread through Siskel & Ebert reruns to garner the position player. Oh, but wait (to quote my favorite group, Emerson, Lake, & Palmer ) , not content with that, with our hands behind our backs, give it the old college try and develop a legitimate storyline that could be a heart-warming Disney feature, sandwiched between “The Jungle Book” and “Son of Flubber”.

Kinda sorta like “Angels in the Outfield”. Kid hates football, Hard-Luck Loser Coach (not naming any names like, say, Gil or Kaz or maybe Roy Gillen) convinces him to go out for the team, baiting him with a lifetime supply of M & M’s, the Mars Candy truck dumping the wares in the kid’s driveway every week, Marty Moon morphs into another Ranch Wilder and broadcasts on WDIG, after returning from his suspension, natch (gotta have a little controversy so the Disney plot doesn’t get syrupy like a runny Aunt Jemima bottle all over the kitchen counter) , that his dad point-shaved his high school football game, Dad comes along for a press conference in the Milford gym and clears the record, reveling when he was in middle school that he received a $1000 scholarship to Alabama to play for Bear Bryant from the opposing principal if he would throw an interception in lieu of the winning TD (Hey, this is Disney, plots don’t gotta be airtight) , Dad merely gets a paddling after the truth is solidified, everybody hugs and kisses in a heterosexual way (this is G-rated, bear in mind) , even Marty and Peaches gets caught up in the feel-good atmosphere and speed off to Mudlark Lake Resort in Marty’s Rolls-Royce, kid kicks winning FG after Hard-Luck Loser Coach tells the kid a la FDR that this day will be a Day of Infamy if he chokes, game over.

Oh, no, no, no.

Nope, we gotta chase down another rabbit after we damn near blow out Bugs Bunny’s brains. Cheez, no wonder why Elmer Fudd never killed ANY animal, let alone Bugs.

Daffy Duck is sleeping in the pond about to get a wet dream over Daisy Duck.

EF is about to hit the jackpot.

“Hey, I say, hey, look at that elephant running away over yonder.”

“Wealwee? Where’d it go?”

“It’s runnin’ down that path there, leadin’ to the back door of Milford Iron Kitchen. Ya better git it or it’s gonna be on the buffet table tonight. BTW, he goes by the name of Dumbo. He’s an old rogue I went to high school with and we were teammates on the football team. I was the field goal kicker and he was the star running back. But he’s lost his speed. Kinda like Kareem when he was with the Lakers.”

“Hey, wait a minute, YOU’RE AN ANIMAL!!!!!!!!!” about to cock his gun.

“Now hold on there, Fuddy-Duddy, My Man. If you shoot me, there’ll be, I say, there’ll be no one ta guard the chickens. And then Mr. Green Jeans, my boss, will be up your, I say, up your ass in alligators with The Shark cuz yore gun ain’t registered . I can see the Kohl’s price tag on the barrel.”

Fuddy-Duddy lowers the gun.

“Besides, isn’t Dumbo a lot tastier? And you’d have his head to mount on your wall once ya done fileted him. Better ‘n’ that anteater mug that Gil has staged in his den.

Fuddy-Duddy turns around.

“Shhhhhhhh, be vewy, vewy quiet. I’m hunting Dumbos. HAHAHAHAHA…..”

 

BIG BIG shout-out to Albert Carr of Louisville, Kentucky. When he was stricken with high-blood pressure that caused him to collapse, injuring his neck and dental work, he was told he might not survive.

BUT NOW, he has not only surviving but is THRIVING, going to the Rehab Center once a week and living a full life. He is close to walking again, able to walk a few steps, such as taking a trip to the kitchen, for example, and he exercises, performing different hand and finger exercises, not to mention getting on the bike and workin’ those legs. Gang, I think he has decided to GET BUSY LIVIN’. If you see Albert Carr in your neck of the woods, treat him with respect. HE’S EARNED IT!!!!!!!!!!

 

And JUST WHEN WE WERE HOPING THAT WE’D GET TO SOME FOOTBALL (y’know, oval shape, made from hog intestines, the ones you throw for the Flutie Miracle or the one you recover for a fumble at The Miracle at the Meadowlands or Franco Harris returned for a miraculous TD when it bounced off Gil’s hairdo, Kaz’s earring, Marty’s butt, and Tiki’s sister) , we’re given 1/3 of the output. Thorpuverse, let me spell this one out.

A referee with crackless pants (we’re assuming, the jury’s still out since we’re stuck with a side shot and can posit nothing positive) that he bought from Rural King, Marty sipping from his Ensure Rockin’ Raspberry while keeping his potty mouth in check (again assuming) , and a Jefferson punt returner (see the other two bracketed comments) doing the Charleston IS REALLY NOT FOOTBALL. I could transmogrify this in the middle of a L’il Lotta comic book and I’m wondering how many people I could dupe.

“I’ll show you, you fat-mouthed piece of horse-dung bully that you can’t beat up my dad when he’s coming home from the factory after 4 hours of over-Sorry, Coach, next time I’ll use the Port-o-Let behind Team Bus #12. I still didn’t fumble it and you have to admit my fair catch signal would have won an Oscar.” “Very valiant to admit that you let the team down when you didn’t address your bladder problems in a timely fashion. But we have excellent field position so no harm-I’m sorry, L’il Lotta, L’il Dot can’t come out to play. She’s in bed with the mumps after too much Livercheese ‘n’ Fries at The Bucket. She can’t even chew on a Bucket Slushee Icee Mocha ‘n’ Melon. Have you tried Richie Rich? I heard he got another $100,000,000 and he didn’t even have to call 1-FON-TH-Hey, George, didn’t you  read the Point of Emphasis in the rule book this year? The committee was coming down hard on derrieres in the open field. You might get a Letter of Reprimand-and the next time you try to shove a Twinkie up my dad’s butt or his uneaten BLT for that matter, you scumbagloserwormeatingtoadswallowingRichieRichstoogeflunky, I’ll stick your face in Marty Moon’s cup and you’ll know first-hand what Ensure High Life tastes-Burn, baby, burn/Disco Inferno/ Burn, baby, burn/Burn this mother down…”

Well, I think you get my point. No sense in saying that the Jefferson Fair Catch Caller was not doing any Texas Two-Step with himself or that Richie Rich bought into a share of The Milford Enquirer. Let bygones be bygones.

 

 

“If your farm animals have been injured in an accident, call The Shark today at 1-FON-THE-JAWS. Get the money you deserve.”

Mr. Green Jeans: “My chick-a-dees were attacked by a Rottweiler after the hunter was out in the Milford Fish & Wildlife area hunting moose. The Rottweiler was documented as being dyslyexic. (Holds up 100^100=Googol check) . Thank you, Shark.”

Farmer in the Dell: “My lead rooster, Foghorn Leghorn, was shot up several times after Elmer Fudd missed Dumbo. Found out later on that Elmer Fudd didn’t have his Winchester legally registered.  Mr. Leghorn survived after Garfield fed him several bowls of lasagna. And I received this (Check worth a generous Powerball ticket from the Milford Lottery) . Thanks, Shark.”

Insurance companies are working hard to protect their losses. Don’t let them clean you out of house and barn. If Mr. Ed gets herpes because the FedEx man failed to properly seal the hay, call The Shark today. Easy to remember, 1-FON-THE-JAWS. One call, that’s all.

 

No, really, Alanis Morissette is helping me to bring sanity to this plot. Or I’d go insane. Alanis, you rock like you have for eons. Let ‘er rip.

 

If it wasn’t for your immaturity/none of this would have happened

If you’d watched movies with a logical sequence/we might have a decent storyline

I know you like to ramble/and steer this concept ’til it gets too goofy

Just get it to basketball/and I doubt anyone will do any snooping

 

Ooooooooo, this could get messy

But you evidently don’t seem to mind

Ooooooooo, don’t go tellin’ everybody

And tell Gil and Kaz about this supposed crime

 

We’ll fast-forward to some two months later

No one knows save the readership

And I have tried to honor the demands for reason

And you’ve washed your hands of this shit

 

 

A passenger is holding his nose.

“Ooooooooooooeeeeeeeee!!!! Marty, you need to take this buggy through the Milford Soak ‘n’ Suds. How many skunks did you run over on the way to the County Fair?”

Later, that evening

“Peaches, I told you bathing the mini-bus in Febreze on my lunch break was a horrible idea!!!!!!!!!!!! And I still itch on top of that!!!!!!!!! I’ll never take another shortcut through the Milford Wildlife Plot between Milford Wal-Mart and Milford Target!!!!!!

Thanks to Cyndi Smith from Louisville, Kentucky for helping me with the comedy idea. You make the place a better place to live. You’ve overcome a lot to get to where you are. You have a great sense of humor and you treat people with TONS of respect. Treat HER with respect, gang. She’s earned it.

 

I like how you depend on me/to kick the ball and not forfeit away a win

I’m happy how you sexualize me/I’m the boss and say it with a Cheshire Grin

One day Gil will shout he owes it all to me/and award me half his teacher retirement

If I keep a firm body and watch that weight/I can be a supple Milford fireman

 

Ooooooooooo, this could get sucky

But youuuuuu don’t seem to mind

Ooooooooooo, don’t go tellin’ everybody

And slip a news tip to Marty about this supposed crime

 

We’ll fast-forward to a few months later

And we’ll plop into girls basketball

And I have tried to honor pleas for common sense

And you’ve washed your hands of this folderol

 

Gene, ya gotta help us. Please tell us Match Game 2018 is here to the rescue from all this malarkey.

Dumb Dora was SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO dumb (HOW   DUMB   WAS  SHE???????), She thought a Fair Catch was when a football player grabbed his ______________ when he celebrated the winning TD catch.

 

Take ‘er away, gang. I’m going to the Milford Dance Studio to learn Polka/Disco step the Fair Catch dude is executing in P3. By the time they’re done with me, I’ll be at Studio 54 a la John Travolta tripping the night fantastic to a “Saturday Night Fever” melange,  accompanied by an accordion. Sexy.

 

THE GRAND FINALE

Tiki, Tiki’s sister, Joe, his nameless friends who tag along like Lassie pursuing Timmy, ALL accompanying Alanis on the refrain

WE’LL FAST FORWARD TO THIS BALLGAME NEXT DAY

AND I AM DOUBTING THINGS WILL CHANGE THAT MUCH

AND I HAVE HONORED CRIES FOR OUTRIGHT SANITY

AND YOU’VE WASHED YOUR HANDS FROM GIL’S CRUD

October 8, 2018

Excuse Me? I’m Marginal Mike Filion Now?

Filed under: actual action, football, Pantheon of Hair — nedryerson @ 6:36 am

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Mike Filion has to do a lot of scutwork in Milford. He’s the quarterback who Gil’s stuck with because unicorns like True “Not Tru” Standish only wander into Milford once in a century. He gave Kaz a lead on Joe Bolek, but there’s no sense of urgency to do anything right away. So Marginal Mike Filion gets to punt this week.

Joe Bolek and his film club decide to swing by and see if Joe might deign to consider punting for the Mudlarks. Will he or won’t he? We’re on the edge of our seats.

Joe and his entourage are really getting on my nerves, especially from a hair standpoint. That one guy or girl has the Slim Chance/Dafne Dafonte/Kevin Pelwecki hair strands which I’d be happy to never see again. Joe’s hair isn’t consistent. I think at some point last week while Kaz was looking for a punter, Joe and Marginal Mike’s hair got switched around. Let’s not even talk about coloring.

What’s up with the dude sitting in front of Bolek and friends? He’s aggressively splayed out all over the bleachers while Joe’s crew also seem to be encroaching on the seats in front of them with their feet. It looks like somebody wants to start something here. We could use a good brawl. I’ll bet Mr. Man Spreader could hold his own against Joe & The Film Crew.

October 6, 2018

Milford is up Shit Creek

Filed under: actual action, football, Gil Thorp, Just plain sad, Marty Moon, Milford Idiots — robmize2013 @ 3:43 pm

First of all – sorry for my delinquincy yesterday– combination of busy day and lack of motivation to do this storyline.. but I’m back today so here goes.

So here’s what we have so far:

  1. Tiki Jansen transfered from another school, played cornerback the first game, and is now the new safety, replacing ..?
  2. Sam Finn is the best punter but they cant find another long snapper so he’s it.
  3. Freddy Malouf was the punter the first game and is out, replaced by #4.
  4.  Mike Filion, who is also the starting QB and will give punting a try.
  5.  Joe Bolek, former competent punter somewhere who doesnt want to play but may try.

And we’re only in Week 2!!

So we may possibly have 3 different guys punt in 3 games, if Fillion is bad and Bolek suits up next week. And Punter # 4 would be Finn in Week 4; at this rate the game would be in November.

Anyone else roaming the hallways they can ask? Good God almighty. Its so laughable it makes me cry. They might as well put a huge sign on the wall:

WANTED: PUNTER> NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY. APPLY ANYWHERE OUTSIDE A CLASSROOM. DEADLINE: CHRISMAS.

Holy crap.

All this time Finn is the guy to do it but the dildos cant find another long snapper! Jesus, have the damn regular center snap during practice and you’re good to go. How much time are we gonna spend on this assinine situation? What the hell are they doing during practice? We already broached the idea of a soccer player helping out but its fallen on deaf ears. 3 morons sit in front of a computer and marvel at the new ‘software’ but they dont have a damn brain between them!

I’m figuring the final answer is, yep, Tiki Jansen. But god the taffy pull to get to it. 5 punters in 1 season! And they have so many other issues besides this one. If theyre anywhere near a solid team, the punter wouldnt matter much anyway.

To the strip: Love how Jansen the new safety is playing 50 yards behind everyone else. I guess Gil said defend the goal line no matter where everyone else is. Doh.

Another idea if Fillion is half decent at punting is trying a quick kick from the regular formation once in a while when theyre in 3rd and very long. But no way do they think of that one. It actually works most of the time because nobodys back that far on defense for the kick if theyre playing a normal dime.

I’m going out on a limb and saying Milford will have more punters then victories this year. Any takers?

 

 

 

September 25, 2018

And Gil Screams Eiffel Tower High

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

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

 

Walking toward the football field

He surely knows where to go

He slaps on his ‘phones

And puts on a show

Feasting on Gil’s fecklessness

And reckless leadership

And that Gil don’t give a shit.

 

He struts into the broadcast booth

He’s been there ever since

He strolls down to concessions

For a box of Junior Mints

Whooooaaaaaaa

Talking ’bout the game at hand

Thrashing Coach Thorp into sand

We’ll shout at Moon and demand

Try to get his attention

Scream at him

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

 

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream MARTY EIFFEL TOWER HIGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

“Nooooooooooooo.”

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

“Nooooooooooooo.”

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

“I have something else that’s free.”

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

“Nope. Time’s up. Ta-daaaaaaaaaaa”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because we might have run out of ammo?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Caribou and crocs in the same refuge?”

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

“Honey, you don’t KNOW any Chinese.”

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

“Isn’t the last one Japanese?”

Ignoring last slight, clinging desperately to his sexual barrenness

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

One last stab

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

Coach Shaw looks up.

His wife is smiling in victory.

 

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

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

 

In Gil’s Living Room Decor

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

“How’d you know, Gil?”

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

September 24, 2018

Creatively Blocked

Filed under: actual action, football, Marty Moon — nedryerson @ 6:21 am

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It’s fun to dump on Marty Moon. His sippy cup is full of bottom shelf vermouth. He’s sealed up in a crate, imagining that the cockroaches crawling around him are playing football. His headset is assembled from odds and ends scrounged from the kitchenware area of Goodwill. His lifetime batting average of successful sick burns on Gil is .002, but I’m going to have to give him a small win today. Gil’s whole approach to the punt team is a disaster. Sure, things go wrong even with the best personnel, but Gil is just throwing crap at the wall to see what sticks during the game. Hey Weibe, you just scored a touchdown. Congrats, you’re the new long snapper. What are you doing Gil? Maybe that game video software that was hinted at earlier is so much fun to play around with that the whole coaching staff forgot to sort out the depth chart during practices. Wait, practices? Oh yeahhhh.

Never fear, everything will come up roses for Gil. Look! A miraculous play on the other side of the ball on special teams. Tiki Jansen, proud driver of a 2000 Breeze, blocks a field goal attempt. There’s no way to know how he got through or around the Oakwood line. He just did, okay?

eta billytheskink pointed out a similarity between Tiki’s dive and a cut scene from Tecmo Super Bowl. I think this is what he’s referring to:
blocked

I only played the first Tecmo Bowl game, and I was bad at it so I ended up mostly watching others play. I don’t think there were insert shots like this in that game.

September 22, 2018

Don’t Look So Excited, Jason

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Jason looks as though he’d rather be keeping wicket for the Croydon Gentlemen as Kaz readies him to go over the top, then under the bus.  If this is the same Jason (Weibe) who just scored a touchdown on the last drive, why put one of your offensive weapons at risk like that?  I get that he’s a tight end and, unlike Heather Burns, probably has enough size to hold his own on the line, but still: we’ve seen no exposition that he’s practiced at the position.  How many elbows does Kaz have to get his arm around Jason’s shoulder like that?

Speaking of the anatomically implausible, is Sam Finn rolling on his own ankle as he reaches for the felt electric football?   That’ll set up a Weibe-to-Malouf punting combo even more disastrous than the last two.  There are obvious answers here, first being have the Mudlarks’ regular center snap the ball directly to Sam, who can take a two-step drop and and quick-kick.  If Milford operates out of the shotgun from time to time, the center should be used to snapping the ball a greater distance than a conventional snap, which would give Sam even more room for a quick-kick.

This will give Marty, now sporting cupcake liners in his headset, prime fodder for his postgame show.  How could Gil, Kaz, Steve & co. put such an ill-prepared special teams unit on the field?  Did they spend too much time on baseball?

metapost: The slow-motion disaster post-Hurricane Florence continues to unfold in Bakst country.  We no longer get a bonfire in Milford, but down there is a bonfire that’s having its own share of troubles.  Again, if any of you TWIMers were in the path of Florence and are dealing with the aftermath, holler at us and let us know you’re alright.

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