Who Have, Mimi, Who Have…

To Rob’s point yesterday, this is perhaps some of the most digressive panel wastage yet.

Questionable point: Is the Chief messing with me? Very difficult to faithfully crop today’s image without a single corner…

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Muff Big or Go Home

There’s been a lot of turmoil along Tobacco Road this past week, pretty much none of it good. You’d think the syndicate color monkeys would’ve had the decency not to add to it yesterday by rendering True’s Wake t-shirt in UNC colors.

That said, I can appreciate Eight Elbows’ efforts to bring this wacky subplot to an end by having Milford’s Goldenest Child dash Jaquan’s far-fetched hopes to make the switch from pro basketball to pro football at age 30. I don’t even mind Trey’s little spaz dance there at the end.  However, I have no clue why Gil brought Mimi out to watch this spectacle, unless watching all those hot sweaty mens would put her in the mood for more than just sipping cocktails back at Casa Thorp.

There’s No Veering in Baseball!

Well that whole journalism thing was awkward, wasn’t it?  Made me feel stupid for thinking there might be some point to it.  Let’s get back to what this strip does best: putting Milford’s girls in the orbit of Milford’s boys. After all, boys won’t watch girls play unless they’re interested in one of the players but girls will watch the boys play just because, amirite?

So to wrap the spring* plot up we’re gonna see if Ryan has indeed practiced his anger management after he gets another bad call from a crappy Valley ump and his teammates flub away a lead on him.  Marty’s mom has told him to take out the trash, so he quickly makes the Mudlarks a Fielding Three and rolls a 14 for the Tilden batter.  As with most Gil Thorp arcs, all of this would come off as a lot less contrived if the plot had been better paced. Then again, the phrase “it’s a marathon, not a sprint” is probably wasted on someone who holds track and field in such contempt.

*Feels funny calling it that in the middle of July, doesn’t it?

That’s “Dafne.” “Hello” is my kitty’s name.

I will refrain from falling back on my go-to “Who saw that coming?” from Black Dynamite except to say, well, I saw that coming.

Now that that’s out of the way, hey, sports! Well, sorta. Not only did laissez-faire Mimi let Daffy back onto the field after that fiasco, she let her take infield. Some of the other Lady Mudlarks must have run off from practice after being distracted by something or other.

I notice Drafty has a soccer ball in her room. Maybe Heather Burns left it behind for her. Anyhoo, while we await a week of hand-waving at Milford losses and Dafonte’s print mea culpa, we can at least have fun speculating on what misogynistic fun and games await us for the next eight weeks thereafter.

 

Blooper Reel

Daftpunk can’t run her precious little hit piece on Ryan, so she quits the school paper.  Ryan gets rattled when Central girls troll him about an event that (according to his parents) wasn’t all that, so he loses his mojo and quits on the mound. Now the rest of the Milford baseball team quits all around him and the season goes down the crapper. Gil’s quit on his team too: relying on hope and working on his grilling technique, he could give two shits about the rest of the season. Yo Gil, out here in the real world, winners eat steaks, losers eat franks and beans. (By the way, what the hell is Gil wearing on his wrist? Is he talking to Dick Tracy on that thing? Maybe he’s talking with that talking baseball with EES in P1. And what the complete hell is with his hand with integrated spatula?)

Even the color monkeys phoned it in on this one: they didn’t color the Jefferson player or whatever it is Mimi’s got in that pitcher (and don’t tell me it’s straight Everclear). I’m beginning to get the idea that the Whigrub brain trust has run out of ideas on how to wrap this arc up; not saying they’ve quit on it yet, but it’s starting to feel that way.

I’ve been on the road all day to Bakst country and just arrived only a few minutes ago.  I almost quit on this post for today, so I hope you’ll forgive me for its brusque nature.

 

Misadventures In Plot Advancement

Man, our bespectacled Dafne summoner is about as useful as Rubin when it comes to advancing the plot. At least we got a score. Do you suppose any of the kids on the Central team know what’s going on?

Bonus point: As pointed out in the comments, it is awesome that the Valley Conference is old school and uses wooden bats.

So, I Took A Little Vacation From The Blog…

May 30, 2017

And this is what I come back to… Nothing wrong with the first two panels of Tuesday’s strip and I even get a kick out of The Bucket supporting the baseball team, confident in the knowledge that they”ll more than make back their advertising spend through increased sales of milkshakes and french fries. But, boy howdy we swerve back to the Volcano hit a girl plotline and I got just about nothing.

May 31, 2017

I am trying to imagine that part of Ryan’s shock is coming not from the sign, which looks about a third the width of the one they were holding in panel three of Tuesday’s strip, but also the incessant clacking and clanging of those bracelets.

Chill, ‘Cane! You still got the W

Having been yanked from the game by Gil, Ryan Van Auken looks startled as he trudges into the Milford dugout.  And no wonder: judging from the motion lines Whigham drew in, Ryan’s glove arced over his left shoulder before hitting the back of the bench in front of him.  He must have thrown that shit before he walked in the dugout!

Bobby Mitchell (not the one who integrated the Redskins) earns the save when a levitating Barry Bader wills the ball to rise vertically into his outstretched glove.  Awful nice of Gil to put stripes down the sides of the Mudlark unis; gives Barry a way to relate to his old man. But what is that leaf-like object hovering over Barry’s rear end?  An actual tobacco leaf?  An indicator of his preferred kinks?  Or something else?  Talk amongst yourselves.