This Week in Milford

June 19, 2019

Is Tanking in the Playdowns TCFS?

Filed under: actual action, anatomically implausible, exposition comics, Gil Thorp — teenchy @ 6:25 am

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Friday is the first day of summer in the Northern Hemisphere, so Rubin has four days to wrap this stinker up. How best to do it? By having the Lady Mudlarks lose in the opening round of the playdowns to a supposedly inferior opponent, apparently. That Black Sox analogy from a couple of weeks ago doesn’t seem so far off now.

The Milford ladies’ undoing begins in the form of a botched double play, or at least it looks like a botched double play. We have to assume that Linda threw the ball on to Carla, otherwise how would Carla muff a flip to Linda? I guess it’s better to muff a throw than to throw a, uh, never mind.

It’s been so long since Whigham has had to draw actual action that it seems he’s forgotten the finer points. For instance, when Molly’s that far into her release, shouldn’t the ball be much farther away from her? Having a player flex on an opponent’s error is bad form, too. If #7 comes back up to bat again, she should get one thrown behind her ear, just sayin’.

No matter. The die has been cast and Gil is mixing up the Long Island iced tea pitcher on the deck as I write.

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June 15, 2019

I Bet No One’s Said That to the Blues or Raptors

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In the real world, this past week saw league championships won by franchises that had never won them before: the NHL’s St. Louis Blues and the NBA’s Toronto Raptors (contrary to popular belief, not named for Brent and Jolene Raptor). I always enjoy seeing first-time champs; I think it’s good for the sports. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been pulling for a Mariners-Nationals World Series for the past fifteen years. Both the Blues and the Raptors won on the road and, while it’s not the same as winning on home ice/court, it didn’t diminish the joy in their respective fan bases.

In the Thorpiverse, it’s not like the fans have been packing the bleachers to watch the Lady Mudlarks rip through the Valley. If anything, the TCFS scandal that wasn’t may have alienated large chunks of the student body. Since we seldom see the stands in any Milford baseball/softball action, it’s hard to say. My guess is that the Lady Mudlarks return to campus to three cheers and a tiger and a big TCFS banner honoring them for winning, for reading Animal Farm, and for passing out spirit buttons to anyone who asks nicely.

Today’s strip doesn’t have the feeling of a story wrap-up, but it does have some foreshadowing in the form of Jocelynn’s twisted ankle as she crosses the plate. Just enough of an injury to get the girls knocked out in the first round of the playdowns but not enough to end the self-congratulation. Maybe Mimi can lord it over Gil this summer; it’s no state championship but it’s the most recent championship either Thorp has brought back to Milford.

metapost, kinda: Mea culpa for getting it wrong earlier this week that Linda was going to David’s to break up with him. I still don’t give them much longer.

May 30, 2019

“Big Brother Is Watching You. And Wants A Button Too.”

Filed under: actual action, Mimi Thorp, softball, TCFS — tdrewhardin @ 1:38 pm

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“I’ll give you $500 to call off the deal or you can find out what’s behind Door #3 that Carol Merrill is standing by.”

“I’ll take what’s behind Door #3.”

“He says he’ll go for Door #3. Carol Merrill, show him what he’s won.”

Johnny Olson, moonlighting from Match Game Mudlarkia, with the call

“It’s a year’s supply of BUTTONS!!!!!!!!!. That’s right, Monty, buttons out of the stovepipe, buttons out of that elephant’s butt that Carol Merrill is riding, it’s raining buttons everywhere. In fact, on your next trip to the Bahamas, the button-powered Cessna will land you safely to the Nassau airpo-”

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sorry, Gang, I just had a nightmare. Maybe that button-shaped Bucket Cheerios and Pepperoni Pan Pizza did the trick. Couldn’t have been the Frosty Root Beer. That’s shaped like a bottle.

And this one is spiraling out of control. What began with hippos as good luck charms changed for the worse into a Button Robber Baron Campaign that only a Rockefeller or a Carnegie could appreciate. I can’t even imagine John Rockefeller selling his share of 3 street blocks of Milford, plus some of his oil shares in Oakwood Oil, Inc., his drilling taking place out on an open field next to Tod Andrews’ property, just to get his hands on a billion TCFJPG (Too cool for J. P. Getty) . I’m guessin’ he’ll leave the John Rockefeller gym alone, y’know, the girls gym at Milford. He figures he’ll get SOME usage out of it this coming season. They can’t go 2 seasons without girls basketball, the script won’t allow it. Besides, he doesn’t want the rims to rot or he’s going to have to order another tax write-off through his accountants.

Believe me, there are enough buttons to share the wealth. I understand Hannibal is coming into town after negotiating his elephants through the Alps. Geez, I heard the route between Milford and New Thayer was dicey but if I have to leave my Freightliner, trailer included, at home and ride an elephant with Gil and Mimi, I’d rather sample the Bucket Prune Juice (made from concentrate).

And General William Rosecrans is also expected to hit Mudlarkland before this evening to earn a button and also a Medal of Honor (same difference, I suppose) after his decisive victory at Stones River. I was told Molly would enough buttons for the members of the Army of the Cumberland.

BTW, General Braxton Bragg declined on behalf of the Army of Tennessee. He telegraphed Molly that the Rebs were not into moral victories.

And how can I forget Murderer’s Row? Babe and the Iron Horse and the rest of the ’27 Yankees without some form of recognition, TCFRS (Too cool for Red Sox) ? The button is the rubber-stamp of their dominance that season, a reminder that you can cheer on The Bambino and still call yourself a Mudlark.

 

 

Did I leave anybody out?

Oh, Heavens no, can’t let the ’19 Black Sox get a button. I already have a TCFBSWCADTC (Too cool for Black Sox who cheat and deserve the chair) securely fastened to my Arrow Sorts Shirt. I’m sending a message.

 

I am VERY reluctant to announce the passing of musician Leon Redbone. I confess that I was not a big fan of his but that doesn’t stop me from admiring his contributions, significant and big. He had a nasally voice that crooned the tunes, his guitar-playing crisply and obediently following along, singing songs mainly from Ragtime, Jazz, and Tin Pan Alley. In fact, he revived those genres in a mighty way after they had been phased out in the late ’50’s and ’60’s with the advent of Rock ‘n’ Roll. He proved you could love Rock ‘n’ Roll AND those styles too (I’m living proof) .

A frequent contributor to Saturday Night Live, and rightfully so, he was 69. I miss you already, Big Guy. Just have that concert ready when I cross the threshold in the sky. I’ll be a ready audience.

 

I’m going to go out on a limb and say that in P1, they are warming up and are employing the old “Pitch and Catch” method. I ruled out Rosenthal’s, he dealt with foreign languages, not buttons and softball. No boomerangs. No frisbees. No frisbee golf. They are in their uniforms not because they work for the State, directing cars to SLOW in a construction zone, but because they are actually preparing for a softball GAME.

Therefore, since ships are no good to ship goods and thereby earn profits if they are safely anchored at Port of Milford, I’m gonna take my S.S. Minnow out for a test drive on Lake Michigan and say those are foul lines they are pitching and catching around. No demilitarized zones anywhere near Milford and I have never know Mudlarkland to straddle the Mason-Dixon Line.

Glad I got THAT conundrum solved. I can concentrate on Squaring the Circle and the Four Colors Problem.

 

If ya wear a button that says TCFIL, or Too cool fer Izod and Lexus, while yuz mall-walkin’ yore bloodhound at Milford Shopping Mall and only stop to let him go wee-wee behind the Milford Chick-Fil-A dumpster, located 50 feet behind the Food Court sign, ya might be a redneck.

 

And you’d think that our anti-heroes, the ones who are dragging down the word TEAM into a pile of doggy doo doo that Luhm amassed from the softball outfield grass would get their comeuppance and learn from their loss the other day. If anything, they’re proving resoundingly that there is an ‘I’ in the word “selfish”.

I can hear Stengal now: “Doesn’t anybody around here want to play this game?????”

Mimi really ought to be asking the question but she’s too busy playing 20 questions in P3. Is being too cool for 20 questions bigger than a bread box? I’ll go check Roget. He oughta know that and the answer to a clue in the New York Times Crossword I am alternating between that and the Concordat at Milford presently being ironed out in P2. A supplement to the Adams-Onis Treaty, Napoleon can have Idaho back in the Louisiana Territory, Jacksonville can be a French Colony including the guillotines to deter rebellions to his rule and, oh, can wear a button, TCFB (Too cool for Bismarck) . Ah, the compromises humans must go through for peace at any price.

Spain, BTW, can still have the Okefonokee Swamp. Last minute addition to the deal.

 

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Mitch Miller Singers Guitarist Sent To Milford General After Accident At Milford Amphitheater!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Throws out back after attempting Townshend Windmill maneuver on the song ‘Tuxedo Junction’. Out for 8 weeks on Tour.”

We come to P3. I THINK Mimi is trying to go the Foghorn Leghorn route, engineering a funny, hoping the ladies will get the hint and flush their TCFO (Too cool for outhouses) buttons down the toilets at the Milford Softball Complex facility.

The strategy of choice is, I’m presuming, Orwell’s Animal Farm. Y’know, get rid of the drunk farmer and let the animals run the asylum. But they gotta do it as a team, utilizing the motto “Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad, One Plot Pathetic”, or something to that effect. And I’d even play along with this odd attempt to inspire and motivate her players were she not standing in front of one of the worst-designed backstops I have ever seen since P. K. Wrigley sold the Cubs (Don’t hate me Robmize, I was trying to hold back, the A & W chili dog forced it forward) .

If I have to fire up the troops in a Salvador Dali lookalike painting, my career as a coach will go the way of the dinosaur. But at least there are drawings of them in caves somewhere. My career wouldn’t survive the rough draft.

I am really honestly trying to figure out if the backstop is FOLDED IN or concave or FOLDED OUT or convex. You really need to figure this out before First Pitch as you really don’t want to send your players out of the dugout on the wrong side of the ledger. It’s bad enough that Mimi is still NOT TAKING CHARGE and resorting to leatherbound editions of The Classics as a text for her Gipper speech but speculating where the infield is located might send things over the edge.

“Hey, coach, some vandals moved the outfield to Diamond #3.”

And a late throw-in, judging from Mimi’s attire, MTV logo included, we now know the kind of women that populate the planet the Kanamits live on. They could save the trouble of UN Peace Conferences and just send a few of these Mimi Models out of the spaceship at strategic locations, i.e., malls, bars, NFL Monday Night games, Garth Brooks concerts, etc. Guarantee they’d have a menu by the end of the week.

 

 

“And that wraps up another loss for the Lady Mudlarks. Coach Mimi Thorp, your Father Flanagan approach isn’t working. We’ll be back to wrap things up in a moment, with the final score, Madison, 3, Milford, 2. This is Madty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

As Mimi does a swan dive on the bed in her negligee, she awaits her unsuspecting victim.

Gil enters. He is still reading about Stephen Curry in The Sporting News while still brushing his teeth.

SPLAT

“Gil, enough on the Golden State Warriors. Time to take charge of me.”

“Mimi, he got game. I was enjoying the part where he basically took apart Portland single-handedly.”

“Speaking of taking apart-”

And then I was going to read the team-by-team breakdown of each team’s chances of making the Super Bowl. They say Mayfield may lead tbe Browns while Roethlisburger is still nursing his left testicle and is questionable-”

“Gil, come to-”

“After breaking down the Chargers’ chances, I want to read that article on Hank Iba. I didn’t know his brother was a transvestite. Man, TSN is REAL thorough in their research.”

“Gil, to bed, pl-”

“Then the Yankees are talking trade again. Andy Pettite for Hack Wilson and ol’ Hoss Radbourn. I knew they needed right-handed power-”

“Gil, aren’t some of those players from the past, say, Dead Ball Era.”

“Honey, I just read them, I don’t bother to look it up. That’s what Statistical Abstract is for. When they pay me to do a piece on Christy Mathewson’s Polled Heifer collection, I’ll be the first in the barn”

“Gil, are you having erectile issues again?”

“Mimi, if you think I’d stoop low, literally and figuratively, for a Hereford-”

“Gil, I mean NOW.”

Mr. Horse makes a cameo appearance and pulls the front of Gil’s pajama bottom

“Hmmmmmm. Nope, I don’t think I see it.”

 

“Face it, when you have to resort to Mr. Ed to address your erectile issues, it is time to renew your focus and head to Milford Men’s Clinic. I regained my sex drive, i finished that article on Polled Herefords and Mr. Ed is back in his stall. Now, if only my wife would take charge herself. Oh, well, 2 out of 3 isn’t bad, or, oops, ah well, close enough, we’re playing horseshoes. And be as erect as one today. Only at Milford Men’s Clinic.”

 

Gang, the phone issues are out to get me again. I apologize and truly appreciate your patience. Your readership is NEVER taken for granted.

 

“Ed, can I borrow one of your magazines again? I have a date tonight and I want to be ready.”

“Sure, Wiiilllll-bur. Look under the 2nd bale of hay on the right. Erectile issues again, Wiillll-bur?”

 

“I don’t know if Infield Fly applies on Convex Fields, Coach. It’s still under review.”

 

 

 

 

May 23, 2019

Chef Gil, This Plot Has Been Chopped

Filed under: actual action, Just plain sad, Madison Time, softball, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 12:37 am

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You’re kidding, right? It’s this much of a no-brainer, kinda like someone handing you a $100,000 check when you’re leaving Milford Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market to take your groceries to the car. No strings attached??? Just don’t forget to sign your John Henry on the back when you cash it at Milford Federal.

Still doing a mental background check on the person the implementer of such largesse, well, gee, duh, if you’re caught up in “Tippicanoe and Gil Thorp too” buttons, worried more how they’ll play on the free market than THE ACTUAL GAME ITSELF, isn’t that another way of saying YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW???? Yeah, it’s rocket science when you forget “There’s no ‘I’ in the word ‘team'”. We gotta go back to kindergarten to figure that out????? Linda, right now, I wouldn’t give you a scholarship on Romper Room’s intramural team.

 

“Coach, since you’re not going to do much coaching until, say August, loosely speaking, you understand, do you mind if I take a vacation?”

“No, Coach Boone, you only show up around the Playdowns anyway. To paraphrase Dylan, you just want to be on the side that’s winning.”

“Coach, that’s not entirely fair. I watched you work with your kids the entire afternoon practicing their putts at Milford Golf Course because you got tired of maxing your credit card at Putt Putt by teaching them how to negotiate the windmill. It was as exciting as watching paint dry teaching them how to avoid a bogey on par 5 dog leg left Shoot Through The Bazooka pin, but the cashier at Putt Putt was proud. Little victories in everything.”

“Oh, Hell, Boone, take the whole summer. If you can’t handle having to endure physical activity for long stretches at a time, take your candy ass to Wheel of Fortune for all I care. Win a trip to Bahamas and get lost.”

 

The trip to “Worst Cooks In America” is getting off to a resounding start, doncha think??? Hope Coach Boone brought his ‘A’ game.

 

How’ bout dippin’ into the ’80’s for a little Talk Talk?

Funny how the crowd observes my every move

I walk with lack of privacy at school

I wish I’d never paid 39 pennies

For the El Dorado

 

They just drool

 

I ask myself

Can I make it to a stall

 

 

It’s my badge

Don’t you forget it

It’s my badge

You touch, you’ll regret it

 

I like how timbuys mentions “just plain sad”. What other scenario can be drawn from today, especially P1? Gang, do what you want but I ain’t touchin’ P1 with a 10-foot pole. She is puttin’ on a clinic. Good arm extension, hip rotation, eye on the ball, level swing, ball poppin’ off the bat at a good angle. Guarantee it, Walt Hriniak is taking notes and he didn’t do that often.

But do we have to learn from The Joker about how to swing a bat because Batman was out in the Batmobile too long???? Yeah, it is, indeed, just plain sad when this clinic is coming from the other team. F— you, Mudlarks, and quit pullin’ your head when you swing. Correct me if I’m wrong Thorpiverse old-timers, especially from the Berrill era, but wasn’t some of the tips we’d see flashed on the screen not only educational and an added bonus, it actually came out of GIL’S MOUTH???? I know I’m not going to Tod Andrews’ Oakwood Baseball Summer Camp Junior High Division to learn how to use 2 hands and squeeze when you catch the ball.

The Philistines are teaching the Israelites how to Punt, Pass, and Kick.

 

Then there’s P2. What can ANYONE say????? It is going 180 degrees away from P1. Just about ANYTHING that’s right in P1 is wrong in P2. Players with heads up their asses, putting their own selfish agenda before what’s going on  the field. How can I mention fielding technique? I had a saying when I was coaching Babe Ruth League Baseball, “What do you tell the player who knows everything? Nothing.” In P2, rest my case.

 

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“USF Holland Semi Collides With TCFS VW Company Van!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Miraculously, no one was injured. Semi on the way to The Bucket to deliver guacamole chips.”

 

“Coach Boone is pulling the chips out of the oven-he forgot to add KC Master Bar-B-Q sauce to the recipe. You have 10 minutes on the clock, Coach.”

 

“So Coach, what are you making, if I may so ask?”

“I’m serving up a Guacamole Chicken Salad Tostada en los Frijoles Morenos y una Copa del Vino Merlot Fresco serving for 8 people. This has to be seasoned just right, especially when I lay the Grippo’s on the sheet pans.”

“Absolutely. I noticed you’re using Bar-B-Q chips. Aren’t you a little concerned that the judges might have Grippo’s breath for days?”

“Way ahead of you. I solved that problem watching ‘Trisha’s Southern Kitchen’ one night. She doused a pint of chocolate cherry liqueuer all over the Baked Chicken Gumbo, Sauteed in Nabisco Cheese Nips .I understand Trisha only needed a half a pack of Certs when she performed with Garth for a Nashville charity event.

 

If ya burned the guacamole chips and sneak out the back down to Piggly Wiggly, buy out the store of Golden Flake Cheddar ‘n’ Sour Cream Potato Chips, stick ’em in the bed of yore pick-up, lay the tarp over ’em so the judges don’t notice when they’re on a smoke break, then smuggle ’em to the cupboard on a commercial break, ironically enough Lay’s Vinegar Chips one of the sponsors, ya might be a redneck.

 

Being stalked by everyone

Green with envy

Can’t even approach the water fountain

 

Need a hall pass to Chem or French

Econ field trips are simply out

 

What a mountain

 

I ask myself

Can I buy a Twinkie from the cafeteria

 

 

 

 

 

It’s my badge

Don’t you forget it

It’s my badge

You just don’t get it

 

After coaching the linebackers for 2 strips while Gil is off another Big Adventure, Coach Boone returns for prep time.

“Okay (flush) , I put the guacamole sauce in the microwave. While that’s sizzling, I will get the chicken ready. (To himself) Goddammit, I told KFC I wanted white meat this time. (To the audience) Fortunately, I have a glass bowl ready, sitting by the Cocoa Pebbles, whattya know. I dump the chicken strips in the bowl, add a pinch of paprika, a pinch of cilantro, add a tablespoon of raspberry red, half a teaspoon of orange orange, and a quarter cup of green clovers and a half cup of yellow moons.”

“Coach, you think Lucky Charms will mix evenly in the bowl with Green Onion Grippo’s Chips.”

“I had to try something. I’ve already used Grippo’s Bar-B-Q Chips for my other secret recipe. Besides, it’s no different than making a free safety whose family is from Laos line up with the outside linebacker whose dad’s a hog farmer. They talk out their differences and BOOM BABY!!!!!!!! Next thing you know, we stop the tailback at the line of scrimmage. Friends For Life do that.”

“Just don’t forget to add Contadina Tomato Paste so the flavors don’t overwhelm. And some Lysol. The yellow moons got a little chewy when I sampled the product.”

“Thank you, judges. And I’ll add a few drops of iodine so that the acid-base reading is close to ‘7’ as possible.”

 

Then P3 is the culmination of the failed “Keep Cool with Cool Buttons” campaign. Yeah, I reckon you need to call the whole damn nation/keep the tailgate down with your glove if you don’t want another “Dewey Defeats Truman!!!!!! moment at the Mudlark Softball Complex.

Madison is just simply dancing in front of the Mudlark dugout, doing their best Travolta rendition, complete with disco ball. The spotlight is going back on the team bus with the rest of the Philistines. Lady Mudlarks, you’ve been chopped.

 

“Coach, I don’t understand. Weren’t you going to add guacamole chips to your dish?”

“NO!!!!!! Those were the appetizers to hold down the fort while I work through this. Kroger ran out of store-brand Restaurant Chips. I want this Guacamole Chicken Salad to be just right. The soy sauce clicked with the blue diamonds so CYA in that regard. But I got some Dorito’s Cool Ranch under the sink in case I gotta go to Plan B.”

 

Ooooooookkkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is back to help skewer this plot. Take ‘er away, Gene.

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooo dumb  (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she wore a button that said ‘Too Cool for ________________'”.

 

“Coach, you ARE aware you have 5 minutes?”

“And your point is?

“The Guacamole Chicken Salad Tostada en los Frijoles Morenos y una Copa del Vino Merlot Fresco looks a little overdone. I can see au gratin potato stains all over the green clovers. And I’ve seen better cooked chicken at Mel’s Diner. I’m not sure Alice would even eat that Waffle House in Paradise.”

“HA!!!!!!!! That’s where I’ve got you judges where I want you!!!!! I want you to THINK I’m burning the merchandise but not only am I going to marinade it now, but the slight sizzle, or overcooked as you say, will bring out all the flavors, especially all the anise. The Trix portion of the dish won’t know what hit it. Honey Nut Cheerios pieces and Kroger Restaurant Chips simmering in a cream cheese marinade sauce? Like to see Thorp do better. He can barely marinade water.”

“All right, we’ll see what happens. You’re the cook. I just hope you come through with the Chocolate S’mores and Louisiana Lightning Sauce mixture that you highly bragged about.”

 

I snuck into the dugout gate

With my Holy Grail

Locked in the gym bag, best know the combination

 

Only “All The Way With LBJ”

Stopped TCFS hardware

 

From world domination

 

 

Convince myself

Mussolini ran campaigns better

 

 

This is my badge

Don’t you forget it

This is my badge

You can’t even pet it

 

This is my badge…

 

As Gil rides off into the sunset with one of the ostriches, rumor has it thst he was at the Savannah Section of Milford Nature Area

 

“Chef Boone, congratulations, you have earned the distinction Worst Cook in America. I wouldn’t feed this concoction to starving children in China, let alone on my block. The chicken was chewier than a Nerfball, the lemon juice was overbearing with the Cocoa Puffs, and don’t even go there with the guacamole chips. I could buy better chips from a street vendor who sells chili dogs at lunch.”

“I’m just getting Lay’s Potato Chips and KFC  Breast Dark Meat and maybe the mashed taters in the pee cup that comes with the chicken. You sure you didn’t take a urine sample yourself in this slop?  I’d be drug-testing you for stupidity at my restaurant right now. How you can have the audacity to mix Chic-Lets and oregano just so you can spice up your dish is more than a travesty. And the raspberry red was undercooked. Don’t quit your day job.”

“Chef Boone, or maybe just Mr. Boone, since you can’t coach or cook. Why in the world are you using Arm & Hammer Baking Soda after you take it out of the oven? You needed to mix it in to give the chips a more even texture. your chicken was raw and the substitute Tater Tots ‘n’ Vine Ripe Tomatoes that you got from your grandfather’s recipe didn’t really replace the guacamole chips you ran out of. Ever heard of Pam? Chef Boone, you’ve been chopped, I’ll save the trouble before the commercial break.”

 

“Thank you, judges.”

 

“HUGE HUGE shout-out to the staff in 5 Core Unit of the Intensive Care Unit at University of Louisville Hospital. They have waited on me hand and foot during my stay here and have done it with a “Service with a Smile” atmosphere. It would not be fair to name names, since there were many of them and the beauty is, many would rather not be mentioned anyway. Classic unsung heroes. You factor in the Medical Team that has stayed with me patiently throughout my recovery and you have a recipe for success. I can see why my nephew, a medical doctor himself, highly recommends them. A big THANK YOU is in order to these people who make a difference in our lives.

 

Comment away, Gang. No, I’m not getting autographs from the Madison players. I won’t go that far.

 

“What can I say? I need to use more Pam and canola oil next time. I appreciate the judges’ honesty as they’re only trying to make me better. I’ve chewed out a nose guard for not wrapping a guy when he’s tackling him. It’s all in the execution.”

 

“You callin’ me a candy ass???? Shoot, you couldn’t ride an ostrich through the Picnic Area!!!!!”

May 22, 2019

Land of the Free, Home of the Mud

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Two high school girls power tripping on who they get to include and exclude from their clique? One high school girl practically begging to be let into their clique then getting pissy when they don’t let her? Riveting reading!

Just you wait: Linda will have her revenge! She’s gonna tank the season for the Lady Mudlarks. Kind of ironic given that we’re coming up on the centennial of the Black Sox scandal.  Staring into the bleachers is her prearranged signal to Arnold Rothstein that the fix is in (or is it switching her glove from her right to her left hand?). Pity she didn’t time that a little better; that sharply hit ground ball off her toe is gonna ruin her meal ticket out of this tank town.

Without that volleyball scholly to fall back on, Linda will be doomed to stay in Milford and stew about things that happened to her in high school for the rest of her life. Maybe she can spit in the brisket when she’s waiting the mean girls’ tables at Bob’s BBQ.

A rare glimpse of the Milford mascot atop the scoreboard there. Let’s blow it up so we can get a better look.

homeofthemud

More like a turkey than a lark, the better to fit this plot.

May 15, 2019

If Everybody’s TCFS, Then Nobody’s TCFS

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Gentle Reader: I don’t know what the weather’s been like where you live but here at yhs’ desk it has, until an hour or so ago, been raining almost non-stop since Saturday night. These conditions are often conducive to seeing rainbows. If you’re like me, when you see a rainbow your eyes travel its length, and you try to mentally fill in any gaps in the rainbow to figure out where it begins or ends.

That’s what I’m trying to do with David Walter’s “bloop” single today, which looks to me like it may have been launched from somewhere between the pitcher’s mound and home plate. Of course he may not have hit the ball squarely, putting some kind of spin on it. Anyway I look at it, it looks less like a bloop to me than a misjudged pop-up. Overanalyzing the one panel of baseball action we’ve seen in weeks has entertained me more than putting any thought into analyzing the TCFS phenomenon, which rears its head yet again in today’s last panel.

Linda, who is emphatically not wearing a TC button, is about to confront Nancy about said buttons. Nancy, who is emphatically aware that Linda has not been given a TC button, is about to make an awkward conversation even more awkward. I have no inclination to predict what may happen next but if the recent past is prologue, expect TCFS to be uttered at least once per strip.

May 3, 2019

Shadow dancing

I want to start out by saying thanks to teenchy for filling in for me due to my mothers passing. She lived 93 years, her childhood was during the Depression, after high school she immediately got a job at a chemical plant, where she worked for 14 years. She wanted to try college, but her brother had recently been shot down over the Pacific during World War II, fighting for his country, and her father wanted his kids to stay close to home after that. So off to work she went, until meeting and marrying my dad in 1957, after which she quit her job and became a stay-at-home wife. In those days women often only worked if they werent married. My dad supported the family on his paycheck, the norm back then. 8 years afterward they adopted me from Chicago, and my sister joined us 2 years later. And we became a family in every sense of the word, and Mom was our heart and soul. Me and my sister could never repay those two for the difference they made in our lives. 48 years of happy marriage ended with my dads passing in 2005, and now with Mom joining him, again, they can rest assured knowing we will live  our lives with their love in our hearts.

To the strip– this hippo in P1 reminds me of Barney Rubble always getting his thumb in the way when he was taking pictures in one episode of the Flintstones. I thought at first it was an inkstain. Nope, just a shadow of a hippo.The sun couldnt do that if it tried.

I also recall the Angels in 2002 having a rally monkey, which they used on the way to a World Series title. Stupid, but hey, whatever works. I believe current Cub boss Joe Madden was with them.

Well it seeems to be working, if only for the hokey reason that its a comic strip and we need a reason for this hippos existence, aside from blotting out P1. Why not let the kids believe it works, even though logic dictates that hitting and pitching win games, not stuffed animals. Positive mental attitude never hurts anyones performance either.

 

 

April 22, 2019

A Hat On A Hat

Filed under: actual action, Gil Thorp, huge earrings, huge hats, softball — nedryerson @ 3:41 am

04222019

Molly Hatcher’s hat decree is in effect. Game days are hat days. There’s no problem with a dress code and the team has no issues with “hat head” cramping their style. What a harmonious group!

The Conference Season begins and that’s good news. There are no more trips to Nebraska, Joycelynn has gone back to Jocelynn and the team racked up two wins in one narration box.

During the wins, someone hits a gapper and we get one of those classic partial views of a sign on the outfield fence. This one is extra ambiguous: “EY” is all we see. EY? Is it an advertisement for WHEY? Is whey poised to make a comeback in the youth market? Maybe whey is the new quinoa. Who handles the outdoor advertising at these school facilities?

Oops, it looks like we have an actual action, happening presently in our narrative, situation at Tilden. The Mudhats Mudlarks are trailing 2-1 and somebody is squaring up to bunt. Drama and suspense jammed into a single, ambiguous panel. What a week we have in store.

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