This Week in Milford

September 18, 2018

A Mediocre Football Game Is Better Than Paintbrushes Chewed Up By The Dog

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At a Mudlark football practice one day held at the Luke Bunkin Multiplex Practice Facility:

I WANNA BE A GIL THORP RANGER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I wanna be a Gil Thorp Ranger!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I WANNA LIVE A LIFE OF DANGER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I wanna live a life of danger!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

LET’S GO!!!!!!!!!!! YOU WUSSIES’LL NEVER TACKLE, LET ALONE PUNT, IF YOU LOAF LIKE THAT!!!!!!!!!! THE PLOT LASTS 3 MONTHS INTO SUPER BOWL WEEKEND AND WE GOTTA STAY FIT. ALRIGHT, SAY IT AGAIN

I WANNA BE A GIL THORP RANGER!!!!!!!!!!

I wanna…

“Seconds” by U2 is blaring over the intercom at the facility.  Gotta keep the troops motivated. Plus, “New Year’s Day” seems to have improved the punting technique of a few Mudlarks.

 

Man, this is getting ridiculous. Who better than to turn a no-brainer into a quasi-dilemma? Ya say ya don’t know what a dilemma is? Okay, for all of you who got an “A” in Modern Vocabulary in high school (ME ME ME!!!!!!!) ,  you can take your dog for a walk and let him/her piss on his/her favorite fire hydrant while I explain to the rest of the numbskulls who were pulling wings from flies or tripping little old ladies while they were in the crosswalk on a busy street corner in downtown Milford even as the teacher was trying his/her damndest to define supercalifragilisticgetsmeoutadocious ((I think the second s in the word has 2 of ’em) . “It’s the atomic number for carbon!!!!!! Y’know, the black stuff that blows out your tailpipe?” “What’s atomic number?”

Dilemma, Gil, is when you’re stuck with basically 2 options, neither one very appealing but also have equal merits. To go one way, is to get the bad consequences and the good consequenes of the other and vice versa. Gil, what you said REALLY isn’t a dilemma. Granted, a mediocre punt meant that, well, at least you got off the kick and if the chickenshit punt receiver tries to do an end-around and finds himself cornered by Mudlarks and regresses even further and winds up on their own 2-yard line when the PR should have taken his punishment like a man and started at, say, their own 39-yard line, not great but STILL decent field position, then at least your Mudkarks got SOMETHING out of a potentially disastrous situation.

What GOOD consequences arises to the surface from a botched punt?

“Kaz, let’s screw this thing all to Hell and have Finn sail the damn thing over Malouf’s head and once Malouf picks it up at our own 20-yard line, have him kick it toward the goalpost for a field goal attempt. Rumors are he has a booming foot. We’ll call it Razzle-Dazzle Get on the Good Foot, C’mon, Double Out Right Curl Slant Option Wishbone Formation on two.”

“Way ahead of you, Gil. I’ve got it written in the playbook, on down to Razzle-Dazzle. Should the fullback pick up the nose guard on the blitz?”

“Nah, Finn can botch and chew gum at the same time. He oughta be ready for the gorilla comin’ to sack Malouf.”

 

I tried to tell you I can’t punt

But I’m never talking to you again

I showed you every way, you grunt

And I’m never talking to you again

I’m never talking to you

I’m tired of wasting all my time

Trying to talk to youuuuuuuuuu

Talking to you.

 

BTW, that isn’t Tiki’s car at the top of the pile in Husker Du’s “Zen Arcade”. As long as I’m quoting one of my favorite groups, just thought I’d set the record straight.

 

 

Sent forth from the realm of TV Land

Bringing truth and justice to our hands

It’s Milkmannnnnnnn!!!!!!!!!

 

“I like it cold.”

 

Tiki is moping in his war-torn sedan in the middle of the Luke Bunkin Multiplex Practice Facility. Is there more to life than football? Will Maine ever field an NBA franchise? Does a skunk shit in the woods (more than likely yes on the last question) ?

“…I’m glad you introduced me

And I hope you’ll understand

I’ll be faithful to this bottle in my handdddddd.”

 

Milkman has just dropped off 3 crate of Milford Dairy Skim Milk  at the Milford 7-11 and is just about to clock out when he spots Tiki, which he’s able to do by the blaring music.

“Tiki, when you’re screaming George Jones, I know things aren’t kosher in Mudlarkland. Why the honky tonk offering on your Close ‘n’ Play?”

“Milkman, my piece of shit just got shittier. It’s got a busted headlight, kids spray-painted “wash me” on the ash tray, and there’s more dents than dimples in a golf ball. To top it off, the car won’t start.”

“Tiki, I think your problem is very easy to solve. One day, my milk truck wouldn’t start and I was putting my Christianity to the test attempting to get to the root of the problem. I kept my profanity to a minimum but it was getting to the point where before too long I would sound like Bruce Willis in “Die Hard” (“Can’t you get the milk truck started?” “Does it sound like I’m ordering a fucking pizza?”) . Finally, my boss came out and calmly and gently put his arm around me and said ‘I believe you need one of these.’ And when I put the key in my ignition, I was able to finish my rounds at the Milford Toyata plant. I was overjoyed that I was able to deliver fresh Milford Dairy Homemade Ice Cream Blueberrry/Cheese Cake to the starving masses. And this (pulling a car key out of a container of  Milford Dairy Reduced Fat Kosher Prepared Cottage Cheese) should solve your problem.”

WOW MILKMAN THANKS HOW CAN I EVER REPAY YOU???????

“Gentlemen, start your engines!!!!!!!!”

Tiki takes the cue, fires up the busted commodity and flies off the Multiplex Practice Facility playing Tammy Wynette’s “Stand By Your Man”, loud enough for Oakwood to hear it.

 

As Milkman drives into the sunset

“Milk is the Key of Life.”

 

Now THIS is what gets me. We’ve spent all this time in the Agora with Socrates and Plato debating the merits and demerits of Democracy vs. Republicanism, with Jeremy Bentham, John Locke, Adam Smith, and John Kenneth Galbraith thrown in, I mean, they’re chewing through The Invisible Hand Theory (“No, Plato, the butcher will let The Hand determine if he should tell the customer that his Ground Round has flies in it.” “On the contrary, Socrates, the government should swoop in like John Maynard Keynes on Bad Hair Day and rescue the customer from this rancid set of circumstances and inform him before this customer develops herpes and is therefore incapable of sustaining himself in The Good Life.” ” I respectfully disagree, Plato” said I) , only to have the Romans come in and Rambo the Acropolis, Delphi’s Oracle, the Parthenon, Mount Olympus, and even the Labyrinth, after all that work the Minotaur put into it only to watch it reduced to plaster,  and drive the Greeks to the Rock of Gibralter.” Yeah, Gil, Bad Hair Day is better than dandruff, I suppose, but it looks like a football game, or a sport played of ANY kind, Hell, I’ll accept hopscotch at this point, would keep this strip in character and my sanity in order,  I’m that desperate for the Lincoln/Douglas debate to end and get READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL (“I move that we put a moratorium on this debate so that the good people of Quincy can watch the Bears/Packers game and we resume after the contest, assuming that is acceptable to Senator Douglas.”) !!!!!!!!!!!

 

Gang, get ready, cuz Gene Rayburn is rarin’ to go with another Match Game 2018 question. Take ‘er away, Big Guy.

Dumb Dora was SOOOOOOOOOOOOO dumb (HOW   DUMB   WAS  SHE???????) , she thought mediocre sex was better than a botched ________________.

 

Gil and Carrie White one night in the Milford HS chem lab.

“Carrie, you really get me erect. I don’t care what your Pentecostal mom says about you, your dirty pillows are better than Charmin Deluxe at the Milford IGA. You are saved, filled with the Holy Ghost and sexy. Let’s spend the night together.”

Carrie, weary of hearing that line after listening to the song 1000 times on Gil’s 8-track (“Coach, I didn’t know you were a Stones fan”) in his classic ’76 Plymouth Duster still lightly nods her head, a bit shy. Let The Games begin.

 

The Games are interrupted by a short in the Torch.

 

“Coach Thorp, you’re a hunk and I don’t mean to be disrespectful, you’re the teacher and coach, but…where is it?”

“Hmmmmmmm, I could have sworn I read more Penthouses than L’il Audrey Comix this week in preparation for The Moment. Is nothing peeping out?”

“Do I need to drop a coin to find out?”

Here, let me look in the Grand Canyon. The Colorado River is trickling here somewhere. Wow!!!!! I didn’t know Gila Monsters lived down this far. Hope they don’t drown but they probably won’t the way my ED is flaring up again. You have any IcyHot? Man, that cactus is dangerously close to my pubic hair. Ah, here’s the Lily of the Valley. Take me to the river, Carrie. Carrie? Carrie?….Carrie?

Carrie?

Gil searches around the house and turns up nada. He combs every nook and cranny of the house, then finally walks outside. He scales the front, careful not to step on Mimi’s plumerias, and heads to the back. He spots an old gravemarker by his Toro riding mower, just beyond the 3-point arc of his basketball court where he works with Keri and Jaime on their game in preparition for their pre-school league where they’re defending champions. Gil kneels and reads the inscription of the grave marker.

 

Carrie White and Principal Ek burn in Hell!!!!!!!!!!

 

SUDDENLY a woman’s hand with a Mudlark engraved into a bracelet and a man’s hand donned with a Milford HS gold watch both grab Gil.

Gil yells at the top of his lungs, desperately clinging to his Soul, scraping and scratching and clawing to keep from being dragged down to the pits of Hell.

“Gil, I’m here, I’m here, Gil, I’m here. I’m here, Gil…”

 

“Boy, what a nightmare. Thank God I had an ED injection ready by the nightstand. Mimi and I had a quickie and I returned to Heaven. Principal Ek and Carrie would have to endure the Lake of Fire by themselves. Fortunately, I would not commingle.

The Milford Men’s Clinic can cure your Erectile Dysfunction as well so that there’s no weeping nor gnashing of teeth. Shoot, it performs better than Sominex so YOU can perform better than Sominex!! I know, Mimi conked out just at the point of climax. You’ll be off to La La Land with a boner the size of a Coney Island dog. But don’t take my word for it, come to the Milford Men’s Clinic at their new location in Downtown Milford, right between the World Trade Center Towers. There’s free parking on the 100th floor. It can’t get any easier than that. My erection seemed to think so. Check ’em out today and check out the view from the Observation Deck on the 98th floor while you’re at it. You can see all the way to North Dakota and Apartment 3-G on a clear day. An erection with a view, now that’s the ticket.”

 

Gang, go to it. A bad commentary is better than a good Gil episode at this point.

 

“Hi, I’m Dennis Weaver. I was chased by a crazy oil rig driver all over the country. As a result, I developed Fybromyalgiacenterofibrosis of the panatella and the lateral cruciate ligament. I also received several head injuries, one on the medulla oblongata, one on the right dorsal lymphoid tissue of my cerebellum, and one on the frontal parietal bone, barely missing my left occipital lower cranial cavity, just getting off with a contusion. Then my butt hurt something awful from sittin’ so long, runnin’ my ass off from this lunatic. Thank God for The Shark. He helped me recover my back wages from lost time at work and the insurance company even paid for the IcyHot to soothe my butt. And we even found out that the driver was Charles Manson and that his driver’s license had expired, so he not only received more prison time for his escape but got his license revoked. The company paid extra on my center ventral maxilla for hirin’ him. If ya got a cell phone handy whether you’re at work or sittin’ on the john workin’ out yore IRA, it’s 1-FON-THE-JAWS.”

 

” I’m Joe Sharkey. Don’t fight Milford Mutual alone. One call, that’s all.”

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September 11, 2018

“Don’t Let The Insurance Companies Gouge You On Your Sorry Piece Of Crap.”

Filed under: big arms, lessons learned, Milford Idiots, The Bucket, The Legend of Joe Sharkey — tdrewhardin @ 3:44 pm

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“Hi, I’m attorney Joe Sharkey with Sharkey and Sons. You might have remembered me from the ’70’s when I could hit the ball a ton but the plotlines ruined my career. Things happen. But they SHOULDN’T happen to you. I might have lost 2 fingers but I sued the sawmill company and live in a nice subdivision, Mudlark Chase, for my efforts. You can live on Easy Street too for your lost appendages. If you or your loved one have been injured in a car accident or your automobile winds up like P2 where you can’t tell the difference between that and Archie’s Jalopy, call The Shark today at 1-FON-THE-JAWS. Insurance companies are hard at work making sure you get no more than your hand can handle out of a gumball machine. Let us fight for you and get you the money you deserve.”

“Hi, I’m Melba Hateley and my back was thrown out when Marty Moon backed a Milford Mini-Transit bus out of Milford Beverage Warehouse and rammed my Mo-Ped. I was getting a dried prune liqueur after a hard day at Milford Foundry when Mr. Moon forgot to check his blind spot in order to make up for lost time after being held up in line in the Warehouse on his lunch break. He was so determined to get his Vodka and run, he rear-ended me and threw me several feet, almost winding up in the Milford Sanitation Truck. I was in the hospital for several weeks from my injury plus a couple more days from Milford General Hospital Garbage Removal and Dermal Disinfecting Procedures. I needed just compensation for my lost wages. Thank God for The Shark.”

“Just remember, one call, THAT’S ALL.”

 

Well, gang, I think you can deduce where I’m going with this one. P2 just got the ball rolling and took things out to orbit.
Thanks for the tip, Tiki. I needed a few pointers on how to break the ice with people I’ve just met. Show ’em my ’69 Ford Mercury 400 V-8 that’s holed up at Milford Scrap Metal, Inc., explaining how I’m going to maneuver this vehicle out of the yard in time for the Milford High School Prom next Spring. “And the winner, for 2 tickets to the Milford Imax Theater, for the vehicle most likely to be sold piece-by-piece on E-Bay…”

 

Tonight at 8, MST (Mudlark Standard Time), catch all the action as Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw battles the streets of Milford to harness drug traffic caused by a gang of Mudlark punks. Will he make it out alive in time for the next film session? Stay tuned for another exciting episode right after The Jetsons right here on WDIG-TV.”

 

Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw steps of his Texas Mudlark Ranger Cruiser after pulling over a mini-van with 5 teenagers.

“I need to see your driver’s license and registration.” as he spits towards the road. He has made the mistake of expectorating his Red Man Bubble Yum chaw towards a serial killer on the lam before (“Whoops, sorry”, holding off the psycho’s urge to pull his Colt .45 from under the seat, especially when Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw handed him a Bounty-the quick picker-upper).

Items are given to Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw. Everything is in order, down to the VIN.

“I have a search warrant on a suspicion of your smuggling electronic cigarettes across the county, part of a ring from Milford to Oakwood.”

“Sir, we just came from football practice. If you’d been there, you’d know.”

Trying to recover face that’s been lost now and for 60 years

“Yeah, well, what’s that in your cup holder?”

“Those are candy cigarettes, peppermint and lemon-lime. Want one? Besides, we’re not allowed to eat something after a grueling practice?”

Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw never accepts bribes, plus it wouldn’t mix well with his chaw, getting nasty images of him spitting THAT combo on the road and heads back to his squad car. Later, on his cell phone to HQ

“I think we can close the book on this one” as he nukes a raccoon in the parking lot of the Milford General Baptist Church with his chaw.

AS closing credits on the show appear on the screen, Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw is seen returning to his original identity, sipping Milford 7-11 Diet Cherry Cappuccino while dissecting game film with Coach Kaz, the kittycat meowing in the MTM Enterprises logo (spinoff from the Mary Tyler Moore Show?-no way) signifying the show is FINALLY over-well, until the next blow anyway.

 

P1: Who knows what lurks in the minds of teenage boys with nothing but nasty cars in their possession that he perhaps hot-wired in a farmer’s pig-sty somewhere, fresh with pig doo-doo in the trunk? And is willing to divulge and share with his friends so that his friends too might be dragged down on the vessel Charon to share the same fate as Proserpina? Where souls suffer day and night because Marty isn’t there from the Milford Transit Authority even if Marty flunked the oral portion of the B License exam because he forgot to memorize the weight of a B vehicle per se? They can no longer make fun of his slamming on the brakes at an intersection because the Thorp kids got too careless in the streets? THE SHADOW KNOWS.

That, or it’s a murder scene of Frankenstein. Hope the Milford Police had plenty of “Do Not Cross” tape on that one.

 

 

And of course, I drew a blank just when that next Classic Comedy Schtik, a la Moby Dick or Great Expectations was ready to emanate from my brain. Just not my day, gang.

And I’m just a little antsy over WHO SHOT COACH SHAW? Maybe that’s the reason the ideas flow until they hit the floodwall. Yeah, that’s it. My Christian Conscience is stemming the spark of creativity. Don’t let Do The Right Thing get trumped from artistic expression.

 

If ya bought a car because ya got a fetish for a beat-up sorry-ass-excuse-for-a-car-ta-drive-ta-work-on-third-shift-at-the-Milford-Foundry but ya kick the tires just ta make shore ya git thar, ya might be a redneck.

 

Okay, gang, back by popular demand, Gene Rayburn is back at the helm for Match Game 2018 ready for you to keep those wits a-blazin’. We’re ready, Gene.

Dumb Dora was SOOOOOOOOOOOOO dumb (HOW   DUMB   WAS  SHE?????), she thought Tiki meant______________ in  Micropolynesian.

 

Shout-out to Elizabeth Thompson in Louisville, Kentucky. She goes to school as a volunteer to help tutor and make sure kids get their lunches and offer encouragement, especially to the underprivileged kids. This is a much-needed service and the best thing is it’s FREE. Elizabeth, the kids lack something when you’re not there. Keep being that parent that perhaps some of these kids don’t have and keep nagging them to aspire to greater heights. They’ll thank you for it when they get older. God Bless you in your efforts.

 

Today’s headline from the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Cleared of Charges in Coach Shaw Shooting!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Key witnesses confirm he was at a Jehovah’s Witness Convention in Richmond, Virginia; plus, the gloves to the weapon were several sizes too small and used for gardening.”

 

A shout-out is in order for Better Bargains on Cane Run Road and Lower Hunter’s Trace Road in Louisville, Kentucky. They have great buys on many items, including chips and drinks. Just walk in the door and you’ll see a display case with nothing BUT chips. Love it. They have several grocery items reasonably priced not to mention a few goodies (yum yum!!!!!) like Hostess and Little Debbie. Skip the Wal-Mart route and come on down and indulge. The staff has ALWAYS been nice and friendly to me and that just tops off my feelings towards this place. Gang, if you’re in the neighborhood, stop on in. Support small businesses. You NEED a place where everybody knows your name.

 

And I’m not EVEN going to comment on P3. People in the graveyard behind The House of the Seven Gables KNOW it’s The Bucket, NOT The Pail. Stuuuu-pid. That’s right, Ren, tell Stimpy that it’s The Bucket, NOT THE PAIL.

 

“Well, Coach, sounds like another runaround session to me. And we’ll be back for some final thoughts after this. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field
Sports.”

 

“Man, I’m like James Brown!!!!!!!!! I FEEEEEELLLLLL GOOD!!!!!!!!!! No more ridin’ around in that wheelchair like the pony at the Milford Wal-Mart!!!!!!!! I’m ready to tackle the world!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Great, Honey, you can tackle me first!!!!!!!!!”

“Blubba, blooba, bleeba, I might fumble the snap. Plus, I wasn’t good at the wraparound technique when I played. Hit ’em like a ton of bricks and hope they fall like a set of dominoes.”

“Well, you can jump on this player once you’ve knocked her cold. It’s not as if I’m returning the fumble for a 99-yard-score.”

“I wasn’t very fast. By the time they were at the 20-yard-line on the other end, I just went to the bench and doused myself with the water bottle”

“You still have to get up for the handshake after the game.”

“Glippy glop gloopy, ippy oppy, ooppy, la la la lo lo, I was a poor sport. If we didn’t win by at least 35, I hit the showers behind the Coach’s back. I had no respect for a bunch of sissies, especially when they played like girls.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What do you mean? I got all the paperwork filled out for that unicorn tag during bow season. I even dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s.”

“The female end of things?”

“I’ll have to check Doe Season on unicorns,especially with a handgun. I’m not certain if you can use a Sig Sauer. I didn’t find that in the huntin’ manual.”

“I’m a girl, Honey.”

Coach Shaw scratches head in slight confusion

“You’re not listed in any season. I could have sworn I didn’t see you. I’ll write a letter to the Game Warden.”

 

“Well, as you can see, I did a poor rendition of ‘Hair’ and I just flat out didn’t see the horns from the unicorns. When Coach Kaz showed me where the Milford Men’s Clinic was on the Milford Mall map, I got there and boy, did they open my eyes to all the treatment plans available. My erections showed me YOU ARE HERE and we went from there to Xanadu. To stand within the Pleasure Dome, indeed. I never read this Colby Jack Taylor but he musta got erections by the bucketful in that cave he found. But, men, you don’t gotta go to Mammoth Cave for you to get it on at the Holiday Inn Express with your honey. Stop in at the Milford Men’s Clinic today. Eliminate the bats in your cave and free your significant other. You’ll be glad you did.”

Gang, you’re on. My dad is going to tow the car to our core business and see how much we can sell to Jasper Engines. They always need used parts.

 

“Hello, I’m Spud Witherspoon. My hearing went tone-deaf after The Pirate Network blew a load at Marty Moon. I got a settlement with TPN after I lost my job on the Milford & Oakwood Express as a conductor because my hearing went all to Hades. One day, the train almost collided with a Union Pacific because I couldn’t hear the train whistle, signalling take-off. I had to call The Shark. Now, I’m a new man after TPN paid for my Beltone and I got my job back after 6 months. No more landing the M & O on Gil’s back patio. And my lost wages paid for my son’s scholarship to Powell College, the same school Gil wussed out on.”

“You heard the man. If you’ve been injured in an accident, call 1-FON-THE-JAWS to get your share of the pie. One call, THAT’S All.”

 

Heard somewhere at the Milford Mall

“How ’bout the owner of the Milford Girls-a-Go Go Club?”

“Negative. He was at the Milford Convention Center for the Billy Graham Crusade.”

August 25, 2018

Oh, This One’s Full of Something, All Right.

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Here we go again. Over “Days of Wine and Roses” being played by the skunks, squirrels, bears, alligators (brought in by Milford Conservancy Corps last year), beetles, wasps, blue jays, finches, cardinals, chipmunks, giraffes (brought in to eat the dead poplar leaves that litter the streets of Milford which are otherwise unreachable by Milford Tree Service), possums, lizards, white-tail deer, rabbits, ducks, geese, and Bambi and Thumper in the woods beyond our well-meaning-but-slightly-misguided-duo, the plot is reloaded since we still have 7 days, counting today, to bring meaning to the golf plot before it gets the Green Jacket. I think I’d rather listen to Coach Shaw’s cover of Yes’s “Mood for a Day” at Milford Girls-a-Go Go Club. He might struggle trying his best as a Steve Howe wannabe, but it’d be more meaningful AND believable, not that that’s saying much (Sorry, Steve, been listening to your days with Yes, Asia, and your solos (LOVE ’em) for 50 years, didn’t mean to step on any toes).

Robmize is right. Like in ANY sport, if ya don’t make the cut, YA DON’T PLAY, Gil. I’ve been following my high school golf team for well over 30 years and props to them no matter where they placed if they gave their best (all you can ask), but the reality is, if we didn’t qualify they weren’t going to put us in the You’re-a-Bunch-of-Losers-But-Because-You’re-Nice-Guys-And-The-Other-Team’s-Calculator-Wasn’t-Charged-Properly-And-Therefore-Aided-in-Doctoring-The-Scores-Plus-You-Combed-Your-Hair-Back-at-The-Hotel-And-Ate-All-Your-Vegetables-at-The-Tournament-Banquet-We’re-Going-To-Slip-You-Guys-In-When-The-Tournament-Official-Takes-a-Dump-at-The-Port-o-Let-After-He-Purchases-a-$16-Diet-Pepsi-With-Nutrasweet-at-The-Concession-Stand-And-Won’t-Say-Anything-Once-It’s-Too-Late-To-Change-The-Scoreboard Division. No, Gil. We went home.

“I swear on a stack of Golf Digests that we didn’t cheat. Is there a notary around?”

“Yeah, he’s about to tee off with Marty and Jaquan.”

“Ahhhhh, never mind. I’ll just slip the Tournament Official a few Franklins. He’s 2 months behind on his Lexus payments. Why try to prove it when my wallet is stuffed?”

Recently, teenchy’s on-point title “Something Fluky This Way Comes” reminded me of the Ray Bradbury story from which it was derived “Something Wicked This Way Comes” which reminded me of the movie “Duel” where Dennis Weaver is getting chased by this (presumably)psychotic truck driver, an oil rig to be more specific. Well,

Weaver is hungrier than a bear. He sees The Bucket and stops in. Relieved that he’s not being hounded for the time being, he listens to Marty Moon on WDIG before getting out of his car to go inside. The ruling on the integrity of Mutt and Jeff can wait until after he tries the Livercheeseburger and Bucket fries.

Then he sees the tanker, parked 100 feet down the parking aisles.

Guess psychos like Triple Bucket Burgers too.

Be that as it may, Weaver walks in. He spots Coach Kaz at the 1st table going in.

“Cut it out.”

Coach Kaz looks up from drinking his hi-protein, low-carb, fat-free, vitamin-enriched, low-sodium, Nutrasweet-induced, nitrogen-loaded, egg included, chocolate and maraschino cherry shake, while his kids are finishing up their child’s plate of Bucket Crab Meat ‘n’ Tater Tots and his wife is getting nausea from stuffing her face with Bucket ‘o’ Shrimp Scampi w/Roquefort Cheese Sauce, Baked Potato w/ Bucket ‘o’ Sour Cream, extra.

“What are you talking about?”

“Yore tryin’ ta run me over and I’m-a gonna call the police if ya don’t stop”

“Sir, I’ve never seen you before. Would I risk my kids and my wife just to settle a score WHILE DRIVING IN A VEHICLE?”

“Ya mean, ya ain’t drivin’ an oil rig?”

“Where am I going to fit the kids? In the luggage box?”

Trapped, he moves on.

Grabbing the person in the next booth by the throat,

“Ya ass-wipin’ son of a bitch!!!!! Ya done killed one human being, I don’t keer what the judge sed!!!!!!!!!! Ya out to set a record????”

A teenager hurries to the rescue

“Mister, that’s his son!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Lets go of him.

Then grabs a waitress

“Awright, the game’s up!!!!!!!! Lay off the accelerator pedal out there!!!!!!! I knows ya didn’t wanna be late for work, but this is ridiculous!!!!!!!!”

“SIR!!!!!!!! I’ve got skates on!!!!!!!!”

Sees the footwear down below and sees Kaz has has seen enough and releases the car hop.

He sits down to order. He still has his coupon for 1/2-Off Tuesdays on all Bucket Biscuit Combos. The Bucket Biscuit w/ French Toast, Bucket ‘o’ Sassafras Maple Syrup extra. He’s thankful he brought his Visa card. The Bucket doesn’t accept American Express.

Gang, are you in for a treat!!!!!!! Because I feel good about continuing a trend from last week, you old-timers like yours truly remember Match Game from the early ’70’s where the host Gene Rayburn read off a passage that contained a blank in it and you had to fill in that blank with an a answer and hope that your answer matched the 6 celebrities answering the same question.

It got hilarious when the passage contained a blank that was, say, VERY suggestive and your imagination ran wild with all kinds of nasty possibilities. BTW, I thought you whippersnappers might like this one too. Answers are encouraged. Have fun with it!!!!! Without further ado, take ‘er away, Gene.

“Dumb Dora was SOOOOOOOOOOO dumb (HOW     DUMB      WAS  SHE????), she thought that when she was cheating with The Born Losers, she could use her __________ to hide her score.”

It’s your turn, gang.

Hats off to Katie Dauenhauer and Emmali Lear. Katie works at Culver’s and Emmali works at JoAnn Fabrics, both in Louisville. Taking the bus to your job only tells me you love to work and make a difference in people’s lives. You keep America rolling, Ladies. We need more of you.

And, no, Donna Green, I didn’t forget you. You keep Thornton’s in Valley Station, Ky. going with your friendly smile and can-do attitude. Customers are a premium with you and it shows with how busy the place ALWAYS is. Gang, if you’re in the area, swing on by (the one NORTH of Gene Snyder Freeway, BTW). She deserves it. Face it, we all shop at Wal-Mart. Nothing wrong with that. But you need a place where everybody knows your name. She will. Take care of people like Donna who take care of you.

And just WHO or WHAT does Gil have in mind in this Flashback Moment when he talks about adding 6 more (steady the nerves, T. Drew. Take another sip of Hills Brothers and keep repeating “It’s only a golf plot, it’s only a golf plot…”)? I’M GUESSING Tony and Wilson are in amongst those 6 but there’s still 4 more and who would THEY be? The Four Tops? Winkin’, Blinkin’ and Nod plus their agent? Murderer’s Row? I mighta overfigured or underfigured on the last one. That’s what happens when you hang around The Pine Range Gang. You are the company you keep, our mothers always said.

“Sheriff Dillon, ain’t no way The Dalton Gang hit that many bulls-eyes at the shootin’ tournament. They musta cheated.”

“Way ahead of you. Our deputies hid behind a rock and watched ’em. They were yankin’ dynamite out of Miss Kitty’s butt and hurlin’ ’em when the judges weren’t lookin.”

“Gil, you’ve got ‘Over, Under, Sideways, Down’ listed on your entry forms. What age are they?”

Gil takes off his earphones after jamming to Yardbird “What did you say?”

If ya git recertified by Roehl Truck Lines and ya proudly display yore ‘A’ license in front of yore oil-tanker rig ya’ve bin drivin’ since Red Sovine advertised his records on K-Tel during the commercial break from the ABC Afternoon Special in one of them thar Trucker Recruitin’ Booklets in the booklet rack in front of a Pilot Truck Stop in Tennessee somewhar, ya might be a redneck.

Dennis is still munching down on his Bucket Livercheeseburger. The Bucket Biscuit w/ French Toast wasn’t enough to sate his appetite, neither was The Bucket Tortellini con Aglio e Olio, Il Formaggio Al Fresco, L’Acqua e Il Pane Contorno, Vino Blanco optional, and is about to down a Rolaids Wintergreen to keep the esophagus alive when he notices Gil leave the men’s room. Gil had just deposited a load of Buffalo Bucket o’ Chicken Fries. Our anti-hero watches him exit out the door. Gil is heading toward the oil rig. Could it be? Gil gets out his keys. Mimi catches up with him, slurping down her last drops of her plenty o’ prunes and bananas shake. They head to the door of the rig, Mimi likely to snooze in the sleeper area, then they both turn sharply right. Next thing you know, Gil pedals out with Mimi on their tandem. Gil had forgotten the bicycle lock combination and had to activate the switch on his key ring.

STILL August, teachers, coaches, staff, etc. STILL trying to make ends meet before this plot releases them from their supernumerary jobs, we read the latest review from the music critic, Jennifer Hutshall, from the Milford Enquirer, and I quote

“…Coach Shaw displayed a deftness rarely seen in modern times in M-town. Playing the unplugged version of ‘Layla’ at the Milford Girls-a-Go-Go Club last night brought a tear to more than one person’s eyes amidst the crowd. Even the dancers had to pass the hanky around since the paper towel dispenser was out of paper towels. The ladies performing entrechats and pas-de-deux’s to the rhythm of ‘Swan Lake’ just intensified this combo Earl Klugh-Jon McGlaughlin performer in the making. Mimi Thorp shakin’ her booty every time the lyric ‘ya got me on my knees’ was sung added a nice touch. An encore presentation is scheduled for tonight and reservations for tickets is recommended. Overflow parking in the parking lot of the Milford Toyota plant…”

Jaquan Case is leaving The Bucket, along with his trainer Are they team drivers? Weaver doesn’t dare stand in the way to find out. Jaquan has “S” knitted on his jacket. Standard Oil? Maybe the letters faded off the oil rig. They both share a laugh, toting their doggie bags of Bucket Deerburgewrs and beeline toward the rig. Case opens the door. Case is a psycho? Nope, he’s leaving a Jehovah’s Witness Watchtower tract and doing the same in all the cars  in the parking lot. Then he and his buddy get in the Subway semi because they have a Texas run to make after they make their dropoff at the Milford Subway. Gotta deliver it pronto if ya wanna get it fresh. Weaver slams his table knife down in disgust and continues contracting heartburn from his Livercheeseburger. The stress is killing him. Not to mention the suspense. Shame he’s not part of the golf plot. It’d be INTERESTING. Stupid, and may run over into September (October???? No), but interesting.

Gang, comment away. This plot is ridiculously predictable but I’m telling you nothing new. And neither is the plot.

“NOW YOU LAY OFF OR I’M GONNA GIT MY SHOTGUN OUTTA THE TRUNK AND ASK QUESTIONS LATER!!!!!!!!!! YA TRIED TA RAM ME INTO THE MILFORD & OAKWOOD  TRAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Ms. Rizk patiently looks up.

“Sir, that isn’t my oil rig in the student parking lot. I’ve been in this room, typing for 2 decades.”

July 11, 2018

Meanwhile Barry Bader Is Posting Angry Rants To Youtube

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And Gil hasn’t even noticed his absence from… practice? I guess? Shouldn’t Kevin be getting rejected as a QB from the local 7 on 7 teams?

Panel one: As I don’t understand the difference, with respect to baseball teams, between D-II and JuCo (and can’t be bothered to research it), I’m going to guess Gil did the ‘right’ thing in steering Ryan to D-II. Of course this is the second or third time we’ve even mentioned Ryan’s recruitment even though he’s a hard throwing lefty so… another job well done by all involved.

Panel two: “On the other hand, if he hurts his arm, they’ll drop him like a rock and he’ll end up pumping gas at the station outside of whatever town D-II School is in.”

Panel three: “What about The Secret?” “I suspect people will be asking why we’re still talking about that guy for the rest of our lives (of reading Gil Thorp).”

Minus point: What exactly is even going on today? Seriously, at this point I’d almost be OK going down to Milford Country Club to watch Gil ruin the game of golf for a bunch of preadolescents.

July 6, 2018

Too bad we’ll never see this story

Filed under: big arms, Chunky Bracelets, Gil Thorp, lame jokes — robmize2013 @ 6:13 pm

Milford goes modern, as Gil and Mimi read the Bader story in the Trumpet on their smartphones. How theyre already dressed and ready to go at 6:04 am is implausible, but since this strip never shows people in pajamas, I guess its SOP.

P2 shows Dafnes hotness – tight black shirt with short sleeves showing off her guns.. I love how both she and her friend both have 3 bracelets on opposite wrists so they all show as theyre fist-bumping.  Hopefully now that the story is out they can go about letting these kids out of school before summers over..

P3 Dafne says it should be safe? Will the story explode off the newspaper if it isnt? I would think that after all this time and energy it would (again) be edited and approved by Miss RisqK. Whats Daf worried about? And why did she have to call the Baders and tell em what she’s writing? I guess we’re in for one last surprise before this story is a (fish)wrap.  Methinks Del will get out of jail early because of what he said in the story, Barry will turn into a happy person because of it, and everything will be all right as we waltz into the sunset.

July 3, 2018

Yo Quiero Taco Bell And A Baseball Scholarship, Coach Colvin

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Gang, First off, let me get this crow-eating part of me out of the way. That was not, as I might have suspected, Coach Tod Andrews that Gil was genuflecting to on the telephone. I should have known that Berrill’s version of Coach Andrews wouldn’t translate mathematically into Raul Julia at the tanning salon. Hey, you have a hard day at the office and you’re trying to please rabid fans and alumni plus perhaps an athletic director who might pull the trigger at the next 3 23-38 seasons, and ya gotta go somewhere. They’d never think to look under a heat lamp sleeping on a Serta mattress (“Charlie Brown, who’s that funny-looking gentleman with the shades? They never allow adults on the strip. Schultz and Pig Pen are turning over in their graves.”).

Oooooooooookkkkkkkkk, time to get back on my soapbox. And I have one question. Weren’t Coach Colvin and The Chihuahua at the same family reunion? I’d laugh my ass off if Moose showed up at the Taco Bell drive-thru ordering Triple-Layer Nacho Supreme, Mexican Pizza, hold the mushrooms, with tartar sauce, Nacho Cheese Doritos Ranch Style Locos Tacos Supreme, Beefy 5-Layer Burrito, Colby Jack substituted for American, side order of Arthur Treacher Fish ‘n Chips (in one of those little styrofoam containers you can barely take a urine test in, let alone cram mac and cheese or green beans with a slice of bacon the size of Scotch tape), wait behind 5 cars, daydreaming about hitting the game-winning home run in the bottom of the 9th inning, a grand slam no less thanks to all those videos about launch angles (hosted by Mel Allen when he’s moonlighting from This Week in Baseball) for good ol’ State U. against their hated rival, University State, the line is finally moving after 25 minutes, Moose is ready with the correct change, right down to the wooden nickel (“They never say anything”), only to find out that Coach Colvin is opening up the window. “Coach, do you have any mild sauce?” “Nope, all we have is extra-hot.”

Looking at my bat a 3rd time

Waiting for the Coach to call my name

Cuz I’m tired of doing all my homework

I just want a chance to play the game

I know Coach Thorp has warned me strongly

But I just got to dump this town for fame

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

And waste another year

And let’s get the obvious out of the way. Thorpiverse has wasted our time with the obvious in P2. What did Gil think we were anticipating? Man, Kaz, if he lays on the beach on the Redneck Riviera (Alabama, for you non-rednecks), and takes pointers on how to pick up women from all the sailors who hail from all over the world, he oughta be able to pick up his bat speed by the time Fall Ball rolls around. I talked with Coach Colvin and he said that learning hand-eye coordination is like making a chimichanga. It just takes the right ingredients, i.e., eyes, hands, beans, sour cream, Hillerich & Bradsby bat, fresh ground beef, 80% fat-free with no hormones, 12″ tortilla. Yup, working the drive thru has taught Coach Colvin a lot about making Chimichanga Nuclear Cheese Buster that he’s carried out to the ball diamond when doing batting drills and knowing the count when you’re up at the plate. I think Kevin will do fine.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Daffy Duck Promoted to Editor!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Pulitzer Prize-Winning Story on Papa Bader Making “The Catch” At The DOC World Series Turned Many Heads. Warden Considering Early Release”

All you Brady Bunch groupies, remember when Don Drysdale came by the Brady manor because Mr. Brady (what’s his REAL name, Mendenhall Theophilus Randolph Brady III ?) was good friends with Don and the latter fattened Greg Brady’s head by saying that he could pitch in the World Series one day? I think Don fattened Moose’s head along the way. At least, I’m bettin’ that’s the gist of the conversation in P3. Sure Moose, you could start this weekend for the Yankees. Mickey Mantle is taking a personal day and they’re gonna be short-handed. Might as well start somewhere. If you can handle those assholes, Marty Moon and Ernie the P., surely you can handle the crowd at Yankee Stadium. No place like it.

Well, we all saw what happened to Greg.

It’s not as though I really need you

If you were here, I’d only leave you

But everybody else in town only wants to bring you down,

That’s not how it oughta be

Well, I know it might sound strange but I bel-

Gil, shouting in Moose’s ear “MOOSE, FOR THE 3RD TIME, YOU’RE ON DECK!!!!!!!”

“And Moose belts one over the Green Monster and the Yankees lead the Red Sox, 7-3. There’s a pitching change. Moose is obviously gotten to the pitcher, not to mention the Red Sox fans. We’ll be right back after these messages.”

 

At the Milford Wal-Mart Supercenter, Gil and family are about to check out.

“Mimi, I think we got ‘er done. We have everything for the Annual Baseball & Softball Picnic. 10 bags of Great Value Barbecue Chips? Check. 8 2-liter bottles of Fanta  Lime/Pomegranate? Check. Off! Bug Spray? Check. Oscar Meyer Reduced Fat Low Sodium Carb Free Kosher Prepared Light Garlic Thick-Sliced Bologna? Check. Is there anything else we forgot?

Mimi spots the family bathroom out of the corner of her eye. The diaper station was a dead giveaway.-

“Gil, let’s go to the family bathroom. Kids, you take the groceries to the station wagon. We’ll be right out.”

“Mimi, it’s been 30 years since we’ve changed anybody’s diaper. If you got to take a potty break, go now or forever hold your pants.”

“Gil, I need to talk to you about all the VanCamp’s Pork ‘n’ Beans you bought. Our check might bounce.”

“Mimi, we have Check-Bouncing Protection at Milford National Bank.”

“Yes, but they need our Social Security Number and you can’t say it out here. What if Marty’s around the corner, writes it down, then runs up a tab at Milford Lounge?”

Gil, trapped on that one, not wanting to see Marty stealing his SSN in the name of Gerst Beer, relents.

They enter the bathroom. She locks the door.

“Mimi, we don’t need to lock the door over Pork ‘n Beans.”

Mimi drops her pants. A perfect place for a quickie. And Gil is trapped.

He forgot to take his pill this morning because the Moen faucet sprung a leak and Milford Plumbing Inc. was on assignment over the weekend down in the sewer lines.

Gil had nothing to wash it down.

“Mimi, Is that helium balloon station by the Vision Center still there? Because I’m as limp as a 10-day-old plantain.”

“Gil, I can’t go out like this. That was THE IDEA, to stay in from the rain and get warm and cuddly.”

“Mimi, I don’t think that stall with all the street gang symbols on the walls would fit us anyway. I couldn’t go back and forth with that little room, let alone with the Twinkie I have in my possession.”

“Gil, surely the residue from the double dose you took the day before ought to carry over to this stall. I can wait until things start to inflate. In fact, I think I have a safety pin to prick the wienie in my purse.”

“I don’t know, Mimi. Now I know what Papa Bader goes through. He can barely poop, let alone pull a Pee-Wee Herman.”

BAM! BAM! BAM!

“IF YOU’RE DONE IN THERE, MY 3-YEAR-OLD HAS DIARRHEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Wal-Mart Assistant Manager Don Granger has the last word.

“It wasn’t pretty. We had to evacuate the Frozen and the Bakery aisles. We managed to salvage the endcap on the Healthy Choice’s.

Unfortunately, we had to literally flush all the Great Value Low Sodium Butterscotch/Maraschino Cherry Ice Cream on the other endcap straight down the janitorial-sized toilets. We had to refresh our associates on hand-washing procedures at the morning meeting, making sure they washed up to their elbows. It just sucked when we couldn’t do the Wal-Mart cheer (“Gimme a SQUIGGLY!!!!!!” “SQUIGGLY!!!!!!!!”).

“All of this could have been avoided if Gil had gone to the Milford Men’s Clinic. There’s a branch right here at Wal-Mart. That’s right, right next to Milford State Bank by the Grocery entrance. When men fail in their sex lives, isn’t it nice to know there’s a convenient location where men can get a refill while the wife does the grocery shopping? A match made in heaven. And the cleanup jobs it’ll save our associates. It makes for one happy family. Sam would have wanted it that way.

 

“Joe, could you hit that spot in the corner with the mop? There’s still a bit of doo-doo by the Totino’s Supreme Pizza endcap.”

“Yup. You want it buffered?”

“Nah, We won’t have time. The Totino’s blitz is today and I don’t want anybody getting run over.”

 

Gang, while Moose is trying to get out of Rockville, fire away. I’ll leave you with this

 

At night I sleep in Milford’s dugout

Waiting patiently to board the bus

Cuz it’s so much easier to handle

All my problems and I don’t have to swear and cuss

I’ll lift some weights and run a lot

And get my scholarship without a fuss

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

 

And waste another year.

May 10, 2018

You’re Out of Order, Bader!

gt05102018

The Mets got busted for batting out of order yesterday and the Twittersphere had fun with it.

Screenshot-2018-5-10 Dyllmonger on Twitter

What’s Gil’s excuse? His lineup card reads 1-2-x-x-6-7-8-9-10. Let’s zoom in on it:

510lineupcard

Most of these guys are Milford’s usual suspects:

1. Mike Filion was the Mudlark’s undersized QB last fall

2. Barry Bader, well, you know him. Still showing zero signs of maturation

x. Andre Ruffin knows how to host a party

x. Pete DeWindt has been here since, like, forever

6. The same could be said for Paul Beaudry

7. Pelwecki has long worn out his welcome. His Rosie the Riveter pose pales in comparison to Lucky Haskins’ but he’s feeling it*

8. Jorge Padilla, like his MLB namesake, is an outfielder (or some new position, CH). We’ll find out if that skinny kid can jump and rob hitters of homers

9. We get the classic name Hiawatha James and it’s the only one Whigham can’t write out? Lazy!

10. Larry Arroyo was introduced to us as a non-Pelwecki sub for Barry Bader but now he’s a pitcher third baseman – that is, if he’s the same guy

May River has to be a long ride from Milford; maybe that’s why Gil’s lineup card is so wonky. Bluffton (home of May River High) has become known in recent years as an affordable alternative to nearby Beaufort and Charleston for Yankee retirees. Maybe Mr. Bakst or some other Milfordians have moved there and will form a home away from home crowd for the Mudlarks. Play ball!

*Note Pelwecki is written in at DH, but no pitcher is named; Arroyo, batting last, is at 3B (oops – teenchy)

May 8, 2018

Give me 40 acres and I’ll turn this plot around

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She’s back!!!!! Marjie Ducie is back to prime the pump then, like any catalyst, disappears into thin air while the final product sputters to the finish line. Well this time, she learned some valuable pitching lessons that she can take back to her other dimension. Really, once she reaches the end of the Time Tunnel, she can race over to Yankee Stadium (hey, they love baseball in other dimensions too) and ply her trade. Yup, that changeup oughta complement her cut fastball, curve, and forkball. Keep ’em offstride, Marjie. Be sure those Ultra-dimension batters won’t know what’s comin’ next. Because once they got you timed, they start hittin’ ’em back in Gil’s World. Wise to add another pitch to your repertoire.

And I took algebra in high school. I barely remember the Transitive Property but still, who says you won’t need this stuff in real life? Without my caring teacher patiently explaining this principle, it’d be days before I’d put 2 & 2 together and come up with 5′ 8″. No wild guesses needed. I could patiently work through the problem and apply it to a real life scenario (hmmm, this is Thorpiverse, oh, just work with me). Thanks, Teach!!!!! You’ve equipped me to slay the dragons.

And what the hell does height differential have to do with what Pitch is being thrown which I wouldn’t be terribly surprised Thorpiverse is implying? Sure, impress us with your baseball knowledge, Thorpiverse, and hope to God we don’t put 2 & 2 together and come up with 5’8″ that it’s all smoke and mirrors. Okay, Gil, I’ll concede Mudlark Baseball is in real trouble if Van Auken attempts to pitch a knuckleball to a catcher who’s 3’5″. Passed balls all game long because this catcher had no vertical leap and Oakwood is up, 10-0, before the crow flies. So go ahead and wow us with height differential, Gil. Even if it really has nothing to do with your discussing the battery, we’ll play along. CYA, Coach.

Anyway, I’ve got some Dave Dudley on tap while Gil and Marjie sit at the bleachers going over late-game situations.

Ridin’ on this plotline

Trapped in a hamster’s cage

I feel like Dennis Weaver

Chased down by a psycho’s rage

Wish I could shake that truck right

Down the cliff and out of sight

6 months of this plot

and I’m-a gonna go berserk tonight

BTW, I realize, by my count, 6 months from now leads into November. 6 weeks might have been more realistic. But by the end of June, this plot is over(don’t hold your breath) and we have filler space to fill with what? More Marty time at the Milford Lounge? Nah, drag this one out ad astra and hope for the best. Maybe something’ll kick in and make sense and we’ll get off this Wheel and reach Nirvana. We’ll have overlapped to football by then.

Gang, I don’t know WHAT I did to deserve this. Do I need to change religions? Was it because I slept in and missed Sunday School last week? Put S & H Green Stamps in the offering plate? Used the F-word in the Benediction Prayer? Well, I’ll admit the last one probably explains why I’m hopelessly riding in this semi, not knowing who the driver is, the Hand of Fate having drawn a curtain between me and whoever’s behind the steering wheel. I’m stuck in this Freightliner headin’ down this endless black ribbon and I have no clue where the heck it’s going. And to add insult to injury, we’re recycling characters from the past (Moose, Daffy Duck, BB) as if regurgitating them will improve the product, or the plot. Oh, that’s right, dig that lamp you threw out on Trash Day from the Milford City Dump, take it home, put in the den, plug it in and see if it’ll help you read when you’re scoping the racing forms in order to bet on the winning horse. Kentucky Derby was founded on said principles.

Nice view of the Rocky Mountains, if nothing else. Is that Pike’s Peak?

Comin’ into Milford

Steering this plot into HellThe trailer’s runnin’ empty

And Daffy Duck’s not writing so well

The story’s bad and nobody cares

The Trumpet’s gettin’ itchy and scared

6 months of this plot

and I’m-a gonna lose my mind tonight

Here I am at the Milford Truck Stop. I heard the 3-Piece Fried Chicken Special is to die for. You get 2 breasts and a wing plus 2 sides and you don’t gotta worry about your Visa card maxing out. Omigod, Jay Bhatia wouldn’t show up at a greasy spoon and report my credit woes to The Trumpet, would he? Would he stoop that low? I did call the Milford Credit Bureau and got a forbearance for a couple of months, so there, Jay, print that in The Trumpet and smoke it. Anyway, drinks are extra. And I think I’ll have the breaded okra and macaroni & cheese. By God, breaded okra will put hair on your chest and help you swing the bat better. And all that grease from the chicken breasts? I think Moose applied a healthy dose to his hair. Otherwise, the rest was donated to the Milford Pantry.

Jay’s pumpin’ information

Trying to get the scoop of his life

Thank God he never caught wind

That Gil was cheatin’ on his wife

Hold the door and let this thing fly

Kiss off Barry Bader goodbye

6 months of this plot

and I’m-a gonna pull my hair tonight

Gang, since Marty’s been suspended, SOMEBODY has to take his place. I’ve been watching the Mudlarks on the portable TV in the cab while gettin’ my kicks on Route 66. I just heard Hawk Harrelson the other day:

“Daffy Duck, SHE GONE!!!!!!!! And after 6 innings, the  White Sox lead the Mudlarks, 7-1. We’ll take a commercial break, this is Chicago White Sox Baseball on WGN.”

“Coach Thorp was in disarray as to what diamond ring to buy Mimi before he got married. He was caught in the black market and all he got for his efforts was a swirlie. I was helpless to bail him out. Hi, I’m Sid Andrews, owner of the Milford Diamond Company. If my last name sounds familiar, yes, my brother is Tod Andrews, now coaching all the Oakwood teams, including the rowing team. And let me row you into something that will last a lifetime, a diamond with all the bells and whistles that tells that Special Someone “It’s forever, Love”. When I saw Gil trying to exchange his Marine Discharge Papers for a wedding ring at the Milford Pawn Shop, I threw him a lifeline and got him out to the shopping center parking lot. We put the Discharge Papers under the seat cushion in his car. Thank our lucky stars his Papers were not authorized by a Notary Public or the sale would be final and Gil would be stuck with a stone that got excavated out of Shaft #2 at the Milford Mines. Coal does not bode well at the wedding ceremony. “With this ring…” takes on an entirely different meaning. Fortunately, I showed Gil a wide selection of hand-crafted, sparkling diamonds in many carats and visual claritys, all designed to stay within a teacher-coach’s salary. The friendly staff at Milford Diamond Company knew that Gil hasn’t had a real job in 60 years and odds are, probably never will. Our staff was OK with that. Because they are not working on a commission, they didn’t have to tell Coach Thorp to get a life. A .29 carat, S12 visual clarity diamond ring was shipped FedEx right at Gil’s doorstep, several days before the wedding. Gil did not have to take out another loan and strain his credit plus his Discharge Papers are back in the safe deposit box at Milford Federal. We even paid for the shipping. Everybody was happy.

The Milford Diamond Company. Now Gil has a friend in the diamond business.”

We’re tryin’ to dodge the smokies

Marty’s learning on the job

No Class A license with him

My heart is really starting to throb

He took out an oil tanker rig

Can’t wait till he goes back to ‘DIG

6 days of Marty Moon

and I’m-a doubtin’ I’ll be home tonight

“Harrrrry Carrray, back in Wrigley Field, where the Cubsh are clinging to a 4-3 lead over the Mudlarksh, top of the 8th inning. Here’s Hiawatha Jamesh, the casher, who’s batting .319. Boy, keep thish cookie off the bashes. Say hello to Fred and Marge who are lishining in on KRNT in Des Moines, Iowa, lifelong Cubsh fansh for 35 yearsh. Theresh a pitch, high and away, 1-0.”

“Harry, an interesting stat on Hiawatha James, he hits left-handers a ton, batting .453, and .410 in the daytime. Steve Trout needs to be careful here, Hiawatha can turn on a pitch and with that wind blowing out, he can certainly send one out to Waveland Avenue in a hurry.”

“Boy, Steve, at least Marty didn’t have problemsh with cigar shmoke. Can you put that thing in your pocket? Only the plot shmellsh worsh.”

“Harry, you’re up to your 8th Bud now. How you can smell ANYTHING, let alone this plot, is beyond my comprehension.”

I’d like to put in a word for The Bookworm in Corydon, Indiana. Great people who keep my humor going because I buy a lot of books from them and those books feed me comedy ideas. Being a Western buff, they have an excellent selection of Louis L’Amour works. Hey, That keeps ME coming back for more. If you’re in the neighborhood, check them out. Believe me, it’s great to get some great stuff and people know your name. I’ve been a fan of small businesses forever because, let’s face it, gang, they make the Face of America. The Bookworm is certainly part of that Face.

Okay, gang, it’s your turn. I’m riding into St. Louis where the semi will stop at a terminal and unload this plot. That’ll take forever so I’m here in the Gateway Arch. I’ll be down the chute in about, oh, 3-4 hours if anything interesting develops. Uhhhhh, er, Busch Stadium looks terrific from here.

Arriving in St. Louis

Wishing for this thing to end

Things are getting hopeless

Nothing comin’ ’round the bend

Baseball plot is fixin’ to start

Hope it don’t stink up and fart

6 months of this plot

and I’m-a gonna jump the bridge tonight

Gang, are you in for a treat!!!!! With MAJOR help from timbuys, I just made this post even cheaper and gaudier with this video. Now the music buff in me, I will confess, likes the song and its singer, Dave Dudley. But if we’re burning this plot at the stake, I couldn’t think of a more honky-tonk tune to aid and abet in the cause. This plot’ll be reduced to ashes by midnight tonight, thanks to Mr. Dudley and his crew(gaunt-sounding background singers thrown in for free). And if you look closely, the ghostly looking tanker that was chasing Dennis Weaver all over Milford in the movie “Duel”(I believe Steven Spielberg’s 1st flick) is in this video. You guys have SKEWERED Coach T. and Co. all day. You deserve to be rewarded. Enjoy!!!!

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