Will Football Last Another 5 To 10 Months?

Ah, Bob Dylan

 

What time is it

Said The Hand

To Charlie when they met

 

5 to 10

Said Charlie

 

The Hand said

That’s what your step-dad’s gonna get

 

Damn, I hate to leave CLASSIC stuff but I’m still trying to figure out what Charlie is wearing under his other shirt.

Now because it appears to be a star, I can’t say that Chance has written

GIL THORP COULDN’T BARF OR COACH HIS WAY OUT OF HIS PERSONAL TOILET IN HIS OFFICE

Don’t you get In-School if that were spotted by some teacher? I think so. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the schools but that or

MS. RIZK NEEDS TO HOT-WIRE HER HEAD OUT OF HER TYPEWRITER

really wouldn’t do justice either.

Oh, okay, one more for you fuddy-duddies who don’t know when to give up

MARTY WASN’T JUDAS ISCARIOT THIS TIME?

Any or all of these inscriptions could grace Charlie’s shirt as long as he doesn’t walk past the principal’s office. And I’m bettin’

DR. PEARL BEGAN WEARING DENTURES DURING THE GILDED AGE

would probably get him in trouble too. Don’t go the way of your step-dad. Charlie. You wouldn’t want to be disgraced being sentenced to wearing a beard that was skinned from some skunk roadkill. Silence is seldom misquoted.

 

BIG shout-out to Iroquois Gardens Apartments of Louisville, Kentucky and their property manager, Melissa Frye. I was pleasantly surprised at the amenities and comfort of my new apartment. Microwave, dishwasher, refrigerator, an excellent atmosphere and space, important for all the books I have and use to get ideas for this site. And Melissa makes a good point, the apartments are run by a corporation but you wouldn’t know it coming into her office. She and everybody else know my name. Looks like personalized service to me. Factor in an affordable price and you got yourself a winner. Stop in and say Hello to Melissa and her friendly staff if you’re looking for a place to live and check it out. I think you’ll agree, this doesn’t compare with many of the apartments in the area. It really doesn’t.

Support Small Business, Gang. You need to go where everybody knows your name.

Now I’m going to take a stab at what is I THINK on his shirt, self-assured Charlie doesn’t want to go the way of his step-dad. I bet it’s Captain America and any time now, if Chet or anybody else continue to mess with Tommy Rich, er, Chance, Charlie will rip off that flannel shirt, fling his shield at these bete-noires and saw ’em in two and Democracy will be restored.

I COULD say that’s a pentagram but there’s no evidence of Charlie belonging to the Milford High School Satan Worshipers Club but I never saw an upside-down cross in the hallway in P1 or in Charlie’s room. I’m sticking with my original Captain America theory.

 

As Charlie approaches Chance, revealing what’s under the flannel shirt

“Smmmmiiiilllleeeee, you’re on Candid Camera”

As Allen Funt comes out of the locker

“Naw, it was one big-ass joke, Chance. Chet Ballard really likes you and never did any of that stuff. In fact, he’s underwriting your scholarship for one of the Power 5 football schools, isn’t that right, Charlie?”

“Yeah, in fact, Nick Saban is coming this afternoon, after he gets done signing autographs at The Bucket.”

 

Come on, you naysayers, Charlie doesn’t pray 5 times towards the Milford Church of Satan. Isn’t this more plausible?

 

We prefer to spend our time

On athletic news

Not wasting our time with some lout

 

And pretend we’ve flipped the lever

And fried his ass to Hell

Leaving no sign of his whereabouts

 

If we could change his mind

If we could alter brain and moral signs

If we could return the way it used to be

We would omit folks with itchy properties

Dig a grave and throw away the key

Focus all our eyes on sporting activities

Scrap his beard and insecurities, you see

 

If only we could change his mind

If only he would change

If we had a gun

We’d blast him again and again

 

And pretend that we’re not happy

Since he went away

Oh, if only we could change his mind

 

Then there’s P2 and this is the raison d’etre of Gil Thorp. Put another way, if The Joker were to rob Milford Federal Credit Union, Milford High School Federal Credit Union, Fort Milford Federal Credit Union, Milford Savings and Loan, Milford Cash Advance (“Just pay back the full amount you robbed by this Friday if you don’t want tbe interest to accrue.”) , Milford National Bank, Milford State Bank, and some kid’s lemonade stand (We’re talking about The Joker, you understand) , Robin is not going to meet Batman on the streets of Milford while Batman is zipping up his cape after a quickie with Catwoman at the Milford Best Western and say “Gosh, Batman, I knew you didn’t have anything to do with The Joker’s crime spree. I knew it all along.”

“Don’t sweat it, old chum. BTW, would you return the room key to the manager on duty? Just tell them somebody dropped it by the ice machine and you were doing your duty as a citizen of the law.”

 

Really, P2 is just a waste of a panel. Why would we suspect that Charlie had ANYTHING to do with all the computer hacking and illegal downloading and performing illegal investigations, executing unoffical business? Like this was a Bonnie and Clyde operation.

That’s right, Charlie steps inside building past security while Chet distracts them by taking a leak in the shrubbery. Chet will get a slap on the wrist and future directions to the restroom and walk away with information Dressed to Kill. Right.

Chance had a hard time calling Chet “Dad”.

 

If ya gotta use the garbage can lid while yuz a Superhero ta fight th’ scum and grime in tha city of Milford except on Tuesday when Milford Sanitary Solutions makes its rounds, ya might be a redneck.

 

Big shout-out to Ryan Roth and Roth’ Pizza of Elberfeld, Indiana. I drove by there the other day and it was a classy operation. I am not surprised as Ryan’s a top-notch individual who was great to work with at TJ Maxx. He sells great pizza and stroms at great prices in a small-town atmosphere. Customer is King with this gentleman. In fact, the only thing bad about him is he hates my favorite teams. Oh well, one can’t have everything. Take exit 29 south off of I-64 in Indiana and take the first exit off of I-164 and follow the signs to Elberfeld. Once you hit Elberfeld, he’s smack dab in the middle of town. Can’t miss him.

Support Small Business, Gang. You need to go where everybody knows your name. Ryan knows mine and has for years.

 

Y’know, I’d hate for those fists in P3 to be bumper cars. I wouldn’t want to call 1-FON-THE-JAWS after my pelvic area got Captain America’d. Nuff said.

 

“And that’s the end of the 3rd quarter here at Mudlark Stadium with the score in this Valley Conference Winter Extension contest, Milford, 27, Oakwood, 10. This is Marty Moon on WDIG-TV, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

On Coach Thorp’s 58,000 acre hog farm that abuts the city limits of Milford, at his homestead

“So you’re saying that if I stop accepting hog meat that was stowed away on The Mayflower that I’ll make more money?”

Robby Howry, fresh from his Accounting 212 class at Milford Community College

“Yes, you will. In fact, we’re studying Tax-credit Procedures that I aced on the exam and there’s a lien surcharge on every crate of pork smuggled out of the ship. But the Milford Town Hall will grant a tax reimbursement incentiv3 on every unused package that Milford High School cafeteria is prepared to dump in the Milford Sanitary Solutions truck.”

“Bull shit.”

“Bull shit?”

“Young man and WDIG-TV, I apologize for the profanity on the air, but you don’t know anything about sausage…”

“…just like you don’t know anything about bookkeeping or coaching?”

“Precisely. We import only the finest pork, some from far-away places, to ensure quality in every bite. Sausage, like Martini & Rossi, only gets better with time. And we use only the finest of spices and condiments to enrich flavor at its peak performance. Import duties are financed by the sausage distillation wing of the processing plant.”

“Wow!!!!!! Nice to know rosemary and sage sold under the table from Laos is honestly financed. And the savings is passed on to the consumer.”

“Gil, did you also tell him that Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage uses no fillers or cheap ungredients in its meat?”

“That’s right, Mimi. Robby, you need to stick to billboards when you’re not reviewing debentures for the quiz. We don’t need Crisco or Elsie the Borden Cow to fatten up our sausage. We use only the finest cuts of Polish Kielbasa so that breakfast and church picnics can experience manna from Heaven.”

“Let me assure you, Robby, I don’t need Crisco or Clabber Girl when I’m frying sausage burgers for Gil.”

“Mmmmmmm, mmmm, why go through the drive-thru at McDonald’s for a McChicken that’s on life-support in the microwave when I can indulge in one of Mimi’s Double Smoked Sausage & Cheese Patty Melts? Tennessee Pride couldn’t process a Junior Whopper with their sausage.”

“Gee, Coach, you’re right. It’s like telling Burger King to make Whoppers out of Veggie Burgers. I wouldn’t change a thing.

“Here, Robby, so there’s no hard feelings after you trashed my husband, here’s a Triple Decker with Onions. And I’ll pour you a Frosty Root Beer, no charge.”

“Oh boy!!!!!!!!!!! I’m in Heaven!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“No, Robby, you’re in Milford, home of the finest sausage in the land. Come get a package of Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage today at your local grocery outlet. Remember, sausage and coaching go together like pork fritters and fries.”

Comment away. I’m headin’ to Milford IGA because I understand that Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage is tastier than George Jones’ Sausage. Except George was adept in his profession but I’ll try anything once.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Vandals Caught While Trying To Excavate Plymouth Rock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Spokesperson from Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage denies any connection with the crime. ‘Our meats come from above the ground.”

Edited to add: Long time readers may have noticed a delay in posting of the images for the strip last week. This was due to an extended sojourn in the Tortolita mountains of the Sonoran Desert, a few photos from which appear below with T. Drew’s permission and encouragement. – TimP

Look Sharp, Feel Sharp, Be… Blunt

 

I’m at a loss for why this visit to the Chance Macy family home is dragging out as long as it is.  I mean, we even get a beat panel for Pop-pop to bobble his head. Is it to finally fill in the blanks as to the whereabouts of Chance’s parents?

Previously I’d speculated that they went the way of Silent John Pascoe’s folks. Perhaps they met a more sinister fate. Have they been banished to the great unknown with the Thorp children? Or was it simply a Tonight Show gag gone horribly wrong?

Speaking of which, how are you fixed for blades, Chance?

Shortest. Debate. Ever.

Geez, Chet, when has doing the right thing ever stopped you? Or netted you the results you were after?

You do realize that your logins are being captured and it won’t take an internet ninja to figure out what you’ve been up to. Even if it’s Kaz doing the ninjaing (ninjing?). There are steps to be taken between nosing around in students’ permanent records and getting Chance kicked off the football team. Once you take them, it’ll only be a matter of time before everyone from Gil to the mop Steve Luhm left behind in the janitor’s closet will be hip to your scheme. Then the only one getting kicked off of anything will be you off the school board – and maybe out of the family home. I hear Uncle Gary might have some room for you on a sleeper sofa in LA…

Ease Up, Ballard

The theme of the fall plot so far is: Chet Gotta Chet.

Today we see him camped out on the front porch, waiting to grill Charlie about football practice. (Maybe that’s a rear entrance with a sliding glass door? It seems like a wide opening for a standard door. Look at all those parallel lines: flooring, siding, a multi tiered tiled deck. That’s some serious drafting. Yes, the architectural details are more arresting than the third or fourth occurrence of Chet Ballard’s overbearing parenting.)

I don’t know anything about high school football practice. I always pictured it as a lot of jumping jacks, running and other conditioning, maybe throw in some drills. Y’all are going to have to enlighten me. Of course there must be scrimmaging too with starters getting more reps than back ups. That seems more like a professional thing that can be picked apart all week by the 900 gossipy shows on ESPN. “Eli’s not getting the bulk of reps in practice and he’s sulking in his Porsche!!”

What is revealed is that Charlie is not just ambivalent toward Chet. He’s kind of over it. Maybe he should have a chat with his mom.

The Air In the Front Yard Is Cooler Than the Air Coming Out of You*

Back from a brief hiatus and feeling a bit refreshed. Know what else would be refreshing? A story arc about a player who just wants to get better and actually gets better through coaching. A kid whose parents are simply supportive of his or her interests and not trying to live vicariously through them or project their own shortcomings onto them.

But that would be asking too much, wouldn’t it? Far easier to trot out the cardboard villain adult who puts it where it doesn’t belong to try to advance their kid’s causes for their own selfish motives. Here busybody Ballard feels that need to for reasons known only to him. Where does he plan to use his observation about Chance Macy? As evidence that the kid is too gassed/hurt to come out to party** and, as such, deserves to be benched in favor of Charlie? Or that his not coming out to party is evidence that he’s not a team player and, as such, deserves to be benched in favor of Charlie?

Either way, it’ll be another strike against Ballard, whose big swing and a miss on Tiki Jansen makes this strike two.

*Alternate title: Chet Ballard, Backdoor Man. Is that an actual transom above the Schuring’s back door?

**Pretty confident of the Schurings to plan a postgame victory party at their house, innit?

I’m not gonna lie; I have a bulls-eye on my apron

So this is Charlie, who lives with Chet. Who has a bulls-eye on his front (everyone else has one on their back). His mom apparently is Mrs. Roh. Maybe he is too. Thats why Chet is Chet, not Dad. So is Mrs. Roh Mom? Probably. So Charlie is a Roh.

Since practice is over, where is Charlie going now? How the hell did he get a bulls eye on his shirt in P2 that wasnt there in P1? He also is wearing dark bracelets on both wrists in P2, not P1.

Why does Charlie care about a player running 80 yards in practice? The defense isnt trying that hard. Or… the defense is BAD. Thats why Chance Macy is Good. Connect the dots people.

For being a junior Charlie isnt that big is he? But then he’s as tall as his refrigerator, which is around 6 feet for most fridges. He sure looks short outside playing catch.

 

 

 

 

 

Mudlark Football And Manwiches, Traditions In Their Own Minds.

Time out. As you most of already know, I have been a Thorpiverse junkie practically since I was knee-high to a grasshopper and I am trying to recall the LAST TIME the team EVER took a Hungry Man break after all that blockin’ and tacklin’. A Banquet Frozen Turkey Breast Tenders and Stewed Potatoes with that little itty-bitty brownie crammed in the corner of the plastic plate after 30 suicides? Didn’t happen.

But, okay, wink, wink, I’ll play along, Thorpiverse. They had to pump Healthy Choice Cheese-Free Lasagna out of Luke Bunkin, he was pukin’ all over the artificial turf after he blind-sided the fullback on a botched Off-Tackle set and that pasta came right up to the surface. Sure, Thorpiverse, anything you say.

 

The game is mortified

The plays are so unreal

The season will commence

With stinky tones, I feel

 

Whatever happened to the plot

It used to be so good

It made us feel alive

Not crapping chunks of wood

 

So if you hear us, Gilbert, can’t you feel the SOS

Football’s grinding in a smelly stench of murkiness

 

When you eat

How can we ever think you’ll go on

When you talk

Marjie clogs the plot up until dawn

 

Sorry, Gang, a little Abba music to soothe the savage idiocy. Works every time.

 

Gang, Fuel Mart in Austin, Indiana is your place to go if you’re on the road. Take Exit 34 off of I-65 and head west and take the VERY NEXT ROAD to the right and you’re in the place. Friendly people, plenty of pumps, PLENTY of goodies at great prices, heck, they got my hot dog ready every time. Come see Samantha and company where they treat you like a king. I know, I’ve been going there for years. Gang, if you’re in the area, get your butt on down there where they know you by name. SEVERAL semi’s go there, trust me.

Support Small Business. They make America.

 

Well, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. That seems to be the watchword in P1 as one of the Evil Triplets dropped cheating in golf and now wants to make amends and pursue a career cheating in football. By gosh, spearing the tight end when he ain’t looking after he had to use his athletic ability to snare a pass a bit too high on a Double Out Right flat-out works up an appetite.

Now that’s one way of looking at it. If some of you want to cop out and go the Billboard Way,

“This week at Milford McDonald’s, get a Happy Meal and a large-size aluminum container of Milford Yorkshire Hog Farm Sloppy Joe’s, only $1.99. I’M LOVIN’ IT!!!!!!!!!!!”

As long as they can engineer all that into my car while I’m negotiating the drive-thru, I’m in. Just make sure they have extra ketchup in the containers. Last time, the clerk at the window stuck horse radish in my order.

 

There appears to be division here. Some of you who are ALWAYS moanin’ and complainin’ and have to have your own way insist that Gil is a combo Bruce Lee-Godzilla while using his claws to maneuver the Hungry Man Chopped Sirloin Burger and Great Northern Beans, complete with watercress, while Marjie the Cardboard Cut-Out is cheating on her Ultra Slim Fast diet (“Give us a week, we’ll take the weight off this mindless plot”) , leaving her Chocalate Mocha Shake behind the bleachers and going the Steak ‘n’ Shake Burgoo Burger route, all-you-can-eat Sloppy Joe’s at its finest.

Others who are the art connoisseurs of the TWIM readership maintain the position that this is really Henry Fuseli’s “Kriemhild und Gunther”, Sturm und Drang efficiently motorcaded to the Mudlark football field, eating under the bright lights in the Bubba Joe Tilwell section. I would agree, were it not for the John Madden-like character in the background who dons “The Nightmare” cap and seems serious enough to want Milford back to its winning ways, even if it means slaughtering several cows and razorbacks in the Milford Nature Area to pull off this fait d’accomplait. True, “The Nightmare” was also done by Fuseli but the painter never painted a pigskin, let alone a Brunswick bowling ball, therefore cuttin’ some slack is in order.

 

To my grandpa, Leonard Thomas Hardin, I want to follow in your footsteps and be a cook just like you. I dedicate this blog in your memory. You did A LOT for people, Grandpa.

 

While the cuisine at the football practice is a fair one, though slightly inaccurate (Tod Andrews on the phone one day “I never saw you lay a pickle on a Manwich when I was your assistant, Gil”) , it could stand some sprucing up. And what better way to satisfy the appetites of a bunch of ravenous traditional mixture veterans-perennial-young-team-for-6-decades than with Sloppy Joes, beans, cornbread, generous slices of apple pie, etc., washing it down with waterfalls of Mudlar-K-Cola in diferent varieties, i.e. Kiwi, Lemon-Lime, Diet Prune, Big Red, Gin & Tonic, Gooseberry.

But, hey, leave plenty of room in the tummy for Irish Soda Bread.

Simple. Mix in 4 cups of Milford Bakeries All-Purpose Flour with a teaspoon of Morton Salt, procuring plenty of space on the table where the aluminum containers of Milford 7-11 Fried Chicken has been sitting for several Two-a-days. Throw in a teaspoon of Mudlark & Hammer Baking Soda and stir. Next, pour 1 and 1/2 cups of Milford Dairy Buttermilk. Be sure not to spill this on the aluminum container of meat loaf sitting next to your concoction. Several members of the defense, particularly the linebackers, got the runs at last year’s football picnic and it was too late when the coaches tracked the source of the problem.

Preheat oven in the boiler room as Steve Luhm will be on assignment vacuuming the jungle in Madagascar. Set it to 400 degrees. Take well-mixed dough out of bowl and lay out on an 8 and 1/2″ x 11″ baking sheet.  Wait until the offensive line unit has run laps before sticking the dough in the oven. Clear oven of Coke paper cups and dead mice, then add a bit more buttermilk before re-inserting in the oven. DO NOT PULL A GIL AND RUIN THE PLOT, ER, DOUGH BY KNEADING IT. Shape it into a ball, no Nerf Football jobs here, and bake for 40 minutes. Etch Spalding in each quarter and bake for another 25 minutes. Stab with a knife, cut an end zone on each end, then bake until crusty and browned. Let cool on Gil’s hair.

Feeds an army of 150 or a football team of 75, give or take a water boy or two.

 

You munch so far away

Though you are standing near

This team was once alive

But something died, I fear

 

I really hate to rock the boat

Cream cheese caught in my throat

What happened to this plot

It’s limping, barely floats

 

So as you’re sipping Red Bull

Can’t you hear the SOS

The doughnuts fattening Marjie

Shoves the stage to the SOS

 

When you eat

How can we watch you prate in a fog

When you talk

Marjie passing gas on some corn dogs

 

This plot is already beginning to excite me. We learn that the shortest distance between two points is Gil’s butt. Naw, naw, you can’t say Marjie’s butt, she curves and eventually forms a spiral, just shy of her pelvic area, were you able to unfold P2. Okay, so part of Gil’s butt overlaps a tiny bit into the bleachers but not by much. Marjie is still gonna have to indulge in a Nutra-bar or two to edge out Gil.

And whatever romantic interest Cousin Itt is engaging in with the person sitting next to him in P2 will presumably remain a mystery although I think his knee pad will be coming off in the next week or two, or so Doctor Hibbert, Homer’s doctor, has repeatedly stated. I’m sure the Manwiches are getting Cousin Itt aroused, judging by his juxtapositioning to the table, right behind Bruce Lee, er, Gil.

 

Let’s focus our attention on the main course. Sure, Sloppy Joes and Jowl Bacon dipped in molasses are nice but for that discriminating assistant football coach with no life or even football players with an extra appetite, One-Pot Roast Chicken is sure to please.

First, get the chicken. If you have a shotgun handy, there are plenty running around in the woods behind the stadium’s Port-a-Pots and ferreting them out ought to be no problem.

Next, take the wishbone out as even Cousin Itt might have problems digesting portions of the chicken if unnecessary parts are allowed to hang around. It’s not necessary to kill off Mercutio in Act 7 long after Juliet has committed suicide but that’s the beauty of Shakespeare. Actors and actresses enter the Pearly Gates at the right time.

Tie in a bundle, exposing the breast as wide as possible, seasoning with salt left over for 2 months on the faculty tables at the high school cafeteria and fresh-ground pepper. Peel carrots, potatoes, celery that have been yanked out of Gil’s garden, slice them in thick portions, then obtain 2 onions that Marty left in the fridge in the break room at WDIG because he changed his mind and wanted to leave his Bucket Cheeseburger plain. Quarter those, then throw all those goodies, sliced and diced, into pot that Mimi bought at the Milford High School Rummage Sale. Set chicken on top of that.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees, head down to Milford 7-11 for a Slushee break, then return and place One Pot Roast Chicken in oven and roast for 45 to 60 minutes, or longer, depending on how much of Gil’s dandruff fell in the pot and needs to be singed.

Chicken is done when juices are clear, not pink, when pierced with a knife or tire iron. Serves several with a Bucket Shake.

 

Now here’s where it gets fun. If your dog chewed the comics section of the Milford Enquirer, leaving you with just the first 2 panels and Gil left you hanging with

“But I’m glad we’ve kept the tradition-”

wouldn’t some of you guess that the rest of the sentence would be football related? Thought so.

Here are some ideas

“…of ringing the bell at the entrance to the stadium every time a freshman sacks the varsity quarterback.”

“…of the team captain snapping his jock strap every time a player runs the 40 in 2.7 seconds or less.”

“…of handing the player brave enough to tell Marty Moon to shove it up his ass and that he has a wiener as big as a Vienna Sausage the game ball.”

“…everybody in the stadium standing up everytime the players sing Handel’s “Messiah” when a running back scores a TD on a run 80 yards or longer.”

“…of making the players do 1000 push-ups after they’ve dumped Gatorade on me. Man, that shit gets warm after about 3 quarters.”

 

But noooooooooooooo, we’d never guess that Gil and Marcie are involved in a Lean Cuisine Moment. Well, at least there’s no touching involved. Keeping it on the level with bar-b-q lamb and mashed taters with gravy, there’ll be no front-cover illicit activity coming from that culinary angle, that’s for sure. Now if they can steer it back to football, the circle will be complete.

 

“And that wraps up the Annual Alleged Traditional Football Picnic and, God, I am stuffed. We’ll be back in a moment, enough time to stuff all this Stouffer’s Meat Loaf and Hamburger Helper Mac ‘n’ Cheese Surprise into the doggie bags. I think the Hefty bags should hold. This is Marjie Ducey, you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

Mrs. Shaw knocking on the door of the equipment shed at Mudlark Stadium which is locked good and tight for reasons about to be divulged

“Honeyyyyyyy, it’s time to come to bed!!!!!!!!!!”

“I’ll be out in a minute. I gotta put some more shoulder pads on the shelf. Some are out of sorts and every pad has to be in alphabetical order.”

“Honey, it’s 3:00AM. It takes you that long to put pads back on the shelf?”

“Blubba, blubba, I had to wash out the underarm stains on ’em. Man, some of these players need to apply some Ban Roll-on!!!!!!!”

“Darling, even I know you don’t put a shoulder pad under your arm.”

“Hubba bubba, some of our players are kinda dumb. Sometimes we gotta set ’em straight on where to wear their jock straps. Hoo-eee, we hafta defumigate a few with the Weed-B-Gon when we run out of Renuzit.”

“Sweetie Pumpkin Pie, I think we’ve defumigated all we need to defumigate. Now remove the 7-lb. Master Dead Bolt and let’s eliminate our own demons.”

“Dagnabit, I still have footballs I gotta put back in the bin. They got punctured from laying out in the grass too long. Then Luhm ran over the others with the riding mower. Do you know how long it takes to restitch them, cure them, and blow the big fan on them to dry?”

“I think my sweet little Che Guevara has something else left out to dry.”

“If you’re talkin’ about the helmets, I scraped all the cow manure off of ’em. We made the players do sprints in the stuff. That’ll teach the players where to walk when they go to the Milford Slaughter House to get Manwiches.”

 

“I finally caught onto what she wuz sayin’. I saw one of the helmets, shiny and new straight out of the polisher and saw my own helmet and found out the hard way that I couldn’t stick that into the polisher. I was too short.

I went to Milford Men’s Clinic and boy, the shoe shine job I got on my Significant Other. Cole Haan could not have smeared shoe cream any finer to get the erections of my dreams. And with a free Prick-o-Meter check to ensure sexual pleasure the magnitude of a Jake Slocum western, I am confident there’ll be no more embarrassing tender moments of the inappropriate variety.  Come see for yourself at Milford Men’s Clinic. What have you to lose but your pride and your Beanie-Weenie?”

Gang, comment away. I’m going to go get in line before Cousin Itt snarfs up all the tater tots.

 

Ooooooooooookkkkkkkkk, how could I leave y’all without DESSERT? Okay, okay, there’s plenty of pies and cakes on the table but we can add one more to the fire. After the players have had their fill of Twinkies

Let’s keep it basic. This one is Nectarine & Berry Cobbler and this will take care of any lingering appetite. You know football players and their Grand Canyon stomachs.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Proceed to Milford Dough Factory and purchase a package of sweet biscuits. Come back, hoping the Milford Fire Marshal hasn’t issued warrants, and prepare sweet biscuits on cookie sheets, cutting into 10-14 squares.

Next, get nectarines, blueberries, and blackberries that you plucked illegally from Milford Valley Vineyards property out of the cabinet. Slice nectarines until you get five cups. Slice blueberries and blackberries until you get 2 cups apiece. Combine all of this in a bowl, mixing in Milford Bakeries All-Purpose Lead-Free Non-Phosphate Flour, a pinch of salt, and a half cup of sugar. Throw in Milford Valley Generic Lemon Juice that Mimi uses every Christmas for her fruit cake and mix well. Put entire result in a gratin dish 9 x 12 inches, 2-3 inches deep. Bake for 8 minutes or until fruit softens, hoping to God Coach Kaz isn’t around with his greasy fingers to sample the merchandise, after washing football pants all day.

Place sweet biscuits on the fruit and such in staggered rows and return to the oven. Bake for 35 to 45 minutes, until biscuits are golden brown, the fruit is bubbling, and Coach Shaw goes back to obscurity, ready to return when Girls Basketball pops on the scene. Let the cobbler cool and serve warm with Milford Dairy Whip (“Freshly Milked From The Goat”) or Milford Dairy Ice Cream (“Ditto”) .

 

Are You Sure They’ll Vote Me A Full Member At Putt Putt? Because Hadley Was Accepted Unanimously.

…who went to the March Hare who was having trouble with his hip rotation no matter how much Alice insisted he should swing his hips before full extension of his arms who ran over the Mad Hatter when Tiki caught the bomb at the 10-yard line and the Mad Hatter got called “Toast” cuz he wuz always gettin’ burnt at Free Safety who was going to The Queen to get her to sign a deposition and when Tiki moved into her personal toilet, she exclaimed “Off with his head!!!!!!!!” who saw Gil teach Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum how to putt who went to The Bucket afterwards for a beer after The Queen finally force the Milford Beverage Commission to relent after threatening to send the Royal Guard to the board members’ houses and sodomize their children who said to Gil after spilled a Bucket Strawberry Shake on The Queen “Off with his head!!!!!!!!” who…

Gang, are you as confused as I am trying to keep up with all these plots this summer? The golf plot last year was asinine and stupid but we at least stayed the course, pursuing to the bitter end 3 bozos disguised as Greg, Peter, and Bobby trying to put it to our heroes by faking their scores to Tiger Woods-Jack Nicklaus proportions only to predictably get their comeuppance in the end. C’mon, does anyone think any different? Yeah, a scout saw the leaderboard, called an agent and those bozos were at Augusta the next year with Sam Snead and Arnold Palmer.

But again, we were single-minded in our farcical pursuit of the truth. This year, if you’re not careful, Tiki will lose his man again and trip in the little pool where Hadley Venom is forced to take a drop and try to keep her par at the Drawbridge segment at Milford Mini-Links. Hey, Miniature Golf is a challenge. She needs to challenge her mind to keep it sharp when she has to go over to Mrs. Kravits’ house to inform her that she is wanted as a witness when Tiki is moving in with Samantha and Darren.

Be that as it may, no sense in beating this in the ground and losing our way in the final analysis, you whippersnappers are going to have to bear my love for Black Sabbath with a CLASSIC, Volume 4 the name of the CLASSIC, and a CLASSIC tune off that album, “Wheels of Confusion”. Ozzy, Tony, Geezer, Bill, it’s all yours

 

A month ago I wandered through this plot

On the field or shanking on the golf course

Lost in depostions with no fear

Touch football and torts were all I knew

 

It was an illusion

 

“…there’s a killer on the road,

His brain is squirmin’ like a toad…”

Oh, it’s just Gil driving the golf cart, Jaquan ridin’ shotgun. My Doors moment has come and gone.

 

And to be fair, I think it’s wonderful that Jaquan can be accepted with an overwhelming show of support.

That wasn’t the case many years ago when blacks were subjugated to abuse and second-class status and just flat-out banned from the golf courses all over the country. And in the ’70’s, a time when I was in my teens, you’d think that people would know better.

But a black man named Frazier Vance was golfing at a golf course in Madisonville, Kentucky and was with a foursome enjoying themselves when a couple of golf officials came up to Vance and said

“Get off the golf course.”

And of course, Vance asked in consternation “Why?”

“Because you’re black.”

Naturally, the golf course covered for these 2 roaches by saying to the effect that Vance didn’t have his stage pass. Shame on the people who tolerated this kind of behavior and tried to rationalize it later on.

Frazier Vance, ya done good for the community, My Friend. You taught a lot of people, black and white, the game of golf, your one true passion and love. You made them better people as a result. You did not deserve this. Rest In Peace.

I just love this parade of Blob and his family members in P1. Yup, when they’re not devouring half the populace of Milford, they’re out on the back nine for a relaxing round. Just don’t dip that shoulder, Mrs. Blob, when you’re teeing off. It probably explains why you’re smackin’ everything to the right.

And upon closer inspection, those are GOLF bags and GOLF clubs in the back of Gil’s golf cart. Not the Diet Coke and Mountain Dew canisters I originally conjectured. What Fanta Strawberry Surprize canister has a putter sticking out of its spout? Might help to get another appointment at Milford Optical. And that’s Blob Jr. at the Hot Wheels steering wheel about to approach #8 to tee off. I think we got this all sorted out. Whew!

“…who told the Lobster and the Mock Turtle that they had to get their physical turned in if they wanted to play flag football this year cuz The Queen challenged Gil and Mimi to a match of croquet and when Gil nailed his Titleist on The Queen’s bocce ball and sent it through the wickets and landed on The Bucket’s juke box and it started playing Red Sovine’s Hit Parade, The Queen exclaimed “Off with his head!!!!!!” who went with Hadley Virtueless and the Ace of Spades to Milford High School and told Ms. Rizk that she’d have to go to court and appear before Judge Judy if she wanted to recover her typewriter and not pound on the Dormouse’s buttocks for an editorial who…”

P2-“…the 35 and 3/8 members were so impressed with your singing “The Lobster Quadrille”, especially when you were shoutin’ above the back-up band, Uriah Heep, that they want you to join Fish-Footman, The Knave of Hearts, and Member-Guest as a foursome in the Milford City Tournament next week. With a generous handicap and a few tips to The Cheshire Cat from yours truly, you oughta be a cinch to win. How ’bout it?”

I’d be thinkin’ hard on that one too. Member-Guest blew a couple of putts down the stretch last year and if he can’t survive the pressure, I’d be like Jaquan and go for Willie Mays. He’ll hit it long anyway. And did you see The Catch on the fairway on #5 last year? That just clinches it. Mays is in.

Soon the golf balls changed to ugly pigskins

Figuring out just didn’t come so easy

Gil was more than fairy tales and tap-ins

Dog-Leg Left was just another word

It was an illusion

If ya gotta put a ton of tape around yore flamingo cuz ya got a swingin’ bunt the last time up at the plate in the Major Modified Industrial Men’s League Thursday Night Blue Dot softball at Milford Sports Park but ya don’t wanna git called out fer an altered bat cuz ya crammed sum steel fillers ta cause the poor flamingo ta poop on home plate and piss off the umpire cuz he’s gotta brush the damn stuff off, ya might be a redneck.

“…who asked Gil if he could borrow his Grecian Formula because it wasn’t doing him any good, judging by P2 and Bill the Lizard needed it for those 2 hairs sticking out of his bald head and his fiance said that goatee was enough to make a dog laugh, or so she learned from Elviney and Loweezy  at the gossip fence and that Jaquan and Snuffy Smith needed to use Grecian Formula on their scuzz if they weren’t going to shave it off with a Poulan and Marty Moon needed some Quaker State 10W-40 for his own facial hair if he was going to get romantically involved with Peaches again and go to Milford Men’s Clinic to take care of that croquet stick in his crotch who said that Shermy and Schroeder and the Cheshire Cat said Lucy needed to quit saying that Gil and Linus are wienies…

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Wins Sudden Death At Milford Country Club, Takes City Tournament Title!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“When Member-Guest said something about my mother on #17, Man, that just fired me up.”

And glory be, HADLEY VICTORIA NATIONAL CAN GOLF!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just what we need, another plot to add to the fire. Thorpiverse, I hate to break it to you but if you’re going to mastermind the M.A.S.H. format that worked well for that show, i.e., 2-3 mini-plots interweaving in the span of half an hour and ingeniously bringing closure by the time the closing theme rolled around, you only have ONE MONTH until September before the football plot arises from the dead. You can’t just push the season back and try to shoehorn Jaquan’s mammoth drives on the fairway and Hadley Venom’s putting on the steps leading into the Milford Municipal Court and sign depositions and contracts to have Gil dumped behind Milford Beverage Warehouse and Tiki able to attend Algebra II at Milford simultaneously and Tiki needing lessons from Heather on how to cover a Pop Warner League player on a slant and Mr. Baxendale needing Hayley’s M-O because the prescription at Milford Apothecary ran out when he was gorging in Spaghetti-O’s while lecturing his daughter to marry Robert Brady and be done with it because there were already kids and if she was going to be an on-the-go lawyer, Alice could take care of the kids at soccer practice and still be able to do the laundry. Did I leave out anything?

One month? Lotsa luck.

So we found that there’s too many games

And we know there’s never been a winner

We’ve tried so hard, the summer’s been a loser

Golf carts still be driving once August exits

This plot’s an illusion

And we can safely say without fear of contradiction that after going back and forth between and P1 and P3 and performing the same for several minutes that the people in the golf cart behind Gil and Jaquan are NOT the Frog-Footman and his Member-Guest, let alone a dozen of them, but Mimi and Hadley V. presumably in their own conversation.

“Hell, yeah, if you can shoot through the drawbridge like that and putt like Tiger, you oughta give up your law career and make a career out of Milford Mini-Links.”

“I still need to talk with Jaquan about it first. BTW, you got $15 dollars? There’s the Pepsi Man over by the tree.”

And what is the purpose of Jaquan’s putter overlapping onto the website in general? Did it ever occur to Thorpiverse to move both gentlemen caught up in a tender moment 2 feet over? We KNOW that that is a putter Jaquan has on his person, it is not necessary to be concerned that the audience might think it’s a cattle prod. Move them doggies on the greens, makes sense to me. It’d work better than Hadley Venom’s crooked cattle prod that she’s using to sink her putt and get a birdie when she’s not sticking Elsie the Cow back in the pen. Nice shorts, Mimi, incidentally. Tres chic.

“…and the White Rabbit shouted to Hadley Vacuum Cleaner “I’m late!!!!!!! I have a golf match with Mimi and The Queen!!!!!!!!” as the White Rabbit scurried  to Milford Dollar General to buy a matching outfit just like Mimi’s in P3 who saw Coach Kaz talk to the Dodo who suggested a Caucus Race where Tiki could run the plot in circles and there would never be a winner and he would get dizzy and feel like Marty Moon at Milford Lounge during Onion Rings and Bud Lite Happy Hour who saw Peaches wear Mimi’s golf shorts and they were several sizes too small so she told the Merlin the Magician to transform them into a more comfortable size even though Merlin the Magician came from another story but what else is new when you’re trying to figure out this plot you might as well be trying to figure out The Queen’s croquet swing who told Caterpillar to quit stealing Bobby Howry’s hookah he could smoke his own Bel-Airs thank you very much who told Paul Harvey…”

“And Hadley V. sinks another one!!!!!!! The woman’s en fuego today. We need to take a break before she tees off again. You’re listening to WDIG radio, a division of Lear Field Sports. This is Marty Moon and we’ll be right back.”

“Hello, this is Dr. Pearl speaking for Milford Funeral Solutions. Did your pet just recently die? Have you ever thought about pet cremation?

I know when a few of my hamsters died at our hatchery at Pearl’s Incubating Industries that we needed to get peace of mind and none too soon. Dumping them in the trash can along with that bad Banquet Frozen Dinner Turkey Tenders and Mashed Potatoes would have been inhumane and Betsy and Myrtle and Bernie and Gus were too docile and sweet without their Last Rites.

That’s when my husband and I decided to take a momentous step and talk to the good people at Milford Funeral Solutions. They gave us our choice of ministers, priest, rabbi, or licensed preacher, and the kind of service to perform, Traditional Latin Mass, 3 hymns and a homily (“Just As I Am”, “Victory in Jesus”, and “When The Roll Is Called Up Yonder”) or a more open celebration, giving the audience to relate their favorite moment with Gus or Myrtle. Sometimes a catharsis is the way out.

We were exposed to all the cremation techniques, ways that would be effective in facilitate their transition to the Walls of the New Jerusalem while transcending the Wheels of Fire. We chose the Match-Lite Fluid w/ Black Diamond Matches in Gas Oven method and we were none the wiser for it. We were even able to spread their ashes in Mudlark Lake as a special touch. Believe me, when I saw Bernie’s remains being dropped from the rowboat into the deepest part of Mudlark Lake, I had to hold back the tears.

Why go anywhere else to have your Lassie or Mr. Ed sent through trial-by-fire? Many funeral homes don’t guarantee their work and when you’re left with Mr. Ed’s head after the rest of his ashes is in Milford Holiday Inn’s swimming pool, it’s a long trip home. The undertaker had to remove the spare tire to get to his head. And when I was a sophomore in high school, I remember reading where Chester A. Arthur’s horse wound up at Milford Glue Factory and not as an employee.

Come to Milford Funeral Solutions today and let them take Rin Tin Tin to the Pearly Gates in one piece. Pet cremation never had it so good.

All right, Gang, it’s your turn. Just remember, Alice took the Milford & Oakwood to The Queen’s garden and ran over her petunias which caused The Queen to exclaim “Off With Gil’s Head!!!!!!!!!!” and Coach Shaw went hunting with his sawed-off Flamingo with the rest of the playing cards…

Lost in this Plot of Confusion

Bawling my eyes out with tears

I’m full of angry delusion

Hiding in Gil’s Belvedere…