What’s All This Fuss About Cramming Jif In Your Backpack With “A Midsummer’s Night Dream”?

“Did you ever notice that Gil combs his hair with an afro pick? Oh, sometimes he hides it well but if you look closely, while Gil is crossing the line for the first time and the umps are getting Gatorade cups from the batboy, Gil slips it out of his back pocket where his Red Man Natural Cut chaw is located and he starts plucking away. Sometimes a Tilden manager or a New Thayer broadcaster has caught him in the act and they have accused him of exchanging emery boards with Gonzo Aceves and thereby doctoring the baseball. I don’t know. I’m not in the batter’s box where the ball drops 8 feet on a dime. A better question would be to ask, ‘Gil, did you ever think of establishing grooming methods BEFORE the game?’ It won’t put a dent on the schedule to utilize your blow dryer before you hand in the lineup cards to the umpires. This is just one man’s opinion but I’m confident the rest of the Valley Conference managers are in unison on the issue.”

No. No. No. Kenny Rogers who is actually Andy Rooney is getting to be a strain on my heart. The above passage was cathartic but it still leaves me asking more questions than answering them. And The Mayor is just adding to those questions. We’re still trying to figure out how to pronounce his last name. Don’t get me started. We’ll just bail out and stick with The Mayor. I’m still calming my nerves that Andy Rooney is interpreting Iago while Peter Pan Breath is the new Spicoli(Good call, Jive Turkey, BTW). You notice Phoebe took the last train to Clarksville? Notice THAT one is NOT in the Valley Conference. Some people can leave this plot and start a new life. Lucky them. We’re stuck with Aimless Andy who is trying to discipline a guy who brings his cuisine to class and applies Heinz Ketchup to his Trix. Well, Heinz Ketchup is sort of Raspberry Red.

Gang, I recently saw an article titled “7 Things You Never Knew About ‘Gunsmoke’.” As much as I am a Western buff and love watching the show as a result, it is really, really difficult for me to conceive Gunsmoke characters being Milford Enquirer material. And I am really trying. For that matter, I bet it is hard for the Gunsmoke personnel to conceive the same thing

“Matt Dillon: I Saw Elvis And Gil Partaking Whiskey And Playing Strip Poker At The Dodge City Saloon With Festus And Doc!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Oooooooookkkk, I think you get the idea. So the way I see it, as long as we’re going to take journalistic liberties, I might as well weigh in with some journalistic liberties of my own. Things were getting too quiet around my neighborhood.

Insight #1

Wink Martindale was originally cast for the role of Matt Dillon.

Now try to sit down. After all, it’s not every day that a Bob Clayton or an Art Fleming or a Bill Cullen or a Gene Rayburn is perceived to wear the sheriff’s badge along with reading from his note cards. Shooting at Billy The Kid and introducing the next guest on Match Game 2020 requires an aplomb reserved for only those like an Andy Rooney a/k/a Kenny Rogers a/k/a Mr. Hand. You have to practice.

“Hey, Martindale!!!!!!! I’ll double whatever they pay you on Gunsmoke if you’ll host The Joker’s Wild!!!!!! C’mon, you want to keep fighting Jesse James for 20 years and he shows up in next week’s script? What kind of future is that?”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Amanda Blake, Who Played Miss Kitty On ‘Gunsmoke’, Was Not Her Real Name!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Sources say she went by the sobriquet ‘Mimi Thorp’ and occasionally coached girls softball for a local high school.”

 

And BOOKS LOOK LIKE BOOKS in P1!!!!!!!! Not a “Given a rhombus, a supplementary angle, and a straightedge, construct a Cliff’s Notes Anthony Trollope Anthology.” That comes as a relief while Mr. Hand is compelled to remind Spicoli that food will be eaten on your own time. Hey, Mayor, you wouldn’t want Mr. Hand devouring Bucket Full o’ Spaghetti in your bedroom while you’re doing your homework, would you? Or when making a move on Phoebe with your Jif and Wonder Bread-Sesame Loaf? And I hope to God that pizza that Spicoli ordered is NOT in his backpack. There’s more food than study guides in that vessel.

“Did you ever wonder what was in The Mayor’s locker? I shudder to think. I know I personally have had to stash my BVD’s in my desk when I was in a hurry to do the show and I could always dress later. But I didn’t stack my Smuckers jars next to my Hanes. Oh, one day I’m sure The Mayor will see the light and treat his locker as a storage for books, not his personal refrigerator. We can only hope that he can get a date for the prom if he can convince Phoebe that he took his Ground Round out of his locker and put them in the meat freezer in his basement. I’d hate to see him get In-School Suspension on account of excessive Boston Market’s. The ball is in his locker.”

On the movie about bloopers

“Tune in tomorrow when Matt Dillon restores law and odor in Dodge City. Only on WDIG-TV.”

 

Insight #2

Miss Kitty uses Mr. Bubble and stole a couple of bottles from the Thorp residence, leaving Keri and Jaime gravely disappointed.

Man, I don’t know boutchoo but I thought pulling wings from flies and running over old ladies in a wheelchair on a random street corner in Milford was reserved for Hadley V. Baxendale. Looks like I need to renew my subscription to Entertainment Weekly.

 

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Restores Odor After Fracas In The Dugout!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I think The Mayor should start calling him ‘Z’.”

 

Insight #3

Doc tried to have sex change at Milford General Hospital.

Well, I reckon that’s one way to appeal to the bisexual audience. We all have our needs. Problem was, the surgeon was gone for a month somewhere on vacation on The Virgin Islands and couldn’t make it back in time before the shoot. Doc’s chance at properly sharing a bed with Miss Kitty had come and gone.

 

And lo and behold, The Mayor is copping an attitude while stashing his curds and whey back in his receptacle. He just doesn’t get it. Gee, Spicoli, if I were to bring my KFC 20-Piece Bucket to class and chow down on wings and breasts and gulp my side order of mashed potatoes while the teacher is discussing “The best of times and the worst of times”, I should expect Student of the Week too. It’s only right.

When Bob Knight was a player at Ohio State, he and John Havlicek and Larry Siegfried went to a movie theater to catch a film. Knight had this big bag of shelled peanuts which he was mercilessly crunching and then throwing the hulls to the floor and stomping on them, making an annoyingly loud and grating sound. Havlicek and Siegfried got up, partly to get some concessions themselves, partly to escape Peanuts From Hell. As they’re walking to the exit, Knight shouted out

HEY JOHN, GET ME A COKE, WOULDJA!!!!!!

But I’m not saying that The Mayor is crunching his curds and whey and interrupting Flannery O’ Connor. That’s not him stomping on his Trix.

“And can someone explain to me why Kenny Rogers looks like a polar bear that skipped hibernation to grade book reports on ‘Great Expectations’? He must have stolen the Santa Claus beard when he was purchasing firecrackers from Milford Novelty & Gifts. The producers must have been desperate and not wishing to restore Miss Othmar to the set. I would venture to say that Spicoli smashing Cracker Jack on the floor sounds more enticing than ‘wah-wah-wah’. But that’s one journalist’s opinion.”

 

Insight #4

Festus ran a brothel behind the Visitor’s Lodge at Mudlark Lake Resorts.

“Shhhhhh, just keep quiet and enjoy. If Peaches were to find out, it’d be the end of your career.”

Hey, what’s on this comedy site, stays on this comedy site.

 

Oh, sure, Mr. Hand Who’s Really Andy Rooney Who Wears Steel Belted Tires On His Chin, go to Granny Clampett when Spicoli won’t eat his vegetables while another student is reciting “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d.”

For God’s sake, does she EVER leave the room? How many more reports ARE there? She’s had 10 centuries. What’s left, Student Drug Testing Reports-Sophomores? It’s safe to say she didn’t know the score of the latest Mudlark baseball game. Unless Gil files that in ANOTHER report. Oh boy. Senior Statistical Accounts Based on Standard Deviation-Triples and Singles. Take a number, Goodrich Tire Face. You might want to take another trip in the blimp around the property while you’re waiting. Oh, wait, that’s GOODYEAR. They and Granny are the other guys, remember?

“I’m still soaking my dentures in alkali, 2-Ply Radial Head. Those Cherry Pop Tart stains won’t come out. Can’t it wait?”

 

Insight #5

Miss Kitty bred cheetahs in captivity.

I have always wanted to walk my cheetah in the park across the street from me. Status symbols mean a lot to me.

“Gil, Dolly pooped in the den again.”

“No worries. We’ll get her potty-trained before the month is over.”

 

“Did you ever think that Dr. Gonzo Pearl and Bigfoot are the same people? Think about it. You’re on the run. Bloodhounds are desirous of your gluteus maximus. Tourists want to pose with you in a Polaroid shot. Semi’s want to run you over because they’re on a schedule. And don’t assume that Bigfoot is a he. How would you know? Were you able to zoom in on the private parts with your telescope? And I’m conjecturing Gonzo had the same thought process. Get a wig someone threw in the trash can, pry some dental work from a dead coyote and take night classes in English at Milford Community College and next thing you know you’re filing Art Supplies invoices by the spoonful. Throw in some Certs to rein in your breath and who’s going to know?”

 

Insight #6

Miss Kitty was a go-fer under Dr. Pearl’s tutelage while Miss Kitty was taking acting classes.

SOMEBODY needed to take Dr. Pearl’s quilted skirts and dentures to Milford Dry Cleaners while Dr. Pearl was working on Football Field Maintenance Report-Animal Feces-2017. Cheetah droppings were only complicating the picture. Miss Kitty was providing a valuable service.

 

Gang, you mean the world to me. You definitely get out more than Dr. Gonzo. God bless you.

 

Insight #7

Wink and Miss Kitty were romantically involved off the set.

Several unconfirmed reports point out that they were seen in the same automobile at The Bucket Drive-In area. According to a veteran carhop, a 2-door Ford Comet used to always take Lane #11. He always ordered Bucket Pickle and Pimento Loaf w/ orange juice, she always ordered Bucket Gummi Bears to ward off any suspicion. Teenagers would start talking.

 

“…and I’ll be back next week to discuss what was said in Dr. Pearl’s office. Safe to say, it wasn’t about the spitwad caught in her wig that a student shot at her when she was soaking her dentures in Palmolive.  I’m Andy Rooney…”

“…I’m Morley Safer…”

“…I’m Scott Pelley…”

“…I’m Katie Couric…”

“…I’m Mike Wallace. We’ll be back next week with another edition of 60 Minutes…”

TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK…

 

 

 

Watch Out for That Tree!

“I’m halfway to a smoothie, Muench. Now all you gotta do is hit some potholes. Oh, and watch out for that tree.”

 

Are you as sick of The Mayor’s breakfast surprises as I already am? Of course you are. I’m still waiting for some sort of elaboration as to why this is an important plot device. We’ve had little if any indication of Knappe household dysfunction which might manifest itself in Mike’s choice of breakfast items and delivery system. For the moment I’m willing to chalk it up as another facet of his narcissistic personality.

Interesting details on display in the Muenchmobile today. The duct taped driver’s seat bolster is a nice touch of realism and reinforces the notion that kids in the Valley drive beaters. The slabs for sun visors are curious, though: what’s holding them in place in the center? And how are those Post-its staying stuck to them?

Questions to be answered another time as we quick cut to the Milford diamond for the conference opener vs. the yet to be named Valley rival. Celebrity cameo in P3 as Tom Berenger sheds the tools of ignorance to take some practice in the field. Tom’s got some odd follow-through on that throw; with a splayed hand like that he must be tossing a Wiffleball.

Breakfast in Milford

Random thoughts today:

It appears Rubin is doubling down on making one of the plot lines this spring “What is The Mayor eating for breakfast, and what kind of container is he eating it from?” How he plans to make this relevant is beyond me this morning. Are Knappe’s chronic lateness and need to talk to everybody in the halls symptoms of ADHD? If so, did B/Robby Howry leave some Adderalls stashed in the Mudlarks’ equipment room that could help?

What’s going on with the Milford baseball jerseys? Baseball uniform numbers aren’t usually centered below the team name. Maybe these are leftovers from Milford’s aborted lacrosse program. And what’s with dude whose number ends in “2” behind gesturing speaker guy’s uni? Is he wearing his jersey tucked into a skirt like in A League of their Own or into shorts like the ’76 White Sox?

Finally, poor Hiawatha James, the Pete DeWindt of his class. ‘Watha looks like he wants to be anywhere but in the Milford locker room. Maybe it’s the prospect of catching only one pitcher all season (Gil didn’t mention any others besides Godleski). Maybe it’s the hairdo he’s been saddled with. Maybe he cares as much about The Mayor’s breakfast choices as the rest of us do.

He’ll Have Fun, Fun, Fun ‘Til Coach Thorp Takes His Thermos Away.

Well, he concocted this and he concocted that for a meal now

See, he forgot to read the label and the breakfast will over-congeal now

At practice, he’ll be puking milk all over the field, wow

This won’t be fun, fun, fun, oh please drive your flukey scrap heap away

 

This You-Say-To-MAY-To-I-Say-To-MAH-To moment is brought to you by Milford Dairies. A leader in the industry because it’s not only the only dairy in the strip but it services high school teenage boys who have no life. When Knappe is not throwing 1000 balls against the wall in his bedroom to hone his fielding skills, he is in his basement chemistry lab mixing Ovaltine and 2%. Frying Egg Beaters and Borden on the Bunsen burner. Thorp sure knows how to recruit them. Makes me pine for the return of Barry Bader and that’s sounding desperate. Bader may have been a wussy and a jerk but he showed up ready to play. I coached a lot of Baders. Leave your attitude in the bleachers and give me 110% on the field, no matter what the score says. I never had to tell him to keep his Nestle’s Quik in his gym bag.

This is just screaming for a Milkman episode (remembering from Nick at Nite)

 

Sent forth on a route from TV Land

Bringing truth and justice in our hand

It’s MILK-MANNNNNN

 

“I like this plot cold.”

 

One day, on the early route in suburban Milford

“Why the long face, Nappy?”

“That’s K’NAHP-puh!!!!”

“To-MAY-to, To-MAH-to, whatever, I deliver milk, not Langenscheidt German-English Dictionaries, c’mon, Snappy, what’s the trouble?”

“I can’t mix my powdered milk and water. The plumber from Milford Plumbing Solutions shut off our water so he can install my new toilet in the basement. Yeah, it’ll be great to not have to pee in the rhododendrons out by the patio but I don’t want to eat powdered milk out of the bag. Lay’s Ruffled Bar-B-Q powdered chips just doesn’t agree with me. Betcha can’t eat just one.”

“Y’know, K’RAPP-puh-”

“K’NAPP-puh!!!!!!”

“You say Lay’s, I say Doritos, listen, one day my radiator was about to blow in my milk truck. And I had a long route and would have had to work until midnight if the Milford Dairy maintenance guy would have had to come out for repairs. Then I saw Coach Thorp watering the lawn and that gave me an idea. I asked him if I could use his hose to fill up the radiator and Gil said ‘Sure’. Boy, did THAT save the day. And Gil could still keep his fake grass green as a leprechaun. My suggestion is use that garden hose hanging off the rack in your neighbor’s driveway. Ask politely, keep your manners in your pocket and your Carnation Dry Milk in your bottle and Milford Dairies will taste comme la reverie straight out of the udder.”

“Gee, Milkman, I never thought of that. How did you get to be so wise?”

“Necessity is the mother of invention. Gil’s been inventing stories for 60 years so I’ve had plenty of practice. Lotta cold ones delivered at football and baseball scenarios and even at Mimi’s basketball practices. Sometimes her stories get stuck in the mud and I have to go on a lactose raid. But the satisfaction comes when she gets her girls through the 5-game season with still a modicum of interest AND no injuries. Milk will get the blood pumping.”

“Mmmmmm, mmmmm, Milkman, my neighbor said ‘Go for it’ and I sprayed that hose straight in the Thermos. Used a trowel to mix it up. Powdered milk never tasted any better when it comes in contact with Mother Nature. Thanks, Milkman.”

“Anytime, K’LOPP-pee”

“K’NAPP-puh!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Refuses To Let Alexa Train With Milkman On The Route!!!!!!!!! She Will Have To Seek Alternate Employment!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I ain’t gonna let him make a move on her in the cooler. I didn’t fall off the milk truck yesterday.”

 

Well, we’re dealing with 3 teen guys in a futile piece of disgrace now

That pile of useless metal should compete in a chariot race now

Backseat Boy better store his Cocoa Puffs in place now

This won’t be fun, fun, fun, ’til they tow this clunky T-Bird away

 

Gimme a break, Thorpiverse. You’re worried that Cocoa Puffs is going to file a lawsuit over copyright infringement so you drastically altered the cereal name to FROSTEE PUFFS? Isn’t that the name of a root beer? Boy, if The Mayor mixes A & W and Lucky Charms and swirls that around in a bottle, he’ll have all the nutrients covered, WE THINK. He’ll be bouncing off the wall in the back seat and then that clunker’s going to have a Mexican jumping bean to contend with. If they’re going to practice, the only logical destination for a so-called sports strip, he won’t have trouble getting his uniform dirty, he’ll be rolling all over the field. Don’t EVEN want to tag him when he comes in with a head-first slide in that souped-up engine of his. Naturally, with Thorpiverse and logic, don’t hold your breath but I wouldn’t think Thorpiverse would stoop so low that The Three Stooges would be headed to Milford Drive-In for a matinee presentation of “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes: The Year They Bomb Pearl Harbor and Milford In One Raid”. I’m thinking positive anyway.

Be that as it may, as long as Thorpiverse is over-concerned that Trix is going to take Thorpiverse to the cleaners over legal matters concerning plagiarism, might I offer a few suggestions because, well, it DOES happen. The group Chicago is a great example. Originally dubbed Chicago Transit Authority, the ACTUAL CTA threatened to sue the group if the group went on tour with a stolen name. That’s how the group became Chicago. And everyone was happy.

So let’s use our imagination and explore possibilities on other culinary ideas in a bottle our Mayor can employ when he’s riding with Rufus and Joel in a wagon Betsy SHOULD be tugging

“Hey, Guys, thanks for picking me up. And I brought a nutritious breakfast that’s the envy of the neighborhood. Yup, mix in a cup of Don’s Milk and some Plunky Charmers and I’ll be snagging line drives all practice. The Leprachaun will have to use pine tar on his bat.”

Sure to keep Dean’s Milk reps from going to court. And did you like the Lucky Charms disguise. And I didn’t say WHICH leprachaun. There’s a bunch of ’em out there. The Lucky Charms legal team wouldn’t stand a chance on the witness stand over using a leprechaun at baseball practice. Unless you named him Harold the Leprechaun, don’t even try, Lucky Charms legal team.

Okay, how ’bout another?

“Son, you’re going to be late. The sorry-ass excuse for a Chrysler 300 just pulled up.”

“Just a minute, Mom. I still have to mix Mumford Dairies 2% and some Homey Nut Cheepios. I gotta get replenished so I can give 110% at practice. Go hard or go home, I always say.”

The Milford Dairies Inc. executives don’t have a prayer. And Cheerios crying foul over copyright infringement? Time is on Thorpiverse’s side.

Okay, one more

Coach Thorp cheering on a great catch at the warning track by The Mayor

“Attaway to stay with it, Mayor!!!!!!!!! Great catch!!!!!!!!! What’d you have for breakfast?”

“I just put some Minute Mud O.J. and some Flushee Puffs and some Rice Kruddies in the blender and next thing you know, I could do a reverse slam on my driveway hoop. Snap, Krackle, Pop in my step on my way to the rack.”

“You’re DEFINITELY our left fielder if you’ll put some more Fart Loops in the blender.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

I think I’m safe from Kellogg’s or Minute Maid giving me a call and threatening legal action. And I can use “Coach” indiscriminately. Haven’t we been doing that for 60 years?

 

If ya mix some Pabst Peanut Butter ‘n’ Jelly (PPBJ) , some Buttwiper Lite, some Molar’s Natch’ral Lite and water with yore deer meat so’s ya can git up in the mornin’ refreshed fer bow-huntin’ and still don’t git in trouble with the Game Warden over copyright infringement, ya might be a redneck.

 

Sent forth to spice this plot in Mudlarkland

Bringing truth and sanity in his hand

It’s MILK-MANNNNNNNN

 

At a random stop light in Milford, Milkman and The Drag Racer from Hell side by side

“My goodness, you guys don’t look enthused going to baseball practice. I know Gil can be soporific in his coaching methods when he’s there AT ALL-”

“Oh, it’s not that, Milkman. We pray 5 times a day to Gil’s office. It’s just that it’s bad enough that The Mayor slurps that shit out of his Thermos. It sounds like Focus’s “Round Goes The Gossip” when you play it backward. But when he gets in one of those pissy moods because he has no donuts to go with his Chock Full o’ Nuts and Cinnamon Toast Crotch to slurp out of his coffee mug, it’s murder riding in this Volkswagen wannabe listening to him prate on and on about life and coffee being so unfair.”

“Gentlemen, I used to drink Eight o’ Clock Decaf and Funky Pebbles cereal to the last drop and I still wasn’t happy. I just couldn’t do my paperwork on the route with Folgers hanging over my head. I needed a yin to my yang. Then it hit me. No one dumps Count Chalk-u-la cereal on pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving. Everyone sprays Cool Whips and Chains on the holiday’s dessert du jour. So I stocked up on Milford Dairies Lo-Cal Creamer and crammed them in my fridge next to the celery stalks. Eight o’ Clock and Funky topped with a taste of Heaven makes punching in the time clock a Stairway to Heaven. Here’s a few samples. I got them out of Gil’s hair when Grecian Formula wasn’t a priority.”

“Gee, thanks, Milkman. K’NAPP-puh won’t wind up in the back seat like Hank Williams did if we’ll set the woods on fire with this Latte Creamer.”

“Latte Creamer on Folgers and General Mills in a Thermos will burn the whole forest down. Make sure you have plenty of matches and a?fire extibguisher.”

“Said and done, Milkman. Thanks again!!!!!!”

“My pleasure. Would you want me to pour some Latte Creamer in your carburetor? Sounds like this Model T could use a tune-up.”

“Anything to keep the points and plugs from missing. Can you pour some on the paint?”

“Sorry, guys, I don’t do chemicals, I do milk. Democracy can only do so much on a car once driven by Dobie Gillis”

 

MILK-MANNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

“…makes the catch and that ends the inning with no damage to speak of. Whatever The Mayor had for breakfast is working here as he’s drawn a bead on everything hit his way out in left. Extra helpings of Sugar Poops in the bowl will do that. We’ll be back after these messages with the score after 5, Milford, 7, Oakwood, 2. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

 

“The baseball season is right around the corner and I can’t wait to Take Me Out to the Ball Game. And I have Harry Carey to sing to you Mudlark fans about peanuts and Crack of Jacks this year as a bonus. Harry drove a hard bargain and we’ll have to put on extra sales of World’s Finest Chocolate to afford his singing but it was worth it for the kids and the fans.

But there’s one item you’ll never have to go door-to-door to afford. Hi, this is Coach Thorp and you won’t have to stage a raffle to afford Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage. Our accountants make sure we can run a sausage plant and still charge reasonable prices to our customers.

For example, doesn’t it just gall you that a Kroger or Kohl’s or K-Mart Foods has to go through a modeling agency to peddle the store’s wares? Believe me, someone who hair-sprayed like George Michael displaying Total Cereal makes me furious. No wonder why Total is more expensive than Trix.

But here at Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage, we use our own employees and we have them pose in front of our hogs before we slaughter ’em. We cut costs because we pay our employees time and a half to smile in front of the camera with Porky Pig. Porky’s swan song before he goes up the chute.

And I read an article next to the Milford Downs betting section in the Milford Enquirer that The Bucket is in trouble because General Mills filed a lawsuit over Bucket Cocoa Puffs Shake. When will The Bucket ever learn?

But here at Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage, Italian sausage is Italian sausage. We will never sneak Jimmy Dean Pure Pork Sausage over our label to fry on the griddle and eat with Frumpy Flakes. I couldn’t face Tony the Tigger. Smuggling George Jones Sausage stickers is passe on our Hot ‘n’ Spicy sausage. Be assured, Gil’s Hot ‘n’ Spicy and a bowl of Corn Chicks and a mug of Frosty Root Beer will all be the genuine article. No fake sausage or root beer will ever leave the plant and be loaded by the forklift on the semi.

And these smear campaigns by Tennessee Pride in the Milford Enquirer that say we use fillers in our sausage to bolster the product. Believe me, I will never stuff Gil Thorp Mild in Mimi’s boobs for breast enhancement. We are FDA-compliant and they have yet to ferret out Lucky Charms in our sausage. We go the whole hog, if you’ll pardon the pun.

But don’t take my word for it. Come pick up a package of Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage at your local grocer and let the flavor bust out. Good eatin’ and honest advertising makes for comforting words when Porky Pig is read his Last Rites. The way sausage is made.

Gang, you mean the world to me. But I’m hungry and I ran out of Slushee Puffs and gotta go to the store for a box or two. See ya.

 

Baseball practice is delayed cuz we’re glued in this crate now (we’re glued in this crate, now, we’re glued in this crate)

The way the plot and engine runs, we’ll be droppin’ in doubly late now (droppin’ in bubbly, he’s spilling his drink)

Softball will be sorely expunged through the twists of fate, wow (through the twists of fate, like Mimi’s fate and face)

This won’t be fun, fun, fun ’til they throw this dumb plot away (No fun, fun, fun, write this script away)

 

This won’t be fun, fun, fun…

 

Recreating Bill Cosby when he had a comedy show back in the late ’60’s, early ’70’s (NOT when he was a Huxtable, in other words) , a hilarious episode when he’s advertising for Corn Whispies

“God, I hope you do better than that Cosby character. He spilled Corn Whispies all over his son when he was pouring the product. All right, Thorp, you’re on.”

 

At the Thorp household with the camera rolling

“Daddy, I want some cereal and I ran out of Honeycomb.”

“No problem, Son. Here, have some Corn Whiskies. It’ll help you grow big and strong…”

“Cut.”

 

 

 

What’s in the Bottle? Probably a Plot Device

Ah the heady days of a new season, when anything is possible. In the Thorpiverse, the anticipation of a coherent, realistic plot that manages to deftly incorporate sports as an integral element is always tinged with the lingering dread that Rubin will almost invariably send that plot into a death spiral away from reality in the most convoluted way possible while somehow sticking to the same tired half-dozen or so tropes about teens and adults.

But let’s not kill that buzz too soon, shall we?

Speaking of buzz, whaddaya think’s in The Mayor’s sport bottle?

a. Yogurt and OJ, chia seeds, and a raw egg

2. Vodka and OJ, to bribe Gil into giving him a starting spot on the baseball team

iii. Hand sanitizer (look how far ahead of the curve Rubin’s thinking!)

(d) Straight Everclear, to kill birds 2. and iii. with one stone

 

Talk amongst yourselves.

Les Parapluies De Milford

I will wait forever, though this plot dragged on

Now we’re two hopeless lovers and spring sports we’ll gag on

Co-winners of our hearts and sharing trophies of love

Are but useless tools,

We’re clueless fools

Let’s shove

 

Okay, so Alexa’s mom didn’t own an umbrella store, Milford Used Parasol Shoppe, and Chris was Guy Foucher for some co-ed volleyball player in the Big Ten. But I had to find SOME way to keep myself awake to spice up the sputtering previous plot and take the baton for the present sputtering plot. What better way than “Les Parapluies de Cherbourg”(“The Umbrellas of Cherbourg”), an Academy Award nominee for Best Foreign Film and Best Musical Score? Many of you, old-timers included, have heard “I Will Wait for You” a million times, many times on Muzak, but like me, never recognized the tune until you saw the movie, as I did.

But I’d rather the plot at hand take the same flight as Guy and send both to Algeria to fight a war. The only difference is you hope this plot gets buried in The Sahara. You pray Guy returns to enjoy Alexa and a Bucket Burger.

 

Things are just getting off to a roaring start. Making payments on Archie’s jalopy? Did he have to make a down payment at Milford Scrap Iron & Metals, Inc.? And what was his collateral? Some expensive umbrellas he negotiated from Alexa? Sure, this parasol’s valuable. Used to protect The Little Old Lady from Pasadena from acid rain. And the rain never chewed through the material.

And stop throwing names at us, Thorpiverse, especially ones you stole off the Scrabble board. You must have taken home all the poker chips off of “Godleski”.

And where do we start? Stabbing in the dark couldn’t be more fun. I got my Milford Surname Pronunciation Guide which is useful but this one slipped through the cracks. God-LESS-ski? Okay, let me try it on for size

“…and God-LESS-ski sends one off the wall in center field and we have a cat loose in the alley. God-LESS-ski rounds first, on his way to second and he’ll make his way easily with a stand-up double. God-LESS-ski thought about third but the relay was a strong one and God-LESS-ski didn’t want to get his uniform dirty and mess up the lettering. He’d be tagged out by a mile and we’d have REAL problems trying to figure out his name…”

I confess I used Sean Moth, our local baseball announcer, to do the play-by-play. Hey, if the uniform was tattered and torn, I’m confident he’d pronounce Gozdlleyzcki properly, aggressive base-running or no aggressive base-running.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. To Roland Cassard: Don’t Even THINK Of Making A Move On Alexa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Dude thinks he can buy her love but there’s more to life than purchasing jewels and umbrellas.”

 

Gil Foucher to a Mudlark booster

“…l’intrigue de baseball fait le bruit de feraille, mais c’est normal…”

The baseball plot rattles but that’s normal. It appears the plot sucks no matter what language is spoken. Past or present considerations included.

 

And why is Tom Muench and GOAT-ulls-skee picking up The Mayor anyway? Since when does The Mayor of Milford ride with a couple of teenagers and perform some wheelies and doughnuts in the Milford Municipal Lot parking lot, then hit The Bucket for a Bucket Triple Decker because unlawful driving and dodging the Milford Traffic Control Officer works up an appetite?

When I was coaching Babe Ruth Baseball, part of keeping the League functional was obtaining a letter from The Mayor of our city. Hey, blessings from the top city official DEFINITELY helped our League. Parents will bring Junior’s birth certificate to the Player Agent of Babe Ruth League every time if The Mayor says it’s a legitimate show.

But I never took The Mayor to the Milford Lounge for a Schlitz. We didn’t need to get drunk and screw just for a letter of recommendation. I’ll just pick it up from your secretary, thank you.

“Yeah, I’ll clear some room in the front seat. I put my laundry in the back seat. And don’t worry, I vacuumed the floorboard. That Milford Car Wash Power Vacuum really sucked up all the cigarette butts. A couple of quarters and the bugs and coke cups in the vehicle didn’t stand a chance. 11:30? Fine, I’ll be there.”

 

Roland Cassard in Dr. Pearl’s office, sung to “Watch What Happens” (you’ve heard that one a million times too)

 

Dr. Pearl

File cabinets simply rock my world

Beehive hairdos charge me when you unfurl

I watch you store those math scores

I’m ape-shit, girl

For romance

 

Dear Roland

I am stuck in red tape with no hope

Office door is bolted by a long rope

I have to file these junior graduation claims

You dope

 

Now where’s my pen

 

Your dentures, Madame

 

 

Are you serious, Thorpiverse? My police cruiser I used to drive around in (It was, seriously, there were no door handles in the back seat so that criminals couldn’t get out, plus I got to school in 4.5 seconds with the souped-up engine those police cars employed to catch crooks) looked a lot better than this pile of manure that’s movin’ down the street. You’re going to have 2 teenagers pick up The Mayor in a car that is terribly afflicted with ferric oxide? The side panels have been snorting a sizeable amount of oxygen on that bag of bolts. Who takes a date to the prom in a Sherman tank that once fought Rommel on Normandy Beach? Eisenhower had a tough decision whether to proceed with D-Day on foggy conditions. Shoot, with that tank, I’d have sent the damn thing back across The English Channels for repairs and a wax job, let alone get in the back seat after the prom.  If General Montgomery sends that contraption up against 15 Panzers, and it gets severely damaged in combat, so be it. If I have to pick up The Mayor or my prom date because I fought Rommel’s henchmen on my own time and drive the streets of Milford in the tank’s present condition, that’s on me. Can’t blame it on Eisenhower’s decisions. Shitty vehicles with no sponsorship is Hell on the conscience.

 

If ya won 1st Prize at the Milford Auto Auction Car Show in the Category of Dilapidated But Running running away, beating out the Clampett’s wagon cuz Jethro fergot ta check the radiator ta see if it had water, ya might be a redneck

 

As the Milford & Oakwood pulls out of the station

JE T’AIME, CHRIS!!!!!!!!!! JE T’AIME, CHRIS!!!!!!!!!

“Alexa, I’m going to return. We had to take the train to New Thayer because the bus broke down.”

 

We are already inundated with possiblities for one name, now we’re scratching our heads on how to pronounce another one. Mark Twain had a field day when writing the hilarious account, “That Awful German Language”. Shovel a bunch of nouns and adjectives between the auxiliary verb and the participle and you had command of die Deutsche Sprache. So when Muench (talk about awful German) and Gutless-sky pick up Mike Knappe (I bet you can shovel that as an adverb between the verb and the participle) , we are left scrambling for the pronunciation guide once again. Get it out the Redbook rack, blow the dust off, and start conjecturing.

Having taken several courses in German, I DO know that it means “page” or “stable boy”. The youngster was commissioned to shovel the poop out of the barn when he wasn’t shoveling German definite articles. And right now, I’m going to begin with how the Germans pronounce it (stupid to ask someone from Samoa, y’think?) and that would be K’NAHP-puh (K and N run together) .

Now what Alice Kravitz is doing waiting for Guthman and Muench when she’s not spying on Darren and Samantha Stevens across the street is anybody’s guess. And we still are wondering what Mike K’NAHP-puh is doing to warrant Alice getting distracted on Samantha twitching her lips to get the cat out of the tree.

Was he sitting on the john (“Damn, where’s the toilet paper?”) ? Was he reading the sports pages (In MILFORD?) ? Is he listening to The Fibber McGee Hour on WDIG-Radio?

BAM!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRASH!!!!!!!!!! SLAM!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Doggone it, I knew I should have cleaned out the locker-

“HONEY, Goodfellas and Munchy are here!!!!!!!!”

Click

“COMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Stay tuned next week to see if Fibber fumigates his locker with Renuzit

 

My final Women’s History Month entry goes to Catherine Deneuve, the lead actress in Les Parapluies de Cherbourg. She has accomplished great things in her long career. She has acted in over 100 films and has garnered some respect along the way. She has been  nominated for 14 Cesar Awards (the French equivalent of the Oscar) , winning 2 for “The Last Metro” and “Indochina”, and nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress for “Indochina”. She also is heavily involved in the cosmetics industry as a spokesperson and a model, being in high demand for many years. She is also involved in several charities, including UNESCO. Fluent in French (her native language) , Italian, and English, please join me in saluting a person who has soared to great heights while still keeping her feet on the ground. She is definitely the people’s choice.

 

“We’ll be back to see if Alexa dumps Chris for Roland Cassard and marries wealthy with no principles after these messages. This is WDIG-TV.”

 

At The Lake House, where Marty Moon invested part of his 401K he got from his broadcasting career (paid substantial penalties to Milford Federal for early withdrawl) , at bed time with his honey

 

Peaches, My Peach

I have something to share

Pull my shorts and it’ll all be there

You’ll enjoy the sensual spicy bill of fare

Mon cher

 

“Oh, Marty, you say the filthiest things. Let me have a look at the merchandise.”

Pulls the shorts out and looks in the Grand Canyon

 

Marty, My Sweet

There is really nothing to meet

It can barely stand on its feet

A very disappointing candy-caned treat

No heat

 

It’s limp as L’eggs

 

I pumped all day

 

“Marty, Roland Cassard may be a jerk but I bet he gets harder than the jewels he peddles at Milford Diamond Company. He’s been hitting on me ever since Chris took Alexa back and they married and vacationed in Liechtenstein.”

“Peaches, give a man a break. It’s just malnourished. One sip of Milford Protein Supplement drink and I’ll be brandishing a flagpole so hard, the Jets and the Sharks will back off.”

“Marty, I wouldn’t hang a tea bag on your outdated clothesline. Thank God, you paid 2 weeks on this resort. You still have 13 days to sweep me off my feet and take me away from Guy Foucher.”

“I’m a better mechanic than that vain piece of France. Why, he blew a customer’s engine and refused to apologize.”

“Marty, YOU ought to apologize because it DIDN’T blow.”

“Well, Guy isn’t leaving his godmother and marrying you. I’ll show the evidence that demands a verdict. I’ll drink more Nestle’s Quik Chocolate and get my thing so buzzed with sugar, you’ll think you’re getting it from a Snickers bar.”

“Marty, take these EREC-9000 Vita-Plus Extra Hold tablets or you’re going to be facing a hung jury.”

 

“Thank God Peaches looked after my own interests and bailed me out. I wouldn’t know what to do if Roland had ran off with her and left me with a diamond to rub on the scheme of things. Thank God, Milford Men’s Clinic came through and saved me from having to sell umbrellas the rest of my life. With treatment programs that work, isn’t it time you staved off Roland Cassard with a taste of his own medicine? These EREC-9000 Vita-Plus Extra Hold tablets made sure he would just be selling jewelry, not taking a jewel away from me. Come to The Milford Men’s Clinic and fight Roland with fire.”

 

Gang, you are my world. Thanks for your contributions. Please follow the Central for Disease Control guidelines so that we can keep Democracy at work.

 

If it takes forever

I will wait for you

For a thousand plotlines

I will wait for you

‘Til you’re back from practice

‘Til the last pitch comes through

 

‘Til you slam the door

And jump into my arms

 

Gil Foucher wipes his feet off the mat and enters

“Mimi, practice ran a little over and we had to look all over the dugout for someone’s keys. What’s with the singing?”

Smack My Snitch Up

Sorry to be so late on today’s post. We may all be confined to quarters but our work hasn’t stopped.

Rubin’s poor clock management has pushed him further into the no-huddle offense. We jump from Gil giving Dr. Pearl her marching orders out of the star chamber to the results of those orders: Teddy on lockdown at Casa DeMarco. Chris may not be there to beat up on Teddy, but Hiawatha, Marcel and Tom hiding behind the door there might be a bit more willing.

At least we finally get hints as to what bug Teddy’s had up his ass about Chris. It’s been six years shorter than the one Alexa had for Chris, so unlikely it had anything to do with Jeopardy! Did Chris pass over Teddy when picking sides for flag football in PE class? Make fun of his hair? Or is it just ’cause Chris is a good team player and just so goshdarn smart?

Whatever its I’m sure it will be as stupid and underwhelming as every other plot device we’ve seen this winter. Bring on baseball, as this’ll be the only place we see it for a while. Can’t wait to see if Valley Tech will put someone in their scoreboard to steal the Mudlarks’ signs and beat on a garbage can.

 

Snitchin’ to Rollins

We’ve come to that time in just about every Gil Thorp arc in which Rubin realizes he hasn’t paced worth a damn and he has to cram a week’s worth of action into a single strip and starts rushing the plot ahead without filling in the details. If this was football season we’d call it the two minute drill, but since it’s basketball season let’s call it throwing up treys and fouling. It’s late in the day and I know most of you TWIMers have probably seen today’s strip already, so I’m gonna rush through this much as Rubin did. Okay? Okay!

P1: I know that AP Chemistry midterm must be hard but, come on, it’s nothing to lose your head over! Maybe this isn’t AP Chem but American Lit and that kid under the first dialog box is acting out “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.”

P2: Neither the Milford boys nor the girls are making the playdowns ’cause they don’t score enough, so let’s sweep these games under the rug, shall we? Boy, that Marcell Irby sure is lanky!

P3: DeMarco is dropping in on Steve Harvey Mr. Rollins who, I’m assuming, is the AP Chem teacher. Couldn’t tell from that poor excuse for a periodic table behind his head. We know he’s gonna dime out Schuring; what we don’t know yet is how Schuring’s gonna get his name cleared. Something tells Gil will intervene (heaven knows he hasn’t been busy coaching) and Schuring’s word will be taken because athlete. Then we get a throwaway panel or two telling us why DeMarco’s had beef. Maybe Teddy has a low self opinion.

 

Then Alexa and Chris walk down a hallway, then it’s on to baseball. Hang on for the thrilling conclusion, folks!