Why Is Paloma Standing Behind Gil’s Desk?

I mean, other than to gratuitously fit her in the frame. Really, Panel Three concisely symbolizes the whole approach of this arc. I’m not even entirely sure what the heck Jorge is talking about when he says Gil ‘might’ be right.

Fortunately, Gil’s not really listening as he strains his neck to make sure Paloma doesn’t clock him with her standard Milford High issue stack of text books.

Minus points: Sartorially, things seem out of whack. We have Mimi in a skirt (!) and long scarf, Gil going from wearing a jacket to short sleeves, and I don’t even want to begin to figure out all the ways Paloma is not dressed like a teenager.

 

Advertisements

Marty Moon: The Straw That Stirs the Milford Drink

Today’s strip just serves to bring the glaring plot holes, inconsistencies and missed opportunities into stark relief, not unlike Marty’s face in P2.  Without belaboring the obvious – oh, who am I kidding? Let’s belabor the obvious:

1. If an Aagard scores 26 points and there’s no one there to report on it, does it make a sound? Last winter’s saga of Aaron and his opioid-addicted mother ended with his transfer into the protective custody of the Hiatt-Brown family. Rubin brought Aaron back this season, but Big Ken Brown is no longer around to make things happen. Couldn’t those loose ends have been tied up in a panel?
2. Nice use of parallel drinking by the not-broadcasting broadcasters, one with hooch, the other with Yoo-Hoo (or does that just say “Poo”?). The glaring sign behind Marty’s head must be meant to offer a contrast to his apparent sour mood. It also offers a nice segue into a song parody but I fear those days are behind me. The idea that WDIG can’t or won’t run games without Marty to call them borders on the absurd. Absurd doesn’t begin to describe the Milford Pirate Network’s approach to the games. If they’d been up front about why they popped up then played it straight, they’d still be on the air and no one would’ve cared that there was no coverage from Marty and WDIG. But noooo, MPN based its whole schtick on taunting Marty, so no Marty, no MPN. For that matter…
3. … no Marty, no Gil to antagonize or be antagonized by Marty. Hence Gil’s call on Pocket Square Sporting Radio Station Manager to no doubt try to get Marty back on the air. As with his meeting with Marty, Gil’s on neutral ground where drinks are involved but this time it’s only coffee (unless Gil’s secretly making it Irish).

If all this is a pivot towards turning this strip from Gil Thorp into Marty Moon, I could be persuaded to stick around. The travails of a drunken shock jock looking to redeem himself to unwitting victims of his shock doesn’t cover new ground but it has potential.

late metapost: Over lunch I came across this article about Latinos attempting to assimilate in the American South. No one in the story is Puerto Rican, but it touches on an angle Rubin has chosen not to pursue to much extent in this arc.

This Plot Is Stupid But It Sure Is Fun

Sometime in Winter 1998

“…Jalen into the Big Fella. He’s got a Double team. Kicks it back out to Padilla. 10 on the shot clock. Padilla into D Squared. Nothing doing. 6 on the shot clock. Skip pass to Jackson. 3 on the shot clock. Jackson cross-court pass to Padilla. GEORGIE FOR 33333333333…”                              “BOOM BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”                                What coulda been. And to think I am getting more basketball in my memory, courtesy Mark Boyle and Slick Leonard, than I am from The Dove who is, as I believe one of our writers mentioned the other day, is basketball’s version of Dafne Dafonte, or affectionately operating under her sobriquet, Daffy Duck.

Dove, how can I put this? Hmmmm, well, y’know, I think it kinda sorta goes like this, y’see, if you weren’t under the bleachers fomenting a rebellion in the name of Chairman Mao, Cesar Chavez, Ho Chi Minh, Groucho Marx(oops, wrong Marx family), Abraham Lincoln, Curt Flood, Buzz Sawyer(I guess comic strip characters form unions too), yada, yada, yada, you might be able to locate the broadcast booth, the one with a microphone on the table, and, granted, it would take a little doing as it would be semi-tough to squeeze your protest in while Mr. Moon, or your favorite local broadcaster(one is alloted in every town by dint of the basketball gods’ distribution plan-from each according to a town’s basketball roster to each according to the size of the crowd, as long as Marxism is creeping in among us) but they do eventually take a break(commercials factor into the equation) so feel free to notify Mr. Moon at the first commercial advertising Milford Heating and Cooling. And what is the deal sending SOMEBODY ELSE to make the correction? Are there more out in the hallway just as upset and itchin’ for a scrap? Are they sharing a Sanka with Mr. Anonymous Calculus Dude from yesterday in the WDIG break lounge? Is the break lounge just as posh as WDIG’s digs?

Heard on somebody’s radio as a driver is going to work, third shift at the local factory

“…the Big Fella finds an open Whore-Hay FOR 333333333333!!!!!!!!!!!!!…”                      “BOOM BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!”                                       “THAT’S JORGE, YOU IDIOTS!!!!!!!!!!! THAT’S TWICE NOW!!!!!!!! GET IT CORRECTLY  OR I’M SUING!!!!!!!!!!”          And telling Milford’s version of J. R. Ewing where to drill for oil around rural Mudlarkland? Good luck with that. You might as well tell Jesse James where to shoot his brother when Jorge(don’t have a cow, Man) is staring down the barrel of a Colt 45. You DID notice the Falcon Crest surroundings, Karina and Duncan, no?

“…re-vo-LUT-ion, weeellll, ya know, we all do with what we cannnnn                                       But if ya have pictures of Anonymous Calculus Guuuuyyyyyyyyy                                  All I can tell you is, Brother, to just stand by                                                                   Cuz ya know it’s gonna be ALL RIGHT…”

Since the plot is once again in neutral with the engine running, a quick shout-out to the Austin, Indiana Fuel Mart who keep my humor going and got some great food in the bargain. You brighten a lot of people’s day.                                                         And since there’s no basketball on the horizon today, I will salvage today’s strip with another song, and believe me, I tried to resist, but you know us Todd Rundgren fans. Gotta strike while the opportunity arises. Sung to “We Gotta Get You a Woman”

 

Jorge, boy, is that you?

I’m glad your Nerfhoop days are through

Slam dunk things that block your view

Do it all

With the ball

There’s only thing left they gotta  dooo

It’ll help the Mudlarks to pull throughhhh

 

 

We gotta make you a starter

It’s like nothing else for ailing plots to keep it aliiivvvveeeee

We gotta make you a starter

You better report in

You’re wasting time snortin’

 

 

Talking ’bout staaannndding at the free throw line(wah wah oooooo)

2 shots with everything on the line(wah wah oooooo)

Sink both of them and you’ll be fine

And Milford will be primed to get this thing together(get this thing together)

Cuz

We gotta make you a starter, etc.

And when the day is through

Game ball goes to youuuuu.

 

Today’s Black History Month person is Mary Fields or affectionately known as Stagecoach Mary. She delivered mail for several years, under contract with the United States Postal Service, to central Montana during the late 1800’s. She NEVER missed a delivery and we’re talking even in the winter when Montana, as I’m sure our readers know, gets tons of snow. She was instrumental in the development of the state(Montana admitted to the Union in 1889) as without her services, the growing pains of early Montana would have been that much more severe. VERY handy with a rifle. Nobody dared ambush her as she was like Annie Oakley, peaceful but knew how to shoot, if necessary. Please, where you can, spread the word about another historical figure dear to my heart. Thanks for reading.

Gang, it’s your turn. I’m going to sneak out the back entrance of WDIG. I’d rather not get run over in the coup d’etat.

A B.L.T., Hold the Mayo, an Order of Onion Rings, and Thou Beside Me Discussing Roe vs. Wade at The Bucket…

HAHAHA, oh, excuse me, let me get up off the floor, I was rollin’ in the aisles over the funny that ol’ Jorge Leghorn just uttered. Well, he’s got a southern accent, doesn’t he? And now the truth is out. Foghorn swam over the Rio Grande at night to seek the Land of Opportunity. If you look under one of his feathers, you’ll see his Green Card. Anyway, don’t you think that was a real knee-slapper?

And, all right, all right, they were in the cafeteria, not The Bucket(I can hear the cavalry coming) but if you’re going to wax poetic, it sounds better than “…an order of tater tots, lotsa ketchup, and thou beside me in the “B” gym by the basketball rack.”

I’ve seen sibling rivalries in my lifetime(I have a sister, I should know) but this one takes the cake. Are we going to be subjected to a Vladimir Ilyich Lenin vs Dr. J debate in the next couple of months(a conservative, I say, conservative estimate)? Man, Lenin might have stirred the revolution but his jumper left a little to be desired. Oh, that’ll be fodder at the local bar rooms. I pity the poor bouncer having to throw out the guy who got violently drunk while simultaneously defending Leon Trotsky’s ERA(“He needs a slider to go with his fastball and curve” “But he liberated the proletariat from the bourgeoisie!!!!!!!!”).  It makes me wonder if we’ll have time for basketball. Then again, I think I answered my own question. And I’d suggest a couple of freeze frames of basketball “action” to speed up the season while Plato and Socrates hash it out BUT we have both the boys teams and the girls teams to cram into the season, belated at that, 3 panels at a time. I hope Thorpiverse never does funeral pre-planning this way.

Soooooooo, leaving the quandary to some other schmuck with no life, I have another Zappa tune to close things out. Okay, kiddies, sing along, to the tune of “Bobby Brown”

Hey there, people, I’m Jorge Brown

Marty says I’m the highest-jumping boy in town

My shooting’s good

My rebounding’s shiny

I just told La Junta they can kiss my hiney

Oh God, I am the American Dream

I make the Milford cheerleaders want to scream

On defense, I’m a son of a bitch

I’m going to the NBA and get real rich

“… oh God, oh God, I’m so fantastic

Thanks to flubber, I’m a jumpin’ spastic…”

Because it’s Black History Month, I will talk about one African-American per week that is dear to my heart. Today, please, where you can, spread the word about Cowboy Bill Pickett. He was noted for bulldogging, a technique where he grabbed a steer by the horns and wrestled it to the ground by biting its lips. Worked EVERY time. He also, working for 101 Ranch Wild West Show, helped the show win a bet by hanging onto a bull in a bullfighting ring in Mexico City, the classless fans throwing bottles, trash, God knows what else, FOR 37 MINUTES when the bet only called for 15 minutes. He lead the charge for all the Black cowboys, the latter of whom represented 1/10 of the cowboy population in the 1800’s-early 1900’s. The man saw himself as just another cowboy. Which is why I promote him even more.

Gang, it’s your turn. I’m climbing out of the ring. The tag is made. Apply the sleeper hold on the Padillas with a vengeance.

If I say Douchbag, Gary might appear

 

Cant believe we’re meandering along just like the last plot, going over material we knew already – the kids are from Puerto Rico where their house was damaged, and the girl cant believe she gets real food just by saying the name of the food. Wow. Shows how we in America take things for granted, like clean running water, toilet access, sturdy homes with good roofs and heat,  grocery stores in the area stocked with food, and clothing stores with a variety of comfortable duds. Guess it is a reality check and a reminder that we got it pretty good up here.

I sense there may be more to the kids’ tale then meets the eye, with the question ‘thats why your here, right?’  At least we have a sense of some anticipation for future strips, but for chrissake I wish theyd quit repeating what they said yesterday every day. We might even play a basketball game by Valentines Day. If they cleaned up the damage back home at the rate this strip goes, the kids will get back around the time theyre eligible for Social Security. (I say Social Security and they bring me a check!)

Hoops Analysis This Soon? Why Bother?

Every now and then an astute TWIM commenter brings up the notion that Neal Rubin’s Milford, in which high school kids go out for, make, and play regularly on teams in multiple sports, isn’t necessarily an accurate reflection of the current state of youth sports in the US. We occasionally get a glimpse into that world – the summer 2015 arc being a prime example – but by and large it’s a phenomenon that gets overlooked in the Thorpiverse. Given that the deepest drink of success juice Gil’s had in along time came by way of a kid whose sole focus up to that point had been a single sport, you’d think he’d be more amenable to the idea. It might even make for a more intriguing story line than we’re used to seeing. (Me, I was wondering if there’d be some ramifications from Jaquan Case walking around Milford in a hoodie in summertime, but Rubin spit that bit.)

But the Gil Thorp model of team-building probably plays well in places where they still read GRIT Gil Thorp in print. It keeps Gil in a coaching monopoly and Marty in a spiffy crate. So maybe we’ll get treated to a quintet of lunky hoopers dishing out elbows and concussions whilst setting picks for A.A.Ron Aagard (whose splintered home life will hopefully get picked up on as the arc progresses) and another wispy guy in the Max Bacon/Lini Verde mold.

Game, Set and Match? Match Point? I Dunno; Help Me Out Here…

A Match Made In Tanktown?

I’ll give Uncle Gary credit that it is an odd turn of phrase. And, really, would you trust a doctor with a cookie duster like that?

Bonus point: I am digging that lamp.

Minus point: As Rowdyman noted, Whigham could’ve saved himself a lot of grief just omitting the stethoscope…

Much Adou about nothing

We finally have the finished product of Uncle (or Grampa ) Garys efforts to sensationalize his grandson (or nephew) and his enormous singing ability. And its just a website of people singing. If you didnt know where to find it you’d never see Rick in all his glory crooning about Old Glory. Now that the whole team has seen it can we move on to other things, like a video of Gary being shot out of a cannon, removing him once and for all from this planet?  Now THAT would be viral in a heartbeat.

What are you doing online? The same thing all you losers are doing – posting on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Photobucket, and Google Plus. Hey, I even saw a video of Marjie Ducey doing a striptease. Pass me the phone please!