The Facepalm Is Mutual, Gil

As robmize pointed out yesterday, after this past week’s strips the summer plot has as many holes as the swing of one of those kid golfers Gil teaches at the MCC. Shirt colors change, golf carts appear and disappear, and Gil finally remembers that Heather called him before the round with Carter and not the other way around. Gil also remembers that he’s married after glimpsing that giant wedding band on his giant paw, so it’s not just his shirt that quickly turns blue. Still doesn’t stop him from asking Heather if she wants it in P3 (you know what they say, big hands, tiny wristwatch)…

Oh, wait: it’s not Gil Heather wants, it’s a paying job with benefits – and not the kind that Gil’s offering her as a Milford High assistant football coach. Until now her only lead had been with the Milford Star and it would seem Marjie’s boss has been dragging his feet with a job offer. Now Heather’s got a shot at a hospital PR job. Which of the the three offers her more of a future? Newspaper journalism is in its death throes and we can estimate how many female high school football coaches there are in the country. Hospitals are always gonna need somebody to put a positive spin on the lack of open beds, the high cost of procedures, and the latest MRSA outbreak, so it’s not like that’s ever gonna go away.

All Heather needs is Gil’s confirmation that she has about as much of a future coaching football as she did playing soccer and she’ll be out of Milford quicker than you can say “Monmouth.” Sending Heather to Central City gets her out of Gil’s hair, lets Marjie maintain job security, and keeps Rubin from having to remember backstories and developing consistent character traits for her in the future.

Like Father, Unlike Son.

Now we get into the portion of the strip to discover whether Charlie Roh is the real deal. And he doesn’t disappoint. Like that record that Billboard and Creem has been plugging for months, Charlie is good as advertised. I always used to hold my breath every time U2 came out with new music and all the critics were singing its praises. Not that I ever thought the band would lay an egg (you never have, Bono & Company, you’re the best) but when an album gets hyped (The Joshua Tree, Achtung Baby, for example) , you can understandably anticipate the jinx that could possibly ensue.

But like The Joshua Tree, Charlie is more than answering his critics, not that he had any but with a loudmouth stepdad, they’ll be around, if nothing else, to shut up Charlie’s stepdad, the insurance king who has temporarily dethroned himself from Ballard Insurance in order to live his life through his stepson.

What’s galling is that just a few short months ago, Chet Baker, er, Ballard projected himself as one of the pillars of the community as a member of the Milford School Board. Though his modus operandi, particularly in relation to Tiki Jansen was arguably a bit misguided, his reasoning was valid and he was dealing with a lawyer who fit the description of a joke

Q: What’s the difference between an attorney and a catfish?

A: One’s a scum-sucking toady that licks the commodes at the bottom of the plumbing system at Milford High School and the other one’s a fish.

Hadley Viscious, you missed your calling. Look up Joe Sharkey and become a shark just like him. Oh, you might eat each other down the road when Tiki gets injured when a Central guy calls him a squatter. Or his mother goes half on the rent at Milford Public Housing. When working on a best plan of attack to sue or damages, sometimes the devil is in the details.

Anyway, Chet has lowered himself to Overbearing Father, a recurring character that appears quite frequently in Thorpiverse Shakespearean Theater. Talk about Taming of the Shrew. I wouldn’t try to get him married off as a quid pro quo to marrying Hadley Venom. Brush up your Thorpiverse.

Nice TD run, BTW. Nothing like Lassie and Benji playing a Game of Chase with Charlie. I couldn’t fathom those dogs doing that with Bluto, er, Chet Ballard. Well, dogs do pursue snakes in the woods. Never mind.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J.’s Dad Present For MVP Award Presentation At Milford Adult Flag Football League End Of Season Banquet!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Papa was always there to show proper technique on how to elude the linebacker grabbing your flag.”

 

So to paraphrase James Brown (Godfather of Soul LOVE IT) , Papa’s got a brand new barf bag. But his son can run. Congratulations on your first TD run, Charlie. I remember when I was in college when I got my first TD catch (back when I was skinny and athletic, not lugging around the Pro Wrestler’s beer belly like I am now-ha) in intramural flag football. No, it wasn’t a Doug Flutie miracle job but Husker Du was right, these are your important years, you better make them last. I did.

So I can totally relate to Charlie. When it’s your turn to step into the spotlight, do your best to shine. It’s a shame that Chet is the excess baggage a la Frank Sinatra’s mom in a biopic made about him. I remember it well

“…I want to make the most of it/In ol’ New Yoooorrrkkkkk

If I can make it there/I’ll make it anywhere-”

“Oh, that’s my Frankie. I always told him that if he used Colgate Whitening Formula to brush his teeth, wash behind his ears, and close the toilet seat after he dumped a wad, then flush, he’d go far. There’s always an agent looking for someone who freshens the Boys Room stall on the second floor at Milford High School with Renuzit Peach ‘n’ Plum-”

MRS. SINATRA, WILL YOU PLEASE GET OFF STAGE?????????

And that, in my view, is pretty much what’s happening here.

“See, I told ya if you’d start calling me Father Superior instead of Chet Baker, use Sani-Flush in the Port-o-Let, and run from Milford to Oakwood and back, it would put hair on your chest and make you run faster than Hank Finkel. So what if cars were honking when you were in the raw? You were on the other side of the road FACING THE TRAFFIC, so you’re legal. And let those road ragers run in 0 degree weather and see if they’d make it past the city limits. Some couldn’t clear the Milford 7-11-

CRRRRRRAAAAASSSSSSSHHHHHHHH

“Coach, we have a man down on the field.”

“DAMN, what was Mr. Ballard doing out on the field? We got a game. How’d he slip past security?”

“Don’t know, Coach Thorp, but he blindsided the Central running back too. Good thing, our defensive end got burnt on that tailback sweep.”

 

If yore daddy is thar at th’ Milford Con-sur-va-shun Club Bur-Goo ta present yore Most Valuable Bowhunter award and he even remembered that thar’s only one “w” in the word “bowhunter” and didn’t need a lex-ee-con this time ta double check and ya hug like a black bear in heat in Milford Fish & Wildlife Area as a token of good will, ya might be a redneck.

 

And wouldn’t you know it, The Unrelated Twins are back. Tag-teaming like The Assassins used to brutalize the opposition on WTBS Wrestling (Gordon Solie, the unflappable host, RIP) , they are putting the finishing touches on the hapless Central receiver, performing The Bucket Sandwich of your Choice on the poor schmuck. It’s all over but the 3-count. The Central receiver will not shake off Tiki, a la Assassin #1 at the obligatory 2-seconds. BTW, I liked how my dad described The Assassins, they looked ugly with a mask ON their faces.

Well, there’s no sense in trying to mask this charade, it’s like The Assassins getting uglier and uglier the longer they wear the masks. And take that goddamn Confedrate flag off your Southern Tag Title belts. The Civil War has long since been decided.

“You boys, uhhhh, really pummeled your opponents indeed. There was no law and order once you gentlemen stepped into the ring. It was, uhhhh, a real evisceration.”

“That’s right, Gordon. And Friday night, 8:30PM at the Milford Civic Center, we’re going to be taking care of some more business. That’s right, Ole Anderson and Austin Idol, you’ve been flappin’ like Gil’s hair, talkin’ about how nobody can beat you. Well, as the Tilden coach said 30 years ago before Gil quit humping the tackling dummy and settled down and got married, you may be big and bad, but you can be had. The Tilden coach said it was agony watching a grown man with no place to plug it in, let alone with his players watching, finally some linebacker ripped the fuse box off the stadium wall…”

 

And in reality, many people don’t know it but this is Gil’s secret plan to bond players together by having them live under the same roof. Jaquan Case and Pete De Windt. Aardvark and Mike Filion. George and Gracie. Hey, don’t laugh, Gracie was the holder when Milford kicked the extra point while George kicked it straight through the uprights.

The theory is you can’t learn each other’s moves if you don’t learn what they like to mooch out of the fridge, what time at night they wet the bed, what cartoons they watch on TV. By gum, Leonard now knows to get out the way of the basement lavoratory whenever Tiki has downed one Spaghetti O’s can too many and he subsequently chews on multiple X-LX-Lax that he bought in bulk from Milford Apothecary. Leonard also learned that Tiki will body slam him if Leonard attempts to turn on the TV for the WDIG Evening News with Roger Mudd because that’s the time Sesame Street comes on. Leonard found out the hard way that Tiki DOES wet the bed if he misses Bert and Ernie. Oscar the Grouch and Coach Shaw? Both show up just as often. Anyway, all Leonard had to do is take one whiff down the hallway one night and the remote has been set for the letter ‘Q’ ever since.

Come to Jeff Smith Marathon in Edwardsville, Indiana where you get your money’s worth and then some. They just added another clerk, Georgiana, who has turned out to be just as friendly as Crystal and Bre. With smiling faces like these, no wonder why customers keep coming back. Throw in great gasoline and great car repairs at reasonable prices and you have a winning business. On I-64 in Indiana, take exit 118 and head west on Indiana 62 and it is the first left from the highway. Can’t miss it as you can see the building from I-64.

Support Small Business. You need a place where everybody knows your name.

“OK, Gil, I may not like this bonding thing but I’ll do it to take one for the team. But you’re sleeping out in the garage. There’s a king-size for you and Mimi. And a bar which you’re more than welcome to. Just save some Jack in the fridge and clean the chaser glasses. The hose is on driveway side of the garage.”

“Sure, Kaz.”

 

Greg Simmons, You da Man. Your hard work at Shreves Engines in St. Louis does not go unnoticed and in fact is a testament why the place is always so busy. Somebody is ALWAYS coming in. You keep the place hopping and I am always out of there pronto because you bust a gut and you CARE. Sounds like a winning venture to me. Treat Greg with respect, Gang, he’s earned it.

“And Mr. Nosegay said to Lisa Simpson at 38, ‘Ya wanna head to the Yellow Submarine now that Charlie chewed up some real estate?’ And she responded ‘What do I look like, Ringo Starr sleeping in the kitchen by the Hamilton Beach blender at Leonard Fleming’s house?'”

“Gil, it’s bad enough we have to put up with that hornet’s nest in the corner of the garage but give it a rest. You’ll get kicked out of the Milford Elks Club Bingo Night this Thursday, for sure.”

 

And as readers have mentioned, 77 yards is respectable but it ain’t gonna draw interest from some Power 5 school if Chet’s eyes are getting bigger than his tummy at the football smorgasbord. Charlie Roh will land a scholarship at a small Division III school in say, Wisconsin or North Dakota but there’s a world of difference, Chet, between a small town in Wisconsin and Wisconsin itself, a perennial power in its own right.

But let Bluto bask in his own vomit and let him think he is bathing in the lap of luxury. Oh, no, Chet, that’s real water. Bottled straight from the tap at Milford Reservoir. Just keep diving in it, everything will settle and before you know it, Charlie will be running for Alabama next week. And I have Comet in case you need to clean your toes. Wouldn’t want you to gross out while Charlie is dragging the Georgia Bulldog over the goal line. And hit the pylon, Charlie, so the referee will signal “touchdown”. Nick Saban makes guys run laps for taking detours.

 

“And there’s the gun signaling the end of the game. Milford wins it in a gutty effort, 21-10. I’ll have final stats in a moment. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

BAM!!!!!!!!!!!! KAPOWEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!! SLAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KERPLUNK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOST THEM ON THE GROUND SOMEWHERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“What kind of contacts are they? Bausch & Lomb?”

I’M TALKING ABOUT MY TESTICLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

“The Twins racked me pretty good and I was the soloist in the musical ‘Pippin’ next week. I didn’t want to sound like Mickey Mouse doing a rendition of ‘Corner of the Sky’ so I called The Shark.”

“That’s right, folks. Melvin Schmuck had a problem and we attacked Milford High School and their insurance company before you could say ‘Leonard Fleming uses Odor Eaters to get Tiki off his back’. With just compensation, Melvin was able to take advantage of the latest technology in the Ear, Nose, and Throat wing at Central High School Nursing Department and he was good to go. ‘Magic To Do’ as a cakewalk to croon.”

“And I was able to sail through the musical without straining my voice and I even landed a part with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra to sing with Harry Caray ‘Hymn from the Tales of Hoffman’ and ‘Take Me Out To The Ball Game’. I don’t know who was slushier that night but I didn’t plop on the basson player like Harry did. Thanks, Shark.”

“Folks, they don’t have to play for Milford to get the money they deserve. I once engineered a $45,634,702 settlement for Tod Andrews after his car landed in a sewer line at the Milford High School Practice Football Field. Talk about turf toe. But Tod was able to afford new goals for the gym at Oakwood High School. And he upped the pay when he signed the contracts with the referees.”

“I’m in the money. I can play football again and move into the Biltmore Mansion. All because of The Shark.”

“What more proof do you need? Even if you live in the Pits of Hell, you have rights under the Constitution and it’s up to you to call 1-FON-THE-JAWS to see what those rights are. One call, that’s all.”

All right, Gang, let ‘er rip. I still think 77 yards oughta cut it at most universities. I mean, Hank Finkel had 77 career points and he spent an eternity in the NBA with a few rings to show for it. It can happen.

 

“I always knew Gil had it in him to coach. If he used Vidal Sasson Cherry Blossom, ate all his vegetables and attended seance classes at Milford Psychic Manor, he’d land a real job. Well, I’m still waiting on that but I know he still has what it takes-”

BAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“Good God, didn’t Leonard and Tiki see the coverage?????They’ll get a flag on that one!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Kaz, safe to say someone doesn’t need to tell my mom to get off the field.”

 

 

“…a Yellow Submarine that’s yellow because it’s in dire need of Pine-Sol???????”

“Ugh, Gil, how many more days before we get out of the garage?”

 

 

 

 

 

To Assume Is To Make A Mudlark Out Of You And Me.

We’re back in the bottom of the Grand Canyon where Gil is doing his weekly interview with a man he’d just as soon observe get shot in the butt and hauled off to the Tombstone, Arizona cemetery where they are performing last rites for the Clanton boys.

And is it just me or do you all, particularly the Thorpiverse veterans, notice the change of appearance by Marty Moon? In the Berrill years, Marty had that shiny mop top you could wipe the dirty dishes with and Marty’s glean could still be seen over in Oakwood. There could be an earthquake in Milford, 8.4 on the Richter Scale, and the school might crumble to the ground, the girls gym might topple without anybody noticing, or caring the way the season went this past season or DIDN’T went, the Milford’s Men’s Clinic might have to reorder supplies after the Milford Mall went the way of Carrie White (“MMC burns in Hell!!!!!!!”) , but Marty’s hair, every follicle, would stay in place. He might be in the same place AS Carrie White but 1) Who’s gonna argue about his final destination? Thought so 2) See #1 3) His hair would still stay fresh after 60 years even if it would look kinda funny on a skeleton. Well, we can’t have everything. You learn to give and take in Thorpiverse.

In the present scheme of things, Marty decided to go for the ’60’s look, i.e., the bassist for The Move. No wonder why they never really hit their stride. Does anybody really think The Beatles-in-waiting could hit the heights with a snake undermining the show? He might look swell in that Ringo coif but Ringo’s ethics matched his drumming. Eventually, Jeff Lynne and Bev Bevan threw the snake in the gutter, or WDIG as it was later designated, and they went on to become Electric Light Orchestra (ELO). Marty went on to journalism and the rest is history. So is his hair.

So before Zeus and his Titans warm up in the Greek Stadion against the Amazons in Extreme Football, Marty and Gil are obliged to renew acquaintances and refuel a rivalry matched only by Michigan-Ohio State, Tennessee-Alabama or UCLA-USC. But those rivalries are interesting even if you’re not a fan of either school. Press the snooze button on this interchange today between Beatnik and Butthead.

 

Responding to a message I saw at a bank that stated “We do not have public restrooms”

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Milford EPA Shuts Down Milford Federal Credit Union After Hazardous Odors Permeate Building And Out Onto The Street!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Officials traced the smell to Coach Shaw’s residue from a Bucket 3-Cheese Pizza he had for lunch before he had cashed a Milford 7-11 money order.”

 

And P2 is just so full of baloney, it REEKS of a Bucket 3-Meat Pizza. Gil, answer the damn question. I know you have it in you to be professional and actually address what is being asked, even if I’d just as soon take my chances in a National Forest in Montana and hope no grizzly bear shows up to force  me to share  my Bucket o’ Buffalo Wings  than to interview with Ringo Moon. But, Coach, that was the understanding when you interviewed with the principal in ’58. Yeah, you’re going to have to talk to the press. and give logical answers. Not this Alice-in-Wonderland bullshit you’re spouting in today’s strip.

“Gil, so you think Chance’s injury cost Milford a shot at winning against Tilden?”

“Well. Marty, as the turtle said to the lobster while they were on the road to Mandalay to get their marriage license, ‘You can’t assume that you’re going to win just because the hippopotamus tore the goal post down. I had to explain to the whole lot of them hippos that it ain’t over ’til Chance’s bashing the hyena in the ground is over.'”

“Is Chance going to have to get rabies shots?”

“We’ll see. Depends on Dr. Doolittle has enough time after birthing a female Java rhino.”

And really, Coach, that is YOUR job to win. I never assumed ANYTHING as a coach, but Hell yeah, I EXPECTED victory. Or you’re taking early leave as a coach.

I remember a Big Ten coach who I’ll hold nameless whose team lost to some powderpuff, I mean the Milford Betting Line had them winning by 30 but that team LOST to that powderpuff, the team throwing a desperate 3-point heave that clanged off the rim, and a potential game-winner-that-would-have-bailed-them-out-and-taught-them-to-prepare-for-EVERY-opponent-from-now-on wound up on the half-court line, harmlessly sitting until somebody later put it on the ball rack.

And I remember the coach after the game making the comment that when you warm up casual before the game, you’re going to play casual and consequently get your ass beat. Okay, well and good, nobody’s going to argue with that.

EXCEPT, it is YOUR job, Coach, to ensure they DON’T warm up casual. By preparing for every opponent as if they could beat you even if some teams don’t stand a bat chance in Hades of beating you. Y’know, Coach, ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN???? Kentucky is a proud tradition in basketball because one day, when they lost to Auburn on their home floor, Rupp Arena, Auburn not having beaten the Wildcats many times, let alone AT Rupp Arena, Eddie Sutton, the coach at the times called the players in the locker room and asked 3 questions

1. Do you know the name of the player who scored the game-winning shot?
2. Do you know what the final score was?
3. Do you know who our next 3 opponents are?

Coach Sutton made his point.

Gil, it’s not rocket science. No, it ain’t over ’til it’s over but you don’t quit coaching just cuz Jerry Lawler body-slammed Freezer Thompson because Freezer said Jerry’s mother uses Gil comics to scoop up the dog poop. You make those fans happy, y’know, the ones with the Vulcan placards at every game (“Gil coaches worse than Captain Kirk!!!!!!”) , because the same Vulcans expect nothing less than your best effort. What would happen to Spaceship Enterprise if it went at half-throttle? Might crash-land into Uranus.

 

“Do you know who Dagwood’s neighbor is?”

“Do you know where Coach Shaw ran off to?”

“Do you know what kind of insurance Grandpa Macy carries when Chance went berserk and suffered a contusion when he threw the Tilden jerk through the ropes after he slammed his head in the turnbuckle?”

“Uh, no, Marty. I’ll have to check back with you later. I think Shaw is working with inner city youth somewhere in Christchurch, New Zealand but I wouldn’t swear to it. And I’ll have to read the funnies today in the Milford Enquirer. For once, it might not get swiped when I take the paper out of the little coin stand.”

“You’re held to a higher standard, Gil, when you walk between them lines of the comic strip. Your hair is standing taller than you right now.”

If ya git interviewed by Milford Outdoors Today on WDIG-TV after ya had missed a turkey at Milford Fish and Wildlife Public Land and ya git asked

1. Did ya remember the name of yore shotgun?
2. Did ya remember what dumpster the turkey is headed to next?
3. Did ya know turkey season ended yesterday?

And ya can bribe the game warden with a 20 ya found in yore glove box from the poker game ya won last year, ya can scope out the turkey at the Milford High School  maintenance building incinerator and ya not only know the name of yore shotgun, ya can actually spell it, ya might be a redneck

And what are Tom Petty and Clarence “Fat Boy” Clemmons doing together on the sidelines in P3? Didn’t Clarence solo on “Born to Run”? and aren’t they both d-, Oh, shazam, that’s Chance on his crutches once again. I thought this was not a career-ending injury. Ooops, I forgot, this is Thorpiverse. When the ratings decline and people are engineering a mass exodus out of Milford and flocking to Nancy and Sluggo, Thorpiverse has to use its Colt .45, the same one used to blast Gil’s horse in the head when it tripped on Mimi’s verandah, and shoot Chances ankle to smithereens. I understand Chance is out for the next decade.

WHO SHOT COACH SHAW???????????

“I swear, Grandpa, that dude was UGLY. After he shot at Coach, he took aim at my ankles.”

“And Milford is set to kick off against Central any day now. Hmmmmmm, sounds like a Joan Baez recording. Anyhoo, we’ll be back for opening kick after this. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

“Daddy, I gotta go to the BATHROOM!!!!!!”

“In a minute, Jaime. Daddy has to give himself a shot.”

“But I’m going to pee all over the cat if you don’t hurry!!!!!!!”

“Big Guy, I apologize. It’s a very difficult maneuver but once I get it in, I’ll be out before you can say ‘Mr. Green Jeans has erectile dysfunction.'”

“Daddy, I got to brush my teeth. Mommy wants me to wash my molars so I don’t get Klondike Bar stains. She says she doesn’t the teachers to think I chew Red Man.”

“I’m just about done. DAGGONE!!!!!!!! If I shoot this damn thing at a 45 degree angle, I should be able to hit my significant other at the point where the blood is flowing”

“Mommy, what is he talking about? Is Daddy shooting himself up with drugs?”

“Uhhhhh, no, Honey, well, yes and no. Yes, he’s shooting himself all right but no, it’s not drugs. And if he gets his butt out of the bathroom, i can not only put the curlers back on the stand, I can show him a much better way to relieve himself.”

“But, Mommy, he’s not sitting on the potty.”

“EUREKA!!!!!!!!! THAT’S IT!!!!!!!!!!! I’ll sit on the john and give myself an injection!!!!!!!!!”

The toilet lid slams

“Gil, why don’t you open the door? Jaime had to pee in the Le Seuer can just to ease the agony.”

“Mimi, I almost got it. Hold steady. Arch and a spin, go for the rim. Just have good follow-through. And don’t forget to box out.”

“Mommy, why is he talking that way? Is he shooting free throws in the toilet?”

“He might as well be.”

“SHIT!!!!!!!!!! And that’s the last needle!!!!!!!! And my insurance won’t cover a second dozen of these daggone things!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“Mimi showed me a much better way. With the Milford Men’s Clinic EREC-9000 Energy Boost Tablet, I am guaranteed to garner a blood flow through my significant other. In fact, if I don’t lay it on thick and it doesn’t widen to proportions you could use to roast marshmallows, the Milford Men’s Clinic will refund your money, no questions asked. I don’t know about you but I’ve been roasting Mimi pretty damn good. She’s been enjoying that quaking aspen branch lately. Come start your own campfire and taste the marshmallows at Milford Men’s Clinic today. You’ll be glad you did.”

 

All right, Gang, have at it. I’m waiting anytime here at Circus Maximus for the Milford Chariot Races to commence. I’m bettin’ on Mr. Ed.

 

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Disgusted After Losing To Underdog In Milford Adult Flag Football League!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I couldn’t answer who scored the winning TD. Somebody said it was some optometry student at Milford Community College.”

 

“So Coach, what happened tonight?”

“Come again?”

“Why’d you lose?”

“Well, when the rhododendron got horny when it saw the zebra…”

Takes One to Know One… or Two

Y’know, it’s been hard to make light of this fall’s subject matter, especially since Rubin’s done the legwork to pull in “Dr.” Joanne Gerstner and give cred where cred’s due. (I’d pat myself on the back for calling out the caveats in the BU study that Dr. Gerstner called out yesterday but that feels like piling on.) By now the TWIM faithful has no doubt seen what happened to the Texans’ Tom Savage and the aftermath last weekend (and no, I’m not gonna link to it) or read about ex-Chief Larry Johnson’s trials and tribulations with what he suspects might be CTE. No, none of this is a laughing matter, and again credit to Rubin for at least trying to approach the subject from a reasonable POV. High school kid has a potential talent outside of a sport that could be negatively impacted by certain injuries that could be sustained in that sport? Concerned parents seek to dissuade their child from participation in that sport for that reason? Sure, it all checks out.

We’re left with snarking on the usual shortcomings of this strip: the need to contrive a villainous adult with bad intentions as a plot device; the continual parade of weak, underdeveloped female characters who consistently fail the Bechdel Test; and the haphazard pacing that seldom reflects the actual pace of the season of the sport being played. All of those come to a head today as Rick finally calls bullshit on Uncle Gary’s little charade. Uncle Snidely Whiplash falls back on the “I’mma tell yo’ mama!” defense and it’s up to the reader to connect the dots between a Central City parking lot and Gil’s cushy office. Gil exposes Uncle Gary tomorrow, gets to spout some pithy platitudes on Saturday, and next week will be a mad rush of strips telling but not showing us how Milford misses the playdowns.

If you told me that Uncle Gary and Mama Soto were in some kind of incestuous, mind-controlling relationship and that Mama gets propped up in front of the monitor like one of Saddam Hussein’s human shields on Skype calls to Daddy Soto, I wouldn’t blink. It’d at least offer some explanation for the adult interpersonal relationships in the Soto household.

metapost: In the roar of so many other things going on this week I completely missed the obituary for “Mr. Falcon,” Tommy Nobis. The face of that franchise in its early years – and a force for good in and around Atlanta after his playing career – Nobis was another player haunted by injury to his body and mind.

As Vaganova Can Attest, There Is Basically No Risk Of Concussion From Skiing.

Panel 1: “Signs of trouble” is going to become my new euphemism for impending disaster.

[boss with grating accent]: ‘Hey TimP, how’s going der Mega Proposal due Friday to GiantCo?’

TimP: ‘Gee boss, the lead architect is out sick with stage 4 cancer of the everything, his wife just died and his daughter’s wedding in Tahiti is Saturday so he’s got that going on too. Meanwhile, our offshore support team is celebrating a week long major national holiday and are legally forbidden from working*, and our key relationship manager at the account just left us to join our competitor. Also, too, one of their subsidiaries just announced they’re suing us for breach of contract at Tiny Project where the long gone sales guy over promised and we under delivered.  So, you could say there are some Signs of Trouble.’

* The government will occasionally send state security officers to the offices to check that they are closed. No joke!

Panel 2: “What we mostly know about [tobacco and cancer, leaded gasoline, asbestos, etc.] for now is that we need to know more.” (emphasis added)

Panel 3: So, I am a big believer in not letting my fears determine my decisions. Too often in my life, and as I’ve observed in many other’s lives, some element of fear constrained me from reaching further than I could have. Conversely, even when I’ve taken risks and failed, I’ve always made my greatest strides when I’ve managed my fears and charged ahead.

Inspiring or insipid as that might sound, after living in my home for eleven years without it, I bought flood insurance three months before Hurricane Harvey hit and didn’t flood. The point being, I guess I could’ve saved $450 (although I’m happy that money will help to pay out claims to other insureds), but I was a lot more comfortable the night of landfall and the days that followed.

Had I been fearful of flooding? Sure.

Did I mitigate the risks underlying that fear? Yes.

Did I make the right decision?

 

Thank Goodness She Didn’t Refer To Friday’s Game As A Match

So does anyone ever wonder if Uncle Gary arrived in Milford as a level headed, vaguely successful professional but, after a few days of drinking the local unfiltered tap water, he morphed into this?  Just me? OK.

Minus points: What sort of quasi-Australopithecene noggin is the erstwhile Dr. Joane Gerstner, M.D., displaying on that chart there? That, coupled with her game retort to Crazy Uncle Gary, raises more questions than have been answered (i.e., that Little Ricky definitely, almost positively doesn’t have a concussion-in-fact-they-(concussions)-are-not-even-really-so serious-so-why-would-we-even-need-to-look-at-that-baseline-testing-we-established-earlier-in-the-arc?)

Again, I leave this here.

Bonus Point? The detail on the radiological waste bin warning sticker.

Edited to add this:

Gil Gets His Dig(g)s In

One of our Central City protestors (the Tommie Smith/John Carlos descendant) gets a name and becomes as central to the plot as any Milford girl.  The “other item” Gil was shaking Skip down for must have been her name and digits. I leave it to the readership to discuss the propriety of what Skip and Gil have done. Suffice it to say it doesn’t leave a very good taste in my mouth.

I’m assuming Gil’s convo with, I’m assuming, Ryan will pick up tomorrow with, I’m assuming, what Gil said to Ms. Diggs after appreciating her “taking a stand” that wasn’t written here.  Odds are it will involve some gentle variation on “keep your ****in’ mouth shut.”  I’ll be surprised if her response isn’t some variation on the “HA” behind her head.

From the Pantheon of Mysterious Objects Dept.: Diagonally striped thing above and to the right of the GIL mug (or is it below and to the right? I can’t tell); backdrop of P3 (they’re standing outdoors, presumably; is it a huge backstop, more Prairie Style Windows, or what?).

Maybe, But Does Ryan Have a Super Bowl Ring?

Today’s big highlight is getting to watch Papa Van Auken morph from Dabney Coleman into Carl Brutananadilewski. Holy crap where did his eyelids go? Between Pop’s chest slap and summoned rage and Mom’s agitated temple rubbing, the Van Aukens are starting to pile it on in defense of their son. Granted the Valley is full of gossips with nothing better to do than play telephone and potentially ruin some kid’s life, but dad’s overreacting a bit himself. It’s not like Alyssa and Ryan got married or anything.

is Gil gonna buy their version of the “Ryan hit Alyssa” story? Will he wait to get straight from the ‘Cane’s mouth? Or is a road trip to Central City to meet Alyssa in order? Those don’t often work out well for Milfordians…