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.

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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…

Why Would The Central Coach Apologize For A Disruption On The Road?

With his first appearance in his namesake strip in nearly a month, Gil is apparently already halfway to cracking the case of the protesters who basically held up a sign silently for a half inning or so.

Clearly, the Central coach (Is he named Skip or is Gil calling him Skipper?) is about as clued in as Gil typically is. It must be nice coaching in the Valley…

Just to summarize the advancement of today’s plot: We now know ‘those girls’ are Central Students and that Ryan left after the game… Also, when Gil drinks his coffee right handed he has the L in Gil staring him in the face…

Signs, Girls, or Girls with Signs

Ryan got a jolt yesterday because he remembered seeing Patty Duke in The Miracle Worker. His secret thoughts might lead us to believe that’s not really Patty, however. My guess is that the ‘Cane remembers her because he hit her but didn’t know who she was when he did.

This begs the question: If ‘Cane hit some rando girl in Central City, how does Dafuq reach the conclusion that the girl he hit was his girlfriend? Why do I get the feeling that this little show by granddaughter of Tommie Smith (or John Carlos) and her entourage will lead Daftpunk down the road of true investigative journalism to uncover info that will, at least in part, exonerate young Van Auken? Maybe because I don’t have much else to hang my hat on today after yesterday’s big reveal.

Speaking of hats: Take a closer look at Ryan’s today and in yesterday’s P3. The rest of the Milford crew wear that big, indistinct, Miramax Films-like sans-serif “M” but the cap Ryan wears clearly has serifs on the block “M”. It’s almost like he’s not on the same team. What says his teammates will treat him that way once they learn more about his backstory? They’ve been known to do that, y’know; just ask Barry Bader.

So, I Took A Little Vacation From The Blog…

May 30, 2017

And this is what I come back to… Nothing wrong with the first two panels of Tuesday’s strip and I even get a kick out of The Bucket supporting the baseball team, confident in the knowledge that they”ll more than make back their advertising spend through increased sales of milkshakes and french fries. But, boy howdy we swerve back to the Volcano hit a girl plotline and I got just about nothing.

May 31, 2017

I am trying to imagine that part of Ryan’s shock is coming not from the sign, which looks about a third the width of the one they were holding in panel three of Tuesday’s strip, but also the incessant clacking and clanging of those bracelets.