This Week in Milford

June 23, 2018

Lately, I’ve Been Thinking Too Much Lately

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Oh, Thorpiverse, now stop it. Don’t blindside me with scenery and expect me to decipher it when it’s the weekend and I’m a recovering workaholic. And I haven’t gotten my cup of coffee yet from the neighborhood Taco Bell. Slow down, you’re goin’ too fast. You got to make the morning last.

I ain’t feelin’ groovy trying to set the record straight concerning the environs in P1. (Takes obligatory first swig of Taco Bell Maxwell House medium cup, spits it on the floor from microwave burns on the tongue.) We ARE in the Milford High School journalism room, Ms. Rizk taking a dump from the Buffalo Chicken Sandwich (with mayo and Louisiana Lightnin’ Hot Sauce) she ate at Wendy’s at the faculty lavoratory, and NOT in the second floor of the Milford Enquirer Complex.  Otherwise, Jimmy Olson and Lois Lane are in a useless conversation about Milford Athletics.

And evidently, Steve Luhm, when he’s not taking garbage to the dumpster at Milford High School, is running the buffer at 3:00 A.M. at the complex. You missed a spot, Steve. Yeah, right over there by the right desk leg. And you might wanna spray the place down with Roach-Pruf again. It has the Good Housekeeping Seal plus Paul Harvey adds it to his Folgers along with Coffee-Mate. And I found a roach running by one of the computers displaying an article on the Summer Modeling Show at Milford Fun ‘n’ Fashions.

Then in P2, there’s the Divine Miss Daffy interviewing Daddy Bader and this one’s pumpin’ up the volume, gang. Not sure how a high school rag that is Milford High School could turn her loose and subsequently watch her switch over to “Have you stopped beating your wife lately” questioning.

The COUP DE GRACE!!!!!! That pose Daddy Bader is displaying that is a facsimile of the one that one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence staged that appears on a 50′ x 74′ painting on a wall at your nearest neighborhood museum. Gang, I’ll allow you to insert your favorite Founding Father from the list of Signers of aforementioned Declaration. My money is on Benjamin Franklin but I’ll gladly accept Robert Morris, Samuel Adams, Richard Henry Lee, Button Gwinnett or any of the other 56 Signers in general. Yes, some of you might weigh in with Patrick Henry as Daddy Bader is just as vehement getting out of Sing Sing but, unfortunately, Henry wasn’t one of the Signers. Daddy Bader will have to select another statesman. And we better leave out Thomas Jefferson. He never went to prison and was a better writer than speaker. Plus he shaved every morning.

If ya wind up in prison because yore 4-wheel drive smashed into the meeting room where the Milford Women’s Christian Temperance Union Bar-B-Que Rally was being held and ya wuz 3 times over the limit, ya might be a redneck.

Gang, the title just came to me based upon the tete-a-tete between Lois and Jimmy in P1. And that David Allan Coe tune just won’t flush out of my head. Omigod, am I getting delusional? Will I wind up in a cell next to Daddy Bader? Well, at least I’ll know if he forgot to buy Gillette Atra at the Prison Canteen or if he’s just got a lot on his plate and shaving isn’t a priority. Give ’em to Daffy, Daddy Bader, if you’re not going to use them. They’re like a Poulan Weed-Eater for her hair.

“And Daffy sends a smash out to deep center. IT’S A GRAND SLAM!!!!!!! And the Mudlarks lead Oakwood, 11-0!!!!!!!!! That’s the third homer of the day for the journalist-3rd baseman. Man, Mimi must be using those batting machines at capacity. Daffy is just seeing watermelons up at the plate. Moose better be looking over his shoulder. And Coach T. better be taking notes from his wife. We have a pitching change for Oakwood so we’ll take a commercial break. This is Marty Moon with WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

In the locker room at Milford Athletic Club one day:

Coach Kaz, looking through his fuschia gym bag, is desperately seeking his Ben-Gay. He’s combed through  it twice and all he finds is his 2x Large jock strap, stop watch, Holiday Inn towel, Wal-Mart wash cloth, comb, earring extractor, Lava, Johnson’s No-More-Cryin’-Like-A-Wimp Shampoo, mail order blow dryer, but no Ben-Gay.

Coach Shaw, fresh from a victory against Mark Trail in handball, inquires “What’s up, Kaz?”

“Aw, dammit, I can’t find my Ben-Gay.”

“Are you still using that sissy stuff? Bubba, you’re gonna smell like a candy cane when you go back to teach class.”

“Shaw, I gotta put something on my back muscles. You know how edgy I get when I feel like I’m constipated and I don’t have time to make it to Milford 7-11 to buy a $5.00 tube before my Intermediate Badminton class.”

“Kaz, you need to try Sportscreme. It has an active ingredient, thenobizonol-acetylate-disulfide-bicarbonate-soda that kills that Ben-Gay odor and soothes and massages your muscles better ‘n’ a vibrator.”

“Okay, so it’ll keep me limber and loose. But you sure I’m not going to overpower my class with that mediciney smell?”

“Bubba, I killed a skunk out in Milford Fish & Wildlife Area and later stuck a Sportscreme tube straight up its butt and gave it a good enema before I had to clean out its innards. Sportscreme snuffed out the stink dead in its tracks. Man, that was some good eatin’ later on, not having to chew the meat with that stench up my nostrils.”

Later, in Dr. Pearl’s office for Kaz’s annual teacher evaluation

“No workout today?”

“Yes, I was pumpin’ iron all morning with special emphasis on my pecs. Why?”

“You usually smell like Ben-Gay.”

“Not any more. The smell went in the same cell as Daddy Bader.”

“Wonderful!!!!! Now, Coach, we think you should use more visual aids in your Lifetime Bowling class…”

Gang, it’s your turn. I am still wondering how Stevie Ray Vaughan wound up in prison but maybe I’m getting old, I don’t know. Anyway, you Guys rock.

“I know no North nor South nor East nor West…”

“Warden, I’m adding 5 years onto his sentence. He keeps insisting he’s Henry Clay.”

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June 20, 2018

I Would Have Guessed That, At Some Point, A Permission Slip Of Some Sort Would Need To Have Been Signed

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P1: Whatever Ms. Rizzkk is on probably needs to be dosed a little lower. The way she vacantly smiles while DD and (checks back to May 12th) Jay Bhatia discuss such weighty matters is disconcerting to say the least.

P2: Speaking of disconcerting, in a strip with a long history of poorly depicted high fives (seriously!), this one enters the canon and impels me to create a new category.

P3: Holy Shit! Someone tell Chief Linde to check the Bader family’s crawlspace!

Song that came to mind while writing today’s post:

June 19, 2018

Great Moments In Milford Journalism

Are not depicted in the above. Please stay tuned in for the inimitable T. Drew Hardin’s commentary coming right up!

In the meantime, please feel free to fire away.

Minus points: Since when did Marjie adopt the poking out ear look?

June 14, 2018

Correction: Orange Is the New Dafonte*

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*and how many times have I relied on the “Orange Is the New Black” trope? Don’t ask.

Does anyone know how to lay the bases out at Valley Tech?  The outside edge of the bag goes along the baseline with the rest of the bag in fair territory, not the inside of the bag with the rest in foul territory.  Never mind that: does that field have no foul territory or what?  I wonder how many kids hurt themselves chasing after foul balls and falling over that parapet in front of the dugout.  No matter, visiting players shouldn’t swing from the dugout roof.

Valley Tech’s messed up ball field pales in comparison to today’s big reveal: Dafne Dafonte was the second driver!  How else would she be going to prison and seeing Del?   Oh wait, prisons aren’t co-ed?  Never mind.  My head spins with the crazy schemes Dafne could’ve cooked up to make this happen.  Maybe she secretly lusted after True Standish, wanted Boo Radley killed off and, disguised as Shelly from Selasky’s Supper Club, got Del Bader drunk so he would cause death.  Hey, it’s not that much more far-fetched than the idea of Del agreeing to speak to some nosy kid from his son’s high school’s newspaper in order to somehow clear his name.

Meanwhile, another Trumpet staffer, having picked up one of Holly Dobbs’ left-behind wigs, amuses herself with some newfound gadgetry.  Photography/videography buffs, help me out please: isn’t she wearing a steadicam harness?  Are those designed to work with 1960s-era film cameras like the one she’s holding?

metapost: Ned, Tim and the rest of the TWIM community have taken this blog to another level this week.  Here’s hoping I can keep it up.  Thanks to all for keeping this a going concern.

 

June 9, 2018

Orange is the New Bader

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“Ordinary things take longer in the prison system… like showers.”

My first inclination today was to search to see if Ms. Rizk was staying on model (I’d say close enough). I was thinking that between her knowledge of the penal system and her approach to journalism, Ms. Rizk might not be her real name, and that she’s a refugee from the Federal Witness Protection Program. Then I noticed this strip in which Gil was ready to jump on Ms. Rizk and Dafne for thinking about writing about Ryan Van Auken. Where’s Gilberto now that these two have turned their attention to Barry Bader? Oh, that’s right, no one gives two shits for Barry.

Now what in tarhooties does Dafne think sending a letter to Del in the can is gonna accomplish? I’ll leave it to you, dear reader, to reach that conclusion. Maybe if she keeps up the convo and sends some pics along with the letter, the guys in Central State Pen will think Dafne’s Del’s girlfriend… kinda like Pee-Wee and Lou.

Oh, yeah, I guess that last panel is supposed to remind us that there’s still some kind of sports going on in Milford. Think we’ll ever see another softball game?

June 6, 2018

Frost/Nixon This Isn’t

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Barry probably should’ve taken one of his mom’s Ativans before this interview.

Speaking of, did Ma Bader ever even come back with DD’s diet soda, er, ice water? The depictions of single moms in this strip, with the possible exception of Judge Hiatt,* are almost uniformly negative. What gives I wonder?

That said, I question why DD is leaning in in panel two and then throws BB a lifeline.

Bonus points:

P1: Rare double exploding eyeballs.

P2: Do the kids these days still use notebooks? Do the reporters?

P3: “Everyone thinks you’re a jerk. Do you think you’ve become more of a jerk?”

* As Billy points out Judge Hiatt is not actually single, which I think bolsters my point.

June 4, 2018

At The Baders’

Filed under: Chunky Bracelets, Pissy Faced Barry Bader, Prairie Style Windows — nedryerson @ 5:40 am

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June 2, 2018

Bombs Away, Kevin – er, Barry

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Milford, USA

June 2, 2018

 

Head Baseball Coach

Vacuum Cleaner Repair School

Sucksville, USA

 

Dear Head Baseball Coach:

You better come out here and get this slugger. He just changed his launch angle and he’s hit four home runs in five games and he strikes out once in a while. His home run trot is so good that he has to ask his teammates if he needs to slow it down a little. All he does is adjust his launch angle a sixteenth of an inch, then gives the ball a ride, which leaves his bat looking like a little white bullet, over the fence by 40 feet, easy. He’s a big, 18- or 19-year-old fellow like I told you before (I think), and if you don’t hurry up someone will sign him and he will be the best sluggerer that ever lived. He hits harder than Elmer Vargas or Bryce Larkin ever did, and his hair is greasier than Andrew Gregory’s. He knows where he’s hitting because if he didn’t there would be dead bodies strewn all over Milford.

Oh, wait, scratch that. I was thinking of my second baseman’s old man. Anyway, get out here and check him out before he changes his mind and decides he wants to be a quarterback, or a fullback, or an astronaut or something.  Gotta run – the local sports jock’s got a case of Johnnie Walker waiting for me for pulling his nuts out of the fire and saving his job.

Your pal,

Gil Thorp

Head Baseball Coach (such as it is)

Milford High School Mudlarks

 

*apologies nameless Idahoan

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