When I last posted on Christmas Day, I was hanging on a piazza in Charleston with Mr. Bakst. No such luck today; I’m in a colder place, albeit one that’s not as cold as it used to be this time of year. I’m also not fresh out of a hospital bed like I was in 2015, and for that I’m grateful. I’m also grateful that I got to see firsthand something very few people still living got to see previously – a major league baseball team based in Washington win a pennant – and, a few days later, win a World Series, something even fewer still living got to see previously.
My snark isn’t as sharp as it used to be. In my last two posts I thought I caught a typo where there wasn’t one, and I identified Teddy DeMarco’s knock-kneed stooge as Teddy himself. I’ve still got some haiku game but I’ve lost a few mph off my song parodies (how many times can I go back to Janet’s Diner?). Heck, I’m having a hard time finding snark for today’s strip. The Thorp kids have been so thoroughly retconned out it hardly bears mention. Maybe Kaz’s scarf? Looks like one of Mary Worth’s cowlnecks. What about that gazebo? Since when did Milford get one of those? Is that where Mimi entertains the pool boy when Gil’s off at Milford CC every summer? We don’t even get “Merry Christmas” set off in a fancy font like we usually do.
Anyhoo, to all you TWIMers out there who celebrate Christmas, a merry Christmas to you. To those of you who don’t, enjoy the day all the same. Thanks for putting up with me and for the encouragement when I’ve felt like hanging up the keyboard.
This is quite a strip. Three panels and six characters recapping the baffling actions of The Press in “exposing” the Chet Ballard/Chance Macy affair (without mentioning any names). We recap last week’s phone call from Marjie to Chance’s grandfather (with a rug?) and then we get a look at two Milford power couples to see how they prefer to consume their daily news. (One couple reads print and the other online, but both couples employ a “one reads to the other” technique. Ugh. Not a fan.)
So let’s talk about this story that The Star is running. There’s not much there, is there? I can’t understand why they are running the story. The School Board was made aware of Chet’s actions and they did their own investigation. Yes, Marjie (and friend) at The Star triggered the investigation by informing the Superintendent of the anonymous voicemail, but that’s not a story. If the Board takes action against Chet, then we have a story. Is there some reason that Marjie and her editors suspect that the Board will not be taking action even though the paper knows that the Board knows what Chet did? That would be a story too, but we haven’t been given any reason to suspect that this is the case.
The bottom line is that this story is sloppy and slapdash. Great, let’s print it!
The word has spread through the Valley Conference. Milford has a hotshot running back named Chance Macy. Chance has a target on his back heading into the match at Tilden.
Detective Kaz is still working on an investigation into the full story behind Chance Macy, but for now it’s Coach Kaz looking out for Chance. Tilden players are taking aim at Chance, THUD!ing him and taking cheap shots. Oh the humanity.
I wonder if this is “too much”.
Are the teams in formation in panel 1? Is 53 of Tilden hanging around in Milford’s backfield? The Zebras are really not paying attention.
After a hot sweaty workout complete with gun show, Gil and Kaz towel down and make a little pillow talk. His guard down, a dreamy-faced Gil lets slip just exactly who it is he fantasizes about during these training room sessions. Kaz pretends not to notice, instead continuing his amateur private dick schtick and nosing around for more info on the tight-lipped Chance Macy. There are as many valid reasons for a high school student with otherwise good grades to be a year behind other students his age as there are readers of this blog.
Speaking of Chance, quick cut to his dinner table where Macy dwarfs his grandparents and where there’s also an empty chair. Grandpa follows Gil’s lead and adds another to the pile of cryptic comments in the fall arc thus far. Where are Macy’s parents? Is he gonna have a similar backstory to Silent John Pascoe? Will it make Chance’s grandparents his equivalent to Aunt May and Uncle Ben? Will he get bitten by a radioactive spider next?
Gang, I apologize, I had this one wrapped up for Christmas but a personal matter turned up and like Grandma Macy, she was was hard to bounce out on the street so I had to find her bifocals which we FINALLY tracked down under the cushion of the couch along with the remote we’ve been searching for for several months. Thank God we weren’t trying to find her dentures. Under the seat slobbering on the channel function? Yuck.
Anyhoo, Today’s post includes a performer I have always admired. Her music is electric and scintillating and really gets in me. But I grew up on Alice Cooper, no problem. I grew up on Black Sabbath, in particular, Ozzy Osbourne, no problem. I lived to tell about it every time I played “Children of the Grave”, the lead-in “Embroyo”, if you want to get greedy, off of “Master of Reality”. I grew up on Frank Zappa and Captain Beefheart, no problem.
NONE of these performers have scared the shit out of me the way Kate Bush does. She has an eerie presence that works and adds the touch to her music that really sends me. One night at 2:00AM, I was reading an article on her that I had to put down, her photographs were THAT frightening. But that’s what also makes it appealing for me and will add, in my opinion, the punch to this plotline that is enigmatic and starting to limp after a strong start at the Milford Marathon. God, I hate to see what happens at Heartbreak Hill. Kate will be there to deliver the death blow, trust me.
At the 26 mile mark, situated at the beveled loading dock at Milford Foundry
“Gil, want some Gatorade? You look like you could use some.”
“Hell, no. I can suck it a few more yards. I’ll have my picture with my family proudly beside me.”
“That’s nice, but the photographer went home for the night.”
If ya gotta pass the ‘rithmatic Final by studyin’ the multi-plik-a-shun tables ’til the rooster crows early mornin’ so yuz can FINALLY pass 3rd grade and be eligible as a redshirt freshman for the junior varsity football team and ya FINALLY got 9 x 9 cuh-rehct by placin’ 9 monkey wrenches on the hood one way and 9 the other way, pointin’ towards the dice in the rear-view mirror, ya might be a redneck.
P1 is scary but if Thorpiverse thinks it’s going to get to Chance singing “The Red Shoes”, I think we better stick with Kate, thank you very much. We are led to believe that Chance is the second coming of Ted Bundy, about to chop up Grandma Macy with a Ginsu knife once he gets off the team bus, unbeknownst to the kids sitting behind him, talking about girls, football, what’s available online at The Bucket (“Let’s order that Bucket Tunaburger again. It’s got tuna wild-caught out of Mudlark Lake.” “HOLD ON. My phone ain’t working.”) .
And what sucks, We were getting used to Chet being an asshole and tolerating his inchoate methods for dealing with his stepson and his potential football talent or dealing with Coach Thorp and his coaching in absentia and still putting a product on the field. Aren’t you getting vertigo jumping from Stiff-Necked Lout to Norman Bates about to turn Grandma Bates into sawdust? Like Robert Frost, I prefer the Road Less Confusing. But I know a lot of you aren’t into “Fire and Ice”. Diff’rent strokes for diff’rent folks.
STILL, once the only player who hasn’t been carded at Milford Lounge gets off the bus, I would like a little stability here. It’s time to get back to normalcy. So the League of Nations was a bad concept and now we’re going to have to endure every man for himself. But, Hell, we’ve had plenty of practice watching Chet at football games. Talk about grandstanding in the name of your own ego. His son better make the NFL and make this damn thing worth it, is all I can say.
Oooohhh, game gets close, it gets chippy
On the other side from you
I bitch a lot. I whine a lot
Wish I got ‘Dad’ from you
Don’t let Dreher back, Chuck
Cruel Macy, my one blot
My only other running back
Too long, Chance is in the play
Charlie’s coming in on second down, to put it right
He’s rolling right to
Thorpiverse
Thorpiverse
Thorpiverse Heights
Charlie, it’s me, I’m obnoxious
I’ve read the pattern, I’m a pro at this
Let me call the plays
Charlie, it’s me, I’m etc., etc., etc.,
Well, did you think the lyric was going to be “I’m a Good Samaritan, I believe in sportsmanship, shake the hand of your opponent when you lose, Charlie”? Hell, we could end the football plot RIGHT NOW and take a sneak preview into basketball. But noooooooooo, Chet’s gotta be an asshole for about 2 more months before we schedule the Billy Graham Crusade at Milford Outdoor Amphitheater. Can’t have Chet answering the altar call before October. Ooops, I forgot, we still have Ted Bundy and his grandma. But you can only chop her up 31 ways if that plot lasts until Halloween. Better to drag this jalopy all the way to the finish line. Jughead Jones will be there at Heartbreak Hill with a Radio Flyer full of Bucket Burgers.
Oh, come on, coaches. In P2, we are subjected to a conversation a bit on the unrealistic side. I was only kidding about Chance being compared to Ted Bundy. They aren’t.
As long as we’re going to be ostentatious about weightlifting and hoist something your average senior citizen with his or her yearly pass at the Milford Athletic Club could jerk up and down without Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em head serving as a spotter, why don’t we at least get real. I have dealt with, either in Babe Ruth or at the private school I coached, SEVERAL players who were short on conversation. That didn’t make them Lizzie Borden. As long as they showed up ready to play and listen, giving me 110%, I really didn’t care if they weren’t much for words.
Now don’t get me wrong. I think it’s in every coach’s best interest to establish an excellent relationship or at least a workable rapport with your players as long as you’re in the same dugout or on the bench. I can honestly say that I could get players to crash through a wall for me as long as I treated them with RESPECT (Notice big case letters) . The players were GREAT to me and they made me who I am. They took the wins, I took the losses.
But common sense rules the day. If Chance doesn’t have a meat cleaver in his locker, I think it’s safe to say that his grandma will sleep another night. 2541 will enter another halcyon period since it’s hard for me to imagine Silent Chance attacking his grandma with his Boy Scout knife out of his drawer.
Time to hit the sauna, Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Head.
Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer
“O.J. Cleared On Rape Charges In Grandma Macy’s Living Unit!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“Judge Ito knows me better than that. I wouldn’t touch her with gloves on or off.”
Then in P3, Coach Kaz is really sweating it out, either from bench-pressing the 25-pound weight (allowing for 5 pounds on the bar) or the agony of cerebralizing whether they’re harboring someone who’s old enough to file for Social Security benefits. Heavy-duty mental loads like this can be hell on the last rep, we know, Coach Kaz. Gil is there with a Handi-Wipe.
BTW, how do they know all this unless they were riding on the bus THEMSELVES? And, okay, if they didn’t ride in the Coach’s Limo (So THAT’S where Thorp keeps his golf clubs in the summer when he’s not not-coaching during the school year) , or in a separate bus which some schools do if the team is carrying a lot of players (i.e., Sophomore bus, Freshman bus, etc.) , and they indeed rode with Ted Bundy and his arguably subversive, slightly dangerous demeanor, what were they doing, observing the entire bus ride back to Milford? And not celebrating with the rest of the team? Concern is one thing. Stretching the storyline so it makes the half hour slot without having to fill in with another Toyota Corolla or Breeze Detergent commercial is another. The silver lining to the latter might be I’d get a towel out of the box when I’m dumping detergent in the washing machine with the “rinse” letters barely legible at the Milford Laundromat to wash my tube socks but that’s about it.
But us Thorpiverse veterans are used to Rubber-Band Man scenarios. Stretch away, Coaches.
“And that just about wraps up the Milford Marathon here at the finish line here by the Wacky Water Slide here at Mudlark Lake. Jerry Pulver Jr. wins the event in a record 2:27:16. Coach Thorp and Coach are yet to be accounted for. I understand they got lost by the drawbridge by The Bucket. They had to wait ’til the Milford & Oakwood frigate finally got its orders. That gives me an opportunity to take a station break. This ius Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG-Radio, a division of Learfield Sports.”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
“Go away!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m training for the Milford Marathon!!!!!!!!!!”
“Honey, it’s 2:37 in the morning. And why are you training in the bathroom in the basement?”
“I gotta stay mentally strong. You can’t have any lapses in concentration when you’re chuggin’ for 26 miles.”
“Darling, I can give you that extra boost if you’ll give me a chance. Now come to bed with me.”
“Mrs. Shaw, you don’t understand. I have to be at my peak performance. That’s why I’m drinkin’ all these Nutrament Dutch Chocolate shakes. There’s plenty more behind the Pennzoil 10W-30 bottles here in the closet.”
“Aren’t there linens in there too? Where’d you put those?
“Blubba blubba, you’d be surprised how many Holiday Inn towels can cover a case full of Nutrament French Vanilla and Bar’s Leaks. Why it’s a match made in Heaven. And you can’t have any dissension when you’re at Heartbreak Hill. I’ll be sprintin’ like Jesse Owens if I got the Nutrament Black Cherry Special Blend wrapped up out of view.”
“And I don’t EVER remember your buying running shoes.”
“Ickity ackity oop, uh uh, I bought some cross trainers at a yard sale. Kid ran ’em in the Milford High School X-Country meets. Still got some high school invitationals left. I’ll be runnin’ like the wind at mile 15.”
“I just hope the crowd doesn’t notice the wimpy thing between your legs by then. Hard to hide that one with a Holiday Inn towel, My Love.”
“What could I say? She had me and she knew it and I knew it. It was time to take the towels back to Holiday Inn and pay the $7.00 Missing Merchandise Fee, then head down to Milford Men’s Clinic to deal with MY OWN missing merchandise. With treatment programs that work, my significant other came out of hiding and none too soon. I won my age division at the Milford Marathon thanks to the sprints I won in bed. Boy, it’s nice when you can pump your arms and your significant other simultaneously. My wife sure as hell agreed. But don’t take my word for it. Run on down to Milford Men’s Clinic and win your own age bracket. There’s plenty of ribbons to be won there. Come and claim your own Blue Ribbon. You’ll be glad you did.
Gang, thanks for your patience. I can only pass it along BUT I WILL. Y’all mean the world to me.
Ooohhhh, let him have it
Let Charlie take the game away
Oooohhhh, let him have it
Let Chance slice Granny away
You know it’s Gil, Cathy
Chet, it’s me, I’m concerned
I’ve come home, you’re so frazzled
Let Charlie, though fumbling, through the window
Chet, it’s me, I’m cornered
Etc., etc., etc.,
What are Gil and Kaz doing, pumping iron in Thorpiverse Heights? I hope they have plenty of Off!
Ooooooookkkkkk, Grant Hart aside(RIP, Big Guy, you touched MANY people), we know two things 1) Chance Macy reads Hardy Boys Mysteries (“The Clue to Gil’s Safe Deposit Box at Milford Federal”) when he’s not on the gridiron chewing up yardage and running over his opponents 2) Dr. Pearl’s sister lost it all in The Depression and is forced to live with family, the other option Milford Soup Kitchen Ministries and a bed at Milford Temporary Hostel, Inc. I didn’t think Chance was related to Grandma Moses. We would have seen “Winter Scene at Mudlark Lake” rather than Captain America on the wall.
And yet another diversion, just as we were getting used to Sharp Dressed Man performing in his role as Obnoxious Oaf in relation to his stepson’s football career, at least at Milford. And if we want to be efficient about this, why don’t we call a truce and say that if Chance’s parents won’t make Grandma Macy sleep next to the Snapper Riding Mower out in the garage and let her bed down in the basement of Chet’s abode, Chet can go to football games in attire from Milford Men’s Wearhouse, acting like a baboon when Gil calls a pass on 3-and-2. I understand Chet has a nice bar down below. Grandma Macy can get drunk and, well, you Jimmy Buffett fans know what I mean.
“GODDAMIT, THORP, THAT’S THE THIRD TIME YOU’VE CALLED THAT SHORT ROUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY STEPSON CAN SHOVE THAT NOSE TACKLE OUT OF THE WAY ON SHORT YARDAGE!!!!!!!!!”
“Sir, you mind? There’s kids playing over by the press box.”
Big shout-out to Greg Simmons over at Shreves Engines in St. Louis, Missouri. He has been a very loyal customer for years and has weathered a lot of storms to keep his end of things at Shreves more than thriving. Every time I come there, the business is humming and hopping. He gets things done either as the boss man or when he does it himself. Last week, he got a truck unloaded then did business with me in a matter of minutes. Sounds like Small Business America gettin’ it done to me. His crew has always been the best to me as a pleasant bonus. I salute you, Greg. You da Man.
Support Small Business, Gang. It makes America run.
If ya splat a poster on th’ wall that shows Cap’n America battlin’ the aliens, warmongers, Huns, Visigoths, Vikings, Vietcong, Nazis, Siberians, Sandanistas, Martians, Jacobins, Seljuk Turks, Dravidians, Tuscanites, and the charter membership from the Milford Bridge Club and he’s haulin’ his shield around to saw ’em all in two and blastin’ the rest with his ray gun that he hangs on his gun rack in his pickup while his Fruit of the Looms are stickin’ out proud as a peacock in the heat of the action, ya might be a redneck.
Hair wrapped in curlers
Downed my Haley’s M-O
Waitin’ for my grandson to come home
And brag how many yards did he go
2541
Big windows to let in the sun
2541
Big sunbeams shinin’ on his toy gun
Okay. I could bite and get REAL sarcastic here and just jump on Grandma Macy’s comment about fame in P1. But let’s explore the possibilities, you know, solve problems, not fight them. This, after all, is a comedy blog, not the Demarcation Zone. We live to see another day without warfare in the rearview mirror.
“How’s fame treating you, Big Boy?”
“Well, I had to hire an agent to talk with Gil. I needed SOMEBODY to talk some sense into Coach T. 30 carries wasn’t enough and I wasn’t going to be no blocking back for Luke Bunkin when he ran that double reverse sweep. Sacrificial lamb is not in my vocabulary. Then I had to hire a bodyguard to stave off all the groupies at Milford High School. Hey, I almost flunked my Organic Chemistry exam getting mobbed by the sophomore girls in one of the M.C. Escher hallways. Then I had to hire a press agent after Milford Men’s Clinic called for the 15th time. Like I have erectile issues. Where’s Coach Shaw when you need him? He always leaves after suicides. Otherwise, I’m just a normal kid. I poop like everybody else.”
“I always knew you’d turn out to be a good boy. Want some Swiss Miss?”
I love it when I can get to the heart of the matter with no bloodshed, don’t you?
After we get all touchy-feely in P2 and the dust has settled, it has been driving me crazy while I sip on my Chock Full o’ Nuts Natural Blend coffee and try to place the face of the person who has clearly age-progressed. I’m talking about the woman, you ninnies. Didja think I was insinuating that Chance had age-progressed from Pop Warner League?
Misunderstanding out of the way, I think it is safe to say that Velma Dinkley has retired from crime-fighting and ferreting out criminals in caves and barns and silos that surround Milford with Shaggy and Scooby and the rest (Fred and Daphne replacing Professor and Mary Ann in those wheels in the opening credits of Gilligan’s Island) and come to retire in her grandson’s abode. Isn’t this just the storyline tailor-made somewhere in March for a happy ending? Naturally, we’ll have to slog through the rest of the soap opera with Chet “Call Me ‘Dad”, Dammit” Baker and Charlie “Get Off My Case, Dad” Roh, the football season that MIGHT utilize all 3 panels for action down the road (Wouldn’t THAT be a change of pace) , the 5-game season that Mimi teaches as a character-builder to her female hoopsters (“We might be filler while Gil has to convince Jaquan he is NOT a member of the team, but we KICKED GOSHEN’S ASS”) , the Super Bowl and Valentine’s Day but if it leads to more tender moments like between Chance and Velma, by gum, I’m all for it. Just keep your dentures in place, Velma, when you kiss out of mutual respect.
Now the ball game is over (guitar struttin’ each line down the pipe in this sequence except last line)
Grandma’s hair in a bun
Totino’s Supreme in the oven
At 2541
Because I will never know how Muldraugh, Kentucky, the only town in Kentucky COMPLETELY surrounded by Fort Knox, has EVER withstood a bomb that went awry in the firing range, even with all that land. I mean, someone could have pull the trigger when the soldier was drunk, right? The Dairy Queen has never endured a wayward A-Bomb?
Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer
“O.J. Moving To The Other End Of Town After Missile Barely Misses His Condo And Obliterates The Furniture From Evicted Tenants!!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“I’m movin’ close by Cochrane’s place. I need some legal advice on my pension plus he’s nowhere near Camp Mudlark.”
We move from the Macy household section of the tour and continue our our Era of Good Feelings in P3. Now wouldn’t it be just like Thorpiverse to ruin the Botticelli landscape by inserting Chet when Charlie was just beginning to have fun playing football? And Coach Kaz needs a pick-me-up after the inexplicable cryptic tete-a-tete he had with Gil and his talking hand the other day. I wouldn’t be surprised if there is some lingering bad vibes from that conversation and I’d be pissed too if I was basically blown off after asking a legitimate question. What’s wrong with Chance’s bio nestled in the Milford Enquirer between “I Saw Elvis At The Drive-Thru Picking Up His Medicine At Milford Apothecary!!!!!!!!!!!!!” and “‘Beer Drinking Is Good For You’, A Study At Milford Community College Confirms.”? Gil needs to get off his high hand and take a chill pill. And quit chewing his nails. That talking hand is down to nubs.
So keep Chet out of the conversation and let Gil’s hand get surgically removed. As Allen Neuharth, the great CEO of USA Today once said “Keep your good people on top and keep your bean counters on tap.” Stay in the stands and drink your Mr. Pibb and shut up, in other words, Chet. Stick to insurance and hand-purging.
Granny’s not into fist bumps
She’s privy to hugs
And it won’t be the last time we’ll ever compare Chet
To a roomful of bugs
2541
Big windows to let in the sun
2541
Here’s hopin’ Charlie’s havin’ some fun
254111111111111111……
Big shout-out to Danielle Harpe (Harpy) who does a great job at Cash Saver in Edwardsville, Indiana. She was very courteous and professional in her job, something us customers always appreciate. As a cashier, she got me out the door before you know it. I could tell she knew her job well, able to steer customers to where they needed to go and she was able to answer any question I had about pricing. Sounds like someone who represents America, Gang. Give her a salute the next time you shop there. She’s earned it.
“And Charlie Roh gives the friendly fist bump to Coach Shaw after Coach Shaw and Charlie have both performed. And that gives me an opportunity to call a station break. You’re listening to Marty Moon on WDIG-Radio, a division of Lear Field Sports.”
“Hi, this is Dr. Pearl. Don’t you think my sister is giving an Oscar-winning rendition? We were both actresses in the school play. As a matter of fact, we were in the play before ‘Our American Cousin”, the fateful show where Lincoln was shot. I will never forget hearing the ambulance coming for ol’ Abe. My sister and I had to hold back the tears.
So how does my sister keep plugging away after all these centuries and still make it to the john well into the millenium? Hugging her grandson and keeping that sleeper hold on him but not enough to dog-hunch him until he goes to bed?
The good people at Bristol-Myers have came up with a cold cream, Acid-Gel that does wonders on the lower limbs. Simply apply a dab to the kneecap and ACL’s are a thing of the past. That’s important because she could have used that when she was a Flapper Girl trying to impress John Barrymore but her knees gave out doing the Charleston. And when her tendinitis was acting up, she needed more than prune juice to move her legs properly. She lost her job as Rosie the Riveter that way and had to go back on welfare. Knowing you weren’t contributing to the war effort while munching on Shredded Wheat from food stamps can be a crusher. And when her toe nail polish won’t wash away, Acid-Gel is right there so embarrassing Revlon stains won’t appear in the carpet. Erase your mistakes and hug ’em tighter when they score the winning touchdown, I’ve always said.
But you too can get this wondrous cream that solves a multitude of sins. You can order it online at http://www.acidgelhelpsoldgeezers.com or call 1-888-GEL-HELP. AND it will be available at Milford Apothecary and Mudlark Orthodontics come this October. It takes a little time to clear tariff regulations.
What have you got to lose except pain in your legs? I wish I’d had some when I was on the playground with Grover Cleveland. He could be a bully. Come try some today and never feel old again. Now it belongs to the ages.
Comment away, Gang. I’m going to hug Granny Clampett just as soon as she gets done boiling my jowl bacon ‘n’ chicken gizzards. We all need incentive. Like Wilt Chamberlain once said when a reporter asked if he could jump to a chandelier in the building, Wilt replied
“No, but if you throw a $100 dollar bill up there, I bet I learn real fast!!!!”
Motivation, baby.
“He could have topped the century mark in rushing if you’d left him in the game. I know you didn’t want to run up the score-”
Bob “Kaz” Kazinski: actual coach, or Gil’s Boy Friday?
Gil “Gil” Thorp: protective of his players, or control freak media manipulator?
Hey, Rubin can write a cryptic strip, why can’t we post cryptic blog posts?
At least the Chief can indulge his hand fetish illustrating this little tête-à-tête. Either Gil has six fingers on his left hand or one of them’s his thumb peeking from between the others. Both Gil and Kaz look to have overdeveloped right hands, IYKWIMAITYD.
It’s such a shame that the peaceful afternoon practice was interrupted. We could have had so much more practice and delved more deeply into the development of the Mudlarks depth chart.
I think that’s Steve Boone in the second panel, but we can’t see his arms because Gil is excitedly announcing the health status of the Finn family. Why is Gil so excited? Because he’s off the hook for serving greasy meat bombs during a hot practice. At least until Marjie is diagnosed with ptomaine poisoning.
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