This Week in Milford

March 10, 2018

Goodnight Moon*


Goodnight room
Goodnight Moon
Goodnight fans shouting over the Moon
Goodnight light
And the racist goon
Goodnight game
“Goodnight”? Lame
Goodnight Padillas
Oh, goodnight? See ya!
Goodnight job
And goodnight slob
Goodnight little house
And goodnight souse
Goodnight Gil
And goodnight (W)DIG
Goodnight nobody
Goodnight pig
And goodnight to your shot at another gig
Goodnight scars
Goodnight hair
Good night Mudlarks everywhere

*apologies M. W. Brown




March 8, 2018

Join In the Chant


I love it that Paloma’s all up in Marty’s grill; too bad Exploding Spittle Syndrome is not a thing. Still I’m a little disappointed in the chant. “Muzzle Marty” is a four-syllable phrase. Why aren’t the protesters using the “clap clap clap-clap-clap” cadence? You’d think they know it since “Mudlarks” is a two-syllable nickname.

Raised fists make for good visuals but they can’t be heard on the radio. Maybe since they’re not in the cheap seats they think they can just rattle their jewelry.

What four-syllable chant would you have the Milford crowd do? Keeping it clean so WDIG doesn’t pull the plug (although Marty’s think-skinned ass may just do it for spite, the station manager may think any ratings are good ratings). “Fuck you Marty” or “Un pendejo” are right out.

Inspiration for today’s post title:


March 6, 2018

Go Ahead, You Can Chant All You Want, But You Got No Philosophy.

Filed under: Exploding Eyeball Syndrome, Marty Moon — tdrewhardin @ 5:31 am


God, I gotta quit listening to Ben Folds Five when I’m doing my post. Not a way to mix business with pleasure.

And folks, we are pulling out all the stops here as we have a battle royale on our hands. Poor Marty is left clueless for a riposte. Well, that’s what Thorpiverse wants you to THINK anyway. T-verse is just hoping you stay with the plot that has not surprisingly offered little drama from the sports angle anyway and wait to see if Marty winds up diving in the same radioactive pool of water that befell Dr. No when the latter tried to tangle with James Bond.  But when has ANYBODY seen Marty throw in the towel, let alone drown in Dr. No’s cesspool? And Gil couldn’t manage, unlike James Bond, to throw Marty out the same airplane window that sucked poor ol’ Goldfinger and sent him crash-landing belly-up 10,000 feet below. If ANYONE, and that goes for you too, Paloma and Ernie, thinks that they’re going to hear that ugly grating Model T sound that we all heard on Dr. No’s island after James Bond turned the steering wheel the wrong way and all the Dr. No myrmidons are going to run every which way in Milford’s gym after Marty called Jorge a “Jose Cuervo on the boards”,  I got farm land to sell you, cheap, right behind McShane’s Hardware.  They might run like hell towards the ocean to escape but Marty and Milford’s gym should be intact by the time M picks up Mr. Bond.

The Gang of 15 enter Milford’s gym after paying for their tickets.

“How many?”

“15, please.”

“Protesting or non-Protesting?”

“Oh, definitely Protesting.”

“Right this way. We have a section right behind the WDIG table. Should have no problem with the reception picking up your favorite grievances. Enjoy the show.”

“And some Japanese man has entered the gym. Looks like he could use the Ultra Slim-Fast plan. WHOOAAAA, he just flung his top hat at me. Thank God, the old reflexes are kickin’ in after 60 years on the job. Unfortunately, can’t say the same for Coach Kaz. Luhm’s coming in now to sweep up his head. The towel boys are wiping off all the blood on the court. The refs are enforcing the no-blood rule.”

And aside from the problem I’m having trying to link up all the balloon comments to the speakers (sheesh, T-verse, I’d rather pick up Kaz’s head), who you gonna replace Marty with should you succeed in running him out of the gym with this scathing tirade? Mrs. Aardvark? She’s too busy watching her son inbound the ball. Not that Marty is going to take it and like it. Marty is not going to be written out of the script, Paloma and company. Protest all you want. You can shout from the top of your lungs MARTY IS A WIENIE!!!!!!!!! or PEACHES DESERVED BETTER!!!!!!!!! and when the smoke has cleared, Marty will still be spewing his venom for generations to come. In fact, I can see this 40-50 years down the road when Paloma has grandkids:

“Where are you going, in multiples of 5, Mariposa?”

“Down to Barry Bader Field to air our complaints. Milford is taking on Oakwood and we’re going to cram into Marty’s little hot dog stand and give him a piece of our mind!!!!!!!He can’t call HOR-hay III a ‘Speedy Gonzales around the base paths’ and get away with it!!!!!!! He’ll be in the unemployment line Monday morning if we have anything to do with it or my name doesn’t mean ‘butterfly’!!!!!!!”

“Well, tell Marty, Paloma says ‘hi’. And I changed jobs at the phone company.”

If ya got a cheering section that ya drag along at yore Industrial League softball game on Wednesday night at the Milford Sports Complex and ya enjoy downin’ a Bud Lite in the dugout after ya flew like a Mexican jumping bean on an inside-the-park job and yore cheering section chants in Latin American Spanish “Flies like a mariposa and stings like an abeja,” ya might be a redneck.

Heard midway through the 3rd quarter on WDIG:

“…and HOR-hay signals time out as Coach T wants to talk things over after Valley Tech has gone in a 10-3 run. And with-


-3:25 to go in the 3rd Quarter, it’s Milford, 53, Valley Tech, 51. You’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“Ohhhhhhhhh, Marty, surely you have other things to do besides rip athletes to shreds here at WDIG studios. And Anonymous Calculus Dude is in Guatemala on a sales run. Why don’t you let me show you a good time?”

“Sorry, Miss Moneypenny, this time the kids are out to hurt somebody and I got to take action. Besides, Peaches and I are spending a weekend at the New Thayer Hilton.”

I will be doing a Women’s History segment once a week. Today’s entry is none other than my own mother. Before I get run out of Milford on nepotism charges, let me say that Jacqueline Lee Hardin defied a lot of odds when she took the hammer and nail and rebuilt the inner city through Habitat for Humanity. She unfortunately played go-for until one day when a worker didn’t show up, my mother stepped to the plate and hammered the day away. She was one of them by day’s end. Two newspaper articles liberally singing her praises stamped their seal of approval on her contributions. Mom, you’ve come a long way from the day when you went to the hardware store to ask whether a project required a 9/16 or a 3/8 socket and the hardware clerk asked “What does your husband think?” I love you and salute you, Mom.

Gang, if you need me, I’ll be under the bleachers. Oddjob isn’t getting MY HEAD on a silver platter.

February 21, 2018

So, Did Marty Roll His Double RR’s?


Panel One: That elbow from Oakwood #5 coulda just as easily been called the other way.

Panel Two: Marty is a real jerk.

Panel Three: I mean, seriously, just a true jerk.

Minus points: Nice mug, Karina. Did you buy it online using your |||| brand laptop?

February 17, 2018

Munenhausen By Proxy


Oh great. Mar-TEEN – er, Marty – thinks Jorge put Karina and Ernie Duncan up to confront him about butchering his name. This is the first Jorge’s heard of this, of course, so he’s totally within his rights to head-bobble. Not only does he deny knowledge of the issue (in a visually imperceptible Georgia drawl, I imagine), he provides further proof of his cultural assimilation by throwing up a classic Milfordian non-confrontational, flat-palmed freak hand at Marty (and maybe at Marty’s bespectacled Oakwood counterpart next to him).

I’m really kind of disappointed with the way Rubin’s turned this response to Marty’s on-air jackassery into a game of telephone. If he’d sent Paloma, not Duncan, to WDIG with Karina, this conversation wouldn’t even be happening; the Dove would have sent Marty crawling back to the safety of his crate. Hell, I still don’t think anybody in the real world of today would’ve gone directly to the offending party before having their beef with them. Soon as one of these kids finds out “Moon” is short for Munenhausen, the schnitzel will hit the fan.

Speaking of beef, whaddya think is going on with the couple in the stands behind Jorge? I’ve seen that hands-on-hips stance from mrs. teenchy from time to time, and it’s never a good sign.

February 9, 2018

Marty taking over this storyline – Yes!

Filed under: actual action, basketball, Exploding Eyeball Syndrome, Marty Moon — robmize2013 @ 7:55 pm

Its about time we focus on someone besides the mindless student-athletes parading around this strip. Now we have the kids listening to his broadcast and critiquing his nickname for Jorge. Who cares how long we play hoops – its the Marty Moon show and god damn I am happy. Bring on some real controversy!

December 28, 2017

There’s a 10-cent Big Guy Deposit Fee in Milford


As this strip stumbles forward to end the football season and the calendar year simultaneously, the slapdash approach to tying up loose plot ends prompts me to approach today’s post in a similar fashion.

“That big kid?” Maybe Gil should’ve signed up for baseline testing himself.

Nice to see Marcie from Peanuts grew up and landed a teaching gig. Is she teaching math (cosines?) or opera (Così fan tutte)? That big kid can sing, or so we’ve been told.

The part of Ricardo “Call Me Richard” Soto, Sr. is being played today by Ivan Reitman-era Bill Murray.  I reckon Billy was able to tear himself away from Mr. Bakst at The Gin Joint. YHS was unable to make it to Charleston this Christmas and so, not unlike Marty Moon, is drinking alone.

December 25, 2017

Time Out


Here we go. Rick Soto is walking in to this improbable confrontation to put the final nail in Uncle Gary’s coffin. The only way this would be interesting is if it’s not Rick, but the guy whose couch Gary slept on rent free for months. That couch was expensive and Gary’s gonna pay!

That’s all neither here nor there. It’s time for the Christmas greeting. It looks like Kelly and Bob get to participate this year. It’s only fitting as it was Kelly’s internet ninja skills that finally nudged this stupid plot from it’s endless torpor. As far as the Thorp kids go, just forget about them. They’re never coming back.

Merry Christmas everyone.


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