This Week in Milford

December 10, 2019

Alexa, It’s Pretty Sad When I’m Bored When The Story Is Only Six Panels Old.


I remember her well. She lived on an island off the coast of Mudlark Lake. Her name was Dorothy Pearl or Dr. Pearl for short. I never thought I’d be non-coaching for her several years later.

She said she was 1,187 years old. She held her age well. Hermie Shaw and Oscy Kaz used to make fun of me every time her name was brought up. A few examples:

“Geez, this Bucket Double Bacon Burger tastes like it’s been in the oven for days. Did Dr. Pearl light a camp fire there?”

“Damn, my book report’s due!!!!!!!!! If I wait until the Treaty of Westphalia, it’ll be late!!!”    “Isn’t that the year Dr. Pearl was born?”

“Why did Coach Thorp call a pass play on the 1-yard line? Is Dr. Pearl calling the plays from Versailles Palace?”

You get the idea.


“This Bucket Chili Dog has seen better days. I wouldn’t wrap a condom around this loser and have sex with-”

“SEE, HERMIE, I told you Gilby has a thing for Dr. Pearl!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A 15-year old virgin is going to have his way with an older woman!!!!!!!!!!! Tell me, Gilby, how was it when Dr. Pearl went in Napoleon’s tent? Did she like it?”

The story sucked

And football’s gone

I wretched all night

It went too long

Chance is cleared

He did no wrong


And when it was over

We never saw much to brag about

Against Valley Tech

Much less the season in toto


Chet’s in reform

His wife has warned


Gang, I’m sorry, P1 is starting this whole daggone story on the wrong foot ALREADY and I ain’t gonna do another Summer of ’42 rendition after basketball, assuming that’s the bill of fare, something that’s been the bill of fare the last 60 years and counting. It’s hard for me to imagine Alexa hittin’ the weights hard so she can be the Milford High School Girls’ Darts champion sponsored by Milford Lounge.


She throws her darts

With deft aplomb

She nearly missed

Moon’s glass of rum

Gil is concerned

Ate tons of Tums


Well. it needs a little sprucing but that’s as far as I’m going. For now, anyway.


Because I really don’t understand why the man in the car with Kentucky license plate 331 VBD used hate to get his point across at Papa John’s on Lower Hunters Trace and Dixie Highway in Louisville early this morning

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Neo-nazi Camp In Rural Milford Shut Down By Milford Health Board After Injury To One Of Its Members!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Safety concerns raised after member’s head was caught in the toilet in the outhouse after head-plunging procedure was going great guns.”


At the Milford Recording Studio, taping an advertising jingle for Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage


“Ahhhhhhhhh, Baby,

This meat is full of taste

And it’s ALL FOR YOU


Sit yo ass down and do



Eat your ass blind

And experience Heaven’s



No, no, don’t leave Gil this way

No, don’t leave Gil this way…”


“Anybody get a hold of Thelma Houston yet? I’m not getting my butt in the sling over copyright infringement”


Hi Crystal. I see you at Jeff Smith Marathon in Edwardsville, Indiana. She and Bre(like “key”) are two VERY friendly people who greet the customers with the utmost courtesy and respect. Throw in mechanics who get the job done as attested by all the cars that fill up the parking lot (BUSY) on the property and you have a whale of abusiness. But don’t take my word for it. Take Exit 118 off of I-64 in Indiana, head to 62 West and it’s the first road to your LEFT as you leave the freeway. You’ll see the business. Great gasoline, great prices, great mechanics. Gang, I think you catch my drift. Catch it at Jeff Smith Marathon and say hello to Crystal and Bre. You’ll be VERY glad you did.


WHAT is that thing in P2, splitting the girls? Is it that gigantic door from 2001: A Space Odyssey? I don’t see any apes around, at least none from the football team and the one ape that was making a spectacle of himself during football is at some marriage  enrichment seminar with his wife (Assuming she still claims Chet of the Jungle) . I’m still trying to adjust my eyes trying to translate Vulcan while going in the out door or going out the in door, same difference. Well, like Joe Walsh said, being a student at Milford High School is living a Life of Illusion. No better example than P2.

I don’t THINK that the obelisk wannabe is something anybody prays to five times a day. I was under the impression that Muslims pray towards Gil’s office that many times (“Surrender to the Will of Gil and accept Coach Kaz as his Prophet.”)

Oh, I KNOW (slaps head). It’s a stoplight. The hallways in the M.C. Escher hallways can get a little confusing. Helps to have Big Brother the Traffic Cop to sort it all out.


“Aw, C’mon, Gilby. Mimi really likes you. Hermie tried to make out with her and she said she only dates guys who referee her girls’ 5-game schedule. And I know you’re patched cuz I heard you scored a 92 on the open-book exam. You can’t keep fantasizing about Dr. Pearl forever.”

“Who are you going to make out with, Oscy?

“Marcia Brady!!!!!!!!!!! I heard she is really hot-to-trot after Alice the Maid showed her a few moves. Used a scrub brush to get her point across.”

That summer, I gained my manhood. We would marry 47 years later but making out behind the tackling dummies was more fun than a barrel of Nerf footballs used in the previous plot while Oscy and Marcia had some fun in the equipment shed, making sure the door was deadbolted so Luhm wouldn’t come in to fix the riding mower blades. Hermie had to settle for Dr. Pearl’s great-great-great granddaughter. He may have had to return her by the 8:00 curfew so she could finish her multiplication tables but he did get a kiss out of her. On the lips.

As for Dr. Pearl, watching her boobs press through her blouse while she was loading boxes in the attic was exhilarating. It was a little like observing gigantic prunes that the Jolly Green Giant eats for breakfast hanging through Kaz’s hammock but still exhilarating. The roar of Mudlark Lake bespoke her mystique. Her beehive bun came from Never Never Land.


And if we have to endure one more stinkin’ bad plot, we’ll be grumbling more than 3 times a week, rest assured.


Big shout-out to Thelma Houston. A very classy woman whose hit “Don’t Leave Me This Way” still rings true as it did when it hit the charts big back in 1977. Never one to rest on her laurels, she is still recording to this day and has acted in several movies and TV shows. I don’t know about you, Gang, but when a person still wants to keep performing even after she hit the Big Time, it is my humble opinion that that’s what makes a STAR. I salute you, Thelma, and hope you keep up the good work.


Gang, if I see one more Marcia Brady at 17 visage as in P3, I’m demanding my money back. I’ve already gotten refunded after returning a moldy Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage Flame-Broiled to Milford IGA, but I can always get another one out of the bunker, the ones next to the George Jones Old Fashioned Breakfast ‘n’ Bed Sausage. We can’t get another plot. Football proved the futility of that particular venture.

I was really working up my courage on a dare from Hermie and Oscy. Hermie Shaw had already disappeared like he always does when football season is approaching its climax. Asking for his mom’s Nair evidently was a bit too embarrassing. Surely the druggist at Milford Apothecary knew his mom shaved her legs.

At any rate, at the Milford Apothecary for Round Two

“May I help you?”

“Do you all sell banana splits?”

“Nope. The Bucket down the street does. Do you need directions?”

“No, that’s all right.”

Well, here goes

“I would like CruexJockItchmedicine100jockstrapsacoupleoffootballhelmetssomeLifesavers10rubbers5atheleticbandages534boxesofBand-AidssomehydrgenperoxideinthejanitordrumsizesoScottwillquitbitchingandapartridgeinapeartree.”

“We’re out of Lifesavers.”

“Do you have everything else?”

“Sure. Give me 15 minutes. My help had to make a delivery to Dorothy Pearl. Had to drop off her Ex-Lax.”

“No problem.”

Whew, that was easy. I couldn’t wait to see the looks on Hermie’s and Oscy’s face. Now I could go all the way with Dr. Pearl. Hermie would leave in defeat but you heard that before. Oscy would be able to buy rubbers and earrings with ease several decades later but by then he would be my assistant. And the druggist cheerfully came back

“Here you are. Have a nice day.”

“Gee, thanks. Oh, BTW, WHERE’S THE RUBBERS?”

“They’re underneath the football helmets, nice and neat.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry. Thanks, Mr. Druggist.”

“No problem. Hope she’s fun.”


So much for trying to sneak one past somebody. But I still had Hermie and Oscy with egg all over their faces. That’s what mattered for the moment.


Gang, I could be wrong but ol’ Foghorn here thinks Marcia Brady is tryin’ to execute a funny. It would HELP if we knew what the Hell she was talking about. I know what Watson the Supercomputer is, the IBM wunderkind, but WHAT IS IT REFERRING TO? We’ll have to toil through several more panels to get the joke? After several days, if Alexa’s weight training pays off by being able to lift Deep Blue off the ground with her index finger while holding a conversation with Marcia Brady about boys, the funny will have fulfilled its mission.


If ya gotta go to Milford A-poth-a-carry cuz ya is in-breedin’ once again with yore kid sister after ya got inta an argument over how many Tinker Toys got distributed to yaz both, b ut ya gotta hit the A-poth-a-carry once agin cuz ya ran out of pro-teck-shun, ya might be a redneck.


Because I’m still in bewilderment over these ads promising hardness for HOURS


While Coach Shaw has a problem on the Serta Love Sofa in the garage

“Hermieeeeeeee, it’s time to come to bed!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Come on down and do what ya got ta do!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“I can’t, Dear. I’m stuck between the cushions!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Honey, don’t leave me this way. Now quit trying to pretend you have a problem and let’s have some fun.”

“I’M NOT KIDDING!!!!!!!!!!!! That Erec-9000 Vita-Plus Medicine sold by Milford Men’s Clinic was good as advertised. They weren’t kidding when they said she’d love you like a rock for hours!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I didn’t think I’d be stuck like a rock for hours!!!!!!!!! I can still get to my beer!!!!!!”

“Hermie, you’ve come up with some excuses before to not have sex with me but you had me fooled on those. I’m not buying this one. My heart is full of love and it’s all for you!!!!!!!!!!”

“And this LOVE SOFA IS FULL OF ME!!!!!!!!!!!!! Quick!!!!!!! I think that old See-Saw is behind the tool bin!!!!!!!!!!! Get it out and pry me loose!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Hermie, If I leave YOU THIS WAY, you won’t have any carnal knowledge. Now stop making things up and hold my hand.”

“I can’t even hold my significant other, let alone get up from it!!!!!!!!! Did you ever try to stand up while your stomach’s on top of a flagpole?????”

“I salute you for your brilliant evasive technique-”

“Well, it’s either you criticize my lack of imagination for excuses or you can have anal sex. There’s an obvious problem with that.”


“Well, doggie, you can imagine the dilemma I was in. I didn’t want my wife to leave me but I didn’t know how to get down from Mt. Everest. But she FINALLY got the See-Saw if I promised to use the Erec-9000 on our second honeymoon.

But y’know, that’s a pleasant problem because I did get down and do I what I gotta do right on that Love Sofa. We just made sure to avoid the gaps in the sofa and Sexual Elixir was at a premium. Come buy a slice of your own troubles at Milford Men’s Clinic where your problems begin once your erectile problems end.”


Go at it, Gang. My money is on a week before we find out when the Supercomputer funny is grasped. Isn’t that when Looney Tunes comes on?


Gilby comes to Dr. Pearl’s retreat house on Mudlark Island. The whippoorwill is faintly heard in the distance.

He enters.

No one is in the living room. There’s a note on the coffee table

“Dear Doctor Pearl,

We regret to inform you that your husband was killed in action at the Second Battle of Bull Run-”


“Hi, Gilby.”


“I’m sorry, I’m a mess.”

“For 1800 years, you look fine”

“I don’t think I do.”


Dr. Pearl heads to the kitchen

“I’m sorry”

Dr. Pearl turns around

Gilby and Dr. Pearl embrace and slow-dance to the Summer of ’42 Theme. The Summer Knows. More than it cares to know in this plot.

Dr. Pearl leads Gilby to the bedroom. Like watching a petrified tree undress, they finally come to bed. And Gilby is enjoying his Second Manhood.

“I think you should go now, Gilby.”


She left me a letter later

“Dear Gilby, I had a wonderful time that night. You didn’t need Vita-Plus to enjoy me and I thank you for that.

I hope good things and only good things happen in your life. I am leaving, never to return until I become Principal. It’s a pity that football didn’t leave sooner but sometimes you don’t win Antietam. But you’ll win the war, Gilby. Just not the football games. It’s been nice knowing you.”

And so my days in the Summer of ’42 were in a reverie, a block of events I rue I cannot bring back. We all went on to bigger and better things and football sank in the South Pacific. Sometimes poetic justice has a way of turning its vengeful head. But my boyhood was rewarding and taught me that you could disappear after you had the time of your life. I had Dorothy Pearl to thank for that. Now basketball awaits, belated so. There might be another Dorothy at the free throw line. One can hope.

November 26, 2019

The Hangover After The Taking Of Mudlark One Two Three


“Mr. Grey, you idiot. Chance’s files wouldn’t be under Ms. Rizk’s typewriter. Have you considered searching in the file cabinet in Dr. Pearl’s office?”

“That’s the difference between you and me, Mr. Blue. I do my own ransacking and it got me to Nixon’s papers. He turned in the tapes to the Milford Enquirer the very next day.”

“Hey, guys!!!! What the Hell are we looking for? His kindergarten records? His Due Process judgment after what he did to that kid at recess?”

“The concept is very simple, Mr. Green. We want to find anything to ruin Chance so he doesn’t even consider the Manwiches at the two-a-days next season. Utilize your machine gun if you have to in order to open the vault. It’s not on time-release so I’m afraid drastic measures may be in order.”

“Gee, thanks, Mr. Blue.”

“You’re quite welcome, Mr. Green.”


And BOY O BOY, to quote Harry Carey, we have hit the jackpot today on the Pantheon of Mysterious Objects.

WHAT in the world is that thing on the Macys’ table. A giant cookie? Gazoo’s flying saucer that got trashed by vandals 2 feet tall? DON’T EVEN tell me that’s an Eggo Waffle. Sure, Kellogg’s is starting a new product line of Eggos with raisins in them the size of a Whammo! Frisbee. If you don’t feel like eating it because you’re hung over like Chet in P3 or you’re on a low-bread-and pastry diet regimen, you can always enter the Frisbee Golf Tournament at Milford Beverage Warehouse with that disc flyin’ high. I’ll hit Captain Rum in par or less every time. Baby, I’m nailin’ that refrigerator door that’s housing the Coors Lite in the Warehouse Beer Den. No need to raise the flag, Gentlemen. In the hole.

Now you eat all your sausage bits from that Bucket Pan Lovers Sausage and Pepperoni Pizza, Mrs. Macy. There are starving kids in Oakwood who would devour a slice of that pepperoni. Oh, you gobbled that up already. My bad.

And does Mrs. Macy carry her Electric Shave apparatus to the table at breakfast time? Does she use it to shave Mr. Macy’s head after he evidently went a little overboard on the Rogaine? I mean, he was Lou Grant a month ago. Now he’s Grandpa Cleaver. The only other reason I can surmise at this point is the turkey they have in the oven. Gotta trim the fat the minute you pull it out of the oven. Leftover turkey with shards of lard is not a Thanksgiving tradition at the Macy’s, that much we know.

Now, I think the canister on the counter IS a cookie jar. When I open the lid, it’s either Oreos or Chips Ahoy! No Keebler Elves disguising it as a Mr. Coffee appliance. Now we’re dealing with Thorpiverse so on any given day, as I learned as a coach, be ready. There is so much parity nowadays in College Basketball. But for now, I’ll stick with my original guess, a cookie jar. Don’t talk yourself out of a victory, especially with 10 seconds to go.


If ya get drunk after yore kid hit the game-winning home run in the Milford Optimist League T-Ball Tournament and ya cain’t go ta Chuck E. Cheese’s ta celebrate cuz all them animated musicians up on stage, the ones they hocked from Milford Disneyland Park, are makin’ yore head spin that much more, especially when they’s playin’ the Mudlark Fight Song and Good ol’ Rocky Top, ya might be a redneck.


And I have been a fan of Ma and Pa Kettle for years, particularly this episode in P1, Ma and Pa Kettle in the Port-o-Let After They Consumed One Too Many Corn Dogs at the Milford County Fair. It ought to be out on DVD next week. I’ll check Milford Video this coming Monday.


“Mr. Brown, check in Coach Kaz’s desk. I understand that he was storing a letter he received from the Milford State Corrections Facility, clearing Chance to play football after not getting violent with his cellmates. The one that talks about his earning a Wal-Mart Good Job button. I couldn’t think of a more damaging piece of information to mar Chance’s record.”

“On it, Mr. Blue”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Brown.”


“This is Lieutenant Garber here. What are you doing out of Mudlark One Two Three, Blue? I thought you had hostages.”

“I revised my methods, Lieutenant Garber. I found I could garner more hostage money holding someone’s reputation at stake.”


“Gesundheit. Blue, how long you gonna stretch this thing out? I mean, Milford has a game tonight. Surely you aren’t going to rain on a kid’s parade?”

“Lieutenant Garber, we killers do what he have to do to attain the prize.”

“Even if it was Gil’s hair?”

“We killers are cold-blooded, not desperate, Lieutenant Garber.”



Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Hostages Safe From Mudlark One Two Three After Killers Decide To Raid Milford School Corporation Building Annex For Sensitive Information!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Coach Thorp: “It was just a one-night stand and we didn’t take off our clothes. And it was over 30 years ago. I  married her later.”


The consolation prize in all this is that Mrs. Roh actually LOOKS LIKE MRS. ROH. No Picasso distortions (Heard at Milford Arts and Science Museum: “Gravel Gertie looks so natural.”) , no Mary Worth disguised as Tootsie Bumstead, no Lois looking like Hi from Hi & Lois, no Hagar the Horrible With Emphasis on Horrible. She is in prime form as she is, through telekinesis from P1, continuing the message and gloating all the while. Gang, can anyone blame her? Thought so.

But, damn, just when it was about to get nominated in the Oscar Category for Best Improvement in Artwork, the silhouette in P2 took Thorpiverse out of the running. Oh well, there’ll be other Oscar ceremonies.

I mean, Chet is trashy and rednecky with that Dalton Georgia Warehouse Carpeting he calls a beard but let’s not get hasty and draw him like George Washington on Mount Rushmore when the latter forgot to shave.

Joe and Jane Tourist at Mount Rushmore one day

“Oh, look dear, the maintenance crew is sandblasting our Forefathers.”

“Honey, they’re just trimming Roosevelt’s mustache. And Jefferson had some 2-day shadow, that’s what the Park Ranger said.”


“How the Hell you expect me to find anything by Chance in Gil’s playbook, Mr. Blue? His whole goddam office’s got playbooks he hasn’t used since they landed on the moon.”

“Patience, Mr. Grey. Go to his personal water closet, you might find a picture of Chance caught masturbating on one of the lockers.”

“If you think for one second I’m going to check under the toilet seat-”

“This is Lieutenant Garber here, do you read me?”

“I read you loud and clear, Lieutenant Garber.”

“Hey, Okay, you got us for the moment. But leave alone the time my partner Lieutenant Patrone hid kiddie porn magazines in the equipment shed.  He was just a teenager. Gil threw ’em out and made him run 100 laps. Don’t you think that’s punishment enough? Gil never returned until basketball.”


“Gesundheit. Whatya say, Blue?”

“We can work with that. We want a better football team, not worthless gossip.”

“You’re a pal, Blue.”

“Anytime, Lieutenant Garber. Mr. Green, it’s optimal that you don’t spray that Cruex Anti-Jock Itch can again. Besides, I’m afraid Gil’s office smells bad enough from the time he failed to curb his dog he brought in one Saturday.”

On the other end

“He bought it, Rico. Now where’s that back-up unit?”

“I called the Milford Police. They’re unavailable until after the reserve game.”

“Ya gotta be kiddin’ me. We got a game on the line.”

“Except we’re talking about saving Coach Thorp’s bacon.”

“Sheeesh, I forgot. Can they leave a quarter early?”

“I’ll ask.”

“Tell ’em split like Thorp and Kaz do at halftime.”



“BTW, Blue, I understand you know who shot Coach Shaw.”

“That is correct, Lieutenant Garber.”

“Well, can you tell me that much?”

“Certainly. it was-”


“Gesundheit. Well, what about it?”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant Garber. I’m afraid we have hazardous material all over Coach Thorp’s game films. You’ll have to allow me a few minutes while we tidy things. (Off the walkie-talkie) “Mr. Green, did you fail to take a Contac again? Mr. Brown, see if there’s Sani-Wipes in Coach Thorp’s gym bags. We don’t want to ruin the 2014 season.”

“Right away, Mr. Blue.”

“How long are we going to put up with TNT snout, Mr. Blue?

“We’ve put up with Gil’s coaching for longer than that. Do you want mucus all over the prairie windows for 60 years, Mr. Grey?”

“Better than waiting for this plot to end, Mr. Blue.”


P3 just about says it all. Any of you Mountain fans like yours truly knows that on their classic Flowers of Evil (MISSISSIPPI QUEEN, DA DA DA DA DA, YA KNOW WHAT I MEAN…) was a song titled “One Last Cold Kiss”. The last lines of the tune

Once so proud, he’s beaten now

He will not speak at all

Pretty well sums up the song and Mr. Ballard at the breakfast table. That, or he didn’t eat his Wheaties or that Archway Cookie Herman Munster Always Chows Down On Before He Leaves To Go To Work. But I’m goin’ for the sure out on this bad boy. Don’t prolong the inning.

BTW, did anybody check the score? Look again at Mrs. Roh’s cell phone.


“Mr. Grey, I won’t say it again. Hand in your gun, Grouch glasses and Gil’s hair so we can all get out of here.”

Up yours, Mr. Blue. At least Gil doesn’t hide behind these Groucho glasses when he’s confronting the ref.”


“Gentlemen, let us depart. Rest in peace, Mr. Grey. He was going to work with the Milford cafeteria ladies when he got out of this-


Mr. Brown is shot dead in the Mudlark Girls Gym. Mr. Green escapes through Mimi’s office with Chance’s Boys Town records, especially the citationwhen he was flogged 150 times for saying Father Flanagan never married because Gil beat him to it, and takes a couple of scorebooks that wouldn’t be used until the 2023 season. Extra Kleenex for his sniffles.

“Excuse me, would you mind turnin’ around and droppin’ it? Drop it, I say.”

Mr. Blue drops his gun, scratching the woodwork in the gym.

“Lieutenant Garber.”

“Mr. Blue.”

“Tell me, do you still execute your prisoners?”

“Naw, we ain’t into cruel and unusual punishment no more. Not since The Bucket was converted from a Bed & Breakfast that Gil’s granddad owned before he croaked eatin’ Munchos.”


Mr. Blue uses his foot to kick on Mimi’s boom box and turns up volume. The Tremeloes’ “Silence is Golden” and the “Flintstones Chewables Theme Song” is blaring from the speakers, motivational tools Mimi uses to get her kids to handle the enemy crowd during the 5-game season.

Mr. Blue’s ears are smoking and his brain is turning into mush.

“Oh my God.”


“We will return to the exciting conclusion of The Taking of Mudlark One Two Three after these messages, here on WDIG-TV.”


“Man, I wouldn’t want to be in Mr. Blues shoes right about now. Fans have always said my brain is fried but never literally. My noggin is still intact after that end-around takes a loss for 10 yards.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp here. And I got a better way of handling stress and everyday living. That’s why I am proud to announce my new product, Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage. Now I know a lot of you prefer Jimmy Dean or Tennessee Pride. To heck with them. What do they put in their sausage anyway? Word’s out that when the pigs go to the Milford Slaughterhouse that they shoot them Yorkshires buckshot full of lead. I’ve heard of fillers but this is taking things too far. Do you want to eat scrambled eggs and smoky links with bullets from a .22? How do you stick the rifle in the poor pig’s mouth? The slaughter dude evidently has good aim. Or lots of practice.

And I understand that Tennessee Pride stuffs their hogs with Bucket Burgers. Yuck. Don’t know boutchoo, but I don’t want sausages on the griddle that are laced with Big Mac’s. My sausages use the finest ingredients that are seasoned with the finest of spices, just like my mom used to get at the Milford General Store. Whenever I sink my teeth into Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage, I remember the cumin and the thyme mom used to dump on my pancakes. After she poured Aunt Jemima, naturally.

And Mel Purnell is Goooood but, shoot, who wants a hog on the front cover of the package? That’s why me and Mimi and the kids are on every package that you buy at the Milford IGA or Milford Wal-Mart or wherever you shop. Don’t we look natural posing in front of my cousin’s pig farm? You think Dr. Pearl can pose any better on HER sausage package? And Keri rode a 9-year-old female after the photo shoot. Maybe you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear but you sure can ride ’em cowboy before they become the sausage patties you eat after you’ve eaten your toast and drunk your Minute Maid.

Especially the ones we make at Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage. Come taste the difference and see why we say “Don’t get bitter just because our pigs are better.” You deserve some good eatin’ and you’ll get it with Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage.”


Gang, have at it. In the meantime, I would like to pull a plug for Mel Purnell and his family. They are solid people who have done a ton for the community. They prove that the product is Goooooooodddd because the people are. I salute you, Mel and family.



“Attaway, Daphne!!!!!!!!!!!! You looked smooth on the lay-up. Goshen can’t put their crowd on the floor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”


Lieutenant Garber and Lieutenant Patrone knocking on the door of the Ballard’s residence. Chet hides most of the pilfered records of Chance in the bottom drawer of his bureau, under all his packages of Hanes he’s amassed over all the Christmas’s he got from his wife. The rest he crams in the Amana stove in the kitchen.


“How many more do we gotta see?”


“Yikes. Times like these I wish I went into real estate.”

“Come on, Mr. Ballard, we haven’t got all day!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I’M COMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Opens the door

“What’s up?”

“Can we come in?”

“Sure!!!!!!!!!!! Make yourself at home!!!!!!!!!!”

“Appreciate the pleasantries but can you account for your whereabouts last night? Chance Macy’s records were stolen.”

“You’re kiddin’ me.”

“Would I be here if I was kiddin’?”

“I was working.”

“Working? I thought you sold insurance.”

“I’m a forklift operator  for Milford Foundry on 2nd shift.”

“Can they verify that?”

“Garber, while you’re talking to him, I need a smoke.”

“Okay, Rico.”

“Let me turn on that stove in the kitchen-”

I’LL GET IT!!!!!!!!!!!!

“It’s a bit tricky. These Amana stoves are as fickle as Gil’s coaching. There, enjoy your Camels.”

“Thanks, Mr. Ballard.”

“Come on, Rico, let’s go. We’ll be back later with a warrant, Mr. Ballard.”

“Look, I know I’m the black sheep of Milford but I would never stoop so low as to do that. I want my own step-son to succeed on the gridiron but I would never be a mole. Now do me a favor, get the Hell outta here!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Ballard.”

As Lieutenant Garber shuts door



Lieutenant Garber re-opens door.

And the stove door pops open.

November 25, 2019

Why Did Grandpa Lock Himself In His Bomb Shelter?


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!

November 20, 2019

Carol Forsman Is Deep Throat!


I can understand why Carol Forsman wanted Marjie to meet her at home; she has a history of getting injured in bars.* Also she probably didn’t want to run into Chet Ballard while she was diming on him.

Normally I bristle at exposition strips, but I’m kinda thankful that we didn’t have to see Carol connect all the dots Marjie gave her. The quicker we wrap this stinker of an arc up the better. It’ll be amusing in that schadenfreude way to hear Chet blubber about how he did it all just to hear Charlie call him “Dad” at the custody hearing. He’ll lose his position on the school board and his marriage but hey, he’ll still have that insurance business. As long as he keeps his nose out of Mudlark athletes’ home lives all will be well. Only Gil Thorp and his posse can do that.

Know what else might need a little investigation? How Carol got Steve Luhm to come over to her house and polish those floors. Membership has its privileges.

Oh, I guess there’s that matter of where and what happened to “Blowtop” Chance Macy’s parents. Would it really be so hard to portray some Milford parents as caring and supportive of their children, rather than manipulative, drug-dependent, or living vicariously through them – that is, when they’re present at all? It couldn’t be much harder than showing sports coaches actually, you know, coaching their players.



*The real-life Carol Forsman has dealt with her share of tragedy, and that’s all I have to say about that. Then again, this could be the Carol Forsman who was married to Rodney Benson which, given Rubin’s proximity to Ann Arbor, is more likely the case.

November 6, 2019

Oh, What a Feeling!


Is Chance trying out for the cheerleading squad or auditioning to sell Toyotas?

I realize I’m dating myself with the latter reference (“Ok Boomer” is the pissy way the kids are saying it this week IIRC). Speaking of pissy, nice shift from pissy-faced to all smiles by old Gildeaux there. You’d think Gil would be having a cow about one of his starters benching himself with a fake injury to give his backup some playing time, but it didn’t faze him that much when True Standish did it for Jarrod Hale a few years back.

Nope, Gil’s just relieved that Chance is staying away from The Bucket, where they have sharp utensils handy. Better Macy and his shadow teammates punch the air harmlessly, another audition to shill old Toyotas…


October 31, 2019

Bye, Bye, We Think This Plot’s Gonna Die

Filed under: exposition comics, Gil Thorp, song parody, Walking and Talking — tdrewhardin @ 12:18 pm


Long, long time ago

I remember so well when Thorp led the troops

But now circumstances have changed

Some players have since gone deranged

And worn a strait jacket for a while


Football schemes just made me shiver

With every play that Gil delivers

Bad news on Macy’s doorstep

Can we brook one more step


I can’t remember when they played

This plot is strictly torn and frayed

Would somebody mind to kneel and pray

This plot has died


Bye bye, this plot’s a sepia rhubarb pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee

Where Gil’s head’s gonna dry

Then fans in the stands flashed their whiskey and signs

Screaming this’ll be the day the plot dies

This’ll be the day the plot dies


I really enjoyed reading the Liberty University Bible Commentary and I have found Jerry Falwell and his team of writers to be well-versed and also able to express difficult concepts in a crystal-clear and shrewd style. They hit the essence of the idea EVERY time.

I am intrigued by their staff who, as an example, went to Bob Jones University, Liberty University, Fort Wayne Bible College but got their doctorate at Harvard and Oxford. Without further ado

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Kaz Flunks Eschatology 311 In The Theology Department At Milford Community College!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Coach Kaz: ‘I was out for a week with hepatitis when Princeton Theological Seminary was covering Zoroastrianism. I couldn’t begin to say where their soul went when they experienced Nirvana.'”


Gang, we are getting into the thick of things, not that that means we’re going to GET ANYWHERE. Gil and Chance are going for a walk. It doesn’t mean they’re going to reach Nirvana either.

Now you know they’re not going to discuss the milk stain on Chance’s chin after having eaten a bowl of Wheaties right before the Olan Mills photographer had everybody, i.e., Beaver and Grandpa and Grandma Cleaver, posing in the den in front of the Childcraft Sex Education World Encyclopedias.

“Coach, do transvestites finally get off the wheel or do they reincarnate into a Milford High School Cafeteria Lady?”

“Not sure, Chance. Where did you read that?”

“Funk and Wagnalls in their Supplementary Edition.”


Did you write this script of trash

And can relate to this tub of hash

If Thorpiverse told you so


Now do you believe in Rock ‘n’ Roll

Can this crap save our moral soul

And can it teach me how to get bored

Real sloooowwwwwwww


Well, I know that you’re in love with Gil

Cuz I saw you and him dancing in the Mudlark gym

You both kicked off your Keds

Man, I dig his Denali head


Oh, I was a lonely teenage bronco buck

With Chance’s damnation in a pickup truck

His grandparents ran out of luck

The day, this plot done fried


We were singin’, bye bye…


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Endowed With Honorary Degree In Liberal Arts By Milford Vocational & Technical College!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“They were impressed when I showed the professor that GE refrigerators didn’t come from the stork.”

Now for 3 months we’ve been on our own

Crucified on a colassal stone

Compelled to dump a sense of time


Well, the Mudlark band played a somber tune

Something that Hank Williams crooned

Hank and Chance sank into a swoon


Gil just looked at his watch and sighed

This stupid song just wouldn’t die

We all got up to dance

Things anyway wouldn’t advance


Cuz the players tried to take the field

The plot and the band refused to yield

Do you recall what was the deal the day

The plot just died


We were singin’ ye bye…





Oops, sorry, I was getting a little carried away watching Gil and Chance Texas 2-Step together.

If ya call yore 4-wheel drive “Blowtop” cuz the dang thang explodes in 354 different directions, the flywheel barely missing the goal post at Milford High School Football practice field, ever’ time ya put the key in the ignition and try ta start it up, ya might be a redneck.


Gang, remember the Saturday Night Live sketch with the original cast where Gilda Radner plays this child who gets scared at night and every time she sees or hears or feels something scary, Bill Murray and Jane Curtin, playing her dad and mom, come in and dispel whatever’s scaring her. If it’s a scary-looking monster, mom and dad turn on the light and show Gilda it’s just her oversize Mac turned inside-out on the chair or if her bed’s shaking, well, the possessed Serta from Hell is actually this band of gypsies sleeping UNDER her bed (I think she gets grounded for a week for that mistake) .


“GRANDPA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GRANDMA!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MR. BLOWTOP’S EATING ME ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Son, we were watching Carson!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Dean Martin was singing the whole album of The Beatles’ ‘Rubber Soul’. This better be good.”

“It was here a minute ago. It’s over by that poster of Dominique Wilkins dunking on the Cubs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“That isn’t Mr. Blowtop. That’s Fido the Great Dane. We forgot to take his Coach Thorp mask for Halloween. He was trying to lick you.”


Sorry, Robmize, I suppressed the urge for so long.


Helter Skelter, in The Bucket shelter

The Byrds flew off to a fallout shelter

8 miles high ’til basketball


So come on

Gil be nimble

Gil be quick

Gil pole-vaulted over a candlestick cuz

Fire is a bad plot’s only friend


And as I watched Gil on the football stage

My hands were clenched in fists of rage

No child born in a well

Could save this Plot from Hell


As the flames rode high into the night

To moonlite the Mudlark’s banal rite

I saw Gilberto laughing with delight

The day the music died


We were singing, bye bye…


Oh boy. We get to watch Quentin tell Barnabas Collins as they’re leaving Collinsport Mansion  for a promenade along the Atlantic that if he eats more Cheerios and less Lucky Charms that he’s less likely to turn into a werewolf. The wind blowing Barnabas’ toupee just makes this Creepiest Moment This Side Of Maine And Closest To Milford that much more dramatic if you’re into the Sports Shorts segment of Dark Shadows.


“We’ll be back for the exciting conclusion of ‘Days of Our Lives’ after these messages, here on WDIG-TV.”

“Gosh darn, Chance sureis up to his neck in alligators over his reform school record, isn’t he? And it’s too bad Barnabas Collins can’t rescue him from this pendulum stashed away in the pool room of Coach Shaw’s basement. Man, I need a Holiday Inn towel to cry on this one.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp and don’t you know I have a better solution. At Milford Beverage Warehouse, they have the finest liquors to help cry your blues away without taking out a second mortgage. Believe me, I’ve had liens on my riding mower just to pay off the Dewars Mint Label. Hey, at The Warehouse, we treat you like family. If you don’t pay the tab within a reasonable amount of time, it’s not like they’ll send The Sopranos on the first go-round, particularly if they have a score to settle on some territory in Milford with a rival family. The concrete shoes won’t be for a while. You can relax.

Speaking of credit, if you haven’t signed up yet for Milford Beverage Warehouse Visa Platinum Plus, what are you waiting for? Sonny Corleone to deliver it to your door with a couple of candy mints? Shoot, with all the goodies throughout the store, I know I’m gonna stock up on Falls City Black Label 24-Pack,  Jim Beam Straight From The Sulfur Spring, and Martini & Rossi Sparkling Raspberry Non-Alcohol with my piece of plastic and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve got revolving credit. I can wait until Guy Fawkes Day to pay the minimum.

And now until Thanksgiving, if you wear your 3-piece suit and tie, The Warehouse will give you a free 6-pack of Coors Jerkwater Lite. A taste of the Rockies and it’s on the house? I’m going to get revolving credit at Milford Big & Tall. I’ll pay off the balance every leap year.

Come on, people, get your butt on down here and bring your Armani suit and the kids. Shoot, the only other time you can dress up like this is for church or a funeral. And the Mormon Tabernacle doesn’t distribute free booze.

Come on down, the water’s fine and the credit’s good. Only at Milford Beverage Warehouse.”


AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, HIS HAIR, IT’S GOT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GRANDMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GRANDPA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That isn’t Mr. Blowtop. St. Elmo’s Fire got your portrait of you and Gil. Now go back to bed.


Gang, I apologize. I had to work overtime and trying to work in my schtick was a doozy. Thank you SO MUCH for your patience. You all mean the world to me.


Bye bye

Hope this plot’s gonna die

Drive this heavy to the levee

Where Gil must close his fly

Then the fans in the stands

Showed their whiskey and signs


This will be the day



October 21, 2019

“WDIG-TV Interrupts This Football Game To Inform Our Viewing Audience That Chance Macy Is The AntiChrist. Sources Have Confirmed That…”


Gadzooks. It’s one thing for Charlie and his honey to be cha-cha-ing or whatever dance they’re doing with their morning cup of Maxwell House but as several people have mentioned, Chet Ballard is skirting the edge of disaster. He really is indeed crossing a line, obtaining information that is serving no other purpose than to advance his own end n his quest to live football through the eyes of his stepson. Chet could be facing serious legal consequences should people get a hold of this one.

NOBODY walks into a public building and just plows through somebody’s record, especially stuff that is more than likely confidential. He just steals keys from the janitor and opens the file cabinet? Then talks it through over Eggos and the new dance craze they learned at the Milford Dance Academy? Then the Milford School Board administers no worse than a potential slap on the wrist? After it gets its head out of Dennis the Menace’s butt and smells the coffee that Chet is slurping? Mon Dieu.

And we were getting good at this football thing.

From an article that informed me that there are 10 mistakes we make with our pets

#1-“Gil, I can’t believe that Alley Oop just hacked the computer without consulting the rest of the Milford School Board. Really, it’s common knowledge that Dr. Pearl has been using Dentu-Creme since the French and Indian War.”

Gil, teaching his giraffe how to fetch the Milford Enquirer when the paper boy throws the paper in the yard

“There ya go, good boy. No, don’t eat the damn thing. That’s what the apples in our neighbor’s yard is for. What’s that, Honey. Oh, yeah, well, sometimes you got to make it official. No sense in ugly rumors spreading out of control. And Alley Oop was authorized by the School Board to conduct a special investigation. Dr. Pearl was stuttering more than usual when she was reading annual test scores. Something had to be done. No, Fido, drop it on the doorstep, not in the azaleas!!!!!!”

#2-Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J.’s Elephant, ‘Ducky’, Stampedes Mudlark Football Stadium, Completely Destroys Dippin’ Dots Stand!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I gotta get a longer leash. I wonder if Milford True Value Hardware sells telephone wire.”


And then there’s the background. While Alley Oop and his mate are doing their Travolta thing in P1 while leaking illegal contraband (he is, anyway, she’s jettisoning his blatant lack of privacy ethics just as quick as he’s spewing it while she savors the Folgers in her cup, best part of waking up, I s’pose) , those are either the largest prairie-style windows east of the Mississippi or they are interrupting the proceedings on Wheel of Fortune.

“Is there an ‘R’?”

“YES!!!!!!! There is one ‘R’!!!!!!!! If Mr. Ballard will kindly move his cheap Haggar slacks that he bought at Milford St. Vincent dePaul on layaway out of the way, Vanna can turn the letter.”

“Sorry, me and Mrs. Ballard will move next door to Joker’s Wild.”

“I’d like to solve the puzzle.”

“Go right ahead, Grandma Macy.”

“Coach Kaz Forgot To Feed His Gazelle Alpo Once Again.”(#3)

“You are so correct!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That trip to Antarctica will come in handy when your grandson gets blowtop mad!!!!!!!!! Johnny, tell her what else she’s won…”


Come to Sycamore Island in New Albany, Indiana, just beyond the city limits. A great small business with all your hunting and fishinf needs and if you want to get ypur license for either one, Jim Thornton, the owner, will do that too. The place also has a well-stocked pay lake; I see people ALL THE TIME pulling in there, fishing rods in their possession. And if it’s closed, peoole are constantly asking when it’s going to open. I always stop in for the cokes and snacks, and Jim’s got that too. Sounds like the complete package to me. Just head down Main Street West in New Albany like you’re going towards the casino, turn right at the turn-off, Corydon Pike, where Thornton’s gas station is located, go 2 miles until you cross the railroad track, go 100 feet and Sycamore Island is on your left. Can’t miss the sign. Support Jim and Co., where they ALWAYS know your name. They know mine.


And having been a coach, you do run across the occasional kid who had to have some kind of institutional care. Unfortunately, kids like that exist and you do your best to ease the situation. Really, the best thing to do is treat ’em like the other players. Everybody wins then.

Just don’t go Via Ballard, an offshoot of the Appian Way, that leads to a Field of Thorns. When in Rome, don’t do what Chet does. To be unearthing that Caesar Augustus was at the Etruscan Boys School and later collected taxes throughout Judea to finance their School Lunch Program is not only unnecessary and illegal, it’s downright pointless. Bob Knight was a HUGE advocate of NOT passing the basketball to the center, say Todd Lindemann, at the half-court line, even on a press breaker. That’s what guards are for, in Knightspeak. What was Todd going to do with ball there?Pass the ball to Todd 2 feet away from the basket and he can better utilize his moves to the bucket, if not lay it in.

Therefore, what is Chet going to do with this illegal bit of news? Kick Chance off the team because he was a lifer at San Quentin and got paroled? Make Chance run steps because his file revealed that he did time at the Milford Minimum Correctional Facility for shoplifting at the Milford Community College bookstore? Huh?

#4-If ya give yore bloodhound a flea bath and ya use turpentine cuz that’s the fastest way ta nuke ’em fleas and ticks but ol’ Bubba winds up smellin’ like an oil change, so ya switch ta Ox-ee-dol cuz it’s soap and won’t make his nose Quaker State 10W40 when he goes sniffin’ fer rabbits when yore huntin’, ya might be a redneck.


P2-“…he was assigned to a coach who couldn’t coach his way out of a toilet area on a 747 and still have Charmin left on the rolls. Went by the name of Thorp. Kid’s been at this school for 60 years and is earmarked to graduate the year Coach Thorp retires. By then, that school is set to establish a satellite on the planet Uranus. It is indefinite when any of this will happen because NASA has still yet to receive the proper funding. Collecting Milford Property Taxes can only stretch so far. City officials think once a bond issue is enacted at the City Council, both can graduate. They say Thorp is in the Guinness Book of Records as the world’s oldest teenager and holder for the longest period of senility. Gets that way during football season.”

Name drop? Moi? Surely you jest.

P2(cont.)-“…judge ruled he had a violent temper. He was a lion tamer for the Ringling Brothers Circus and choked a lion(#5), fresh from Kenya, when it wouldn’t jump through the ring. Apparently flogging it only made the creature madder. Motivational techniques like feeding it raw Bucket Burgers, fresh from the Milford Slaughterhouse, Inc., just made it hungrier for Bucket Banana Splits. Chance was not responsible for his actions. But he had to spend a night in the Milford Halfway House until they could transfer him.”

What’s sad is that Mrs. Chet Ballard is serving as a counterweight to Chet’s pontificating about the implications involved. Why stage the equivalent of a Watergate break-in unless he has grandiose ambitions, misguided as they are, on his mind? This mole, unfortunately, may never get to the surface(#6). She is just rubber-stamping that notion.

“I am not a crook!!!!!!!!!!”

“Mr. Nixon, Sam Donaldson, ABC News. It’s well-documented that your grandson is on Milford’s reserve team. We know you’d like him to move up and Gil is only playing the varsity running back because his parents donated $1,000,000 to improve the Lego Blocks in the lighting system but…”


Come to Butt Drugs in Corydon, Indiana where you get affordable prices on your medicines and friendly service. I like the free parking in the back of the store so I don’t have to dodge the Indiana 62 traffic in the front. And who says old-fashioned soda fountain service is a thing of the past? Not at Butt Drugs. Good ice cream and good Cokes, there’s the ticket. Hey, and if you want a free pen, they have plenty of those too. Come to the place that has been shown on The Ellen Degeneres Show and has grown in stature as a result. Keep Small Business alive, Gang.


Oooooooooookkkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is back to bring sanity to this spaghetti bowl. Who better than to lead us to the exit? Or exodus, same difference? Take ‘er away, Gene

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought she could feed the anteater at the Milford Petting Zoo a bag of __________________(#7)


And now we come to…………………………………………………………………………………………….the rest of the story. Page 3, er, P3.

And Mrs. Chet, I agree that it’s really none of his goddamn business and as Vaganova mentioned, Chet could be facing serious consequences for just waltzing into Public Records and taking on the role of a Milford Enquirer announcer.

Then again, any of you old-timers remember when Carol Burnett tripped at a restaurant and the next thing you know, The National Toilet said she’d been drinking? And she sued as a result? Of course, the National Toilet got Toilet lawyers and, not remembering the decision, the point is she ran up against a wall.

Mrs. Ballard nee Roh, you walked down the aisle with this garden snake(#8) and said “I do”. Jog your memory in case you forgot the address of the Milford Overnite Chapel. If ethics wasn’t really his middle name when you and he cut the wedding cake, what makes you think he’s going to Do The Right Thing when his son is ridin’ the pine in deference to a kid who staked permanent residence at Boys Town? As Father Flanagan, the founder, once said, there’s no such thing as a bad snake. Just snakes that couldn’t cross the road fast enough to prevent the Roadway driver from running them over. Best to throw them in a cage with a heat lamp and plenty of mice and public records to feed on before they become roadkill.


“And that’s the end of the 3rd quarter with The Mean Machine leading the Milford Mudlarks, 39-31. Jim Crewe already has 341 passing yards and NO INTENTIONAL INTERCEPTIONS!!!!!!! Guess his point-spreading days are over. And Chance Macy has 189 rushing yards and 2 TD’s. We’ll be back to start the 4th quarter here at Milford Federal Prison Football Grounds after these messages. You’re listening to Marty Moon on WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”



“Hooooonnnnnneeeeyyyyyy, I’d like a quickie, let’s have some funnnnnn, let’s-SAY WHAT?”

“Oh, hi, Dear. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Honey, what is a zebra doing in our garage?”

“Mrs. Shaw, I found that the best kind of fertilizer to feed our garden comes from the anus of a zebra (#9) . I read an article in Milford Outdoors Monthly where zebras have been imported and raised right on the farm to increase agricultural productivity. Shoot, them corn stalks were taller than Kareem after those zebras pooped in the furrows”

“Oh, I’d like to be fertile but I’d rather not go to bed with a hyena.”

“You ain’t gotta bring Mr. Ed’s cousin onto the Serta. Save the bed sheets for the kids to go as Charlie Brown’s ghost on Halloween. Just cut plenty of holes like good ol’ Charlie Brown did.”

“Actually, I’d rather get under the sheets for another purpose.”

“To go to bed with Charlie Brown?”

“Uh, well, let’s just say that if you’ll take these Erec-6500 pills, they will harden more than your heart. And I will have the time of my life.”

“Mrs. Shaw, I tried Pals to get my whim whim hard and it may work on kids but all I got out of the transaction was a #2 pencil. I also tried Robitussin, but the Cherry Bomb Flavor put me to sleep. I wet-dreamed at 4 AM. My erection came and went out of Dodge City like the Pony Express. And I ain’t eatin’ no zebra poop. I may like plump carrots and juicy radishes but I’m not that desperate to get it on. Zebras and “Love me, love me, say that you love me” just don’t jibe with me.”

If you’ll take these pills with this Jim Beam Straight From Mammoth Cave, I’ll let you keep the zebra.”




“And boy, did we have the time of our lives. My significant other got harder than a zebra’s hoof and she was taken to another level. Only David Bowie and Major Tom have scaled such heights. And the celery stalks grew higher than Gil’s hair. I even kept the zebra. Stashed him in the equipment room in the offseason. Come to Milford Men’s Clinic today and see how you can grow your own watermelon patch. Shoot, you ain’t gotta let a camel poop to get fresh green beans or cure erectile dysfunction. Easy when you know the language. Only at The Clinic.”


It’s your turn, Gang. I’m going to investigate Chet’s background. I understand he got a ‘D’ in Spelling in 2nd Grade. Forgot there was an ‘E’ in the word ‘snake’.


At the Milford Germania Mannerchor Oktoberfest Dance Kontest

“And the winner of the Adult Division with an average score of 9.5 with their disco rendition of “Roll Out The Barrel” is Mr. and Mrs. Chet Ballard. Where’d you learn those moves?”

“To be honest, it all started by the Mr. Coffee in the kitchen…”


“Kaz, who the #%×?€@£ ate all the footballs?????????”

“Not sure, Gil. Wasn’t it locked?”


10 is a lonely number




October 16, 2019

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.


“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…”

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