Tell The Coach

Okay, just checked in with robmize this afternoon and he’s okay. Here’s Friday’s strip to lead into the grand finale.

As they say in Philly, “Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

This, gentle readers, is peak Gil Thorp. Finishing second in the Valley? Check. Not standing up to the system, but going along to get along? Check. Pulling strings behind the scenes to help a single kid out? Check. Does the timing of all of this check out? Let’s poned that when I get today’s strip posted. In the meantime, keep an antacid handy and take in the horror that is the Mayor dry humping Gil in P2.

 

Mimi Thorp: Guaranteed to Satisfy

While I was flat on my back in hospital this past weekend I did manage to keep up with the shenanigans at Milford Town Park, where the Milford – Valley Modified baseball game turned first into a rout then into a pukefest picnic. First the game was interrupted by pizza and drinks, then with a giant sub in the porniest way possible then, finally, with a visit from an ice cream truck with a name straight out of a Cheech and Chong movie and looking like it’s staffed by two Kazakhs and a bear.

As disgustingly as that whole scene played out, it pales in comparison to the victory lap these three mooks are taking in the Milford teacher’s teachers’ lounge. Nice to know that Gil, Kaz and Rooney feel as though buying the Dead End Kids some grub can assuage their guilt over not standing up for The Mayor when he needed it most, effectively screwing up his life for the forseeable future… or have they? What’s this mysterious email Gil’s referring to? Will it help Mike Knappe overcome the stigma of violating a draconian zero-tolerance policy for which none of his teachers or coaches stood up in opposition?

Who knows? All they care about is trying to figure out who sent the ice cream truck to Town Park. Hunkered down with a Popsicle® and a knowing smile, Mimi breaks the fourth wall. She must’ve been the one who stopped Uncle Bud as he was passing by.

 

An Unofficial Loss

The big event has come to a halt. It looks like The Mayor and Gonzo (?) are reviewing the game. The big takeaway is that Hiawatha and Corina Karenna are bonding over ice cream bars. I’ll bet an ice cream bar goes down nice and easy when your standing in the heat with a chest protector strapped to you. The odds are that we’ll never hear from Hiawatha/Corina again. Their meet cute will be as much a footnote to Mudlark lore as the rest of Hiawatha’s appearances.

This postmortem tells us that the game never actually ended. Presumably, the umpire got sick of all the nonsense and walked away. Also, the infield was covered in regurgitated pizza, subs and ice cream so it was kind of a health hazard.

What wrap up would be complete without Kaz and Gil summarizing something that they didn’t participate in? It looks like Kaz is catching Gil just as he’s sliding down a freshly waxed hallway in his socks. (Good job, Steve!) Yep, everyone left happy and there were only a few minor cases of food poisoning.

This Plot Finally Gets Its Much-Needed Crutch

P1: Don’t look so surprised, Mimi. You knew her ankle looked sketchy. Where was Trainer Rick Scott when you needed him? Does he only train for the football team?

P2: Having once again failed to develop any pitching depth (see Radley, Boo and Hobson, Carrie), Mimi resorts to strategically planting land mines along the basepaths. Unfortunately the mines aren’t very powerful and the Madison runner still scores. An eye for an eye and an ankle for an ankle won’t cut it in the Valley, Mimi. As if you care.

P3: Ah yes, back to the perspective we’re used to in this strip: Girls watching boys. At least I think that’s a girl. Maybe it’s Phoebe and she’ll help Mike and the Misfits hone their skills to beat the Mudlarks. After it’s all done she’ll say it was her way of protesting the draconian zero-tolerance policy that went unchallenged and sent Mike down this path of pathos.

Students Who Butter Their Bread With Table Knives Attract The Wrong Elements Of Society.

Many, many moons ago, James Watt, then-Secretary of the Interior under the Ronald Reagan administration, made the most ignorant comment known to Mankind when he stated that The Beach Boys should not perform at National Mall for the 4th of July celebration in the early ’80’s in Washington D.C. because they attracted the wrong elements of society.

Boy, did the doggie-doo hit the fan.

Groups like Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin have always had their share of controversy along with a very strong fan base but anyone linking The Beach Boys and controversy had been smoking one too many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of The Mayor’s backpack. Adding insult to injury was having Wayne Newton as a replacement. Much as I like Wayne Newton, his own mafia ties was not exactly attracting the Ozzie and Harriet Nelson crowd.

True, Brian Wilson, their main songwriter and essential leader of the band had experienced drug problems but Mike Love, the band’s lead singer, threatened to throw him out of the group if he didn’t get help for his addiction. Problems were satisfactorily resolved by the time they hit the stage.

It was bad enough that putting Watt in charge of a department involving National Parks and the environment in general was like putting John Dillinger in charge of the FSLIC but when he made those baseless comments, several people, led by then-Vice President George Bush, came to the defense of The Beach Boys. Love ’em or Hate ’em, their image has always been Mom and apple pie.

So when I see Andy Rooney futilely try to defend his actions today, I stand amazed. It was like expelling The Beach Boys and sending them to Valley Alternative. Sure, Andy, we know you can’t read minds. If they are singing “409”, that’s a sure-fire sign that they’re going to pull out a switchblade. Nothing like singing “All Summer Long” by the Jets and the Sharks before they rip each other up in the classroom before Mid-Term Exams. You don’t know if that #2 pencil is used to fill in the blank or poke an eye out. Many lawsuits have occurred because they gouged out “None of the above.” Can’t be too careful. I know you have to cover your ass, Andy, or your ass might get buttered along with The Mayor’s Wonder Bread.

And what better way to justify the in-the-end unjustifiable than for Gil to enter the scene? Man, that’ll put the Seal of Approval on this thing. You talk about Fallacy of Argument from Authority. Why, if Gil thinks The Beach Boys attract the wrong elements of society, then we ought to switch our allegiance to the Percy Faith Singers. I was going to the Milford Outdoor Amphitheater to watch The Beach Boys perform “I Get Around”, but now that I think of it, Gil has made me rethink the way the Ray Coniff Singers perform their washing-machine twirling when singing “What I Did For Love”. I’m sure that rinse-cycle technique won’t bring the bums from skid row out of the pits of Hell. Gil listens to Henry Mancini, WHY DON’T YOU? Burning The Beach Boys “Kokomo” even as I am texting.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Dr. Pearl Refuses To Endorse Concert By Ferrante & Teicher At Milford High School Auditorium!!!!!!!!! Says They ‘Attract The Scourge Of The Town’!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“After the rioting at the New Thayer concert, it was my duty to impose the necessary precautions. Matters got out of hand after the ‘Midnight Cowboy’ encore.”

 

When some loud braggart starts to flap his jaws

And says Oakwood is great

I tell him right away

Now listen here buddy

I love Alternative School

It’s number one in the State

 

So be true to your School now

Just like you would to Gil or your mom

Be true to your School now

Flash that Alternative Pom Pom

Be true to your School

 

If ya have to go to Gil for symp’thy and support after eatin’ an 8-pointer ya ran over with yore pickup and not during bow season and you’ll give Gil some deer meat ta stick in his freezer as a token of appre-she-ay-shun for his support, ya might be a redneck.

 

And P1 is so full of baloney, even by absurd Thorpiverse standards. If Andy Rooney would piece together what happened as I am doing now and I’m sure the readership is doing, The Mayor’s culinary tastes were oddball, to make an understatement, and his stances on the bases were nothing any T-Ball League coach would teach his or her players but he would never threaten anybody. And that really wasn’t the issue.

Let me reiterate by saying that zero-tolerance is controversial because it does solve some problems but it creates others. Yes, anybody who threatens your life deserves to be fired and needs professional help. But I’ve seen too many people shown the door because the supervisor or co-worker didn’t like that other person and contrived as close to a case as possible even if the charges were flimsy. As long as it got the result, flimsiness was not a concern.

That said, we were subjected to The Mayor sitting in the back seat of somebody’s bag of bolts chowing down on a breakfast Charles Atlas used to advertise in the back flap of a Richie Rich comic book. And that’s okay until we gotta see you eat that stuff in Chem Lab. Heck, we’re creating off the Bunsen burner what’s in your lunch box.

And I’m sure if you’re trying to get to the depths of a Steinback novel, reading about this Okie family trying to engineer a new start in California while some kid in the front row is using a table knife to spread Underwood Deviled Ham on his Star-Kist Tuna sandwich can get nauseating, not to mention DISTRACTING but that was the offense at hand. At no time did The Mayor become an Outsider and demand Andy’s money so that the Mayor could pay gang dues. The Mayor wasn’t getting initiated into The Pharoahs, as in American Graffiti, by hooking  Andy’s pickup with Gil’s desk using a chain and Andy, while leaving the faculty parking lot, goes flying along with the body of the truck into the practice field even while Dr. Pearl was frantically signalling him to stop because she didn’t want her Lexus damaged by a teacher and Chevy Silverado frame in flight.

If The Mayor was being disruptive AND HE WAS you had the option of calling his parents and talking to him and his parents and Dr. Pearl in a conference room to address the situation, an option that was wiser to use. If he still insisted on having his BLT and eat it too, then stronger measures were in order and necessary. Knowing how flighty but cooperative The Mayor has shown us to be, I really don’t think it would have gone that far.

But Gil coming in as Acting Principal because Dr. Pearl never met a form in triplicate she never liked is not a solution. You didn’t take charge when The Mayor was a bad advertisement for The Chopping Block and now you’re moralizing all over the high school. I guess that’s the job description for a non-Acting Coach who’s seeking a new career. Dr. Pearl could certainly use the help.

 

We play baseball at a sandlot field

The umps are teacher’s aides

The scoreboard’s barely lit

And football’s a team

Of former can’t-miss castoffs

Caught in police panty raids

 

So be true to your school now

Just like you would to Gil or a gal

Be true to your school now

Valley Rejects teams are your pals

Be true to your school

 

At the Surfer Girl album shoot at WDIG-TV Foto Studio

“Hell, stick Gil between Dennis and Carl, nobody’ll know the difference. I assume he knows how to hold a surfboard.”]

 

And, Gang, don’t you love how P2 nails this one in the coffin by having Gil pose for Hungry Man ad straight out of Good Housekeeping? Yup, the Hungry Man stepped into Rooney’s turf and told Rooney he not only is glad Rose of Sharon (or Roshashawrn, depending on which side of the Steinbeck coin you’re flipping) got a job in California scrubbing T-Birds driving out of the car wash until Daddy took it away and thereby The Grapes of Wrath having a Flintstones happy ending (although you had to overlook the Okie banging on the door yelling for Wilma after the saber-tooth cat dumped him outside) , but that both could eat their pile of oversalted, overjuiced Salisbury steaks and mashed potatoes in peace. They might have to use their own table knife to pry the brownie out of the tray now that they sent someone up the river who used a table knife to pry the lid off the pimento spread container and used the same knife to apply Cool Whip to humble pie but they can always borrow utensils at the cafeteria.

Enjoy your macaroni and cheese, Hungry Man. You don’t need Alternative Dude nor his knife for that one.

 

At the Valley Alternative Baseball Tournament one evening.

“Damn, the other umpire didn’t show up. You’ll have to go to the stands.”

“Dr. Pearl, here’s an indicator. You know how to ump on the bases?”

 

Oh, we’re back to baseball… or is that softball? Well, if a gun is put to my head, I have never seen too many Thorpiverse baseball games with players with shoulder-length hair, let alone one with a ponytail and I NEVER saw a Berrill-sponsored contest with a player with hair sporting a Beatles mop top or longer unless he also had one tooth in his mouth and bore a rhino horn out of his crotch to  emphasize his uniqueness, oh wait, we already have a weirdo who drinks his Minute Maid out of an elephant tusk and they suspended him.

And guessing softball (or baseball as Plan B) , what could we possibly be trying to accomplish just a few days before June now that Jamila Moses kicked ass as a pitcher but got kicked out of the plot because the focus was on some cowardly teacher who should pursue a new line of work, like garbage collecting, if he can’t handle a class clown whose bark is worse than his sandwiches? Nope, better dump the Phoebe Keener-will-hit-the game-winning-RBI-concept at the College World Series because you really couldn’t cram the developing story by the time Gil hits the links/moralizes that a Junior PGA Golfer deserved to be banished because he used a butter knife when calculating 2-in-the-water-3-out-of-the-water. Unless she can do that in maybe 3 panels. Y’know, have Alexa who’s behind the fence tell Phoebe that The Mayor has a crush on her and his White Castle burgers, Phoebe smack the winner over the 3rd baseman’s head in P2 and then in P3 ride home in Muench’s car in the back seat being high-fived by The Mayor while he also talks about his game-winning catch for Valley Alternative. We ought to be done by June and Gil do all the high-horsing he can handle at Milford Country Club.

Now in P3, is that the lady or the tiger?

 

Dr. Pearl one day obtaining her District Board Paper Clip Purchases Report-2018 out of the file cabinet, as the shelf slides out

BA-BA-BA

BAR-BARA ANN

BA-BA-BA

BAR-BARA ANN

 

YOU GOT ME ROCKIN’ AND ROLLIN’

ROCKIN’ AND REELIN’ BARBARA ANN

“Who left their walkman in here? Gil? It’s got your name on it.”

 

Take that, James Watt.

 

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Marty Moon In A Fight For His Life After Gaffe At Milford Quarterback Club Luncheon!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“May be suspended again after remarking that Gil’s sex life attracts the wrong elements of Milford.”

 

WHAP!!!!!!!!!!!! BAM!!!!!!!!!!!!! KAPOWIE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Andy Rooney presses the intercom button

“HELP DR. PEARL!!!!!!!!! A STUDENT IS ATTACKING ME WITH A DICTIONARY!!!!!!!!! CALL THE PINKERTONS AND THE SHARK!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Some teachers are better off shining someone’s shoes on a street corner in Milford because they put you to sleep reading the cantos from Ezra Pound. And did you ever try to decipher an e.e. cummings poem? I thought Civil Law and The Public Perspective at Milford Community College Law School was a mouthful. ‘anyone who lived in a pretty how town’? No wonder why someone used his knife for more than peanut butter. STILL the law is the law and if you are injured on the job you deserve just compensation.”

“I wound up in the ICU at Milford General after receiving several stitches on the head from the Unabridged Edition of the Random House Dictionary. I was barely able to walk after the punk threw ‘The Love Songs of J. Alfred Prufrock-Leatherbound Edition’ at my kneecap. The doctor said it be at least 8 weeks for things to heal. I had to be back on the job or Gil would be Acting Classic Literature Teacher. No way was he prepared to interpret Francis Flute the Bellows-Mender out of ‘Midsummer’s Night Dream’. I needed help and I needed it fast.”

“We fought the District Board and Milford High School for Mr. Rooney’s loss. They had a slush fund that was financed from students’ sales of World’s Finest Chocolate and I was going to raid the loot. I found out it was going towards more paper clips anyway.”

“I got $564,785,429,074 and some loose change. I was able to buy another dictionary and put the rest in escrow. You never know when my lineage might want a career in education and they need a Guide to Shakespeare or Cliff’s Notes on Paradise Lost. I am living large and at the height of my profession again. I only sent one student to the office this week for falling asleep during ‘The Emperor of Ice Cream’. Thanks, Shark.”

“You heard the man. I may think Wallace Stevens or William Carlos Williams should be a carhop at The Bucket but when somebody’s amiss in their responsibilities, you need to call The Shark at 1-FON-THE-JAWS to write your own novel and get paid for it. One call, that’s all.”

 

Gang, you mean the world to me. And you don’t make stupid comments like Mr. Watt. I think I’ll stick around. God bless you, Gang.

 

next to of course gil america i

“Just read the damn poem and write your essay. I have no clue if it’s a misprint. Mr. Rooney will be back next week.”

 

Hazard a guess about which sport that’s played

My school is standing firm

It always knows the score

We win all the trophies

From handball to forensics

Graduate once more

 

So be true to your school now

Just like you would to Gil or your wife

Be true to your school now

You’re in school for life

Be true to your school

 

Rah rah rah

Be true to your school

Rah rah rah

Be true to your school

Rah rah rah…

 

 

 

 

Fight Club or Breakfast Club?

The first rule of Valley Modified is: You do not talk about Valley Modified. The second rule of Valley Modified is: You do not talk about Valley Modified. Third rule of Valley Modified: Someone yells “Chronically truant!”, goes limp, taps out, the class is over. Fourth rule: Only two guys to a classroom.

Arids Carhee explains the rules of Valley Modified to Mike Knappe, but he doesn’t explain this group of miscreants headed through the door – a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal? Wonder which zero-tolerance policies they’re poster children for. One thing’s for certain: Mike had better watch his mouth attacking another Valley Mod kid’s cred, else that gap between his teeth will get much bigger much quicker.

Dunno what subject this class is in, but there’s a pop quiz today! Way to crash into reality. Pretty soon the ex-Mayor will find out he is not his nickname or the nicknames he gives other kids, he is not his baseball position, he is not the minivan his mom drives, he is not his stupid backpack, nor the stupid knife or jar of Nutso he brought to class in Milford. He’s the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.

“Pardon My Funk” Is…

a) The title of a lost George Clinton album

b) The tag line for an Old Spice deodorant ad campaign

c) An awkward way to rebut your handsy, unhelpful ex-coach’s unsolicited advice

Seriously, Mike needs to tell Gil to:

 

Gil’s rebuttal takes its own funky form, in so many words:

 

This is inspiring? And what’s with the sudden exposition that Mike already had a college acceptance in the bag? Gil’s little visit just became even more unnecessary.

Now move along, Captain Obvious, and let Mike walk off into the sunset by… wait, what? There’s still a good month and a half left in the spring arc. There’s still baseball left to play. Softball, too. Remember, it was Lady Mudlark success that led The Mayor to a life of crime. Come on, Rubin! Less Mary Worth, more Jayson Werth, IYKWIMAITYD.

How To Foil The Dalton Gang And Still Play Left Field.

As I told Teenchy yesterday, I thought Barry Bader was a thing of the past. Do we have to deal with his evil twin? This is somewhat like “I Sing The Body Electric” where the kids have a robot for a grandma who eventually also becomes their nanny. A Mrs. Barry Bader running on Eveready batteries tucking the kiddies in bed? And she eats Flushee Puffs out of the tuna can on her lunch break? You get the feeling Thorpiverse will not run out of plot ideas at the rate we’re going. I should have kept those old Snappy Dog Food labels and THEN started to write. I would have finished “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by now.

Boy, doncha just love one humanoid running out of juice and being put away and ya yank another out of the closet, put the battery cables in the next one, wait an hour, then call him The Mayor?

“Okay, Barry, we’re going to put you back in the closet. You did enough damage to the plot. You did an excellent job while you were an electronic gadget being a horse’s ass and a spoiled brat and a cancer to the team. Oh, and you took somebody out in a game, said something about the umpire’s mother, and you’re dad wound up in Marion, Illinois. Well done, thou good and faithful robot.”

And I guess I could handle The Positronic Man if he wasn’t eating his Wheaties off of a garbage can lid. It’s bad enough that he is fabricating stories but keep this sanitary, Thorpiverse. I really don’t care to hear about how The Positronic Man used a machine gun on Al Capone when Capone was trying to rob the Milford Gambling Casino while The Positronic Man is slurping Green Eggs and Ham out of a Glad 28-Galllon Tall Kitchen Trash Bag. Downin’ it with Mudlar-K-Cola Diet Black Cherry from the GIL mug that Gil slobbered Eight o’ Clock Decaf out of an hour before, boy, I hope my stomach can hold its own while reading about how somebody upchucked his Total cereal and still had good aim on Jesse James, even though Frank James got away when The Positronic Man had to endure one more dry heave.

This plot’s gettin’ off the ground and flyin’ to the moon in one spoonful of Rice Chex, ya think?

 

Because I was intrigued by Detroit being rejected 7 times to host The Olympics as I read recently

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Milford Rejected By The Committee A Record 14th Time By The International Olympic Committee”!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Asphalt not drying on the high school track in a sufficient amount of time cited as a factor in the decision.”

 

And as long Thorpiverse is going to throw The Positronic Man at us TWIMers, we might as well go whole hog and list the 3 rules every Gil-a-Tronic player must follow if he wants to be on the team

1) Do no harm and do everything possible to help the team, even if it means throwing yourself in front of a Milford & Oakwood Express Mail train. Chamoionships were produced from the debris left on the rails.

2) Obey everything Gil says even to the point of jumping off the Mudlark Girls Gym building except if it were to conflict with Rule #1. Common sense is in order at certain hours of the day.

3) A Gil-a-Tronic Man is to preserve himself and not let himself get blindsided especially when interviewing with Marty Moon, except if it were to conflict with Rule #1 and Rule #2. Keeping the world on top for Democracy and keeping Marty Moon on tap is the lifeline for The Gil-a-Tronic Man.

 

Well, The Mayor is certainly doing no harm in P1 with the The Penguin batting stance (gotcha again, Robmize-ha) , flouting his exploits which we’re sure to get an earful of in the coming weeks. Just don’t pull a Willie Stargell on us and do a simulated warm-up swing in the batter’s box. Much as I respected Willie’s game (big time, 2 rings to show for it) , we do have the rest of the season to think about. Remember, The Gil-a-Tronic Man has to observe Rule #1 and not wipe out the rest of the locker room with your swinging for the fences and/or going “Pops” on your teammates. Otherwise, The Gil-a-Tronic Man is going to get lonely out in left field.

Gil shouting from the dugout

CAME YOUR WAY IN LEFT, CENTER, AND RIGHT, GIL-A-TRONIC MAN!!!!!!!!!!!

Rest my case

 

Special Edition to The Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Upset That IOC Passed Over Milford Once Again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“We had the Milford Parks & Recreation Adult Flag Football Field resodded this week. It would have been an international display case for the shot put and the javelin throw.”

 

And we get to the heart of the issue in P2. And I just LOVE running into people who stretch the truth in many different directions. I used to go to church with a guy who showed me his yearbook at his house and talked about how he was a 4.0 student and he was the starting point guard on the basketball team. He would have fit right on the Mudlarks bench, next to the 6th Man.

Anyway, of course, when I didn’t see his mug in the photo shoot of the Varsity Basketball team, he naturally said that he was sick in bed with the flu that day. Sure, Gil-a-Tronic Man wannabe, I understand. COVID-19 kept a lot of liars under the sheets that day.

And of course, he would brag about his adventures at Entebbe, that he was the first one at the airport and he blasted the first two hijackers and the SWAT team mopped up after that. Winning in a rout, it’s Miller Time, SWAT dudes.

And I swallowed it even though the authenticity was obviously buried in The Mayor’s Baggie under the parsley. And I would have ridden off into the sunset with the shit piled as high as those double-decker trees until he started bragging how he was the one that said “Remember the Alamo” at San Juan Hill. How he shoveled Roosevelt’s horse’s droppings. Pseudo-Gil-a-Tronic Man, if you’re going to prevaricate, is there any way you could keep the time period within our lifetime? And be a little more proper? There’s kids reading this blog.

But THAT’S what we appear to be facing in our anti-hero for the next few weeks. Oh boy.

 

“Don’t sit on top of the dugout, Gil-a-Tronic Man”

“But Master Thorp, I am only obeying Rule #2. They said this plot is getting so bad, they’ll be raining eggs and tomatoes before too long. We wouldn’t have a coach if you got buried in the avalanche.”

“Need an umbrella?”

 

And is this all of Hiawatha James’ job description on this strip, dunk the basketball, look stupid with that Mr T.-a-Tronic hairdo in the locker or dugout, be a wet blanket for somebody else’s How I Spent My Off-Season essay/comedy schtick? Didn’t I post when Barry Bader was Badering about his role on the team and ‘watha’s rapier wit shot BB Gun down into the corn field adjacent to the Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage Orientation Building? It seems like his only function is post up, deliver the Jay Leno punchline.

There’s hope. Remember, Kirk Gibson only had one at-bat in the ’88 World Series. If ‘watha can shoot down Dennis Eckersley or The Mayor, he has a career at the Milford Comedy Club.

 

“…do I look like, Keith Smart with only one shot?”

“Gil, why are the Indiana fans leaving?”

 

Weekly Supplement to the Milford Enquirer, replete with 13,643 ad sections

“Milford City Council Orders Shutdown On Milford Natatorium After IOC Snub!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Spokesperson said diving board was damaged after Coach Shaw performed a swan dive; repairs will be implented in the next 10 days in conformity with IOC regulations.”

 

 

At the top of the Milford Federal Credit Union Building, by the observation deck, the Milford Police is trying to talk The Gil-a-Tronic Man off the ledge

“No!!!!!! No!!!!!! Gil-a-Tronic Man!!!!!!!!! Even Rule #3 says you can’t do any harm to yourself!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Except if it’s meant to save another human being as in Rule #2. And with this plot heading towards the sewer, it’s a matter of time before the plot puts the constituency to sleep. Then the Communists will cross the border and it’s only a matter of time before Chairman Mao occupies 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue and Pytor Ilyich Lenin occupies Gil’s office. Then you really WILL have a non-coach, but this time with an Iron and Sickle in the gym.”

JUMP, GIL-A-TRONIC MAN, JUMP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

And P3 is just vintage Thorpiverse. When confronted with reality, does Barry Bader Jr. admit the story just might be a tad prefabricated? Nope, he’s got to employ selective memory.

“Gee, I can’t remember how I injured my butt. It’s a coin flip between when I slipped off the rope when I was walking on the tightrope over the Grand Canyon or there was a wet spot in the hallway after someone spilled Mudlar-K-Cola. I’ll give you a final answer tomorrow in the Physics Lab.”

On second thought, Hiawatha James reminds me of a scene in the movie “Patton” when Patton has taken over command in North Africa and makes the rounds inspecting the troops, mess hall, offices, barracks, etc. When he catches a sentry sleeping, he kicks the living shit out of the soldier. The soldier is visibly annoyed but when he realizes it’s Patton, he gives him a very hasty salute. Patton responded

“Keep on going. You’re about the only son of a bitch around here who knows what he’s doing.”

After kicking Barry Bader Jr. in the head, I’d say the same about Hiawatha James.

 

“And we’ll be back to see if Barry Bader Jr. can finish his swim across the English Channel with a 50-pound anvil tied to him and no shark repellant on another exciting episode of ‘You Asked For It’ after these messages. This is WDIG-TV.”

 

At Coach Shaw’s house, Mrs. Shaw pounding on the linen closet door

 

“Honeyyyyyyyyy, come out of closet!!!!!!!! I know you have it dead-bolted but I’m hornnnnyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“No way, Darling. The Positronic Man must never do any harm. If I were to engage in copulation with a cue stick, our sex lives would be ruined. I am following Rule #1 to the letter.”

“But why don’t you follow Rule #2 and obey my orders so we can go to bed and have some fun. Even a cue stick deals with lots of balls.”

“Ball one, blubba blubba, ball two, yer out, well, you see, Rule #3 says I must never do harm to myself. Going in and out, in and out, in and out with a ginsu knife might cut like a knife but it wouldn’t feel right. And how would we carve the turkey? I’d have to go to the Kwikee Mart on Thanksgiving and snag some plastic cutlery off the shelves.”

“Paper, plastic, Honey, I don’t care what silverware you use, why don’t you pretend I’m pumpkin pie and dig into me? Even The Positronic Man sits down with his master at the table at Thanksgiving.”

“And get Stove Top Stuffing all over me? Do you realize how that shit messes up the wiring in my gadgetry? I’ll be spitting out dried croutons and be awash in cranberry sauce. I couldn’t keep the earth safe from aliens from outer space with mashed potatoes and Flushee Puffs all over my uniform!!!!!!!!”

“Even The Positronic Man uses napkins. You can’t disobey that one.”

 

“She had me there. And the moths were eating through my wiring anyway. She sent me down to Milford Men’s Clinic to give my significant other the once-over. With proven treatment programs that work, isn’t it time YOU obeyed rule #2 and obeyed your sexual instincts. Coming from the Planet of Robotics never felt better. Come get charged at Milford Men’s Clinic today. You’ll be glad you did.”

 

Gang, you mean the world to me. In fact, when I get done climbing the Golden Gate Bridge, I’ll be sure to read every one of your comments.

 

At the Milford & Oakwood RR crossing one fine day

VVVVVVVRRRRRRROOOOOMMMMMMMM

“Oh no, Gil. I knew I shouldn’t have bought her Cutty Sark at discount at Milford Beverage Warehouse!!!!!!”

“OMG!!!!!!!!!!! She’ll be cut in a million pieces!!!!!!!!!!!!”

At the crossing

“Grandma Thorp, are you OK????”

“Yes, just a few scratches on my knees but I’m fine. Where’s the pram?”

“Keri caught it before the train could do any damage.”

“Grandma Thorp, I thought for sure the train made you Chop Suey.”

“Oh, Jaime, that’s the beauty of robots and bad plots. They may get torn to pieces but they always get back up.”

I Sing The Body Gil

 

Tomorrow’s headline in the Milford Enquirer running through the presses

“City Commission Seeks Bond Issue To Finance Olympic Basketball At Mudlark Gym In ’24 Games!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Funds earmarked towards 5,000 seat expansion should run on schedule and construction slated for next week.”