This Week in Milford

July 3, 2018

Yo Quiero Taco Bell And A Baseball Scholarship, Coach Colvin

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Gang, First off, let me get this crow-eating part of me out of the way. That was not, as I might have suspected, Coach Tod Andrews that Gil was genuflecting to on the telephone. I should have known that Berrill’s version of Coach Andrews wouldn’t translate mathematically into Raul Julia at the tanning salon. Hey, you have a hard day at the office and you’re trying to please rabid fans and alumni plus perhaps an athletic director who might pull the trigger at the next 3 23-38 seasons, and ya gotta go somewhere. They’d never think to look under a heat lamp sleeping on a Serta mattress (“Charlie Brown, who’s that funny-looking gentleman with the shades? They never allow adults on the strip. Schultz and Pig Pen are turning over in their graves.”).

Oooooooooookkkkkkkkk, time to get back on my soapbox. And I have one question. Weren’t Coach Colvin and The Chihuahua at the same family reunion? I’d laugh my ass off if Moose showed up at the Taco Bell drive-thru ordering Triple-Layer Nacho Supreme, Mexican Pizza, hold the mushrooms, with tartar sauce, Nacho Cheese Doritos Ranch Style Locos Tacos Supreme, Beefy 5-Layer Burrito, Colby Jack substituted for American, side order of Arthur Treacher Fish ‘n Chips (in one of those little styrofoam containers you can barely take a urine test in, let alone cram mac and cheese or green beans with a slice of bacon the size of Scotch tape), wait behind 5 cars, daydreaming about hitting the game-winning home run in the bottom of the 9th inning, a grand slam no less thanks to all those videos about launch angles (hosted by Mel Allen when he’s moonlighting from This Week in Baseball) for good ol’ State U. against their hated rival, University State, the line is finally moving after 25 minutes, Moose is ready with the correct change, right down to the wooden nickel (“They never say anything”), only to find out that Coach Colvin is opening up the window. “Coach, do you have any mild sauce?” “Nope, all we have is extra-hot.”

Looking at my bat a 3rd time

Waiting for the Coach to call my name

Cuz I’m tired of doing all my homework

I just want a chance to play the game

I know Coach Thorp has warned me strongly

But I just got to dump this town for fame

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

And waste another year

And let’s get the obvious out of the way. Thorpiverse has wasted our time with the obvious in P2. What did Gil think we were anticipating? Man, Kaz, if he lays on the beach on the Redneck Riviera (Alabama, for you non-rednecks), and takes pointers on how to pick up women from all the sailors who hail from all over the world, he oughta be able to pick up his bat speed by the time Fall Ball rolls around. I talked with Coach Colvin and he said that learning hand-eye coordination is like making a chimichanga. It just takes the right ingredients, i.e., eyes, hands, beans, sour cream, Hillerich & Bradsby bat, fresh ground beef, 80% fat-free with no hormones, 12″ tortilla. Yup, working the drive thru has taught Coach Colvin a lot about making Chimichanga Nuclear Cheese Buster that he’s carried out to the ball diamond when doing batting drills and knowing the count when you’re up at the plate. I think Kevin will do fine.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Daffy Duck Promoted to Editor!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Pulitzer Prize-Winning Story on Papa Bader Making “The Catch” At The DOC World Series Turned Many Heads. Warden Considering Early Release”

All you Brady Bunch groupies, remember when Don Drysdale came by the Brady manor because Mr. Brady (what’s his REAL name, Mendenhall Theophilus Randolph Brady III ?) was good friends with Don and the latter fattened Greg Brady’s head by saying that he could pitch in the World Series one day? I think Don fattened Moose’s head along the way. At least, I’m bettin’ that’s the gist of the conversation in P3. Sure Moose, you could start this weekend for the Yankees. Mickey Mantle is taking a personal day and they’re gonna be short-handed. Might as well start somewhere. If you can handle those assholes, Marty Moon and Ernie the P., surely you can handle the crowd at Yankee Stadium. No place like it.

Well, we all saw what happened to Greg.

It’s not as though I really need you

If you were here, I’d only leave you

But everybody else in town only wants to bring you down,

That’s not how it oughta be

Well, I know it might sound strange but I bel-

Gil, shouting in Moose’s ear “MOOSE, FOR THE 3RD TIME, YOU’RE ON DECK!!!!!!!”

“And Moose belts one over the Green Monster and the Yankees lead the Red Sox, 7-3. There’s a pitching change. Moose is obviously gotten to the pitcher, not to mention the Red Sox fans. We’ll be right back after these messages.”

 

At the Milford Wal-Mart Supercenter, Gil and family are about to check out.

“Mimi, I think we got ‘er done. We have everything for the Annual Baseball & Softball Picnic. 10 bags of Great Value Barbecue Chips? Check. 8 2-liter bottles of Fanta  Lime/Pomegranate? Check. Off! Bug Spray? Check. Oscar Meyer Reduced Fat Low Sodium Carb Free Kosher Prepared Light Garlic Thick-Sliced Bologna? Check. Is there anything else we forgot?

Mimi spots the family bathroom out of the corner of her eye. The diaper station was a dead giveaway.-

“Gil, let’s go to the family bathroom. Kids, you take the groceries to the station wagon. We’ll be right out.”

“Mimi, it’s been 30 years since we’ve changed anybody’s diaper. If you got to take a potty break, go now or forever hold your pants.”

“Gil, I need to talk to you about all the VanCamp’s Pork ‘n’ Beans you bought. Our check might bounce.”

“Mimi, we have Check-Bouncing Protection at Milford National Bank.”

“Yes, but they need our Social Security Number and you can’t say it out here. What if Marty’s around the corner, writes it down, then runs up a tab at Milford Lounge?”

Gil, trapped on that one, not wanting to see Marty stealing his SSN in the name of Gerst Beer, relents.

They enter the bathroom. She locks the door.

“Mimi, we don’t need to lock the door over Pork ‘n Beans.”

Mimi drops her pants. A perfect place for a quickie. And Gil is trapped.

He forgot to take his pill this morning because the Moen faucet sprung a leak and Milford Plumbing Inc. was on assignment over the weekend down in the sewer lines.

Gil had nothing to wash it down.

“Mimi, Is that helium balloon station by the Vision Center still there? Because I’m as limp as a 10-day-old plantain.”

“Gil, I can’t go out like this. That was THE IDEA, to stay in from the rain and get warm and cuddly.”

“Mimi, I don’t think that stall with all the street gang symbols on the walls would fit us anyway. I couldn’t go back and forth with that little room, let alone with the Twinkie I have in my possession.”

“Gil, surely the residue from the double dose you took the day before ought to carry over to this stall. I can wait until things start to inflate. In fact, I think I have a safety pin to prick the wienie in my purse.”

“I don’t know, Mimi. Now I know what Papa Bader goes through. He can barely poop, let alone pull a Pee-Wee Herman.”

BAM! BAM! BAM!

“IF YOU’RE DONE IN THERE, MY 3-YEAR-OLD HAS DIARRHEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Wal-Mart Assistant Manager Don Granger has the last word.

“It wasn’t pretty. We had to evacuate the Frozen and the Bakery aisles. We managed to salvage the endcap on the Healthy Choice’s.

Unfortunately, we had to literally flush all the Great Value Low Sodium Butterscotch/Maraschino Cherry Ice Cream on the other endcap straight down the janitorial-sized toilets. We had to refresh our associates on hand-washing procedures at the morning meeting, making sure they washed up to their elbows. It just sucked when we couldn’t do the Wal-Mart cheer (“Gimme a SQUIGGLY!!!!!!” “SQUIGGLY!!!!!!!!”).

“All of this could have been avoided if Gil had gone to the Milford Men’s Clinic. There’s a branch right here at Wal-Mart. That’s right, right next to Milford State Bank by the Grocery entrance. When men fail in their sex lives, isn’t it nice to know there’s a convenient location where men can get a refill while the wife does the grocery shopping? A match made in heaven. And the cleanup jobs it’ll save our associates. It makes for one happy family. Sam would have wanted it that way.

 

“Joe, could you hit that spot in the corner with the mop? There’s still a bit of doo-doo by the Totino’s Supreme Pizza endcap.”

“Yup. You want it buffered?”

“Nah, We won’t have time. The Totino’s blitz is today and I don’t want anybody getting run over.”

 

Gang, while Moose is trying to get out of Rockville, fire away. I’ll leave you with this

 

At night I sleep in Milford’s dugout

Waiting patiently to board the bus

Cuz it’s so much easier to handle

All my problems and I don’t have to swear and cuss

I’ll lift some weights and run a lot

And get my scholarship without a fuss

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

 

And waste another year.

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June 30, 2018

Coach Colvin needs to see a trainer, amirite?

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Where’s Rick Scott or Heather Burns when you need them?  Poor Coach Delano Colvin has suffered an horrific ankle sprain or worse (link is not for the squeamish).  Gil may have run into Delano on the Mudlarks’ trip back from Bluffton earlier in the season. That might lead me to believe that “State U.” is the one in Raleigh; however, a GPA of “almost 3.5” looks like it won’t cut the mustard there, being a reach at best.

While Pelwecki gets called to the office over the intercom (instead of Gil having the message sent to Pelwecki’s next period teacher, as he is often wont to do) we get spirited back to the Trumpet office in what is essentially a tell, don’t show repeat of Thursday’s panel 3.

Meanwhile, in an assisted living facility in an unnamed town, Herk the Mauler watches old wrasslin’ highlights and wonders when his rematch with Beau Dandy is coming up. Here’s a wrasslin’ highlight from one of my all time favorite heels.

 

 

November 8, 2017

The Impossible Turd And Other Unanswered Questions

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Panel 1: Is Little Ricky wearing pads? Cargo pants? Why are his feet splayed like that and where are his crutches? What the hell is going on here?

Panel 2:  Isn’t Rick supposed to be a big guy? Tall, at least? Is he sitting down here? How much does anyone want to bet that balancing an open umbrella on the top of his bald spot goes viral ten times faster than a video of some random tank town high schooler singing the national anthem?

Panel 3: How many editors does it take to cut this thing together? Who the hell is paying for any of this and why? Is Uncle Gary going to drink that entire bottle of ketchup?

November 3, 2017

Just when you thought it was safe….

….to miss Rick singing at a game, here it comes. But first we have to look at his foot with a pumpkin on top of it. Oh yeah, that supposed to be an icebag. Last time I was that close to a foot I walked into the tiny  pro shop at a golf course and the female employee was standing on a chair barefoot dusting the ceiling fan. I told her I almost ran into her feet, and resisted a sudden urge to tickle them. Lol. If I ever write about my golf career this story would definitely make the list. Life has those unique moments you always remember.

P2 – really, how many trainers at a high school have pictures of leg bones on their wall? This isnt a doctors office for chrissake. And the diagrams have boxes pointing to them containing 4 straight lines, which are supposed to be words but shit they dont even look close to it. And no way is anyones kneecap THAT big compared to their leg bones. Jeez. F for artwork today.

And in P3 we have Uncle Dickwad on his PC lining up Ricks singing gig in front of millions of YouTube fans. I have a feeling now its not before a game, but somewhere else. Hey, as long as its not on this strip I’m fine with it.

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