Sorry I’m late gents but…

And its a reasonable fascimile of Marjie Ducey, but not quite as hot, announcing that it was Marty Moon, happening to be walking behind said non-hottie, helping to not advance the plot. You know how far 50 steps behind you is? I work in a pretty big office, and if I took 50 steps from my desk I’d be either outside, or in the dark corner of the PO section.  So how the hell she even noticed the dude is beyond me.

And we have Mimi flaunting her fear of Moon possibly walking in on the girls wine party with some freak hand action. None of which advances the plot. So I’m done. Good night folks.

 

By the way, one of my childhood idols passed away yesterday. The Monkees are now down to 2– good thing I saw them perform in Merrilville a few years ago while they still had each other.  It never bothered me that they werent considered a real band. Here’s a tribute to Peter Tork.

 

 

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Don’t Ask Yourself What’s Gil Doing With His Hand In Panel One

What a day to get back in the saddle of posting about what’s going on in Gil Thorp’s world… In lieu of any meaningful plot development let’s do a quick take panel by panel.

P1: Seriously, just ignore these two with their weird posturing. Did anyone else know that Gil has not one but two desks in his office? Say what you will about our pocket hockey playing hero, but you gotta tip your hat to the fact that he rates a huge office.

P2: It warms my heart to see Maxwell instantly disavow helping Gil as his motive for returning to this tanktown. That he does it while flashing a double inverted Vulcan salute and wearing a sailor’s turtleneck gilds the Lily.

P3: Maxwell is gonna be pissed when he goes from one end of town to the other only to see that the billboards both have the same message. Also, why would Gil encourage Maxwell to go check out the billboards but then discourage him from getting involved? Pretty mixed message there.

Never Happy? Are You Kidding? They’re Delirious!

Somewhere on the streets of Milford, an unknown man leaves his dumpy apartment on Poplar for his dead-end job. Maybe he stocks the shelves at McShane’s Hardware, or washes dishes at Schultz’s Polynesian Garden. He’s gotta wring every last drop out of his tired ’90s econobox (maybe a Plymouth Breeze?), so when the steering wheel rubber starts to crumble, it gets covered with one of those lace-it-yourself leather covers from Milford Auto Parts. He’d been saving up for an aftermarket stereo for the beater but bills gotta get paid so it’s still the tinny AM-FM unit for now. It can’t pick up stations outside the Valley so it’s good old WDIG for him. At least he can listen to Marty Moon; that’s one guy whose life can’t be any less miserable than his.

But what’s this? Marty sounds practically giddy on the air this morning! Must be that new kid sidekick of his, Howdy Booby or something like that. Listen to the two of them feed off each other, like a couple of leeches they are. If it wasn’t for Coach Thorp these two jagoffs would have nothing to talk about. You’d think they’d cover college ball once in a while. Wonder how that Miles Standish kid is doing at Wake Forest? Or the one who didn’t talk, like Mongo. Didn’t he go to State U?

Yeah, that Coach Thorp. He’s the straw that stirs the drink in Milford. Wasn’t for him there’d be no media in this tank town. One fewer blog on the intertubes, that’s for sure.

That reminds me: did you ever have the feeling you were being watched?

 

Nice Attacking

In lieu of any actual girls’ basketball action this year, it looks like we’ll have at least one panel of cheerleader action. Today’s cheerleaders are played by a young Lily Tomlin, Claire Danes and Anna Paquin. (I’m basing this casting on overbite, nose and tooth gap, respectively.)

As far as the game, it looks like Mike Filion and the Stovepipe Sophomore carried the team to victory. Yay!

As Mike hoists the ball into the air in celebration (or he’s trying to disable a drone that’s spying on him), what’s that other crouching Mudlark in Panel 3 up to? Is he about to tackle Mike?

I’m from the psychologist’s office and I’m here to help

It’s been a very long day for yhs and I have a sneaking suspicion that however I choose to snark today’s strip, it’ll already have been done to death on the Curmudgeon. With that in mind…

Time moves slowly in the Valley. Milford may be 1959 with cell phones, but in Tilden they whip out their 143-year-old campaign posters to decorate the gym.

Wow, will ya look what a little counseling – or just the promise of counseling – will do.  Just like that shortstop-in-waiting Filion has turned into Mr. Helper. Even with Gil having benched the four failed wannabe billboard defacers, the Filion-driven Mudlarks are putting the Tildenites away in short order.

Meanwhile Marty thinks he’s being witty by labeling Marcell Ledbetter Irby the “stovepipe sophomore,” which conjures up imagery of Ralph Sampson, Chuck Nevitt or Manute Bol. His face tells another story, revealing the unfolding, horrifying realization that a winning Gil Thorp-coached team will destroy the Marty n’ B/Robby Show’s raison d’être. Not to fear, o soused sportscaster: Milford only wins when other teams have either thrown in the towel or benched their starters to rest them for the playdowns.

Does Gil Realize??

Do you realize that in the Valley we’re in last place?
Do you realize I stare into space?
Do you realize that Marty Moon makes me cry?
Do you realize that our entire team someday will die?

And instead of playing counselor to me, let me know
You realize this season’s passed
You cannot coach us out of last
You realize that Howry is a clown
He’s just getting off because we’re missing the playdowns

Do you realize?
Do you realize that even Marty Moon someday will die?

And instead of getting hung up on my play, let me know
You realize your time has passed
Resign and give your job to Kaz
With Mimi, get drunk as the sun goes down
And then you could stay away from the balls that are round

Do you realize that in the Valley we’re in last place?
Do you realize?

(apologies Wayne Coyne)

 

Show Of Hands

What else can we say about this drawn out sequence of Gil laying out discipline for a thing that didn’t happen?

I can’t think of a thing. We’re going back to the Mike Fillion mental health crisis, so buckle up.

So, what did y’all think about THE BIG GAME last night. Was it boring? Did the commercials suck? (Was it cool or totally lame that Jeff Bridges reprised the role of The Dude to order a Stella Art-toys?) Did the halftime suck? These have been the standard internet chat topics post Super Bowl for many years now. (I mean, minus The Dude…c’mon it was a little cool, right?)

For my part, I spent the better part of the second half watching Outkast videos because I didn’t get enough Big Boi. I won’t level any specific criticisms against Adam Levine and friends. I think they’ve arrived at a formula for these halftime shows where they make a big shiny spectacle that about twenty percent of the viewership will enjoy and most of the rest will hate so much that they’ll click on all the post mortems confirming indeed that it was THE WORST HALFTIME SHOW EVER.

An Echo Chamber Does Not a Groundswell Make

We’re being asked to fill in a lot of blanks here today.  Other than the one caller who called bullshit on their short-term memory loss yesterday, it’s just been Marty and B/Robby taking turns getting their digs in on Gil.  (You notice no one ever calls for Kaz’s head?  They know he’s liable to track them down and put his fist through theirs.)  Do those two take turns running out of the studio and calling in?  I suppose between calls Marty can get a bite to eat from the automat that has magically appeared behind his head.  Or do Wildcat Maris, Hobart, Barry Bader et al. just have WDIG on speed dial?

WDIG’s station manager seems vaguely aware that this whole kerfuffle is purely Marty’s and The Boy Who Would Be Coach’s doing, but as long as the ad revenue is coming in and he can keep shuffling those invoices, it’s all gravy.  Then again he may be waxing nostalgic about how he earned that trophy behind him for being the best Studebaker salesman in the Valley, or planning to order some Haggar slacks to go with that shawl-collared jacket of his while remembering how he used to hold meetings while he was on the can.

Meanwhile, in the Mudlark locker room, the real wheels get set in motion when rando underclassman asks rando seniors to dish the dirt on B/Robby.  Howry’s placebo-dealing, Bacon-manipulating backstory will be shared, rando underclassman will call Marty to expose B/Robby on air, WDIG’s engineer will again lose his mind, and Gil’s reputation will be saved without any action on his part.  This had better be good.