This Week in Milford

October 21, 2021

Dead Men See Many Pentagons.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 10:46 am

I may have mentioned this Night Gallery episode before but considering what we’re faced with at this juncture, it worth’s repeating. The episode was called “The Dead Man” and this professor uses hypnosis to render a person dead. Then he is able to bring that person back from the dead through this incantation from tapping, say, on a table that works like a combination on a lock. Then one day, he forgets the combination and the person is left dead. And they have to bury him, to add insult to injury.

There’s more to the story but for now it’s a way to illustrate the absurdity that continues and is like that flat tire that gets more annoying to listen to until you pull into the station to get it fixed. That’s right, Tevin, when you rise from the grave, you’ll be a touchdown machine. You may have trouble with the football being shaped like The Pentagon but we’ll sort through the details later. Right now, meet me by the graveyard this evening so that we can stay on a roll.

“And when you wake up from your deathly slumber, you will be the next Joe Montana.”

Tap tap tap

Tap tap


“OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE’S TURNED INTO GIL THORP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Wait a minute. Serrano, where’d you put the manual?”

Well, we know that Beaver knows how to draw circles with that silly flashlight he’s driving into the head of Count Dracula. It certainly stays within the theme, i.e., killing them so that when they awaken in 1000 years, they will ALWAYS look everything in the tuck. Gil should still be around by then. Tevin this point literally has egg on his face so this better be good. No sense in Tevin leading the Valley Conference in offense if he’s toting this great big dot on his forehead that is a symbol for some religious cult in a lowdown neighborhood in Milford.

And is that Tevin’s hand in P1? Or is he munching on a gargantuous Lay’s Potato Chip while he is drifting off to death? I am confident he is no doubt laying his hand on his chest (fingers crossed) to relax himself but there’s too many ridges on the Lay’s Sour Cream that’s muddying this whole hypnotic falderol. Here, Tevin, take the whole bag while you’re crossing the River Charon. You want some salsa dip?

Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Rejects Services Of Milford Hypnotic Society As Championship Adult Flag Football League Championship Approaches.”

sub headline

“I ain’t literally goin’ to Hell and back just to get a ring.”

Dr. Pearl in her office one day, Derek & The Dominos softly playing “Bell Bottom Blues” on her 1939 Victrola

“Excuse me, Dr. Pearl, may I speak with you a second?


“I was able to get through to Beaver. Two taps on the Strawberry Nehi bottle and I stepped out of the casket.”

Serrano obviously isn’t helping but at least he’s honestly stupid. Beaver is putting on a clinic to that end and he isn’t really trying. What is Serrano doing at this session anyway? Would you have Gilligan step into the hut if The Professor was trying to hypnotize The Skipper into finding a way off the island?

“And where can we locate help to help us off this deserted island?”

“I see a place. It has transmission equipment that can communicate with us. It’s at–“

“Skipper, I did your laundry. I had to go to the end of the lagoon to scrub your Fruit of the Looms.”

“Oh, Gilligan. I’ve been at this for hours.”

And it’s interesting that Beaver is saying “Get down!!!!! Shut up!!!!!!!” to Serrano like Lieutenant Dan said to Forrest Gump. Beaver, don’t go through the jungles of Vietnam and expect to defeat the Viet Cong with Serrano at your side if he’s going to pop in at the wrong time. You’ll be coming close to their camp when Serrano blurts out “That one looks like my grandmother in the face!!!!!!!!” Not too many battles get won that way. My goodness, Beaver, leave your dog at home if you don’t want him getting shot at Da Nang.

But that’s Beaver for you. It’s like General Patton bringing his family along to watch him fight the Afrika Korps. And the First Battle of Bull Run was famous for all the people who treated this as a picnic and eventually learned the cruel reality of war and were running along with the retreating soldiers. Serrano and Beaver would be riding on the back of the Nick’s Pizza truck to safety.

If yore President of th’ ‘Nited States and tha Se-krit Service has ta guard tha outhouse when yore takin’ a royal dump, ya might be a redneck.

Why are these pentagons and hexagons flying around? If Gil burps from too much Canada Dry, is it going to get manifested in the way of triangles????? When Mimi digs into a can of pork and beans, is she going to fart a bunch of trapezoids????

“Whew!!!!! Dr. Pearl, what’d you have for lunch?”

“Do you not see the nonagons floating in the air?”

Any of you old-timers will remember The Lawrence Welk Show where he played his theme somg (if you haven’t heard it, give it a chance, it will stick in your head forever like it’s done in mine, trust me) and some bubble machine would produce all these bubbles, especially while he was conducting his orchestra. I couldn’t imagine his dancing troupe performing to “Yellow Rose of Texas” while these bubbly parallelograms are flying all over the stage. His singing octet churning out “Rose Garden” with these rhombi circling the wagons. But that’s me talking.

If you want easy geometry lessons, keep reading.

“Be the principal, be the principal…”

“Do you still need those Athletic Bus Drivers Reports-2015?”

“Coach, can’t it wait? I’m in the middle of something.”

As I promised, there was more to the story. The patient being snapped dead, who was also a handsome stud, had a thing for the professor’s wife. It was somewhat interfering with the experimenting. It came to a head when the professor forgets the combination, perhaps because he is fiercely jealous and allows the jealousy to overlap with the process at hand. Again, they had to bury this poor stud. Then one day, a colleague of his is able to help him do the correct tapping procedures, much to the horror of his wife. I’ll let you take it from there.

And I can only imagine Tevin having a thing for Mimi and Beaver tapping on Gil’s desk x amount of times to motivate Tevin to play better football and to not play with fire in the Thorp household. Like, what’s Gil going to do, have Beaver NOT tap with his Boy Scout flashlight the correct combination just so Tevin doesn’t sleep under the sheets with Mimi? We’d have an interesting plot, for once, but a casualty in exchange. How many football players are we going to send to the graveyard in the name of spicy storylines? We WON’T have a Gil strip because Gil will run out of players. Let’s not let Tevin be the sacrificial lamb and leave it at that.

And I love all the buzz words Beaver is dumping on Tevin. That’s right, after I’ve tapped my football helmet on the tackling dummy 3 times, you’ll get going when the going gets tough, you’ll be a Man of Steel, you’ll eat pressure for breakfast, heck, they’ll run a special on it down at The Diner, 2 eggs, slice of bacon, toast, juice, pressure, butter extra, for $8.79. And you’ll run off with Mimi after the Goshen game. We wouldn’t want this plot to get watered down with a bunch of cliches. Gotta keep it real.

And after Gil makes Tevin run 50 laps for making a move on his wife even though he bludgeoned the Valley opponent with his running and passing skills, we will move onto greener pastures. Okay, Tevin didn’t stay dead but we’re on a roll of stinky plots and I’d rather keep the streak alive.

“And that’ll wrap things up as the gun goes off with Milford pummeling Madison, 51-10. Tevin just went hog-wild out there. I’ll have all the stats and analysis in a moment. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“Boy, that Tevin sure can run, can’t he? He was The Franchise that night, for sure. I’m still keeping my shotgun under the bed. I don’t care how many times Beaver Butthead taps that spoon on the Trix box, I’ll shoot Tevin full of buckshot, dead or alive. I only have one wife even if she continually beats me at Yahtzee.

But I didn’t come to talk about how many times I’ve kicked the cat when Mimi beats me at Sorry! Hi, this is Coach Thorp speaking on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse and does The Warehouse have an exciting promotion for you. Our “Be The Bottle” campaign is well underway and the customers keep coming back for more.

And why not? With a purchase of Maker’s Mark 46 Premium Whiskey for what you would pay if you splurged on Milton Bradley, you will get a free motivational tape that encourages you to Be The Bottle. Shoot, we’ve had more customers say it gave them that extra stimulus to purchase more items at The Warehouse. That’s the idea. And if you buy Large Super-Sized bag of Chee-tos, we’ll throw in an extra motivational tape “Be Chester Cheetah”. Man, hearing that mantra over and over will make me buy plenty of Extra Cheesy Chee-tos when it’s all said and done.

But we ain’t stoppin’ there, nosireee. Do you think I’d use a water pistol on Tevin if I caught him in bed with Mimi? No, we’re gonna complete the deal and what better way than with every purchase of Busch Light in the 30-Pack, you will get a free inspirational message, “Be The Mountain”. That’s right, I just kick back in my lawn chair and listen on my headphones somebody repeating “Be Pike’s Peak-BUSCHHHHHHH, Be Pike’s Peak-BUSCHHHHHHHHH” and I savor the Busch as if I was in Xanadu drink the Milk of Paradise. With some pork rinds, Xanadu improved upon its product.

And we’re not leaving the wine-and-cheese crowd out of this one. With every purchase of your favorite Merlot or Sauvignon, you will get a free cassette to stick in your car player “Be Menage a Trois Red du Vin dans les Montaignes Plein des Arbres et L’Eau Fraiche, Be Menage a Trois Red du Vin dans les Montaignes Plein des Arbres et L’Eau Fraiche…”. I never understood Pig Latin so I might have trouble comprehending the message while I’m munching on Chee-tos, but hey, different strokes for different folks.

Come in and seek yout own motivation. And as a bonus, if you take advantage of our deals before this Friday, you’ll get a motivational tape from yours truly. Don’t you want to sip on a Bud and let “Be Gil Thorp, Be Gil Thorp…” sink in? You can get that and much more only at Milford Beverage Warehouse and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

Gang, relax. Tevin will rise up from the dead. Glad something is around here. God bless you, Gang.

October 19, 2021

Be The Football, Be The Football…

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 1:40 pm

Since this is getting more asinine with each waking moment, I might as well bring in one of my favorite comedies, King of Queens. Doug Heffernan (played by Kevin James) is in an episode where his wife, Carrie Heffernan (played by Leah Rimini) whups his butt in table tennis and Doug takes it as an attack on his manhood. So he reluctantly turns to his father-in-law, Arthur Spooner (played by Jerry Stiller, excellent veteran actor-comedian-yes, the father of Ben Stiller) . Doug is constantly at odds with him, especially because Arthur lives under their roof, but is willing to swallow his ego after Doug learns that Arthur was once a champion ping pong player.

So Arthur has Doug practicing hitting ping pong ball volleys with Carrie’s cooking spoons because Arthur reasons the “paddle with feel like the size of Texas”. And after a couple of smashes, the silly comparison rings true. Then Arthur has Doug listening to these motivational tapes with Arthur repeating over and over “Be the paddle, be the paddle”.

Isn’t that essentially what Boyd is doing with Tevin???? Not that Boyd has really contributed to the team, he jacks his jaw more than do any blocking. But you know Thorpiverse, those that know the least and do the least exhibit the fruits of their labor like Thor with no lightning bolt. Oh, it’ll make a crashing sound but nobody got struck. And the part where Arthur threatens to make Doug run 10 laps for insubordination, Doug responds with “Naw, I ain’t running around the ping pong table again”. What’s Boyd going to do if this fails, make Tevin run around Gil’s desk?

In bed one night at the Thorp household


“Gil what are you talking about?”

“Well, you’re dominating everything, your volleyball team, now sex in bed, it’s official!!!!!! I am the woman!!!!!!!!!!”

“Gil, are you still mad at me for beating you in Monopoly?”

So THAT’S Tevin’s problem. I was wondering why he was fumbling the football for no reason, he simply wasn’t under a spell caused by strong suggestion. And what better person to underwrite Tevin’s Excellent Adventure than to put him to sleep and put some earphones on his head and somebody whisper “Don’t be the fumbler” beaucoup times. Well, heck, Coach Thorp isn’t even coaching so why would you expect him to put you under sedation so that you can score 8 TD’s next game?

We have wasted about a month and a half getting to know Boyd Spiller and he just fails at every juncture. He couldn’t lead a pep rally full of kindergartners so why are we anticipating any success with an amateur hypnotist and that’s being generous. He no doubt read the ad on the back of his Richie Rich comic and took “Yes, you too can be a master hypnotist”. And naturally, his first guinea pig is Tevin. Did anyone REALLY expect Heather to be under hypnosis?

“You will stop being a classless boor. You will quit bossing people around when you couldn’t take orders yourself. When you wake up, you will go back to the Girls Soccer coach and say you’re sorry.”

Stay tuned.

Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Called Out For Practicing With A Dead Pig And Running Around Tackling Dummy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“The football will feel like a Nerfball after I’ve run 30 laps.”

What difference does it make whether he saw it on TV or he saw it on YouTube? If we’re going with Beaver’s logic, as long it’s on YouTube, Jerry Lawler bludgeoning Freezer Thompson in a Stooge Cage Match and throwing him around like Raggedy Ann and slamming his visage in the turnbuckle for good measure so he resembles Marty Moon using cooking spoons to shave his goatee is all legitimate unless we watch it on ESPN-Pro Wrestling Deluxe, then it’s fake.

Don’t watch Rachel Ray cook tuna casserole sauteed with green onions and cumin rounded out with Sauvignon Avec Cerises Flambe on The Cooking Channel, Milford Valley could have smuggled in cheap imitations from the wine list at The Diner and the noodles could be a doughnut strips-Star-Kist tuna melange. You know some of these cooks will do anything for ratings.

And the 1975 World Series where Carlton Fisk waved his arms to the ball so it would stay fair? Totally bogus. And a stunt double was in Fisk’s place. Fisk was sipping a martini in the dugout. No way would he go out and frantically wave his arms for Gil. Would you? You’ll have to catch it on YouTube if you want to see more Carlton and less Gil. Be the bat, be the bat… Whoopsy-daisy, I almost got myself in a trance. That’s what happens when this soporific storyline is at its peak.


“Honey-nipple, sassafras donkey’s knee, sugar plum crispy noodlums, what’s wrong?”

“You’re dominating everything!!!!!!! School, sex, my life, heck, I never even show up in this comic strip!!!!!!!! It’s official!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am the woman!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Just because I happen to be principal?”

And for once, Beaver’s hand was in proportion as in P1. But fast-forward to P2 and his hand has swollen evidently FROM hypnosis. When I count to 10, your hand will resemble Andre the Giant’s appendage (the latter could not dial on a rotary phone, they were that large) . Beaver not only possesses inflated hands but they can bend at a 90 degree angle to his forearm. This talent will come in handy when he is toting his tray at the school cafeteria. His hands are free in case he wants seconds of something like whipped potatoes or meat loaf. He can literally stiff-arm the defensve tackle out on the field, no problem.

Freak hands have struck again. And just in time for Halloween. I think I’ll go as The Tin Man. All he needed for Beaver’s Butthead position was an oil can. Oh, okay, The Scarecrow too but he only had straw to deal with. Just don’t do push-ups. Save your ulna for later use.

“Be the football, be the football-“

“Gil, what are you doing?”

“That’s the last time I lose to Oakwood on a fluke play. I should have done a better job with Chance looking the hand-off in the tuck. It’s time to hunker down.”

Oh, c’mon, Tevin. Are you really going to let Boyd Disguised As Heather perform some questionable tricks, just to up your game? Yes, I realize pro athletes go to hypnotists and positive-thinking specialists all the time. In fact, one year, back in the ’80’s, the San Francisco Giants employed a psychologist that TRAVELED WITH THE TEAM and turned out pretty useful. One of their catchers had a mental block throwing down to second. He had the catcher throw several balls to first and third, then asked “Okay. Why can’t you do the same at second?” The catcher was cured.

And what’s Boyd going to do, say “You can hold a football in the cafeteria or when you’re sitting on the john or when you’re making a move on or when you’re at the SAT Test site or flipping off Mimi or getting dressed in the locker room or watching Bridge Over The River Kwai so why can’t you hold it on tge football field?” The jury will becout for quite some time.

Be Gil Thorp, Be Gil Thorp…

OMG!!!!!!! I just had a nightmare!!!!! Whew!!!!! Thank God I have like you. God bless you, Gang.

October 14, 2021

Will I-285 Thorp Eventually Make It To The Football Field?

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 2:13 pm

During the 1982 Baseball season, the Atlanta Braves started out 13-0, masterminded by Joe Torre, a solid player himself who turned into a master strategist and motivator. Able to bring together the brilliant talents of Dale Murphy and Bob Horner, Torre also shrewdly used Chris Chambliss as a solid anchor at 1st base, an unflappable player who was a steady and smart fielder and decent bat. Torre also had Phil Niekro, a veteran pitcher whose knuckleball was a dangerous weapon (The great Willie Stargell once called it “a butterfly with hiccups”) .

The Braves were sailing along until late July when they proceeded to lose 19 of 21 games. The Los Angeles Dodgers were catching with them at a furious pace. Tommy Lasorda, their manager, a master strategist and motivator himself, willed his Dodger Blue on to the Braves’ heels (Lasorda just BLED Dodger Blue. Don Sutton, a Hall of Famer himself, so no joke as a pitcher, once said “I PITCH for the Los Angeles Dodgers.” He was promptly traded) . Things looked bleak for the Braves.

Then Pascual Perez, newly acquired by the Braves in exchange for the lanky and crafty Texan, Larry McWilliams, to bolster their somewhat struggling pitching staff which was arguably their weakest link of the team (many times, they were outslugging the other team to victory, with Murphy, Horner, Chambliss leading the team with their home run bats, Glenn Hubbard and Claudell Washington not far behind in that category) , was scheduled to pitch one night but was not present at the ball park as game time was approaching. Torre was understandably concerned and got Niekro to warm up just in case. It was becoming clear that Perez wasn’t going to show so Torre went ahead and had Niekro on the mound for the game. Whatever happened to Perez, Torre would handle later.

Boy, what a story. Pascual Perez, who hailed from Dominican Republic and therefore spoke about 20 words of English, had just received his American driver’s license and was able to drive to the ball park from his residence in Atlanta. Trouble was, he was new to Atlanta so he did not know the way to the ball park and took the first interstate available, in this case, I-285, the perimeter around Atlanta. Anybody who has taken I-285 knows how long this piece of endless black ribbon is (trust me) . As he kept driving, it was becoming more evident that he was not going to get to Fulton Cointy Stadium any time soon. And he was running out of gas. So he took the very next exit and got to the first gas station he could find. He frantically tells the cashier “I peech four Aht-lahn-tah Braves!!!!!!!!!” and the cashier naturally responded “Yeah, sure, bub, they all do.” Fortunately, another employee who was a huge Braves fan and knew about the trade recognized him and was able to help him get gas on credit, since Perez was on nickels and dimes, and gave him directions to I-20 which led straight to Fulton County Stadium.

As Perez FINALLY arrived at the game, his trying to explain to Torre what happened, his broken English just making his case that much funnier, had the team laughing in stitches. And it was arguably the turning point as the players from then on were more relaxed and played better. They went on to win the National League West that year, beating the Dodgers by a game. He was nicknamed Perimeter Pascual and Wrong-Way Perez. In fact, one night, when I was watching a Braves game on WTBS, a camera showed Perez on the steps of the dugout watching the game, the back of his warm-up jacket saying it all: “I-285 Perez”.

But that had a happy ending. I-285 Thorp is still driving around Milford with no sign we are EVER going to get to the football field. The strip today is a prime example. Boyd is still being a jackass and Tevin is still choking and you KNOW Boyd is going to be talking more than broken English after this Perimeter Plot gets back to him after the game. When do we get to the gas station? Yeah, I peech a fuuu-tbahl four Coach Dork!!!!!!!!!!! I wouldn’t be surprised if the Milford 7-11 employee gave directions AWAY from the football stadium.

Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Able To Make Oakwood Stadium For Adult Flag Football League Championship Minutes Before Kick-Off!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“The map Milford Parks & Recreation sent me is 20 years out of date, no question.”

Oh great. We have Butch, the bully from The Little Rascals, yelling at Spanky, Alfalfa, and Buckwheat not to let up on the gas pedal. And as Frank mentioned, what in the blankety-blank is he doing on the sideline ANYWAY???? Coach, I got diarrhea bad, you mind if I sit out a couple of downs? Or Coach, I have to call my mom because she’s my ride home. Can I go use the phone? Or Coach, Tevin’s going to fart the game away and I don’t want to be in the huddle when he does it, can I go hide under the bleachers? Yeah, Butch, just show up after we score. I want you to lick Tevin’s cleats in contrition.

And Butch is becoming another (brace yourselves) Heather Burns. Barking out like Benji only Benji would be soldiering with the rest of the team. And then if the team loses, he and Heather will be shoveling the most garbage at Tevin. That’s right, a bad version of a catalytic converter, dumping a lot of sewage and not being around to clean up the sewage when the team bites the big one. But never afraid to boss people around and then have the audacity to walk into the film room and brazenly spout your analysis. Lord knows, you’ve given plenty of analysis to Tevin, Butch. Why stop being Heather Hussy now?

Maybe one day, I-285 Thorp will find his way and start taking charge. He’s in Marietta now. That’s okay, Coach, I-75 is not that far. That should get you right back on the perimeter. Make sure you have a full gas tank.

“I peech four Meel-fourd Muuuuud-Lahhhks!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Wonderful. I still have to have your transcript if you want to enroll, Mr. Perez.”

And what made it funnier, the Braves staged a promotion where the first 15,000 fans got a free map on where Perez went all the time he was desperately trying to locate his destination. Needless to say, it was a well-attended game.

Lord Almighty, I could make a mint selling maps on the direction I-285 Thorp is going. That’s assuming there’s a stopping point on that particular map. Uhhhhh, maybe I need to go to Milford Realty and get my Realtor’s License. I’m not about to circle I-285 25 times and discover Mudlark Stadium is in Macon. But P2 is getting us down that very road. Just when you thought that Tevin Clapton was getting us out of the Okefonokee, he throws a pass that bounces off the Mudlark fingertips (we don’t THINK he was throwing the game by throwing straight to Mr. Goshen with the other flailing fingertips trying to prevent bringing closure to this plot) . He may have been in a long line of Milford players ignoring Gil and running the prison himself but as long as he didn’t complicate the plot by throwing the football in I-20 rush hour traffic, we weren’t going to complain.

But that’s what we’re faced with. More Tevin gaffes, possibly more Boyd garbage-spewing, more Gil head-in-the-sand rituals, repeat. Really, what does anybody expect, Boyd to turn off at the Decatur sign and pat Tevin on the back? Oh, there, there, Tevin, I know you didn’t intentionally throw to that Goshen cornerback, you were just going for broke and trying to break this one wide open. That way you didn’t have to listen to my complaining about the way you drive when you are hungry and trying to get to The Varsity off I-75 and get a chili steak before it closes. Well, you were finally off the Perimeter anyway. Did you use that map Coach I-285 got that he won at the raffle?

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Pulled Over After Traveling On I-285 For Several Hours!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Georgia State Police spokesperson: ‘Mr. Thorp appeared to be at least 500 miles from his destination.”

And yet another person introduced to us that may as well been riding with Perez when he was looking for his work venue. Dallas George sounds like Willie Nelson’s bass player. Toured with Tom T. Hall before he latched on with Willie. Now he’s stuck in a time warp and playing wide receiver for Milford. Another example of Thorpiverse trying to lay it on us with a name that was read from a music program of some Polka band that performed a conccert at Milford VFW Lodge. Yup, he’ll do nicely making the transition from playing the accordion to putting on pads and running double out rights and fly patterns.

Too bad that playing “Beer Barrel Polka” was not enough to help his dexterity when attempting to field a slightly errant Tevin Clapton offering. He could jump up and down when going to town on “Roll Out The Barrel” but not high enough to inevitably watch a Carolina Blue recover the pigskin. And you get this sick-gut feeling Dallas will be with us in the future. Not obscure enough to be hauling in tips for Nick’s Pizza at Milford Donkey Softball Charity Event To Eliminate Breast Cancer (No pink donkeys, puh-lllleeeaaaasseeeee) but not notable enough to take Heather’s place and not holding my breath on the latter possibility. Maybe get the put-back when some Mudlark blows the dunk. This can be adjusted as Gil keeps driving and this time doesn’t drive to Savannah.

At Milford Comedy Caravan

“…what do I look like, someone driving on the Perimeter, trying to find the gym?”

A heckler simply answers


And what is it with all these trapeze artists lately???? Now Goshen is getting in on the act. The Goshenite in P3 resembles what happens when Batman beats The Joker to a bloody pulp and is sent reeling to the ground. Don’t let the ground jar the pigskin loose, Joker. Indiana University has long been an NCAA Swimming powerhouse, paricularly under Doc Councilman. Mark Spitz, 7-time Gold Medal winner in the Munich Olympics, was one of his pupils. I swear, Doc could have used that Goshenite given his diving technique in the 3-Meter Platform. Or maybe that’s the form to use when engaged in the 200-Meter Breaststroke. Shoot, Lilly King, put on a helmet, with your style you’ll get Goshen back in the game. Heather Burns isn’t the only female to step between the hedges and you have more class and Gold Medals than Heather will ever concoct in that seedy brain of hers. Now I’d hold off on the 100-Meter Backstroke. Goshen, we’re going TOWARDS the end zone, remember? Oh, you could take I-285 like Coach Thorp is currently engineering but why dance around the mulberry bush to spike the ball when you score? That’s like swimming the 100-Meter Freestyle around Lake Michigan.

“And that ends the third quarter. Milford is leading Goshen, 23-10, thanks to Coach Clapton’s masterminding the offense. Coach T. must still be wiping his gluteus in the Port-A-Pot. We’ll be back after these messages. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

At Milford Comedy Caravan

“If you’re feeling salty, then I’m your tequila

If you got the freedom, then I got the time-

Mimi and her kids bolt tbrough the emergency exit doors

“There he is, Mommy. Why is he getting smoochy-faced with Dr. Pearl?”

“Keri, sometimes Daddy gets a little misguided when he’s trying to satisfy Mommy. Pssst, Gil, get off stage!!!!!!!!! You’re setting a bad example!!!!!!!!!”

“There ain’t nuthin’ sweeter than naked emotions

So if you show me yours, Hon, I’ll show you mine”

“Mommy, is he and Dr. Pearl going to get naked on stage? I saw Granny Clampett undress on TV. Her boobs hung like those gourds in the kitchen.”

“Don’t be silly, Honey!!!!!! He knows if she does any undressing, I’ll be hanging something and it won’t be Dr. Pearl’s gourds or Granny Clampett. My gourds and EREC-3500 will solve his problems and end this awful rendition.”

“No Ma’am, I know this ain’t all you’ve ever been used to

You with your rings on your fingers and time on your hands”

“Mommy, are they going to get married? I thought he was married to you.”

“Oh, he’ll have time on his hands if he continues rubbing noses with Dr. Pearl-“

“And she keeps massaging Daddy’s butt. Is she trying to get his wallet?”

“Pssstt!!!!! Gil!!!!!!! Get off stage and come home!!!!!!! Don’t make me leave you over Fred Flintstone’s mother-in-law!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Sometimes it’s nice to have somebody nice to be close to

God know I’ve been there before you and I understand”

“Mommy, is Dr. Pearl going to sleep with Daddy tonight? Because I have room in my bed. I’ll move all my teddy bears and E.T. dolls out of the way.”

“Jaime, you will sleep BY YOURSELF and so will Gil only out in the tool shed if Dr. Pearl intends to Lay Down Sally. Now Gil, it’s now or never. Tomorrow will be too late. My love won’t wait either for Mrs. Clampett or Marge Simpson.”



Dr. Pearl’s dentures drops in a patron’s martini glass

“Mommy, yuk, I’ve never smoochied Lassie when she had no teeth.”

Heard from the audience

“The show’s over. Is Kris Kristofferson going to be here like he promised?”

“I kissed and made up with Mimi but made sure I used Poly-Grip before I did. It was all an act, a fundraiser to get more textbooks for Milford High. But it didn’t disguise my Erectile Dysfunction and Granny Clampett was not getting me any more sexually excited than a tree stump. It was time to confront my problem. The EREC-3500 came to the rescue. One pill and a glass of Nestea and I was more erect than a natural land bridge. Come to the professional and friendly staff at Milford Men’s Clinic and get your own hard part of Mother Nature. Life will be sweeter and so will your wife.”

Gang, that’s not The Riddler in P3. He’s green and has question marks all over him. Okay, okay, this plot has a lot of question marks all over it but it isn’t green!!!!!!! But God bless you, Gang.

“I wish I was the answer to all of your questions

God knows I know you wish you were the answer to mine”

“Gil, come to bed. Now.”

October 12, 2021

“…’Til I Saw The Quintilateral, In Your Eyyyyeeeess.”

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 2:14 pm

It was late one night

I was feeling something wasn’t right

There was not another ‘Lark in sight

Only Gil, only Gil

But we played along

Though we knew the Delaware was wrong

And some Goshen hit me, oh so strong

Lost the ball

Then I gazed up at Gil

And the Lego light was shining still

Cauterized the light

In our eyes

In our eyes

I’m sure you’ve heard me say this before, I am a HUGE Todd Rundgren who was long overdue to enter the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame and I have always loved “I Saw The Light” (not to be confused with the song performed by the great Hank Williams) , off his vintage Something/Anything? record. When I saw that Lego light, the inspiration was all academic.

And we continue with Bobble head Moon who passes for an egregiously bad Charlie Chan stand-in, still continuing to be a lion with no teeth. The Moon we all knew and loved would have been more than a crippled metaphor offered in P1. Like the offense is stagnant and really isn’t scoring the 7 touchdowns by halftime like Gil practically promised but of course failed to fulfill. That the Delaware Wing-T is in serious need of bowel movement and that Gil needs to shit or get off the field, and heck, get off the field whether he’s pooping on the 50-yard line or not, and that this constipated offense needs Tevin AND some Maalox to make it exciting once again and that the only thing coming out of this stadium is pentagons and bad lighting, certainly not points and victories in this game anyway. This 5-sided figure of an offense belongs in a used geometry book in the Milford School Corporation Textbook Warehouse, not with Tevin Clapton, who’s doing his own thing anyway. Yeah, the Delaware River was only useful when General Washington crossed it.

I saw the movie “Honeysuckle Rose” which was panned by critics but I thought gave a good workable Good Bad & Ugly of touring as a Country Music band. Willie Nelson does an admirable job playing Buck Bonham, a struggling but persistent performer and still tries to do justice with his wife, Viv(played by Dyan Cannon) , as a husband. His guitar player (played by the venerable veteran actor, Slim Pickens) retires so the guitar player’s daughter proves to be a more-than-adequate replacement. The problem is, Buck and this girl start to get, shall we say, warmer and warmer with each other, at the risk of Buck’s wife finding out.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Mimi Thorp Upset Over Questionable Behavior At Milford Comedy Club!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I would never get kissy-faced with Hadley V., that wasn’t the plan anyway.”

Marty, people who eat Diet Van Camp’s Beans are on low-octane gas. People who pump Dasani Water in their gas nozzle are on low-octane gas. Dr. Pearl when she skips her Shredded Wheat for breakfast is on low-octane gas. If you’re going to be the Queen of England in your broadcasting booth, i.e., spouting farting from lentil soup with nobody listening to you, make the analogies stick. You can start by saying this plot is on no-octane gas. Farting without the smell. Some of the time, for that matter. Now we’re getting somewhere.

At the Milford Comedy Club

“…you show me yours, Hon, and I’llllllll show you mine!!!!!!!!”

“Does Will and Terry know that Gil is singing with Peppermint Patty?”

Though we ran the Wing

We had not a clue to run this thing

We prayed little bells would start to ring

In our heads

In our heads

So I tried to run

Though I knew it wouldn’t help me none

‘Cause we couldn’t pass or stop no one

Or so I said

But our feelings for Gil

Were just something that is buried still

And we caught that light

In our eyes

In our eyes

What is it with all these hyphenated words that are backfiring like Archie’s jalopy???? At least the latter got Archie to Riverdale High School on time. Can we just say IN PLAIN ENGLISH that Goshen has the ball, is playing on its field, and got stopped by the Mudlarks so the game isn’t a barn-stomper, to use T-versespeak. So far, the Delaware Wing-T (this is raging out of control) has been Gil-Thorped and Tevin is having to Barry-Bader the offense so that Milford doesn’t go directly to jail or get Mr.-Bader’d. I mean, I let the low-octane slide because even if it was a poorly-expressed analogy, a real Marty-Mooner-when-his-sex-life-is-on-low-octane-when-Peaches-slam-bam-jams the sheets, it was within the realm of what was transpiring on the gridiron. Thorpiverse is cluster-pooped after spoon-feeding his thesaurus to his dog and now is having to impress the readership with bloated-Jell-o words that sound good but really create hardly any home-field advantage. But I’ve been cluster-pooped before.

And let’s see what would happen if Thorpiverse were to write parts of the Gettysburg Address

Four score and seven dog years ago

Our Fathers brought forth on this home-field,

A new nation conceived in Delaware Wing-T-lacking behavior

And dedicated to the don’t-end-a-sentence-with-a-preposition

That all men are created equal, except for those Gil-Thorped in untimely-fashion.

I think I’ll stick with Lincoln’s version.

“You show me yours now and I’ll show you mine.”

“Gil, not yet!!!!!! Sorry, he’s still learning Old Maid.”

And if we’re not careful, this Carolina Blue Concept will not be confined to football uniforms. I don’t think that Mudlarks will embrace the color scheme on their baseball, table tennis, archery, Major Modified badminton, basketball, donkey basketball, rowing, cross country, outdoor figure skating team uniforms but I’ve been Gil-pooped before.

It still scares me that when Chance and Charlie go through the cafeteria array, they’ll be purchasing Carolina Blue Twinkies and Carolina Blue meat loaf. And to think, I thought The Diner cornered the market on the latter. Or that Dr. Pearl will be getting files out of her Carolina Blue file cabinet and write Due Process forms in triplicate and Carolina Blue. Marty Moon will be sporting a Carolina Blue goatee. Bobby Howry stating “Gil Bites The Big One!!!!!!!!!!” on a Carolina Blue billboard.

Then there’s the hands. I have the Mudlark accounted for, he resembles the paw positions when Lassie wants a Milk Bone. But what happened to the Goshenite’s right hand? We know he has a left hand, that’s not chop-brocaded but his right hand disappeared and MAYBE emerged on the other side, via the carpal tunnels of his left hand. He won’t get first downs that way. Abracadabra, the amazing Gilberto has made your hand disappear inside your helmet. He certainly does magic tricks better than the Delaware Wing-T.

If ya run around on yore wife by sneakin’ round Willie Nelson’s wife but he runs around on his wife by takin’ Mimi ta Mudlark Lake Resort but Gil can’t run around cuz he’s still tryin’ a locate Delaware, ya might be a redneck.

When I was in high school, I had an excellent English teacher named Mr. Wootton. He taught Semantics and the class was a blast. Basically, he taught not to take things at face value. He showed a film and one of the things it talked about was what happened if people were deprived of their senses and placed in a room in solitary confinement, no sight, sound, touch, taste, smell. The results were interesting.

People were seeing all kinds of strange things and hearing strange things, well, because their senses were under wraps. I think one of the things they saw is emanating from that Lego block. Evidently, Thorpiverse has been sensory-deprived, judging by the monsters and ghoulies under and in the night light. It’s bad enough that this plot is reality-deprived but we’d really not care to see tangible evidence of it.

And what else would you expect Clapton to say?

“We gotta stick with the game plan. Coach says sometimes you have to stick with the Delaware Wing-T’s in life if you’re searching for a new house with your fiancee.”

The ball’s in your court, Clapton.

“And that ends the 1st quarter with the score, Goshen, 7, Milford, 0. Coach T. still has something to show me to convince me that this Carolina Blue-T is going to score points. We’ll be back after these messages. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“Life can be difficult when you’re 678 pounds. It’s no fun waiting until everybody gets off the elevator before you can travel solo to your doctor’s appointment. When the Milford City Fire Marshal bans you from taking the escalator at Milford City Mall, it’s time to take action.

Greetings, this is Mabel Ruth Pearl, and yes I’m kin to Dr. Pearl, but no, she did not weigh in at the truck scales like I was ordered to do by the Milford Appellate Court. It used to be frustrating when you were the only car pulled over by the Milford DOT for carrying excessive tonnage on the streets and roads.

Thank Heavens, Milford Liposuction Academy was a Godsend. I loved their prep activities. I was to drink eight glasses of water the day before the procedure. They wanted to make sure I was cleared of any excess stoolage. Then I was given sodium bicyclahexanoltertiaryacetiphrine that I had to drink every ten minutes to ensure that my system was clear and easy for the tubes to maneuver while attacking the globular structures in my physiological components. It was a nasty version of Nestle Quik, what happens when you mix that and stewed tomatoes but I only regurgitated once so I patted myself on the back. Oh, and I was required to stop my medications until I was sucked dry but a small price to postpone Bufferin, Hayley’s M-O, and Ridelin to experience liberation from the Body Mass Index demons that were becoming impossible to exorcise.

The procedure could not have been handled better if the Milford Synchronized Swimming Association were on top of this. The IV needle felt like a gentle invasion into my forearm. And when they stuck the local anesthetic up my nose and put me to sleep, I could dream about the load being taken off, Fanny. I wondered where some of the hoses were going and why some were connected with the EKG machine but when I was light as a feather and could race ten times around the Academy parking lot in my Red Ball Jets, it was not for me to wonder why but simply lose or die. And losing’s better than dying. Just ask Coach Thorp.

I am a new person. I am no longer declared a safety hazard on the Golden Gate Bridge. The ban was lifted this week. If you have weight issues and they are issuing problems when you in a pedway, you owe it to yourselves to consult the professional team at Milford Liposuction Academy. Bring your life in harmony by shedding the discord in your gluteus maximus.”

Gang, Eric Clapton is a great guitarist but doubtin’ he can Michael Vick this one. He needs to read the playbook more. But God bless you anyway.

But this sucks the best

This whole playbook is performed in jest

It’s the worst schemes above all the rest

Under the lights

And we’ve run this before

But we won’t run it anymore

Can’t you see bad lights

In Gil’s eyes

In Gil’s eyes…

October 7, 2021

Look, Kianna, Second-Rate Is Better Than Third-Rate.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 2:03 pm

We are not certain what planet Mimi landed on but she did manage to snare some serious hardware to fly back to earth with as she shamelessly brandishes the trophy in P1. I’m going to go out on a limb to say this is volleyball we’re talking about although Thorpiverse is sending us in so many directions with too many props that could have us guessing either way. Now if there is no goal post by the volleyball net, okay, we’re going to see a volleyball match. Scratch that, the Mudlark fans and the other teams and fans will see this coffee-enriched affair, we’re naturally left hanging as to what went on. We’ll just take Thorpiverse’s word that they didn’t stick a Ouija board in the middle of the court and try to summon Principal Ek or Jim Morrison from the dead. Oh, Morisson’s autobiography, “Nobody Gets Out Alive” has merit except what would happen if Gil or Mimi got killed off? Who’d continue the cluelessness? No, Jim, we have to get out unscathed, at least until the week’s over.

And the balance beam is throwing the proverbial monkey wrench into the gears. So while we’re getting our eyes adjusted to the set, we go back to the original premise, i. e., the Mudlarks are not hoisting mediocrity from participating in a shuffleboard tournament. Was Cindy Brady, to the right of Coach Mimi, the leading scorer? Yeah, we whupped some behind beating Aurora, some Valley doormats, and a couple of tongue-twisting out-of-town schools in that All-Comers Lawn Jart Invitational. Yayyyyyyyy, Coach Mimi, that inspiring pre-game speech before they competed in horseshoes really did the trick.

And as a couple of readers have astutely observed, we’re still in No-Man’s Land on whether Mimi is the gymnastics coach along with her duties (loosely translated) as volleyball coach. Maybe. But she is already committed (see last quote in parenthesis) to bocce, basketball, bowling, badminton, co-ed horseshoes, double-oar creek-modified girls rowing, donkey basketball (sometimes confused with the regular basketball team) , water-skiing, hog wrestling, table tennis, asphalt-court tennis, ailanthus-free concrete tennis and water polo. These pursuits take a lot of her time and if she wants to do justice to any of them, she has to stay on her girls when the sapling is attempting to pin the hawg to the mat. Juggling rasslin’ hawgs in the mud vs. teaching a gymnast to flip on the balance beam can take its toll. I’m needing more information.

Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Upset Over Ramifications At Milford City Co-ed Horseshoe Tournament!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“After the third ringer, I told the judge he had to throw with his other hand.”

I am honestly trying to differentiate what’s in everybody’s hand in P1. Let’s get the easy part first. Cindy is giving a thumbs-up in victory, no sense in flipping the bird when you’re facing the Fourth Estate. Take your hard-fought mediocre status and get out of the building. That’s logical. And Mimi does have the trophy by the throat and appears to send a message that she will crown anybody with it if they try to snatch it out of hand. No, the Kettering nose tackle will not jar this one loose. Mimi looked mediocrity all the way in the tuck.

But WHAT is the girl on the left holding? Foghorn Leghorn’s scalp? His jew’s harp? His afro pick? I realize she may be slap-happy, you get that way when you win but do you grab the first thing you see in the gym? Thank God cows weren’t roaming the volleyball floor. She might have been waving a cow udder next to Mimi’s trophy. I love The Rolling Stones but “High Tides and Green Grass” raised in triumph next to a $25 trophy really looks out of order. Wait a minute. Foghorn dropped his dentures and she picked them up right when the photographer snapped the picture. Good Samaritan and Volleyball Champ, Milford received a stellar image and a trophy. Now wipe that Play-Doh off your smiles, Ladies.

If ya got 3rd place instead uv 2nd place in the Milford Foundry Company Picnic Horseshoe Tournament cuz ya ate too many jowl bacon sandwiches and th’ PBR wouldn’t wash it down, ya might be a redneck.

And having let this sink in some more (like the college professor at Milford Community College used to say “Get your Gil activated before you open your mouth”) , Mopman makes some very keen observations. There is really no way that could be Mimi in P2, especially if you go back and look at Mimi in other panels and note that her hair is not at bathroom-towel length like Chance Macy’s piece of cloth the other day when he did an Ozzie flip in the end zone. But I completely understand Jive Turkey’s consternation as we are running ragged from football to volleyball and with Kianna not shown in the display of Milford Solidarity in P1, the 3rd place medal could easily get confused with the 3rd place trophy. That’s what happens when Milford Volleyball are a united front on Bastille Day but Kianna didn’t make it because she was at a car wash. Oh, after she won the medal that day, of course.

And with the plots crossing wires with each other, it reminds me off the sound systems at Woodstock. But at least there they eventually came out of the same speakers. In Thorpiverse, try to imagine Joe Cocker flailing his arms on “With A Little Help From My Friends” and the music blaring out of a 5-and-dime in Warwick, Rhode Island. Yeah, the T-verse Way makes me want to buy tube socks in the Men’s section while my eardrums are being shattered. I pity the patrons at the 5-and-dime snack bar.

Just days ago, we had Beaver talking smack after he himself started his own mini-plot by being an idiot on stage and now we have Mimi convincing us that the key to winning mediocre volleyball tournaments is to tip better at a Starbucks outlet, you’ll get better coffee and raised coxcombs in victory that way, before we are compelled to deal with Kianna’s semi-anger issues. That’s her problem, she should have drunk more Taster’s Choice. And what was Gil doing getting off the bus? Are we starting another plot? I can’t travel in my own car, let alone make football practice because my Lexus needs an overhaul which will take until the end of the football plot. Oh, don’t worry, Coach, T-verse will find a way to mix it in with the rest of the Chili con Shitty Plots. We’ll be farting in technicolor by Thanksgiving, rest assured.

I’M GOIN’ HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’M GOIN’ HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’M GOIN’ HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


“Dr. Pearl, would you mind turning that down? They can hear you on the second floor.”

“But my RCA Victrola is unplugged.”

Then there’s the, I presume, gymanastics hall in P2. But it reminds of the time that Jay Leno called the mini-theaters at a Cineplex a Communist de-briefing room. The surroundings where Kianna and her tutor, the latter evidently using mulch to regularly grow her hair, are standing certainly match the description.

Are those towels on the seating area/possible heating unit/part-time gymanastics vault/occasional bar counter when it’s Miller time? I ruled out curtains because there’s no way on God’s green earth they could cover the windows being presented. I wouldn’t even say cleaning cloths to use when you’re applying Windex, unless you’re using brocaded curtains for cleaning materials. And don’t even mention tutus. Now who’s going to dump their tutu on the heater to go do WHAT? Order a pizza? They have to strip themselves of their tutu to call Domino’s? Go take a whiz? Somebody’s racing butt-naked to a Port-a-Pot? They had to change clothes? Where were they going? Yeah, they left their tutu on the bar counter to take the subway home. The conductor wouldn’t allow any more people to wear their tutus to work. That included return trips. I could see his point, I reckon. I wouldn’t want my Allstate agent dressed in a tutu. I feel more comfortable when he’s in a suit and tie.

And what is in the corner? Is that a medicine cabinet or a liquor locker? I’m trying but Miss Elongated Pony Tail surely can’t be stashing Jack Daniels or Bud Lite under all the tutus in that compartment. She can drink on her own time. It’s hard for me to imagine her consoling Kianna when she’s downing Jim Beam with a glass of Tropicana as a chaser. Pep talks are really outcof the question when she has Bacardi on her breath. And are those gas cans below the liquor cabinet? When you run out of gas, don’t push your car, get your butt into the gymnastics room, there’s plenty of unleaded or diesel. That’d make sense. We wouldn’t want cars left in the parking garage overnight.

At Milford Comedy Club

“…what do I LOOK LIKE when I get off the bus? The same as I’ve ever looked when I coached the first time. Only with Don Knotts on the baritone and Adam West on the tuba.”

Complete silence

Heard somewhere by the piano

“Think we should play ‘Tea for Two’?”

“Nahhhh, that only works on Carson.”

And what did anybody EXPECT in P3 outside of a pissy-faced visage we are currently encountering? Oh, yeah, Coach Mulched Hair, it’s all about the sportsmanship anyway. Even if I finished 224th at the Vault Competition, it’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game. The other gymnast is simply superior and I’m an insouciant myrmidon in this gym. I’m simply happy to be here and it’s another extracurricular activity in my development of my teenage years and something I can stick on my resume when I interview for assistant manager at McDonald’s. No big deal.

And what’s complicating the picture is all the other plot developments thst are swimming around in the water and never coming to shore. DON’T attempt to fish in this lake. We got blind-sided by Beaver’s inane commentary only to now step into Kianna’s doggy-doo. And is anybody really expecting closure to either one SOON, if at all. This is like getting dragged to a guillotine, only to watch the executioner and the town official talk about the latest ramblings in Milford. Talk about a slow death. Could anyone imagine your head not getting chopped off in a timely manner because all the townspeople are arguing over who’s going to win the Valley Conference in Football this year? There’s a Stay of Execution because the Jay’s Subs driver just pulled up? Thank God Mike Knappe didn’t get his head chopped off for having one too many table knives in his locker. Who’s gonna want to eat Nick’s Pizza Deep Dish Pepperoni when we’re farting around before they FINALLY let the blade drop on Mike’s neck? Talk about the Cubs’ Postseason chances before the execution with a Nick’s Breadstick in your mouth? Do you see my point? I hope?

“And that wraps up this Valley Conference Volleyball Round Robin Tournament. Milford High School.has just received its Best Average Team in the Conference. We’ll be back for final thoughts after these messages. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“Damn, I’m glad my wife won that Tournament. Raising her arms in triumph means The Revolution won and that all the other volleyball teams will literally go to the chopping block. Price you pay when you compete.

But i am not here to talk about Kianna not heading to the gallows because she was busy earning 1st place on the uneven bars. Hi, this is Coach Thorp on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse and we have a serious problem that makes me want to barf all over my Joel Gott 815 Cabernet digitalized coupon. Some people out there are making a mockery out of our Depend Undergarments promotional. They think they can come in here with their Grandma Moses wig and walk out with Busch Light 30-Pak and a free pair of heavy-duty Fruit of the Looms. Well, Grandma, you may have hocked something to literally help you hold your liquor the first time but if you think you’re going to come in again and we’ll throw in a free bag of Milford Vending Pork Rinds, you’ve been snorting too many gas fumes out of your getaway car.

How dare you put on make-up and try to pass as Grandpa Jones from Hee Haw just so you can purchase Maker’s Mark Whiskey and some Captain Morgan Spiced Rum and throw in a box of Cap’n Crunch just so you get over the $30 limit and get the finest in the undergarment industry!!! Was it worth getting the Depend Flatulation Repellent Senior Adult Undergarments at the expense of some 83-year-old man who missed out on The Good Life, especially the Finlandia Vodka in his flat, and couldn’t get to his water closet without leaving a trail?

But we’re onto you, Mr. Pseudo-Senior Adult. At every cash register there will be Milford Pinkerton Security Personnel who will monitor transactions of liquor and Depends. And you better have your ID’s ready. Anybody trying to purchase Jack Daniel’s #7 Tennessee Whiskey, Menage a Trois Red Cabernet, Michelob Ultra, some Keebler Sandies out of the cookie aisle and Milford Vending Diet Beer Nuts just so he or she can get a free case of Depend Ultra Hold Faberge Scented Undergarnents better have proper papers available. Believe me, we can tell the difference between your appearing as Grandpa from The Munsters and your Pebbles or Bam-Bam photo on your driver’s license. We will nip this urinary tract leakage in the bud. Nice try, Bam-Bam.

And most people won’t show their faces or their crotches for that matter because of all the moisture lingering on either facet of their body. But for those who are going to bring in Pretty Boy Floyd, we have Milford SWAT team on call 24 hours to combat the abuses of the Senior Adult Internal Products Industry. So Dillinger, don’t even think of bringing your machine gun with you just because you failed to fool anybody when getti g carded. The Warehouse is prepared to confront any Al Capone-wannabe who tries to strong-arm his Risata White Moscato del Vino Fresco e Poma Rica Al Dente, Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc, Miller High Life 24-Pak, Milford Dairy Sea Salt Caramel Truffle Ice Cream plus the Depend Constipation Control Organic Processed Undergarments past the cashier. Actions have consequences, Mr. Capone. They’ll also have you accompanied by a SWAT soldier to a paddy wagon. Me, I couldn’t take my grandpa’s Edy’s Ice Cream, His fifth of Jack, and his Hanes by force. But that’s me talking.

Come to Milford Beverage Warehouse today where the booze is fine and the promo items are scrutinzed for our customer’s protection. Send your Grandpa and Grandma to The Warehouse with newfound confidence in the Lyft car and tell them that Coach Thorp sent ya.”

VIVE LE FRANCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, sorry, Gang, that’s the Milford Volleyball team getting its Sportsmanship Award. I’ll get it right one day. God bless you, Gang, in the interim.

At Milford Girls-A-Go-Go Club

“Why is Butterfield Blues Band playing in the men’s room?”

“Dunno. Lemme talk to the manager.”

October 5, 2021

This Plot Didn’t Lay An Egg, It Just Got Knocked Loose.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 1:48 pm

I’ve been run down and I’ve been harped at

And I don’t know why I let that nose tackle make me a fool

They took the damn Nerfball, wrecked the Wing-T

Now I’m chewed on by my chumpy buddy

Who’s relishing picking my sanity

Sometimes I feel





Oh Gil, I feel like I’m dyin’.

Oh, you whippersnappers knew I had to insert another classic to slay the Gil. This Allman Brothers jewel has always sent me into turbocharge and I’m applying that turbocharge to a very ridiculous exchange that’s wearing thinner by the game. You mean to tell me that every week we’re going to have to put up with these silly exchanges between Beaver Spiller and Tevin Clapton? Because I get a sick-gut feeling this Abbott & Costello interplay will carry on even if Tevin doesn’t choke. I mean, I really can’t see (and really don’t want to see) Beaver nitpicking until it hurts. Man, Tevin, did you dip your mouth in a sewer? You could use a Breath-Mint before we get on the bus. And did you double-check in the fitting room at Macy’s before you put on that jock strap? It’s so loose, I can see your testicles from Phoenix. That’s a thong bikini you could slap on Goliath. And why do you sit behind Coach Thorp on the bus? Are you trying to be another Heather Burns? Shooooo-eeeeeee, I’ll never lick Gil’s boots. I don’t want to be an assistant coach that bad.

Because i was really expecting this to end once Tevin proved himself and has at least shown he can play high school football. I cannot imagine a Leave it to Beaver episode where Beaver is criticizing Eddie Haskell at quarterback, especially in a trash-talking mode. You throw the football like June Cleaver. Boy, that cuts deep. You run the end-around with the speed of Lumpy Rutherford. Man, Heather, are you going to PRINT THAT? How can I face my friends? Dad, Wally said I couldn’t hang onto the football because I have muscles of a squirrel. Hoo boy, save that for the placard I’m going to display Friday night. Oh heck, let’s let Beaver go full bore. Eddie, they be callin’ you Crappy Vacuum Cleaner, you be suckin’ out loud and pretty bad. Shoot, they be callin’ you Ice Cream, you done melted when the heat’s on. And I know you like to go on vacation and you do more traveling than Michael Jordan and Patrick Ewing combined. Okay, it’s NBA we’re talkin’ here but hey, to quote Stuart Scott, I’m buttah, I’m on a roll.

The point is, if we’re going to watch Beaver Spiller ply his needling on his teammate, I’m just offering suggestions to move this along at a tolerable rate. No sense watching Beaver try be something he’s not without a little help from his friends.

Okay, Depend Undergarments has a legitimate reason to stay in business. I just really don’t care to watch a man prepare for his daughter’s wedding pulling his britches up at the hotel room in the name of selling a product. With that in mind

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Withstands Another Advertisement Endorsement Overture Despite Generous Compensation!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I ain’t wearin’ no Depends with my flag football jersey on my person.”

And then Tevin utters the most You-Say-To-MAY-To- I-Say-To-MAH-To statement this side of the Valley Conference. And Tevin, what DIFFERENCE does it make, you didn’t hang on to the football and somebody jarred it loose. You have to tuck it in, Big Guy. Yeah, I’m sure the Kettering nose tackle managed to knock it free but that’s why you TUCK IT IN so that doesn’t happen. As much as I deeply respect Gene Keady, longtime Purdue Men’s Basketball coach, one year Purdue lost on their home floor, Mackey Arena (TOUGH place for opponents to garner a win) , to Northwestern, the doormat of the Big Ten Conference that year. Coach Keady made a good point, you warm up casual, you play casual. But Coach, I hate to break it to you IT’S YOUR JOB to make sure that doesn’t happen. The ball was dropped at Mackey whether the Boilermaker lost his grip or the Northwestern Wildcat jarred out of his hands to go down the court for an easy score.

God, my worst nightmare is being at Mackey Arena and Beaver Spiller is in his Boilermaker Pete outfit lecturing me on my rebounding technique. The Wisconsin Badger got the rebound because I didn’t jump higher than Don Noort. The Minnesota Golden Gopher retrieved the ball because I needed a butt bigger than The Skipper to block out. The Michigan State Spartan cleaned the glass because I left my Windex in booth #6 at The Diner.

This is going to be a long season.

If ya dropped yore deer rub at Milford IGA cuz anuther shoppin’ cart rammed into ya cuz they wuz DWI and the store manager had ta use Janitor in a Drum ta mop up the mess, ya might be a redneck.

Teammates tell me that I’ve been a fumblin’ fool

And I’ve had to stand by and take it, Baby, when I shouted “Gil rules!!!!!”

Drown myself in sorrow as my game has gone undone

But nothing seemed to change, the bad games stayed the same

I still can’t run

Sometimes I feel





Oh Gil, I feel this plot dyin’

Sure, why not, let’s waste the next three panels debating whether the chicken or the football came first. The caption says it all, not that ANY of us is wanting this useless exchange of words to continue ad nauseum, although that appears to be the route being pursued. We couldn’t settle this before we boarded the bus, no, no, no. Now we’re branching off into several different directions and veering from the original premise. I remember when I was in school, Mr. Russ, excellent social studies teacher, did an activity where he takes a student out in the hallway and tells a joke, then has that student tell that same joke to student #2 in the hallway, student #2 tell that joke to student #3 in the hallway and so on until it reached, say, the 33rd student. By the time it reached the 33rd student, it was so badly malformed from the original joke that it had lost its punch.

I think you see my point. No, I didn’t fumble it and it wasn’t a football anyway, it was a piece of zucchini. And I racked the nose tackle in the crotch while the defensive end jumped over the moon while Gil ran off with the spoon and Marty Moon did his best imitation of Charles Mingus’ Ah Um album cover when I did cough up that Gulden’s Mustard. I remember the band playing Allman Brothers’ “Statesboro Blues” when Chance Macy wiped his butt with that bathroom tissue before he flipped into the end zone and you were picking your nose with a rake because the water boy didn’t have a Kleenex and Gil was too busy and Hadley V. Baxendale drove on the field to yell at Gil “Off with his head!!!!!!!!!!!” because the queen was at The Bucket with Alice and Alice didn’t care for Bucket Chili because it made her fart in spades, hearts, clubs, diamonds. And this is just the second panel, mind you.

In Dr. Pearl’s office while “One Way Out” is blaring from her RCA Victrola

“Mr. Luhm, can you dispose of my excess Depends? I don’t want to create a scene.”

“No problem, I’ll just use them to cover the plants in the gardens so they don’t get exposed to frost. Spray-paint some black Krylon, nobody’ll notice the difference.”

Naturally, nobody’s looking at each other while engaging in this sluggish slugfest. Yo Mama’s so ugly, she got arrested by the Milford Police for indecent exposure. Funny, Fred Sanford, did you just now get that off your cell phone? Dial-a-Put-Down? Gordon is preoccupied with Harry and Steve (Rob is going to kill me) and the Mudlark dude in the back of the bus is on his walkee-talkee in a dialogue with Field Marshal Montgomery on how Milford can stave off the Battle of the Bulge. Now I THINK Tevin Clapton, judging by his hand position, is halfway acknowledging that we are still in Trash Talk Mood and maybe isn’t wanting Beaver Spiller to extend his hurling of barbs, kinda like hoping Beaver goes on welfare rather than steal your lunch money. But the way Beaver is grabbing the bus seat as if indicating that he enjoys grabbing opportunity by the throat as long he doesn’t rip the vinyl off the seat, Tevin is not going to have anywhere to sit if Beaver keeps hand-humping the seating arrangement in the bus. Yo Mama is so bad with the football, they had to staple the football on one of her boobs so she could look it in the tuck. Yo Mama’s so slow on the field, the maintenance guy turned on the water sprinkler by the time she reached the end zone. Yo Mama’s butt’s so big, the defensive coordinator used it alone on the defensive line in a 4-3. Beaver, have you been reading Fred’s script again?

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Voted #1 Sex Symbol In Newspaper Survey!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“News analyst: ‘His posing in those Red Depends with the MTV logo stenciled in while taking off his baseball pants on this month’s Milford Today sent this one over the edge.”

And are we going to keep experiencing this cycle, insult, concede, repeat???? For the next 2-3 months???? I’d rather not have Beaver Sanford over for Thanksgiving. Yo Mama’s so fat, she canslide down an escalator with her feet never touching the steps. I agree, Fred, I’ll mail-order some Nutrament bars. It’s like pushing the Sisyphean Boulder while listening to Fred uttering garbage about my Mama. Fortunately, Gordon is having none of this and may be the equalizer to this whole junkyard that’s accumulating more junk. And that’s just on the bus.

No, Fred, I’ll keep pushing. And I’ll get some pads for my Mama so she isn’t flatter than a mesa.

“And we’ll be back to wrap things up after these messages as Milford almost gave yet another one away to the opponent. Christmas didn’t come early for Kettering. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“Marty Moon needs to get a real job. I didn’t give that game away, I was just trying to be a gentleman and give Kettering one last chance. But he got rejected at the Depends Undergarments photo audition because nobody could imagine a guy with a Magic Johnson goatee posing as a senior citizen with a bladder problem. That tells you a lot about his character.

But I’m not here to talk about jerks sitting in front of the photographer in his Fruit of the Looms at minimum scale. Hi, this is Coach Thorp speaking on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse and they ARE aware that some of our customers have bladder problems that preclude their ability to indulge in Nature’s Finest. Now we could bury our heads in the Depend XXX Large Undergarment and watch these same customers buy booze at our competitors or we could meet ’em at the gate and turn a negative into a positive. I’ll let you do the math on that one.

So right now, in the month of October, for every $30 purchase you make, The Warehouse will give you absolutely free a carton of Depend Undergarments in your choice of size and color. The days of buying a bottle of Jack and subsequently having to relieve yourself in the far end of the parking lot where no one’s looking are over.

Just think, Some lucky guy can walk in with confidence because he had bought Jim Beam Vanilla and Tito’s Handmade Vodka for what he’d paid Milford Gas & Electric and got something extra so our janitor didn’t have to place another “Wet Floor” marker by the cash register. Good booze and good peein’, they go together like Gracie and George.

Now we realize some of our customers are picky and want artistic value in the deal. No problem, a purchase of Evan Williams Straight Bourbon, Smirnoff Red White & Berry and a six-pack of Samuel Adams Straight, No Chaser will enable the art connoisseurs out there to look their sexiest in Fuchsia, No Waistband or Chartreuse, Extra Crotch Restraining and still be able to literally hold their liquor. Isn’t it nice when Aisle 2 isn’t flooded again with unnecessary liquidation? And I know, namby-pamby, hoity-toity, quiche-eating wimpsters who feed their cats brie every morning and use the same for kitty litter occasionally have bladder control problems too. Don’t worry, we didn’t leave you sissies out in the cold. Buy three bottles, mix and match, of Buttercream Chardonnay, San Gregorio Single Vineyard, AFL-CIO-endorsed, Loma Gorda Old Vine Garnacha, Levant Cremant de Bourgogne Brut, and all the rest and you can keep your bowels in order with Depend Crotch Sensitive or Depend Magenta & Lilac, Anti-Jock Itch Reinforced in one purchase. Man, nice to know you can get The Good Life at a bargain and not have to worry about scratching your privates in public, especially when you’re impulse-buying a bag of Cheeto’s and Lay’s Sour Cream Potato Chips.

Folks, the booze is cheap and the merchandise is free so come on down and get your finances and urinary tract under control and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

Gang, you don’t know what you’re talking about. That kid in the back of the bus is talking to General Patton. He thinks General Bradley is full of crap. They need to move the army to Palermo TONIGHT. Beat the Germans to it. But God bless you anyway.



“Okay, Marty, I’ll change the vacation schedule. Now get out of here, I’m talking to one of our sponsors.”

September 30, 2021

“….Able To Leap The Delaware Wing-T In A Single Bound…”

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 3:41 pm

WHAT???? Three panels of football action???? Where’s my fax machine? I want to send photocopies of this rare specimen to all the readers out there. Yes, there is a Gil.

I daresay that several TWIMers were bracing themselves for more wasted time that would eventually round out the rest of the week, then commencing the next week with more time-wasting scripts and supernumerary interactions. I couldn’t wait for Boyd to tell Dr. Pearl that her mother drove a pickle wagon because Pearl didn’t have Madden set up on the console in her basement. Then waste the next 2 months watching Boyd get his own Valley Alternative team because Dr. Pearl due-processed his ass and set them up with a scrimmage against the Mudlarks, the run for a 70-yard TD interrupted by Jay’s Subs and Nick’s Pizza. Sports but in a Harlem Globetrotters fashion. Everybody knew the Boston Shamrocks were gonna get their butts kicked. Thorpiverse wouldn’t have it any other way.

But nooooooooooo, the writing is on the wall and the Generic Carolina Blue is on the strip. They are tackling and blocking, even with the Transubstantiation of Jesus in the background. Hey, if that’s the worst of my problems, they can tackle all they want. As long Milford beats the Shamrocks, of course.

And whattup with this predictable color code? Even Gil’s coffee has been Carolina Blue lately. Surely not everybody in the Valley Conference subscribes to the one color concept, except the Mudlarks, naturally, because 800-lb. gorillas can were a green and black and pink tutu at the game and they still wind up being the heroes at the end of the contest. Shoot, Gil can dress like Barth Gimbel on Milford 2 Night and still get preferential treatment by Heather for interviews. Well, until Marjie knighted her, then Heather started asking “Gil who?”. But you get my point, the rooster with the ugliest coxcomb this side of the city dump can cackle all he wants. And usually does.

“I like your hair, Dr. Pearl.”

“Thank you, I received the notion after the Goshen game last Saturday.”

The point I am trying to make is if we’re not careful, we’re going to be running rampant with this Carolina Blue concept. I couldn’t even imagine it on Marty Moon’s goatee when he’s flaying Gil in an interview. Ditto for Vic Diucette’s van or braces. It as bad enough when Vic “I Use The New and Improved Teal-Coated Poly-Grip Daily On My Dental Work” Doucette employs those Bermanisms, i.e., Tevin “Rhymes With Kevin” Claxton or Boyd “Knocked ’em Dead Literally At The Pep Rally” Spiller but if the first item on the aganda at the Library Board Meeting is for Butthead Brito to paint Archives Room the Color du Jour, I will turn down that dinner date at his house, I don’t care if his wife is serving Carolina Blue egg plants.

Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J.’s Team In The Milford Parks & Recreation Adult Flag Football League To Change Colors Next Year!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“We weren’t intimidating nobody with them Chartreuse and Lavender jerseys.”

I still have to get my eyes adjusted as the arms are actually attached to people’s bodies as in P1. Usually the running back’s elbow is filtering out of the Kettering DT’s butt while Kettering DE has his thigh mixed up with a Mudlark OT’s lumbar region of the back. Alexander Calder couldn’t design mobiles any better than when Milford Football goes to war and literally mixes it up. Talk about sorting out the bodies. Try doing a jigsaw puzzle where you have reattach the jugular vein after it got wedged in someone’s ulna bone in the arm or another’s abdomen melded with a set of bicuspids and if successful, the pie at the County Fair is all yours.

Don’t even try to unravel Gil’s hair from this mess. Let’s keep it simple, stupid.

If ya git pummeled by the Rock ’em Sock ’em robot cuz ya drank yore Jack without a chaser and kin bear-ly manoover the controls on yore end uv thangs, ya might be a redneck.

And why does Thorpiverse keep sending us characters like they have been sleeping under the same barracks roof with Gomer and Duke? Shazam, Steve, you’ll make Sergeant Carter proud, proud, proud when he seen what ya dun with that thar Kettering running back. Just make sure yore dress blues is purtied up before inspection.

I mean, I have mixed feelings about this one. I hope Milford wins but for all I know Lehto could be sleeping in the same bunk with Tiki after he lost his privileges at Milford Shelter House after he shoved the cook’s face in the pea soup because the tap water was a little too rust-heavy. And must we guess at how the heck you pronounce his surname? Steve Leno? No, I really don’t think that’s Jay’s son. Steve LEE-to? Speculating that the last name could be German-Slav mix, somebody in the Lehto lineage cut the Gordian knot and Americanized the Hell out of this one. Look no further than Bachman-Turner Overdrive, whose leader, Randy Bachman, desired to cut from The Guess Who and form his own group and consequently more than carved their own identity. One hitch was that many people (myself included, I confess) kept saying BAHK-man when Randy insisted that it was BACK-man. It’s his last name, you understand, he ought to know. It’s just that by the time the DJ’s were heavily plugging these guys, the BAHK-man pronunciation had taken such a strong hold that Randy was swimming against a tsunami and knew it. He continued to make great music while swallowing his pride. Great example of wisdom in Show Business.

So let’s throw caution to the wind and say Steve LEE-to. I’m not going to get plowed by some Kettering schmuck with a Carolina Blue jock strap wedged up his butt. I’ll go with the flow on this one. Now I could bail out and say (more than likely the case) Steve LEH-to. Or go the Lay’s Potato Chip route, i.e., LAY-to. But let’s let this play out because I get the feeling the football action will die down just as quick as it flared up and we’ll have time to waste arguing over whether to pronounce it BAHK-man or BACK-man. Thorpiverse has a way of playing the wet blanket so we’re free to debate items that serve the Milford Social Media but kill any football momentum.

Wait a minute, LEE-to was the guy delivering for Jay’s Subs at Knappe’s scrimmage. I’d recognize those redwood trunks anywhere.

Oooooookkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is back to bring some sense to this Delaware Wing-Dinger of a plot. Without further ado, take it away, Gene

“Dumb Dora was soooooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought Gil’s last name was pronounced________________.”

And doncha just love how the designers of the Kettering helmet have managed to amalgamate the P and the K so that Kmart and PPG Industries overlap each other? Should they ever dump these helmets, I’m sure Kmart will get the helmets out of the trash bins if they want free advertising. Really, did some dolt stencil the K and the P and air-brush the damn thing? I could finger-paint those letters and make a fashion statement by Homecoming. It’s bad enough that that same dolt stole the MTV copyright and slapped it on Gil’s shirt, the team uniforms, Mimi’s key ring, etc. but the artwork is believable. As George Wallace, the HILARIOUS comedian once said “How come y’all white people have yard sales after the game Friday night? Because I’ll answer your question, yeah, when us blacks honk at each other, we DO know each other.” To paraphrase Wallace, plenty of Kettering helmets came out of yard sales after THEIR game last week.

Heard in a random Milford High School hallway

“Oh, that Carolina Blue skirt is so this year!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Thank you. Coach Thorp had a garage sale last week…”

We finally get to the trapeze artist in P3 and his fall is about as graceful as a squirrel pouncing on an acorn. Chance and Charlie have been relegated to Team Status and are no longer part of the soap opera at hand. Not that Chance was going to argue and his back flip triple gainer in P3 may reflect the reaction of his liberation from One Life to Live.

Then we wonder if all these tricks of the trade employed by the Delaware Wing-T is actually going to result in a W. Yeah, there’s a catch to everything. The offense is more than likely legitimate but if you have a 13-year-old in the driver’s seat of a semi, whoa hoss. And with Gil’s record of gift-wrapping games to the opponent, it doesn’t matter if Buddy Ryan is manning the Mudlark defense, the game set match usually is carted out of the stadium by Gil’s opponent. Good game, Mr. Opponent. Thank you, Gil. You’re a classy guy for shaking my hand. And that bow on this present is a great touch. I wish other coaches could wrap up a W like that. I’d fly like Chance Macy too. You got a good acrobat on your hand BTW.

“And we’ll be back to see if Gil farts another one away after these messages. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“I don’t care what Moon says, my track record is clean. Yogi Berra said you can look it up. I have won more than I lost. In 60 years, the ship never sunk when I was at the helm and when it did, I had lifeboats ready. And those cupcakes weren’t all Cupcake City, baby. I always assumed they had a Delaware Wing-T of their own.

But i’m not here to talk about Delaware Wing-T or chicken wings. That’s for Colonel Sanders to sort out. Hi, this is Coach Thorp and it’s Football Season so don’t you dare go anywhere else but Milford Beverage Warehouse for all your tailgate and house party needs. And what makes it nicer is The Warehouse now has digital coupons. Man, saving money on your favorite booze never got easier. We have random items throughout yhe store to scan and clip some bucks with, so the sooner you get your tail down here, the better.

Rumor has it that Jim Beam Kentucky Straight Bourbon os one of our digitalized products. Well, I don’t know aboutchoo but if I’m wanting to get a little sloshed watching Alabama beat up on Cupcake City, I wouldn’t expect Chester Cheetah to get digitalized. I couldn’t imagine the coupon on his rear end. That’s right, $20.99 will send you into Football ecstasy as Nick Saban is chewing on the refs or one of his players. He needs a swig of his own evidently.

And c’mon, you UCLA-USC, Michigan-Ohio State, Texas-Oklahoma rivalries out there, you think we slapped a digital code on a case of Grape Nehi? You KNOW The Warehouse better than that. I’ll bet Bob Knight’s next paycheck as an ESPN analyst that there’s a digital label on a case of Busch Light or Miller High Life. At $20.99, you better hope Ohio State fans get their booze and the W too if you’re a Buckeye, the same for Michigan fans if you’re a Wolverine. Hey, the rivalry extends to the beer freezer too.

Now you wine-and-cheese wimpmeisters prefer to look at the Florida-Georgia rivalry like a jousting match. Shake hands even if you get knlcked off your horse. I’ve never understood how you can walk out of the arena with everybody cheering even if you fell flat on your ass but don’t let that stop you from checking out these digited Bota Box 3 Liter Decoy Cabernet in select varieties. For $17.09, I bet watermelon or black cherry cabernet hits the spot when the Georgia Bulldogs are jawin’ with the Florida Gators. Cabernet makes us all gentlemen even when Georgia gets called for Flagrant Foul-Roughing The Passer or Florida gets called for Too Many Goons on the Field.

Folks, what more can I say? And we did fix the machine so shoplifters couldn’t zap the digital code and walk out with the merchandise. Come experience the digital difference here at Milford Beverage Warehouse and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

Gang, that is NOT Jay Leno’s son. It’s LEHTO, remember? Why would Jay Leno have ANYTHING to do with this farce? Case closed.

But God bless you anyway.

At Milford Nudist Colony

“Mommy, Mrs. Kravitz said she’s going to wear Carolina Blue at the square dance. What’s Carolina Blue?”

“Uhhhhhhhhh, here, Keri. Here’s a roll of quarters. Get some gum at the gumball machine in the Colony office.

September 29, 2021

Sympathy for the Waning Moon

Time for the annual f-t-f pissing match between Gil and Marty. Marty asks a legit question of Gil and gets a pissy backhanded insult in return. Sure, Gil wins this one on paper, but come game time he might be singing a different tune.

Marty is absolutely not wrong in putting this question to Gil. Thorp started running his Delaware Wing-T again last season, and is still running it this season. He’s surprising exactly nobody with it. There are a plethora of YouTube videos on how to defend against the Wing-T, many of them quite lengthy. Here’s one of the briefest for your perusal.

A team that is regularly exposed to a Wing-T offense (as Kettering supposedly has been) will be better prepared to defend against it, even if it is “a little different,” as Gil claims. In this case “a little different” looks like it’ll translate into “a passing game where our receivers don’t look the ball into their hands.”

Kettering was a Detroit high school in a very tough neighborhood. It was closed about ten years ago due to declining attendance, a crumbling physical plant, low academic performance, and gang activity. The former Kettering site, first re-imagined as an urban farm, is now going to become a manufacturing plant for an auto parts supplier. As a shout-out to a Detroit long past, how will Rubin reimagine the Kettering team? Urban tough guys or something else?

In the grander scheme of things, we can see Marty becoming ever more irrelevant on the Mudlark sports reporting scene. Heather’s quick thumbs can spew out tweets as fast as he can call play-by-play, providing the analysis in real time that he might otherwise have to do between snaps. Having also been Gil’s protégé, Heather has the inside line to locker room scoops that Marty never will. Since he’s lost the journalistic high ground, Marty should have free reign to wallow deeper in the Milford mud. He can begin on Friday night into Saturday morning once Kettering has shut down Gil’s predictable old-school offense.

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