Wow, feels nice to free myself from the constraints of the haiku form. Wish I had more to say today. Bet it would feel nice for Whigham to free himself from the constraints of using the same facial features and hairstyles for all of his Mudlarks. Let’s take a closer look at that first panel, shall we?
Do these two not have identical noses? I leave it to you, gentle readers, to draw your own conclusions. Guessing Marcell doesn’t use his first name, Duwan.
I reckon after multiple seasons Rubin has decided to imbue Man of a Thousand Faces and Hairstyles “Marginal” Mike Filion with a personality and backstory. He’s been quiet ever since we’ve been introduced to him, speaking only when spoken to by Gil or Kaz. But Neal needs another extroverted look-at-me guy to make his plots go, so Filion it is.
Meanwhile Bobby Howry plots his revenge via billboard…
This has to be Kaz’s girlfriend Kelly Krystek. She appears to have gained a bit of weight since we saw her last ( at least 2 Christmases ago). Guess shes a good cook. Is that the sun behind her? Or some random poster of a foreign country?
I was in the Greek Islands in 2012 on a 10-day cruise of 3 countries, and we started in Venice, Italy. I recall taking a picture of a menu at one of the many outdoor dining establishments in the city, and the owner ratting me out for ‘stealing’ his menu, even though I made it clear I was only a tourist and not trying to take his business away. But he basically said, if your gonna take a pic of my menu, eat here too. He said it in Italian but I got the message. Next time we walked by his place we made it a point to walk on the other side of the river (that runs through the whole city). I saw him outside, gazing around for more cameras to yell about. I felt like riding a gondola and yelling ‘Hey mister! Smile!’
So now Kelly enters the fray, and …dont we have 2 more football games to play before Christmas? Rubin goes off on a tangent all the time and forgets about sports for 2 weeks; thats why the seasons last longer then War and Peace. Then its “Wrap it up in a day by playing 2 games and eliminating Milf from another playdown appearance. ”
Gang, gotcha covered today with no-nonsense stuff after perusing the haps. When we know more of Joe’s travel plans(Italy) than we do of the final result between Milford and Tilden(pick ’em), you know Thorpiverse needs to take a vacation of its own. Remember to renew your membership with AAA, Thorpy, baby. No, if the plot stalls, AAA will not send a tow truck to pick it up.
Really, oddsmakers make the odds BEFORE the game. Not in Thorpiverse. Ohhhhhhhh, no. The Vegas Line is busy at the Milford games because we are many times left hanging as to what the final score would be, making it a field day for bookies.
“I dunno, Mimi was staging a huge chocolate chip cookie sale at the Milford Flea Market so they had to cut short the Milford-Jefferson game with 6:49 To go in the 4th quarter. Milford leading 31-10. But Milford has been worn down from lack of conditioning and bad plot scenarios. I’m predicting Jefferson, 61-31.”
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I disagree. The New Thayer thugs snuck some of Mimi’s fruit cake in Jefferson’s Gatorade cups and they’re gonna be lini9n’ up at the Port-o-lets before the night’s out. Milford, 83-10.”
And Gene Rayburn was kind enough to stand by like a good soldier, knowing the plot really wasn’t going to improve. A contradiction in terms when you think about it.
Be that as it may, take ‘er away, Gene.
“Dumb Dora was SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought No ______________ Practice Pizza was something Domino’s delivered in 30 minutes or less.”
We interrupt our regularly scheduled program, “Surviving the Wilds of Milford” to bring you the following.
“Good evening, welcome to our collection of the bizarre and the beastly. I’m your host, Rod Serling. Our first offering concerns a rabid ne’er-do-well whose only ambition is to get to his uncle’s money in short order. He is willing to shove anybody out of the way who obstructs his path to his financial El Dorado even if the modus operandi is a bit questionable. He will find that Death can be a worthy opponent that he is perhaps no match for because Death can utilize some unworthy methods. We call this painting “The Cemetery” and this is “The Night Gallery””.
“Portifoy, now you stop them idle-minded, half-witted, hare-brained ideas ya got in yore head. This plot is stronger than anything you’ve ever encountered in your life.”
“I think not, Mr. Jeremy.”
“Don’t you get uppity with me, Portifoy. Your master is dead and I run this mansion now. And contrary to your wishes, Gil and Mimi are going to sleep the night.”
“And where will the kids sleep?”
“I have a nice tent set up for them out in the cemetery, next to yore master’s grave marker. I have candy bars and cookies and Cokes to keep them well-fed throughout the night. I don’t think yore master is gonna get up tonight. Maybe after Gil gives the game away with Tilden will he rise from the grave demanding his resignation.”
“You ill-mannered swine, you unconscious ignorant lout, how dare you keep the kids out in the wild like that while you sleep in a comfortable bed and slurp your wine!!!!!!! Have you no shame?”
“Money talks and bullshit walks, Portifoy. That’s what happens when you get a good lawyer and sneak into yore master’s will. And I still say this plot is strong enough for its breath to knock out a cow.”
“Again, I think not, Mr. Jeremy.”
“You DARE contradict me?”
“I think HATE is stronger than this plot, Mr. Jeremy. And that my master will rise up from the dead before this football plot which never really has risen from the dead because it was ALWAYS dead.”
“NOW YOU LISTEN HERE!!!!!!!!!! Gil and Mimi are gonna be served the best from Church’s Fried Chicken and I have stocked the cellar with plenty of Boone’s Farm Fermented Lemonade!!!!!!!!!!”
“And you’re going to have them sleep in the pantry? I hardly call that southern hospitality. And how did you manage to secure beds in there?”
“Portifoy, you ask too many questions. I brought in two cots that Huey Long used to sleep on when he was on the campaign trail. Comfortable as a Jacuzzi. And I placed a billion blankets over them so they won’t freeze.”
“How the Hell are they going to freeze? This is The South, Mr. Jeremy.”
“Portifoy, you sass me one more time and I will give you yore walkin’ papers and personally send you on a Greyhound to Tijuana!!!!!!!!! You won’t freeze THERE. And when Gil can separate movies from football, he can sleep in my master’s pool room. Now go get Gil’s luggage and tell Mimi I want a copy of her 5-game basketball schedule. Pronto!!!!!!!!”
God, the things I can do with The Night Gallery.
I feel like I’m reading Alice in Wonderland. Joe plays a football game with the team when he’s not playing Uno with Tiki on the sideline (not holding my breath that Tiki is the starting offensive tackle, you can tell) , then goes through this mirror on the tunnel wall and suddenly winds up in front of a travel agency. YOU make up your mind if it’s Milford. For all we know, it might be Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia and he took the Appalachian Trail to the center of the city (done by yours truly, BTW) . He might have to get past John Brown and the Queen shouting recklessly “Off with his head!!!!!!!!!!!!” but it’s a pretty safe bet that The Headless Horseman will have his Delta Air Line ticket, Fodor’s Italian in Less Than 10 Days, and his hotel reservations at the Fiorenze Hilton if P3 is any indication. What is P3 leading us to believe? “Uh. no, Italy’s booked solid and the border patrol is taking in no more tourists at this point. But you won’t have to jump the fence in Tierra del Fuego.”
Homey Claus spends Christmas at the Thorps’ residence. He’s the star of the kiddie Christmas party.
“Gil, you think I’m gonna have mercy on you just ‘cuz you are a father figure to these kids and I’m black and I’m supposed to thank you for the last 60 year even though I was in prison for half that long, being a cell-mate to Barry’s dad, and having to stomach his B.O. all that time and I’m supposed to have a contrite heart and let this kitty litter of a plot slide by?”
Homey Claus whops Gil on side of his head with one of Bolek’s videos
“I don’t think so. Homey don’t play that.”
“Okay, children, it’s time to sing along
The plot is bad.”
THE PLOT IS BAD
“And Homey’s mad.”
AND HOMEY’S MAD
“And he don’t know why he’s got to put up with all this bullshit when The Man sent him up the river for some chickenshit offense, all I did was take a couple of mints from the counter at The Bucket and they were free, Man, that Bucket Liver Cheese Burger was some nasty shit and I had to clean out my mouth and you get them free after your meal-DAMN, I don’t hear no singin’, children
AND HE DON’T KNOW WHY HE’S GOT OT PUT UP WITH ALL THIS BULLSHIT WHEN THE MAN SENT HIM UP THE RIVER FOR SOME CHICKENSHIT OFFENSE, ALL HE DID WAS TAKE A COUPLE OF MINTS FROM THE COUNTER AT THE BUCKET AND THEY WERE FREE, MAN, THAT BUCKET LIVER CHEESE BURGER WAS SOME NASTY SHIT AND HE HAD TO CLEAN OUT HIS MOUTH AND YOU GET THEM FREE AFTER YOUR MEAL AND ALSO SOME LISTERINE———
If ya went to the travel agency and ya plan on goin’ ta Vatican City and ya rent a 4-wheel drive from Hertz Rent-a-Car in Rome ta git thar, not ta mention take it ta see the Roman Colpsseum, ya might be a redneck.
Thanks, Professor Anthrax on the kind words about the Night Gallery insertion. Those 3 episodes scared the crap out of me (we were kids) and what better way to resurrect them (pardon the pun-ha) than to impale Gil with them. You da Man.
“Portifoy, come here!!!!!!”
Portifoy reluctantly leaves his Bucket o’ Crab Meat that he ordered online and comes to Mr. Jeremy.
“Yes, Mr. Jeremy?”
“Portifoy, I explicitly told you to bury Coach Thorp and get rid of the evidence. Burn all the videos, throw his Everly Brothers toupee to the wolves, shove the footballs in the garbage dispenser, and flush all his Bucket Full o’ Shark Fins Souffle down the toilet.”
“I did as you ordered, Mr. Jeremy.”
“Then why is Coach Thorp coming out of the grave in the painting???”
“What are you talking about?”
“THAT PAINTING!!!!!!!!! You don’t see it???”
“Mr. Jeremy, all I’m seeing is Coach Thorp biting the big one to Tilden while your master’s grave marker stands in full view behind Coach T. Mr. Luhm has both grave plots well-manicured. You have a wild imagination.”
Mr. Jeremy cold-cocks Portifoy.
“What was THAT all about???”
“Why, it’s just yore imagination, Portifoy. I didn’t really hit you!!!! And Gil Thorp can actually coach his team to victory. And this plot will end before Valentine’s Day!!!!!!”
“I won’t stay that long, Mr. Jeremy. I am resigning.”
“And who’s gonna serve me and help bedraggle this plot to the bitter end????”
“Why, use your imagination, Mr. Jeremy, you seem to be very good AT THAT!!!!!!!!”
Mr. Jeremy is sleeping in his bed upstairs when he hears some rustling downstairs that sounds like it is coming from “Milford Cemetery During The Gothic Age”, a paintinghung in the wall at the bottom of the stairs.
“Portifoy, is that you?”
Some more rustling and a faint “Damn, look the ball all the way into the tuck” from Gil’s voice.
“Portifoy, is Gil still living? I thought ya ran him over with the tacklin’ dummy.
Some even more rustling and a louder “Bunkin!!!!!! Wrap the guy when you tackle him!!!!!!!! You’re not a pinball!!!!!!!!”
Mr. Jeremy runs out of his room and downstairs, wine glass in hand, Milford Valley Lime Concoction, the bill of fare. He sees the painting.
GIL IS OUT OF HIS COFFIN!!!!!!!!!!
“What’s this???? What’s going on??????????”
Mr. Jeremy skims the Milford Enquirer that Portifoy left in the kitchen and checks the obituaries.
“Coach Thorp died of severe injuries caused by a runaway tackling dummy. Sources say the emegergency brake failed…”
“He’s dead. I made sure.”
Mr. Jeremy returns to the painting.
Gil is walking to the mansion, the football in the tuck.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! You’re dead!!!!!!!!!!! The plot is dead!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Mr. Jeremy looks at the paper fan with Gil’s particulars on it.
“I remember fannin’ myself at the funeral. It was very hot. Marty’s eulogy was full of recycled air. I had ta plug ma nose.”
Mr. Jeremy returns to the painting again.
This time, Gil is walking toward the mansion with a ghetto blaster to his ear, listening to “The Love I Lost” by Harold Melvin and The Blue Notes. Guess he’s rubbing it in and trying to get into Mr. Jeremy’s head.
“NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! I saw you dead!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why don’t you stay in tha grave where you belong!!!!!!!!!!!! The football plot got shot in the head along with Black Beauty!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Gil is walking up the steps. He takes a sec to scratch his crotch. Jock itch is brutal with all the mosquitos buzzing around.
“You scoundrel!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You wretch!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU DIED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I’ll take this picture and burn it to ashes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” as Mr. Jeremy seizes the 1981 Milford High School Boys Basketball Team composite on the landing of the staircase.
“YOU FIEND!!!!!!!!!!!! I will ship you back and give you a reburial!!!!!!!!!! I will destroy this picture and destroy YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! as Gil is seen rapping on the door, evermore.
Mr. Jeremy lunges with all his might to throw the picture in the fireplace but loses his balance in the process. He rolls all the way downstairs and breaks his neck and dies. Wish the plot would roll down the same way.
Portifoy comes out of the wall. Hey, this is Night Gallery. He spots Mr. Jeremy for a second, then answers the door.
“Yes?”
The Lyft driver is here .
“I have a Large Pan Pepperoni and Canadian Bacon Pizza from The Bucket for, uuuhhhhhh, lessseee, oh yeah, Mr. Jeremy.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Jeremy is incapacitated for the moment. The plot killed him. I’ll cover the charges. Bad plots work up an appetite. Here’s a 50. Keep the change.”
“Gee, thanks, Portifoy.”
“MISTER Portifoy.”
“Sure, Mister Portifoy.”
Have at it, gang. I’m going with Joe to the travel agency. Does anybody know where Never Never Land is on the map? Todd Rundgren said we’d have treasure if we stay there.
Gil trying to maneuver the crane towards the object after inserting his 55th quarter.
“Daggonne it, they must put lead weights in the pulley!!!!!!!!!! I KNOW I can get that Teddy Bear out of the machine!!!!!!!!!!”
Thanks to Craig Holt, of Louisville, Kentucky, for help with this comedy idea. Craig, I promise there’ll be more as you gave me a ton to work with. Gang, treat him with respect. He’s got mine.
“Oh, so Mimi, you think Homey’ll take yo’ ugly-assed brick fulla puny raisins and refried prunes and Gold Medal Flour and Planters Nuts you call a fruit cake and cram it in his stocking as a token of Peace on Earth, Good Will Towards The Black Dude, not carin’ later on that that same Black Dude is nailed to the john ‘cuz the Mudlark Farms Fruit Cake shot diarrhea through his axon and dendrite and electrocuted him while giving him the mimi=shitties? Is that what you were intendin’, Mrs. Whipple? A peace offering?”
So we hit the reset button on football on…. November 30. Tomorrow is December first. They havent played a game since.. November 16, 2 weeks ago. In that time frame my state played the semifinals and finals of the playoffs and is DONE!! DONE! And these guys are not only wearing their game unis to practice (again!!) they have their helmets on the ground next to them while they stretch. Nobody does that. When your on the field you wear your helmet, and on the sidelines you take it off.
So the dudes from New Thayer decided to call a truce after that scene? Ha. Methinks its just a cover for a sneak attack in the future.
Now— what the hell is with Panel 3?? We have the 10-yard line FIVE YARDS FROM THE GOAL LINE!!! And the end zone looks really skinny, with MILFORD literally taking up the WHOLE DAMN SPACE!!
Holy crap. I mean, how many damn years has this strip been getting drawn, and the clown in charge of drawing it, knowing its a SPORTS strip, doesnt even draw the field correctly?? How hard is it to draw a football field?? If I was this dudes art teacher, years ago, in high school, and this dude went to my school where my football field was on the damn campus to look at EVERY SINGLE FUCKIN DAY FOR 4 FUCKIN YEARS and he drew this panel in my class, I would not only immediately flunk him, I would force him to eat the paper on which he drew this field, then shove him down the nearest toilet and push the FLUSH lever, and THEN, I would stick my head in a microwave and turn it on high.
And we know something else. Tiki has been using a liberal supply of Oxy-5 and a ton of sandpaper for his Mt. Rushmore face if P2 is any indication. And speaking of smiling for the camera as Robmize mentioned in his post the other day, gadzooks, Tiki is flashin’ them pearly whites for all the world to see. I suppose when you and Encyclopedia
Brown have solved The Case of the Malodorous Thugs, you deserve to show the world you used Colgate and Turtle Wax. His teeth are glossier than a Classic ‘vette at the Milford Car Show held in the Wendy’s parking lot behind Milford Beverage Warehouse.
“If Bugs Meany and that ignorant Joe Schmuck with the black cap had been telling the truth, this plot would have ended weeks ago. Plus Schmuck claimed he had Gil’s hair which gave him an excuse to kick the shit out of Tiki as there really wasn’t any other reason valid enough to keep the readers stimulated. Schmuck was obviously grasping at straws and when Encyclopedia noticed that Schmuck indicated reputed grasping by grabbing his crotch in desperation(plus he really had to take a whiz somewhere and had to really go bad, preferably by the time the answer section in the back of Encyclopedia Brown reader had made its point) and also that if Schmuck had Gil’s hair, his cap would have expanded like Jiffy-Pop and popcorn would have been scattering all over the ground. Trapped in their own lies, Bugs confessed that the plot wasn’t worth the bucket of spit someone hockers into an ash tray in the smoking section at The Bucket and that he brought Joe Schmuck along hoping to bring some excitement to this dead horse. Bugs realized that The Joker and his gang or some sorry-ass version of The Crips and The Bloods really wasn’t going to spike readership interest, evidently what Bugs was driving at since he really couldn’t whup Sally Kimball and repeated attempts at the effort, including dumping a cement loader of Morton Salt in her swimming pool, pouring distilled water into the Chemlawn formula to make the lawn a bad excuse for primary colors, setting a time bomb in her dad’s riding mower, nuking her basement and ruining the family photo albums had all failed so Bugs got desperate. Joe Schmuck disapperaed and will never be seen again, Gil’s hair was returned to Ripley’s Believe It or Not! Museum, and the gang of unknowns went over to Gasoline Alley as extras, background people when Walt and Skeezix are at Corky’s Diner discussing how bad this plot got with no relief in sight.”
A shout-out to Craig Holt of Louisville, Kentucky. Craig goes to work every day enthusiastically and never slows up at the end of the day. His work ethic is excellent and they speak highly of him up in the front office and among his co-workers. If you’re down and depressed, you won’t be for long when you’re around him. He always makes my day. He will for you too. He is always there to help a person in need for even the smallest thing. Compassion, intelligence, solid worker. You got the ingredients, My Man. And my respect. God Bless You.
We’re done with this plot
And the aborted free-for-all
Idiot’s not playing
Any frickin’ football
That’s a drag
Hit a snag
I remember Days of Gil
Back in ’74
The pigskin days
Were obsessed with the score
Not any more
What a bore
Can’t they shift the Jets ‘n’ Sharks
Over to Wizard of Id
Arlo & Janis
or even Rose is Roooooossssseeeeee
God forbid
I’ve had enouggghhhhhhh
All the young fools(Hey fools)
Carry the news(Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you)
Bun-gle-ing boobs(Get on with basketball, forChristsake)
Carry the news(And,Tiki, take off that yarmulke, you’re being reinstated, not at a Bar Mitzvah)
A conversation between Dr. Pearl and Gil Thorp
“Now I must go and get on Gil”
Get your mind out of the gutter, gang. If you’d been reading “Eats, Shoots & Leaves” by Lynne Truss, you’d have known that Dr. Pearl has a husband and has no interest in Coach Thorp. Mimi is saved for yet another night.
Here’s the corrected version
“Now I must go and get on, Gil.”
Nope, this sexual tryst was not to be, arousing controversy for a plot badly in need of one, if only for the readers’ interest, let alone sanity. Instead, Dr. Pearl and Gil could prattle on about the 1908 Cubs but Dr. Pearl’s Ladies Night Out at the Milford Bingo Hall with her husband can’t wait. Leave the light on in the hallway when you leave Gil, er, leave, Gil.
BTW, “Eats, Shoots & Leaves” is DEFINITE required reading for you aspiring writers. VERY indispensible. Don’t start your literary career without it.
“Mimi has pimples on her butt; she uses dental floss to scrape The Bucket Liver Cheeseburger bits out of her teeth.”
Again, she doesn’t have tattoos on her derriere either as Gil insists. Well, I haven’t seen her at the Milford Tattoos and More parlor recently, so I believe her.
Anyhoo, the corrected version
“Mimi has pimples on her. But she uses dental floss to scrape The Bucket Liver Cheeseburger bits out of her teeth.”
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, P1 is just absolutely, positively ridiculous. Hello, Joe and Tiki, this is a sports comic strip, not Siskel and Ebert.
“I thought Gil, with that smile in P3, reminded me of that flunkee that followed around Napoleon when he was pursuing Bugs Bunny all over Versailles. It added texture to the plot.”
“I disagree, Gene. Gil’s too flat and Kaz isn’t helping, spending more time playing Atari with Gil than conceiving of any real football action.”
“Roger, I’ll give you that this plot is an abysmal failure and should be shot at dawn along with Czar Nicholas in Novosibirsk somewhere but there are brownie points you haven’t taken into consideration. Kaz is simply trying to solidify his relationship by guiding Gil with the joystick when negotiating one of those worthless race cars on Al Unser’s Fantasy Racing at the Indy 500.”
“Well, if he is, He and his brother Bobby ought to start their own hobby shop because Kaz is not a factor and his worth to the plot reminds me of those plastic fish heads the dancers were wearing in ‘Godzilla versus The Smog Monster’.”
“You drive a mean bargain but unfortunately a rebuttal is not to be as our time is just about up. Both Roger and I gave ‘Gil Versus The Rug Rats Disguised As A Harley Motorcycle Gang’ a Thumbs Down. That’s all the time we have. We’ll see you next week at the movies.”
You done ruined the season
With movies and Tiki
I hope you’re happy
Cuz that’s pretty cheeky
Have you no shame
There’s no game
Gil and Kaz are in the room
Gettin’ down on Rolling Stones
They can’t get enough
Of Elvis clones
Get a life
Sez your wife
Dr. Pearl is bound to show up
Any old time
Wondering why
You’re not on classroom time
Teaching Lifetime Frisbee
Underwater Phys Ed
or Advanced Spelunkinnnngggggggggggg
I’m just about to barf
All the young fools(Yeah, YOU, fools)
Carry the news(What’re you doing at Blockbuster Video?)
Bun-gle-ing Boobs(Couldn’t whup those bullies that pick on Bart Simpson?-and Joe’s the Second Coming of the VideoHound)
Got the wrong tools(And this plot is a WOOF!!!!!!!!)
Gil said “Kaz, you’re a real pussy. My great-grandmother Thorp could have fought those losers.”
Now if you’ve been doing the required reading of “Eats, Shoots & Leaves”, like I assigned in class, gang, you’d KNOW that this isn’t correct. Gil doesn’t own a cat.
Gil exclaimed “Kaz, your Siamese is a real pussy. BTW, my great grand piano owned by my mother got frothed in the car wash by those hosers.”
And do I have to beat this in the ground? I mean, c’mon, those smiles are just beggin’ for Looney Tune satire as long as we’re going to stomach another episode of “Gil Thorp, P.I.”.
“Kaz, did you get the photo of that one gang member who photo was seen in all the post offices all over Milford?”
“Ummmmmmmmmm…”
“Well, did you, yes or no?”
“No, I lost them when I tripped and fell and they got wedged in the piano keys, the same one that went down the chute at the car wash.”
This is Looney Tunes, keep in mind. Gil is a guest star(permanent, when you think about it).
Gil is boiling mad and gets his 16-foot rifle w/saber and tells Kaz to bend over out by the flagpole out front.
“I hate this.”
STAB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
woo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-woo-hoo-hoo…
Dr. Pearl, on the second floor in a staff meeting with the Foreign Language Department looks out the window and is wondering why Coach Kaz is jumping 85 feet in the air.
Well, at least Tiki escaped.
The Stepford Wives invade Milford
“I need you to run the clock the rest of the season. You all play a shit-ass 5-game schedule anyway. Coach Luhm can take over.”
“Oh, Gil, I will follow your football and basketball teams from Samaria to Judea unto the ends of the earth. Your coaching is the end-all and I was just baby-sitting. Who’s going to be Luhm’s asistant?”
“Daffy Duck.”
“I can think of no better choice. When she’s not vegetating in Ms. Rizk’s room, digging up stories fit for Better Homes & Gardens, she’s feisty, she’s fair, and, by God, she’s Milford Incarnate.”
“Fine. You know where there’s an outlet to plug the timer?”
“Oh, thou art Atman, Gil. It is situated next to the drinking fountain.”
Mrs. Andrews, one evening at home.
“Do you want Splenda or sugar in your coff-”
“Do you want Splenda or sugar in your coff-”
“Do you want Splenda or sugar in your coff-”
“Gil, this is Tod. What was the number of Milford Robotics?”
“…and that’ll wrap things up here in Blooming’s Ton, where the Hosers defeat the De La Warre Blue Hens in the Hoser Holly-Day Classic by a score of 90:52. For Max Skirvin, this is Don Fischer, so long everybody.”
Okay, gang, a few more spelling errors but the song remains the same.
READ THE DAMN BOOK!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thanks to Dustin Howard, of Louisville, Kentucky, for his help with this idea. Dustin is a good man and has a nifty sense of humor. It DEFINITELY helped here.
All right, gang. You know the drill. BTW, I can’t wait for the sequel to Tiki: The Lost Generation. Ahhhhhhhh, think I’d rather switch to basketball.
Football is over
In all of the states
High schools are switching sports
At a phenomenal rate
Oh, not Gil
Never will
Someday Gil will learn
This is not Leonard Maltin
This is just a lukewarm version
Of John-Boy Walton
Act your age
Leave the stage
Someone’s got me glued
To this merry-go-round
Can’t I get off and ride the
Wild Mouse
The Ferris Wheel
I’ll even settle for the kiddie bumper carrrrsssssssss
All the young fools(If the cleat fits, wear it)
Carry the news(That the name of Gil is proclaimed and he coaches actors, not players)
Bum-ble-ing boobs(They really can’t even act either, better go back to touch football)
You have no clue(Did Tank McNamara ever report sports news for Entertainment Weekly?)
All the young fools(ALL THE YOUNG FOOLS)
Carry the news(TAKE THIS NEWS TO THE DUMPSTER)
Bum-ble-ing boobs(PLAYING MONOPOLY AND TRYING TO FIGURE HOW TO PAY THE PARK PLACE BILL IS MORE EXCITING THAN THIS)
Your screws are all loose(PLEASE, PLEASE, I BEG OF YOU, GO TO MILFORD TRUE-VALUE HARDWARE AND TIGHTEN THEM)
jasbeattie
nedryerson
robmize2013
tdrewhardin
teenchy
timbuys
