That’s Our Story And We’re Sticking To It If Only We Had A Story To Stick To.

WHAT is the Mudlark shooter aiming at in P1????Okay, I’m going to assume the other shooter is not shooting at a barrel that’s burning trash. No eyeing the prairie-style windows to hone his free throw shooting skills. I know you have to be ready to shoot ’em should the other team foul in the late stages of the game, but using the electronic scoreboard for target practice is a bit irregular. At least make sure it’s turned off.

So if the one shooter is indeed shooting towards a basketball goal certified in actual existence by the State High School Athletic Association, WHAT IS THE OTHER MUDLARK SHOOTING AT?????? Shouldn’t he be aiming in the general direction of the other shooter? Is there a peach basket Naismith forgot to dismantle? Man, the ball retriever better have a stepladder handy. I’ve heard of Around The World but that was a basketball game like H-O-R-S-E, not an unwitting shoting drill as in P1. I guess Coach Thorp has a reason behind every lesson in life. If you take aim at the burning barrel, as long as you clean up the trash, you can walk away with the trophy snelling clean even if you got your fingers singed. Thanks, Coach, I’ll remember that next time I go to French Lick and play H-O-R-S-E with Larry Bird aiming at the town crematory.

And lookee, lookee, DOUG WITH A BASKETBALL. No open-end crescent wrench. No Philips screwdriver. No tire jack. We’re making progress. We might, if we’re lucky, actually see him dribble. Sometimes we have to be careful rushing things. It’s still January. I’ll give until Valentines Day to see if he’s going to shoot the ball or does he just put on the uniform every time the camera is rolling. I hate shallow people. Yeah, they’ll dunk it when ESPN is in the building but when no one’s looking, he’s back to changing Darrell Waltrip’s tire. You can’t fool us Richard Petty disguised as Dominique Wilkins. The NASCAR cap is blowing your cover.

Just hang onto that beach ball if you want to continue to give us hope.

I saw a company the other day that was named Quality Screw, Inc. Now I’m confident this is NOT a whorehouse in an industrial district, so I’m breathing easier, even as I text

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Milford Tire & Wheel Ordered By Judge To Modify Its Latest Billboard Ad!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“‘We jack off your tire and the price all in one great job’ was deemed inappropriate, especially for the younger viewers.”

And WHO is that beside Shoehorn Vic? I think the mystery of Bigfoot is solved. He was found lacing up for tonight’s game against Perrysburg. Stay focused, Bigfoot. You play the way you roam the woods and scare the shit out of people. He won’t be hard to miss in the game intro’s. Is he going to boogie during “Let’s Get Ready To Rumble”?

Elvis hasn’t left the building although it’s hard to tell, the black marker smudge marks are obfuscating his image. I know his fried bologna sandwiches were causing weight problems but, Thorpiverse, don’t compound the problem by going wild with a Paper-Mate pen. I’d hate to see what Colonel Tom Parker looks like. Old chewing gum slopped on a pencil-drawn sketch? Just sayin’.

And I stand by what I say. Today backs me up. How much basketball action did you see today? I’m waiting. Time’s up, we have a conversation between a basketball player and a fledgling announcer barely getting his feet on the job in two panels and the players heading back to the bus after the game in the third panel. We have to trust T-verse that there was a basketball game between Doug with his basketball stuck up his butt conversing and offering to call the Uber driver to take Vic to the game next time and the Greyhound bus waiting at the station to take them back home. Gil left after the final buzzer because he had to get the car back to Milford Car Rental Agency before midnight or he was going to get hit with late charges.

We have jumped from Tessi and her poring over her points and Corina able to say “There’s no ‘I’ n the word ‘Team'” without black marks smeared all over and showing what Grizzly Adams looks like in a Lady Mudlark uniform to today where more lack of development is in the offing as Doug has taken a break from flipping off Gil and headin’ to the Milford Drag Race qualifying heats and attempting to display a tender side to our less fortunate, with an oversized Nerfball to drive home the issue.

I have read the Chronicles of Narnia and the lion never flipped off Gil to go rescue children or flipped off the children to go rescue Gil. The story stated true to form. No lectures by Corina that the lion’s mane has tics in it.

“Dr. Pearl, we need another grid of lights on the football field. One of the grounds crew ran into the pole and knocked it over.”

“That’s fine, Gil. I’ll call Milford Erection Incorporated and get an estimate. I’ll let you know something by the end of the week.”

“Okee-dokee.”

I would like to put in a plug for Mopped Up Thorp. I think the man is funny and I get beaucoup ideas from the site. If you have the time, check him out. Anything to slay The Gil gets my vote. We’re all in this together.

And the conversation continues in P2 although I really never saw a player before the game stagnating with the basketball and talking about whether Vic is going to hitchhike his way back to the school. If Vic is lucky, he can catch a ride with Gil at halftime. The team is on autopilot anyway. Riding in the trunk beats thumbing for a lift out in this cold anyday. Gil has a heart, you know, even if he’s a lousy coach, an absentee lousy coach at that.

And resuming my thoughts on Doug, Big Guy, this is the time to get ready for the game, not worry about if Doug practically rode on the back bumper of the team bus. It’s called Warm-Ups, Doug. We know that you have been too busy down in Talladega to absorb the concept but pre-game shootarounds and stretching exercises are meant to get you ready for the game. Standing there in front of the Stairway to Heaven expressing your bleeding heart to a guy who was Che Guevara before he got back on the reincarnation wheel really doesn’t help your focus. What are you going to do, call Milford Towing if his vehicle breaks down while you’re at the free throw line? It’s what you do between the lines, Doug. No need to call AAA Road Services while you’re between them.

Gang, I learned something. The biscochito (Literally, “Little biscuit”, I’m believing) is the Official Cookie of the state of New Mexico. I never knew Chips Ahoy! might one day be the official snack of South Dakota

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Milford City Council Votes Down Keebler Pecan Sandies As Official City Cookie Once Again!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“City Spokesperson: ‘We’re holding firm on Oreos. The City of Milford would rather not be linked to a treeful of elves.”

“Doug, while you’re going to Advance Auto Parts for a fan belt, would you mind going to Milford Pastry Shoppe for some biscochitos, some Lance Sour Cream Crackers and a Pumpkin Spice Latte? I have these Milford Erection invoices I have to sort through.”

“Sure, Dr. Pearl. You want Reddi-Whip on your biscochitos again?”

“No, thank you. My doctor warned me about my blood sugar.”

And does ANYBODY have ANY idea what they are talking about in P2? And does Vic do James Brown renditions on the road????? Live at The Apollo in Perrysburg????? He struts to “Living in America” or “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag” on Perrysburg High’s scorer’s table? Is the wood strong enough to sustain his platform shoes?

Okay, already, Doug, we get it, your heart goes out to a guy less fortunate and Vic, you tailgated the team bus from Milford to Perrysburg. But how does riding the Mudlark bus bumper relate to Milford’s next two opponents which are by your account formidable? The storyline took another unforseen bend in the river but Mark Twain had a paddle wheel to steer when he took his steamboat through Life on the Mississippi. How do you guide a tugboat that lost its rudder when it collided into all the ducks at Mudlark Lake? Stories are meant to have a point but again, we’re observing several stories cross each other and leave a few non-sequitors in the wake. Vic in P2 is presumably sizing up Milford Boys Basketball the next two weeks but we’ve wound up on Gil’s lawn. With the water sprayer going full blast.

Damn it, Doug, shanghai him on the bus next trip if it’ll make you feel any better so that we don’t have you talking yin and he’s talking it’s called the Yellow River because everybody pees in it every morning. Or yang, same difference.

If ya wind up gittin’ shanghai’d at the county Turkey Shoot in the NEXT county ta call the winners uv th’ action even if yore reason was becuz yore 4-wheel drive broke down, ya might be a redneck.

All righty then, let’s see if we’re on the same page. It is okay for Milford High School to not only shove its PA announcer on the other team, but he can do his homework on company time. Okay, I’m sure Perrysburg responded, but he’s bringing his own hot dogs. We don’t supply sack lunches to the opponent.

And what is the purpose of taking notes at a ball game that he is supposedly the dude who announces all the fouls? Just one more blind alley that Thorpiverse is conducing us down that more than likely will shed no light towards the end. Was there really any closure when all the free food got dumped at the charity ball game? Shoot, the ump damn near called the forfeit. Daggone, I forgot, Mr. Rooney confessed that he was the one who called Domino’s. Thank you for that candid vocalization, Mr. Rooney. We were entertaining the notion of calling a private detective agency until you came clean. No need to drop the quarter on the gas can in Encyclopedia’s garage if Mimi and Bugs Meany spilled out their guts and admitted they bribed the Jay’s Subs driver to deliver googelplex number of sandwiches.

And so if we don’t ever find out that ol’ Shoehorn was doing the crossword while Little Richarding a Mudlark slam dunk, no worries. Plot development will still suck but the truth will surface eventually. If you ate too many Jay’s $5 Footlongs in the midday sun like mad dogs and Englishmen, you’re bound to not only throw up the merchandise but discover Coach Kaz maxed out on his Milford Teacher’s Credit Union Debit Card financing the subs. It may get ugly but cathartic.

WOP BOP A BOO BOP A WOP BAM BOOM TUTTI FRUTTI

” Vic, who scored that last 3-pointer?”

And naturally, Doug, unless that’s a piece of outerwear promoting The White Album from The Beatles, has to show off his Nascar colors. As if we couldn’t guess his allegiances. Doug, do you REALLY think we’re this stupid? You have not been witnessed playing a minute of basketball, even if we see aborted attempts to imitate a basketball player. You swing your weight and your gym bag around but for all we know, your gym bag is full of Snap-On Tools. Now look, it’s bad enough if the Jay’s Subs appears at this game but if the Snap-On truck shows up at mid-court, you deserve to be relegated to racing against Valley Modified. I don’t think Mr. Rooney will finance the Snap-On Gift Card. You’ll have to buy your own Snap-On tool box.

I admit those tools come in handy when you manage to fast forward this game. Winning with the aid of a lot of hearsay must be nice. I always participated myself but maybe that’s why I never got a Nascar jacket at Christmas.

“And Milford wins, 72-64, and if Dipwad Vic will hand me the stat sheet, I will give you the numbers after these messages. Go do your homework on a Dixie cup, Shoehorn. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“My goodness, what a response we’ve gotten since we last spoke. Many people are tired of being out of breath or being called ‘Porky’. One man at the support group meeting poured out his tears when he lamented his lack of control at flatulating at staff meetings at work. We were glad he could eat Van Camp’s with a sense of bravado once again.

Hi, this is Mimi Thorp for Milford Nutr-Well Center. I personally was fed up with being burned on 2-on-1 fast breaks when I was playing basketball in the driveway with my kids. Talk about parking in a driveway. I couldn’t even drive in a parkway, let alone on my daughter, I was so fatigued from all those Ritz Butter Crackers I snacked on. It was time to snack healthy and let the Schwan’s driver deliver Rocky Road to Alice Kravitts across the street. It kept her from snooping too. Rich ice cream will cut down in spying in the window.

When my own daughter was backing me down in the paint, it was time to take charge. I called Milford Nutr-Well Center and they sent a Field Secretary to explain my options. And was I surprised.

The Field Sec showed me some plans that could maximize my food intake but not maximize my waistline while minimizing the cost. That was important because I was close to maximizing the payments on the septic tank we purchased a few years ago and while the fart odors have been minimized thanks to engineering tactics that manipulated the water systems to healthy levels, I really didn’t want to keep raiding Gil’s credit cards in his wallet when he was asleep. Eventually his Visa Gold would maximize if the septic tank backed up and flooded the basement again. Floating turds and overdrafts are smelly and no fun.

First, you have to have breakfast as that is your chance to refuel after 8-10 hours of no food. The Field Sec showed me how to have a healthy breakfast that didn’t have to include Wonder Toast dipped in wheat germ oil. In fact, she ordered on the back catalog some Jimmy Dean Pure Pork Sausage and Biscuits which should arrive any day now. If I could sustain myself on the Wonder Toast and a bowl of Lucky Charms, the Federal Express man would deliver the celestial diet items, Nutr-Well Center paying for the shipping. With a glass of orange juice, I was well on my way to dunking on my daughter, especially after lowering the goal to 8 feet.

My Field Sec also gave an excellent diagrammed plan, breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner, bedtime snack. And did it work!!!!!!!!!! I found that you really couldn’t go without eating all day as your metabolism would shut down. So some cherries at mid-morning, a healthy veggie burger at lunch washed down with lentil soup and prune juice, plus a healthy portion of turkey breast filets with mashed potatoes at dinner sent me on my way to slimming the pudge that was protruding every time I called a time out. It was embarrassing to remind them they were in a 1-3-1 zone when my abdomen was jumping up and down with my boobs. Now drinking Mott’s Diet Prune Juice and gobbling up turkey legs got me off the bench faster when I cussed out the referee when he called a charge when it was clearly a blocking foul. And if I wanted to cheat and eat a Twinkie, as long as I carefully weighed it on the scale, well, Heaven was just a sin away.

The Field Sec also mentioned that sometimes the chicken cacciatore wouldn’t always agree with the fried beets and the Fanta wasn’t going to wash it down. No problem. Milford Nutr-Well Center contracted with Uber to deliver, free of charge, X-Lax in the soft gel tablets. A month’s supply ensured that we could eat our ostrich chili in peace and if that got stuck with the couscous, we could could chew on a chocolate tablet and clean ourselves of the whole affair. In fact, one night I had a Rice Krispie treat after 3 hours of diarrhea. I considered it a reward for soldiering on at the the toilet seat.

And you have helped spike sales of our Nutr-Well Systems and the powers-that-be are so ecstatic that they have engaged a special offer. Between now and the end of the month, if you lose at least 10 pounds, Milford Nutr-Well Center will send you absolutely free the February Dessert Plan. Isn’t that wonderful? Endure another week or two of leg of lamb and split pea soup with Milford Vending Diet Pork Rinds as a snack and Jello Pudding Pops will be awaiting you before Valentine’s Day. I have a couple of Pork Rind bags next to Jif Peanut Butter Crunchy in the lazy Susan even as I speak.

What are you waiting for? Call Milford Nutr-Well Center today and beat your son at his own game in the driveway. If you get exhausted playing him in a game of H-O-R-S-E, it’s time to call and take life by the horns and score the lay-up along the way.”

The Mudlark Basketball player is practicing Muscular Christianity. If he was really shooting, the goal would show up on the panaromic photo, so there.

God bless you, Gang.

“Gil, I need to use that scale to weigh my can of Le Seuer Peas. Are you done weighing your basketballs?”

“Go for it. They should be High School Athletic Association regulation weight by now.”

After hanging up the phone at the Thorp household

“Mommy, Milford Erection Incorporated just called. They said they’ll have the poles reaching climax tomorrow after they treat the wood and set them up for our large kiddie pool.”

“That’s fine, honey. Did you send out all your birthday invitations for your pool party tomorrow?”

Hit The Road, Gil, And Doncha Come Back No More.

Gang, renember the Saturday Night Live sketch where Gilda Radner plays a little girl and Bill Murray and Jane Curtin play her parents and Gilda goes to bed at night and like a lot of kids, sometimes they get scared and they they think they hear things or see things? Well, Gilda’s no exception so she thinks she sees a monster when it’s just her coat crumpled up on a chair but the coup de grace is when her bed’s shaking and, a la The Exorcist, she thinks it’s possessed. Much to her embarrassment, it’s a bunch of nomads and gypsies living under her bed that are apparently boarders renting from Gilda’s parents.

That’s kinda sorta how I think Maureen’s granddaughter in P1 popped out of nowhere. They didn’t wonder why the table was vibrating?

I mean, give us a warning next time, Thorpiverse. She sits under the table doing her homework until the topic shifts gears, then she slithers out inthe middle of her memorozing the trig ratios? Now if this educated man is proffering an educated guess, she is more than likely the waitress but I have not seen too many waitresses wearing Carrie White dresses shoot up from the floor. Did you ever see the Domino’s delivery guy with a pepperoni appear out of the parquetry? Well, maybe in T-verse, but anywhere else? Hey, Rocky, watch me pull Sissy Spacek out of my hat.

But we’re learning about cars, that’s the main thing, even if plot development is coming out of those doors Maxwell Smart used to walk into for his next assignment.

I was amazed that some bank was voted the best bank in their county. Hats off to them though I’m confident banks in less populated counties are not going to get much competition

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Selected As Best Running Back In The County According To Milford Parks & Recreation Flag Football League Officials!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Nobody can match my speed or agility or when I run that off-tackle play which I worked on over the summer.”

Hit the road, Gil

And doncha come back

No more

No more

No more

No more

Hit the road, Gil

And doncha come back no morrrrreeeee

Get the hint, Gil

And doncha waste our time

No more

No more

No more

No more

Get the hint, Gil

We don’t want you here no morrreeeeeeeee

Gil, oh, Gil

Don’t bore us to death

This story’s losing juice, going to run out of breath

If development crawls so slow

Gil, you better pack and go

Get the hint, Gil…

In Dr. Pearl’s office as she is filing Thumbtack Supply Reports-2007

OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE DESK IS SHAKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CALL A PRIEST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gil’s voice is heard

” Dr. Pearl, do you mind? I’m doing our walk-through.”

And nobody more than me commends Vic for his courageous fight with his situation and I salute the automakers who do everything possible to manufacture handicap-friendly vehicles at an affordable cost.

But Vic was mild-mannered Clark Kent and a humble one at that, especially when he posed the question to Gil. Now he’s like Linus who used to do those wild-eyed fanatic expressions in front of Charlie Brown. And leave it to Gil to send a feel- good story to the showers. It was fun while it lasted.

I don’t mind Vic essentially explaining his situation like he’s doing in P1 but we can do without Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde exchanges. I’ll leave it up to you which one he is masterminding while’s he’s munching his gratis hot dog and imitating the K.C. & The Sunshine Band while announcing who committed the foul. Maybe he and Maureen’s grandaughter in P1 can be the next Sonny & Cher duo. Y’know, singing “The Beat Goes On” every time Milford stages a rally or “I Got You Babe” every time the ref makes a bad call. Called a foul when the Mudlark barely breathed on the opponent? “You Better Sit Down, Kids.”

“That’s right, Milford Diner was voted best in the county. And to show our appreciation, now until this Sunday, kids eat for half off at our Meat Loaf Buffet, drinks included. Sorry, kids cannot indulge from the keg…”

Why are we not surprised what Doug is saying in P2? Doug, I hate to break it to you, but unless you’re Gil with a DUI as a result of excessive drinking at the Milford Lounge, we get the gist of your situation. You like cars. Duh.

What we still HAVEN’T seen and I’m bettin’ Corina’s attitude we WON’T see right off the bat is your ability to play basketball. Currently we’re viewing more Indianapolis 500 than NBA Finals and, while I’m not a big racing fan, I do like the sport but if this is basketball season can you for once TALK BASKETBALL???? Because if you’re a starter on the team, you are way out of character at this juncture. You could hold a conversation better with Michael Andretti better than Larry Bird. If we see you at the corner booth with these guys with Nascar and Pennsoil and STP and I Love Racing Better Than Vocational Career Testing With Dr. Pearl sewn on their jackets, we are going to figure you are not talking about Wilt’s 100-point game in much depth.

And Gil just lets this guy cruise the streets of Milford in his Richard Petty Special at the expense of the basketball team? Sure, Doug, go have fun kickin’ exhaust fumes in Al Unser’s face at the Milford 400. Just work on your free throws when you make a pit stop. Remember, eye the front of the rim and follow through. I’m glad A. J. Foyt is going to go one-on-one. Need to work on your moves to the bucket, especially the give-and-go. Oh, you have some basketballs right behind your seat? I won’t have to order anymore turbo-smoke-resistant Spaldings? Awesome.

If ya play point gawrd on th’ basketball team and ya had ta leave at halftime cuz ya work fer a towin’ company that tows ravers at th’ Milford 400 and ya had ta tow Buddy Baker’s wreckage, charred body included, ta take ta th’ Milford City Dump, ya might be a redneck.

And it’s so classy for Doug to be the hero for Vic “Too Loud For Milford Dog Show” Doucette. Yeah, that’s right, you scratch my back, I’ll kiss your butt. I’m a bit foggy on who’s going to be doing the butt-kissing, the jury’s still out, but we for now know that a special relationship is blossoming right under the hood. Gee, if we could just see what that has to do with the basketball season, I be at peace with myself until at least March. Doug hitting 3-pointers when he’s not getting greasy changing the carburetor filter in his car and licking Vic’s boots or mike, depending on whether Doug is in the mood to genuflect. But the same could be said for Vic licking Doug’s open-end wrench. Again, the jury’s still out. I’d hate to see what Dr. Pearl would do if she asked Doug to fix her car. Blow on the turbo exhaust pipe?

“Gil, I need those Referee W-2’s-2015 Reports by this afternoon.”

“Said and done. BTW, what’s that black ring around your mouth?”

Hit the road, Gil

And doncha come back

No more

No more

No more

No more

Hit the road, Gil

And doncha come back no moreeeeeeeeee

Mimi, whatchoo say

Get a grip, Gil

And doncha come back

No more

No more

No more

No more

Get the drift, Gil

And doncha come back no morrrreeeeeeee

Whoa, Gil, O, Gil, don’t treat us so mean

Gnashing crummy scripts than we’ve ever seen

Exerting toothpicks to hoe

Gil, you best be packin’ and go

Get the drift, Gil…

And in P3, did Maureen’s granddaughter shove her waitress’s note pad in the gym locker and become the Harlem Globetrotters? I was wondering why I heard “Sweet Georgia Brown” in the background why I was piling on the meat loaf at the buffet table at Milford Diner. You want your Baked Salmon medium-rare? Oops, got a ball game in 30 minutes. Coach Mimi wants us there for lay-up drills 15 minutes before tip-off. Enjoy your meal.

And why should we not be surprised? Next thing you know, we’ll find out that Mimi’s mom is actually Endora. That’s right, if the girls basketball team falls behind, just call on Endora who is sitting in the 3rd row in the bleachers to wiggle her lips. Voila, the Lady Mudlarks pull it out by five. Clutch free throws and Endora popping up by the concession stand out of the blue with all that smoke around her, a sure-fire formula for Lady Mudlarks winning basletball. Why not, Gil’s been doing that for 60 years. The only difference is he been the recipient of the gods smiling on him, endowing him wth pro wrestling scripts where the good guy many times wins thanks to clean living and obnoxious fans booing the opposition, even fans OF the opposition booing the opposition. You got it good, Gil. Nice to have Philistines on your end of the bench when competing against Goliath.

At the Thorp household one night

“Oh, God, Gil, keep it coming, keep it coming.”

Endora comes out of the closet

“Endora, do you mind? Can’t you drag your baggy body in here some other time?”

“Gil, SHUT UP!!!!!!!!! She might turn you into a squirrel!!!!!!!!!! Look what she did to Darren Stephens. He’s eating peanuts now at the Milford Zoo!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“…and Milford is running up and down the court, playing keepaway, while the opponent is losing at this game of which I speak. An official’s time out is being called to give everybody a chance to catch their breath. We’ll be back to resume this unforseen track meet after these messages. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“Whew!!!!!!!!!! Boy, coaching 5 games a year can keep a person hopping and sometimes you neglect the other things in my life. When my husband started calling me Rhino Butt, even if he was just joking, that’s what he told me anyway, I had to go to the mirror. And it wasn’t good. I had gained several pounds. I was wondering why my abdomen felt scrunched when I was crouching and diagraming a play. I couldn’t have been pregnant, I had my last child before the millenium. Face it, I had a beer gut.

Hi, this is Mimi Thorp and I naturally panicked until Peaches suggested a wonderful place after Marty said he was having sex with a baby walrus. At the Milford Nutr-Well Center, they understand that our active go-go lifestyles can sometimes produce love handles. And if you don’t want your husband eloping on your second honeymoon by sweeping you off your feet by grabbing your stomach, the Nutr-Well Center has some wonderful diet plans. I didn’t want to get tossed around the wrestling ring like I was going to get body-slammed by my husband, so I listened.

And was I surprised. I thought I’d be eternally doomed pushing the Sisyphus Rock and eating fried zucchini on a banana split made from mangoes and zebra milk. With pumpernickel Oreos for dessert. I don’t even want to talk about where the cola came from but tribes in ancient Africa made their enemies drink it when they were conquered.

No, I found that I could feast on Pizza Hut Pan Sausage Pizza made from artificial sausage that my husband at Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage plant manufactures in the lab. I don’t know how they were able to get prime sausage by pouring it in an Erlenmeyer flask without shooting the hog but I DID lose five pounds and in the end, if it got the W, then they can use a BB gun on Porky Pig for all I care.

And I was patiently shown how to weigh my portions and with an affordable price that won’t strain your budget or your waistline, they give you a free scale to take home. They showed me how to place the slices of pumpkin pie on the scale so it doesn’t fall on the floor. Believe me, there”s an art to clumping Cool Whip on your lemon meringue and still lose the inches and not let the roaches feast on the crumbs on your linoleum countertop. My husband was surprised how I could dump strawberries on my shortcake and lose my double chin and not have to use Pine Sol to clean up the mess. Mmmmmm, mmmmmm, good.

They also gave me handouts on the proper aerobicizing schedule when you’re weighing your Wendy’s Double Cheese on the scale. These aerobics are great addendums to a wonderful diet agenda and the best is yet to be. It was fun shaking my booty to Ozark Mountain Daredevils’ ‘Jackie Blue’ and getting rewarded with an On Cor Breaded Stack that I was able to stack on the scale with a deftness reserved for Alexander Calder. It might have been the Leaning Tower of Pisa but again, an ugly win is better than a pretty loss. And I have been losing the pounds by the inch. My husband says it’s less of a strain in bed. No more Heartbreak Hill’s. Next week, I’ll be workin’ my pecs and weighin’ my lobster to Eric Clapton’s ‘Tangled in Love’. My diet counselor told me to make sure you stun the lobster before you put in on the scale.

And forget about Chocolate shakes and starve all day until the dinner bell. Go to The Bucket if you want to lose weight pursuing that angle. At Milford Nutr-Well Center, you can even drink beer if you’ve been vigilant in your endeavors to slimming down. And I can say how wonderful it was to stick that Bud can on the scale after dancing to ‘Hooked on Classics-Rose Garden’. Lynn Anderson never sounded better with The Trammps as her backup band. Victory Beers never tasted sweeter.

It’s up to you. You pack your own chute. Come watch your own parachute unfold before you and feel as light as your high school days and get a free scale along the way. Sounds like a winning recipe to me. Only at Milford Nutr-Well Center.”

Gang, thank you for hanging with me. I was on the road for my dad again and I was wiped out when done. But you all have been good to me. You deserved my best efforts. God bless you all.

And doncha come back no morrrrrreeeeeee

Wait a minute (Doncha come back no morrrreeee)

That baseball plot served free pizza (Doncha come back no morrrrreeeeee)

I take back what I said about Dr. Pearl and her breast implants (Doncha come back no morrrrrreeeeee)

Mimi really doesn’t have a rhino butt. I saw her putting Birds-Eye Frozen Peas on the scale (Doncha come back no morrrreeeeeeee)

We’ll quit scrimmaging and start playing basketball by the end of January (Doncha come back no morrrrreeeeeeee)

Mimi’s butt doesn’t look like the Brooklyn Tunnel (Doncha come back…)

Vic “Shoehorn” Doucette Is Living Up To That Reputation.

There was an early episode on the Dick Van Dyke Show where Dick is putting the finishing touches on a comedy sketch (he’s a comedy writer for the fictional Alan Brady Show) with his assistants, veteran comedy people Morey Amsterdam and Rose Marie, when Mel Cooley (played by one of my favorite comedians, Richard Deacon-loved his cookbooks) , essentially Alan Brady’s right-hand man, brings in his cousin, Maxwell Cooley (played by Gavin McLeod, who would later show up as a regular on the Mary Tyler Moore Show and as lead man on The Love Boat) , who is a jewelry salesman and a bit of a huckster. Everything is pretty much for $35.00 to which Rob Petrie (Dick Van Dyke) is totally oblivious.

What makes it funnier is Maxwell is trigger-happy to humor, laughing at anything even if it isn’t remotely funny. When Morey says that Maxwell will laugh at ANYTHING, he proves it by uttering flatly “Shoehorn”. Maxwell goes into hysterics, making the episode that much funnier.

So when I saw ol’ Shoehorn describing the action this morning, the first thing that came to mind was “Wait a minute, he’s just the PA announcer. He tells us who scored the basket. Who committed the foul. Who the officials are for tonight’s game”. Since when did he start doing play-by-play? Talk about shoehorning your way on the floor. But the Rogers Ram just got a foul tacked on him. What can you do about an ANNOUNCER charging in on the action? Take his hot dog away? Make him stand in the corner until he stops sounding like Dickie V.? Write “I will not say that Doug Guthrie is a Diaper Dandy” 100 times, typed and double-spaced?

Again, he sidetracked his way to class to lap up to Gil at the faculty lounge so he could get the announcer’s job. He was about as humble and contrite as your dog when you’re about to throw him a bone. Now he’s Chris Berman Incarnate. And like in the movie “Good Morning Vietnam” where Sergeant Major Dickerson asks the general what’s going to happen when Adrian Cronauer not only violates government regulations but draws a crowd in the process. That may be what we’re looking at here

“Vic, you’re only supposed to call the player’s name when he scores. Mark ‘Godleski’s Last Name Isn’t Damn’ is crossing a line. No Twix bars tonight.”

“Go to Hell, Coach. Talk to my agent. He’s over there kissing up to your wife.”

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Varnish Breath Vic Doucette In Hot Water Again After Latest Gaffe!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Sources say Gutless Gil Thorp was a bit excessive. Displinary measures pending.”

Mel Cooley comes to Dr. Pearl’s office, bringing Max Cooley with him

“Hello, Mr. Cooley, who’s this gentleman?”

“Oh, this is my cousin, Max Cooley.”

“HAHAHA, pleased to meet you, Dr. Pearl.”

“Thank you. So what I can I do for you while I’m doing these Art Supplies Inventory-1987 reports?”

“HAHAHAHA”

“Uh, would either you gentlemen care for some coffee. I still have some Maxwell House Decaf in the pot.”

“HAHAHAHA”

“I’m sure glad we won yesterday. Mimi’s coaching saved the day. That time out settled the girls down.”

“HAHAHAHA”

“And benching Corina fired up the team.”

“HAHAHAHA”

“Mr. Cooley, does your cousin laugh at everything?”

“He’s just trigger-happy. But this’ll really make him laugh. Watch. ‘Gil Thorp’.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA”

“Dr. Pearl, it wasn’t THAT funny. I know Gil can be a joke, uh, well, never mind, my cousin is a jewelry salesman and he has top-of-the-line stuff…”

I swear, I am going to enroll in Winter Semester at Milford School of Art & Design. If Thorpiverse can’t draw the crowd any better than that hot fudge sundae smeared all over the bleachers in P1, I am gunning for a scholarship. I would hate to see what that glop looks like if it was colorized. Then again, maybe not. I saw enough of Clockwork Orange. At least they rated it X to give people a warning. Those bleachers are filled with the casualties when Patton headed off Erwin Rommel and his Nord Afrika Korps. Thank God we won or Luhm would be sweeping and mopping up dead bodies for the Axis powers.

Just give me Kiwi Black shoe polish, some White-Out, a couple of Bic Black Magic Markers, and voila, I have a studio audience to respond to Vic’s tarantellas. The guy at the bottom has to be Father Time, the beard drawn with a paintbrush with goathairs. Then there’s Captain Crunch who proves in P1 why he’s never sketched in black and white. Did you ever try his Peanut Butter Cereal in black and white? The analogy drives home the point. Cereal lacking food color schemes and Captain Crunch drawn with a welder’s pencil doesn’t mix. And who are those gentlemen sitting on Captain Crunch’s head? Members from The Dave Clark Five? Are they taking Vic “I Plead The Fifth” Doucette’s lead? Hey, rock stars are human and like to go to high school sports too; and if they’re drawn like they’re cheering on the team, not an outgrowth of Captain Crunch’s head or a miniaturized version of Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album cover, they’ll be Mudlarks for life. With a little help from our friends.

And Marcell Irby is tall but he can’t be wearing platform shoes. He and his buddies are in a powwow to discuss how they mutated to 8 feet tall all of a sudden. Maybe those Captain Crunch Nutrament bars had a little too much chocolate in them. And the water in the water bottle tasted a little funny. You sure they got the water from the locker room sink? And WHY are these Jolly Green Giants standing there. A foul was announced, not the History of Rogers Rams Athletics. I don’t see a movie screen anywhere, unless it’s under the bleachers where the Dave Clark Five is sitting.

“Now Dr. Pearl, this same necklace was worn by Empress Mudlarkia. She ruled in the Late Egyptian Reign.”

“Oh my goodness, Maxwell, it’s so adorable. How much are you willing to charge?”

“I’m getting a tax break so I’ll let you have it, with a discount, for $39.99.”

“Oh, Maxwell, you drive a hard bargain. Very well, I shall take it.”

“My suppliers cut me some slack. Milford Flea Market, I mean, my wholesale dealer was in a generous mood this week.”

The whole episode was about Rob buying a jewelry gift for his wife, Laura (Mary Tyler Moore) from Maxwell and Rob’s gesture is well-intentioned but heads horribly in the wrong direction. The necklace is about the gaudiest, tackiest piece of work known to mankind. It is onerous and bawdy and when Laura puts it on, she is trying to be nice but it’s obvious to everybody but Rob that she doesn’t like it and who can blame her.

What makes it funnier is that Maxwell convinces Rob who goes right around to try to convince Laura that this necklace was once worn by some empress from a famous dynasty or kingly lineage or bloodlines from some obscure royalty, which was the point. It could have been worn by the Queen of Hearts and she shouted “Off with his head!!!!!!!!!!!!” anytime anyone laughed at her pendant and Laura wouldn’t care. Laura wouldn’t wear this at Gil’s funeral.

But Laura doesn’t know how to tell Rob that she hates it and Rob’s neighbors just compound the problem, Jerry wanting to buy this for Millie, although Millie eggs on Laura to come clean with Rob, to no avail.

“Oh, Laura, I know I should tell Gil he got these cuff links out of the garbage cans in the alley but I’ve been trying to summon up the courage for 60 years to tell him he can’t coach.How do I tell him to use a tie to wrap his leadership in a Glad Lawn & Leaves Bag?”

And Thorpiverse and I take separate paths when describing a fast break. That’s when you get the rebound, then pass the ball downcourt before the other team can set up their defense. Usually we’re talking 3-on-1, i.e., 3 Mudlarks versus 1 Rogers Ram or 2-on-1, i.e., 2 Mudlarks etc. Yeah, assuming those 3 gentlemen in the foreground in P2 are all Rogers Rams, granted they’re still out of position and they didn’t slide their feet but I bet Laura’s necklace they’d been down the other end long before they ran the break. Hard to slide your feet when you’re standing there clueless looking at Thomas Muench (assuming again) as if you forgot he’s not on your team and you’re wondering why your teammate is shooting at the opponent’s goal. Wait a minute (looking at own uniform) , his uniform color doesn’t match mine. He must be the opponent. I guess I should guard him. I was wondering why my coach was shouting obscenities in 12 different languages.

And a fast break usually results in an easy lay-up or dunk. Running 12-footers are nice but if the 12-footer and the fast break are one and the same, the Mudlark comeback trail is going to get ragged. Well, unless those bowling pins are still stationary, then Muench can shoot withbthe least amountvof resistance. No sense in worrying whether a bowling pin will violate the vertical plain or kill the break. Milford will literally win in a walk.

If ya buy a gold-plated watch from the garbage man that th’ Mayor of Milford threw out cuz it had scratch marks on th’ cover but ya want ta want ta work third shift at Milford Foundry in style and impress th’ boss man with a gilded piece of attire, ya might be a redneck.

And who is that person in the corner????

I immediately ruled out ANYONE playing for Rogers Rams who’s playing in the game. If he’s taking a piss behind the scorer’s table while Thomas “Betcha Can’t Eat Just One” Muench is running the break, sit him. If he’s with the Mudlarks, Gil will take appropriate action. And I have property on Mudlark Lark Driving Range if you honestly believe that. Anyone who lets Richard Petty run more races than fast breaks probably won’t bother to check to see if the Mudlark zipped up his shorts after peeing a river behind the bleachers.

And many high school stadiums have bleachers on the basket side so I cut some slack but anybody who is familiar with Thoroiverse knows Lobachevsky’s Theorem is liberally applied when it comes to stadium design.

No better application than P2. At the outset, the bleachers appeared to be mainly courtside. But today, if that schmuck in the corner is sitting in the bleachers, Muench is running the break towards the vomitory of the stadium. He’s taking pretty good aim in that direction anyway, the way his hair is flying. Who made the outlet pass, the stadium ushers?

And who IS that guy, if he’s not a fan in the stands? Maybe the Unabomber is in the building taking in the game before he plants a stick of dynamite under the drinking fountain. Maybe it’s the Pillsbury Dough Boy. The catch-as-catch-can artwork has finally met its match. Talk about abusing your Crayola’s. It could be Don Noort. Hey, at least he’s a basketball fan, not the mystery face in some Ryman Auditorium photo from 1948. Unless he likes Mudlark Basketball games and Bill Monroe and Roy Acuff.

I know!!!!!!!!!!! It’s Gil Thorp taking in the game. Wait a minute, he’s the coach. He’s taking in the game, if nothing else.

SHOEHORN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HAHAHAHAHAHA

“Nope, sorry, Vic. Gotta do better if you want to do PA stuff. You have until Friday.”

“I’ll dunk my head in Brylcream every time I laugh.”

“I have plenty in my footlocker in my office. Here’s a hall pass.”

WHATTTTTTTTTT????????????????

No Thomas “Crunch and” Muench?

No Thomas “Jefferson” Muench?

No Thomas “Jefferson Wrote The Declaration of Independence While Sitting On A Bag of Lay’s Sour Cream, Chester Cheetah’s Head, And Some Crunch And” Muench????

You’re slipping, Shoehorn.

Then there’s the crowd. One of those is a gimme. Silhouette #1 is truly pumping his fist and cheering his Mudlarks to victory. I won’t press my luck and say he’s directing it at Gil and his sterile coaching methods. And I’ll be nice on Silhouette #2. I could say, judging by the cap, that it’s a farmer getting an early jump on Spring and spreading seed on his fields despite snow sloshing in some of the furrows. No, he is wearing a Mudlarks Rule!!!!! on his top and keeping his dentures from slipping out in front of any fast break that Muench executes towards the Roger Rams that have their feet nailed to the parquetry. Hold that tiger and your bicuspids.

Silhoutte #3 is interesting. She is either part of a tree stump or a nun who wears bridal veils to ward off the glare of the scoreboard. She gets excited as long as she doesn’t get sunburnt. Ol’ Shoehorn certainly knows how to foment a rebellion with the Shadow People. I be sure to get the Shadow People vote when I’m running for office. You need those Swing States.

Rarely do I make political messages but to those of you who seized the US Capitol in the name of your cause, shame on you. You have ceased to become Americans. I will always endorse your beliefs and give you my blessing, even if I don’t agree with it as long as your protest is peaceful as the Constitution guarantees with Right to Peaceful Assembly.

If it’s violent, I want no part of it. As The Beatles sang, when you talk about destruction, don’t you know that you can count me out. Count me out of this one.

Frank Zappa was right. Register to vote.

We have voting booths. We have our court system. We have more government agencies than you can fathom. And you can argue that they don’t do any good. But neither does violence. What if violence directly affected my family? What if they were inside the Capitol? I’m holding you responsible. Again, shame on you.

As Dirty Harry once said, I may not always like the system, but until there’s changes that make sense, I’m sticking with it.

Please move to another country should you continue this travesty. And it is a farce.

“And time out is called out on the floor. Milford cuts it to one with 2:13 remaining. The Rogers Rams want to talk it over. And as long as Shoehorn isn’t talking over me, that’ll be even better. This is Marty Moon, not Shoehorn, and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

At the Shaw domicile one late evening

“Honeyyyyyyyyyy, I’m hornnnyyyyyyyyyyyy. It’s time for beddy-byyyyyyyyyyyyyy. It’s time for-Darling, I don’t mean to be rude but what is that necklace doing on the coffee table? Wasn’t that at Milford Peddler’s Mall last week?”

“Woman, that is where you are wrong. Yes, I did buy it at the Peddler’s Mall, but no, it wasn’t worn by just anybody. Queen Elizabeth, when she was clearing up space at Westminster Abbey, sold it on the open market. I was fortunate to get her prized possession before some 90-year-old with a cane got to the table. Sometimes ya gotta win the foot race with Grandma Moses if you want the finer things in life.”

“Honey, I could go down to Milford Dollar General Store and buy something like this. I saw a replica on a table next to the milk cooler.”

“Mrs. Shaw, I’m surprised at you. You don’t know royalty if it ran you over with a horse carriage. Queen Elizabeth wore this exact thing during her Corination ceremony. The lady at the booth said the Queen just gave it up because Prince Charles needed room for his Black Sabbath albums. He still treasures the time he bought “War Pigs” when he was cruising St. John Wood and he spotted an independent record seller.”

“I think the Peddler’s Mall is just handing you a line. They’ll say anything to get what’s been rotting in the attic off their hands.”

“Mrs. Shaw, if you don’t believe me, I have the Queen’s signature blazed on the back of the necklace. Ain’t no way she could fake that. Now put this on so I can get my dander up and get that feeling of ecstasy with royalty.”

“Do you honestly believe this crossed the ocean and found its way to some huckster at a garage sale? I’m not wearing a piece of trash to so I can be in Fantasyland.”

“Now why would I not believe the lady at the booth? How do you know she’s not the Queen’s second cousin? Hey, George Harrison lived in Illinois for years right under our noses.”

“Because I found this Milford Blow Torch Consortium tag in the box.”

“And I couldn’t get my money back. And to think, I almost bought Elvis’ shaving kit in the same aisle. But there’s one place where you have a money-back guarantee if you’re not satisfied with your performance. That’s right, the Milford Men’s Clinic will cheerfully refund your money if you don’t have the time of your life. And you don’t need to talk to the lady at the booth about that or your erectile problems. Get away from the rummage sale and experience real pleasure only at the Milford Men’s Clinic. Don’t sell your manhood at a garage sale. Let The Clinic restore the fun in your life without the used parts.

Don’t even go there, Gang. That is NOT the Planet of the Apes in behind ol’ Shoehorn. They were at the last game.

But God bless you, Gang.

And to conclude the Dick Van Dyke episode, Rob’s parents come over for a visit and Mom Petrie falls head over heels over Laura’s necklace. Mom is also trigger-happy like Maxwell Cooley, only she WEEPS over the silliest issues. She LOVES that bawdy necklace, which Laura gladly hands over, saving the trouble of telling Rob that she abhors it

“The Milford School Board has extended Gil’s coaching contract for another 60 years.”

OHHHHH, BOOHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOO

So Gil and Mimi have Dad and Mom Petrie over for dinner while Rob and Laura head to their second honeymoon

“Oh, here’s this Coaching Medal I won when the Mudlarks won the State in ’75. You can have it, Mom Petrie.”

OHHHHHHHHH BOOOOHHHHOOOOOOOOOO THANK YOU, MR. THORP

“And this MVP Trophy that Jerry Pulver won will be a nice addition to your China cabinet.”

OHHHHHHHHHHH BOOOOOOHHHHOOOOOOOO THANK YOU, MR. THORP

“And I would have put Mimi’s coaching accomplishments in Girls Basketball in your suitcase but I didn’t want to be rude and false advertise.”

OHHHHHHHHHHH BOOOOOOHHHHOOOOOOO THANK YOU, MR. THORP

Mel Cooley and his cousin in Ms. Rizk’s room

“Typewriter.”

HAHAHAHAHA…

I’ll Give You $1,000 To Call Off This Plot.

Are we watching a basketball game or Let’s Make a Deal? Is Carol Merrill one of the referees? Okay, Vic wanted a job and Gil took pity and gave him one. But the results have snuck in behind Door #3. I sure hope that’s not a donkey when they finally reveal the result. Somebody better have a shovel handy if that’s the case. For that matter, you better have one around for this whole plot so far. I can smell the manure from across the court. Gil has more than bad breath.

Vic was originally just meant to announce the starting lineup and to name the player who scored the bucket. Jazzing up his name was tolerated but I get a sick-gut feeling Gil wanted a Grantland Rice to Vic’s delivery. How you play the game while Vic was overheatedly booming the guy’s name after a vicious dunk on the opponent was to be the eventual theme, saith The Gil. Let’s be a gentleman while we’re making the dude eat his lunch.

Now Vic has become another Monty Hall. It’s not enough to win the game, Marcell Irby has to win a vacation for two to The Bahamas after he took a chance on Door #1 that Carol Merrill is showing. Oops, my bad, she’s still calling the foul on #45. Got him with the body. 2 shots.

We’ll see where Sweepstakes Week leads after Vic has suddenly started believing he’s the second coming of James Brown. He was a meek announcer who spouted out the starting lineups. Now he’s Live at The Apollo belting out “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag”. Hey, somebody might win a weekend to Mudlark Lake Resort. Might as well be you.

I was piqued with interest when Sly & The Fanily Stone appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show and watching them dance in the aisles while the audience was dressed like they were at a Sinatra gig was fun to watch. And it worked.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Minor Incident No Big Deal In Overall Smash Success For Sly & The Family Stone Concert At Milford Outdoor Amphitheater!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“O.J.: ‘I took a wrong dance step and landed in some gentleman’s popcorn. I gave him a 20 for the damages. No harm, no foul.”

Dance to the ball game

Dance to the ball game

Dance to the ball game

Dance to the ball game

I’m gonna add a DJ

Although his job should be just calling the fouls

THIS IS NOT BASKETBALL!!!!!!!!!!!!! Our resident Mudlark in P1 would be better suited at the Milford Elementary 3rd grade ballet recital. Name me one thing, ANYTHING, that gives me hope that he is on a basketball court and THAT’S a basketball game.

Is he getting the rebound? If he is, there’s a Nerfhoop nearby that is wide enough to accommodate kickballs. He can’t be playing slaughterball. Why would he then be running TOWARDS the kickball-slaughterball-general-purpose-spheroid? I thought Rapp had returned and gone against the grain once again and threw another questionable long bomb. In that case, there’s nobody nearby and the Mudlark, once he catches it, should spike it once he reaches the end zone. Remember, you have to dribble it if you don’t want to get called for traveling at the 1-yard line. Don’t block Rapp’s Road to Glory on a stupid technicality.

Maybe he’s dribble-penetrating and executing a shovel pass. The swan dive theatrics may be a bit excessive but if it puts two in the books and gets Vic to go haywire, the end justifies the means. Monty Hall getting the studio audience in a frenzy over an easy slam, now there’s the ticket.

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Injury Mars Great Event At Milford Quarterback Club Awards Banquet!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Sources say Coach Thorp reinjured hamstring while sashaying with Maureen to ‘Dance to the Music’.”

I’m gonna add Doug Guthrie

On D, he needs to move his feet

Gang, refresh your memory. Vic was pumping himself up in front of a mirror before he sideswiped a teacher to go ask Gil, oh, pretty please, can I be the PA announcer this year. I know you were waiting until the previous announcer posts bond but until then, can I announce who the officials will be for tonight’s game. I’ll do your lawn for free, no charge. I’ll even throw in the lawn mower.

Anybody who has officiated knows it is a no-no to beg the athletic director to officiate the AD’s high school’s basketball games. Don’t pay the AD a 50 to get your start at the freshman contests. Yet, that’s pretty much what Vic did with Gil. Oh, Vic upped the ante to a large flat soda instead of a medium flat soda but Gil is still arguing from a postion of strength.

Could this explain why Vic is doing Karaoke? He can’t just say who made the last bucket, no, no. He’s got to croon “My Way” or “Always on my Mind” to all the bobby soxers in the bleachers. Anything to get nachos and queso dip added to the large flat Dr. Pepper. Hey, you may not look like Deano but sing “Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime” after every made free throw and Gil might allow a buffalo burger in the budget.

Is this how Monty Hall started hosting “Let’s Make a Deal”? He was in the men’s room at some God-forsaken TV studio summoning up the courage to utter “Door #3” and next thing you know he’s part of The Rat Pack? Yeah, that’s Monty standing between Joey Bishop and Carol Merrill in the Christmas Photo. Sammy Davis Jr. is behind Monty. Vic and Frankie will be two peas in an announcer’s booth calling the fouls and dueting “New York, New York”.

And what is this DRIVING DOUG GUTHRIE???? In one sense, he’s right, he’s driving but we’ve seen more pretending he’s driving a race car rather than any maneuver to the basket. Frankie, if Doug is Jordan, he’s doing it in the stock car pit because he couldn’t have been doing any driving, either with a Richard Petty Special or a basketball in the first half. The God-forsaken visages in the locker room at halftime said it all. If you’re going to be liberal with the nicknames, a la Chris Berman, how about Doug “Arlo” Guthrie? Heck, I’ve got my own to weigh in, how ’bout Dumbbutt Doug Guthrie or Delinquent Doug Guthrie. Feel free to use them anytime, Monty. I’ll give them to you for what’s behind Door #2.

If ya is willing ta give ol’ Monty Hall yore money back that ya won cuz ya hope thar’s a shaving kit behind Door #1 that’ll shred that beard ya has grown fer 10 years with a bonus lice-removing kit, ya might be a redneck.

The average age, judging by P2, had to have plummeted by the opening tip. There must have been a sign out front that said “Nobody over 11-years-old will be admitted inside”. Is this Milford Elementary 3rd Grade Night? Elvis is gettin’ it on with the munchkins behind his back.

Really, I can’t see Frankie singing “Strangers in the Night” with a chorus of Sesame Street kids behind him but if Thorpiverse wants to keep us on our toes by adding spice and/or kindergartners to the plot, T-verse succeeded. I heard those midgets from Willie Wonka’s Chocolate Factory will be coming by the end of the 1st quarter. They’re working overtime.

Now if Monty is compelled to sing “MacArthur Park” after a time out with Jaime and Keri, I think the Mudlarks should forfeit. I know The Who rocked with “The Kids Are Alright” but I never took that literally.

At WDIG-TV studio where “Let’s Make a Deal” is being broadcast

“Now Dr. Pearl, you can keep the $500 or go for what’s behind Door #3 that Carol Merrill is showing us. Who knows, it might be that trip to Mudlark Lake Resorts.”

“I’m going to select Door #3, thank you.”

“All right, she gives me back the money, let’s see if she and her husband will be enjoying sunbathing together and-ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, my goodness, it’s a year’s supply of Dentu-Creme, all packed on that one donkey. Well, Dr. Pearl, the donkey can be easily led and if you can call one if your relatives with a pickup truck, your dentures won’t fall out, thank you so much for playing…”

I’m going to add some bottom

It’s ’bout the place where Gil’s brain sits

Gang, I have watched my family play sports for decades, I’ve had 2 nieces for cheerleaders, 1 nephew play baseball and cross country, my step-nephew play baseball and tennis, my brothers play football, one of my brothers make it up to the reserve team in basketball, one niece play freshman basketball, not to mention watch several of my ex-players play baseball and basketball, have been a loyal supporter of my college team for decades, one of the college coaches I have for a reference, and I have NEVER seen a basketball player stop and have a conversation with the PA announcer during live action. Maybe I’m getting crotchety.

Who is this Doug Guthrie that he can run off on the weekend to the Indianapolis 500 whenever he damn well pleases, then stops to chat with the fans while on the fast break? You never saw Magic Johnson run the floor and dish the rock to Kareem and talk with his stockbroker in the front row in between. Larry Bird didn’t swish a 25-footer, then chat with his buddies about Bow Season around French Lick. And I dare ANYONE to call Mom while waiting to rebound the ball during a free throw with Bob Knight as the coach. The inmates are not only running the prison, they’re having dinner dates with the prison guards at The Bucket. Where the warden is located is about like asking how the archaelogists dug Lucy out of the ground. You’d get dirt finding out and you’d still have more questions than answers.

And where is Gil????? Coach, do you let your players sing around the campfire at the jump circle? Agreed, they need to talk on defense but not talk while on defense. Or offense, for that matter. Coach, I think you better start taking charge or you’re going to have a whole seminar on the court en route to a 30-point butt-whipping at your expense. Your move, Warden.

“Ms. Rizk, I’ll give you $800 and you can keep your typewriter if you’ll call off the deal.”

“Can I keep Carol Merrill as a teacher’s aide?”

You might want to throw in some teamwork

Something that’s lacking as of late

We are in for a long season if Sherman and Mr. Peabody make any attempt to keep the game interesting with platitudes for nicknames. Goofy Gil Thorp and Morsel Irby are just going to grate the fans nerves, not to mention stretch the sanity level of the TWIMer readers. Scores in Bunches Muench is really not mike-friendly even if Sherman or Mr. Peabody are trying to get a rally going. Where’s Kicked Out Knappe when you need him? Oh, my bad, he’s ordering dinner for halftime festivities.

“And we’ll be back after these messages with the score, Rogers, 54, Milford, 51. Hopefully, somebody will shut up Mr. Peabody. Somebody ought to throw a Jay’s sub at him. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

At the Thorp household one Saturday morning

“Mommy, there’s some men here who are taking the piano away. Daddy is out there with him and Daddy cleaned out his wallet to pay them.”

“What???? Keri, Mommy is going to have a long talk over this one.”

Heard out in the garage

“Yeah, that’s the one. Load that riding mower on the trailer.”

“Gil, what are you doing?”

“Oh, hey, Mimi. I couldn’t afford those blue pills so I decided to sell some lawn equipment so I could perform better in bed. I decided not to put the jeep up as collateral.”

“Mommy, is he going to sell dog collars so he can go to bed with you?”

“Don’t be silly, Jaime. If Daddy would take those EREC-3500 pills like I’ve been on my hands and knees for him to do, we wouldn’t have this impromptu rummage sale.”

“I still think we ought to put the china cabinet on Ebay and sell it to the highest bidder. I’ll have my wiener boned up by the time MASH comes on WDIG-TV Rerun Night.”

“Gil, DON’T YOU DARE!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now you march into the bathroom and do what a man’s gotta do.”

“When the Moment of Truth is almost upon me? When I can know what Keith Smart felt like in ’87 by auctioning off the pool table to the Milford Senior Citizens Condominiums and More???? Who wants to be Joe Hillman when I can drain the winning shot and get as erect as Bob Knight when he gets teched up by Ted Valentine?”

“Mr. Thorp, I’ll be coming for the cookie jars later.”

“NO THEY WON’T, GIL!!!!!!!!!!! I’m not going to ask you again. Those EREC-3500’s will keep us off the repo list.”

“Darling, Me and Kentucky Basketball have a lot of tradition. They just perform their tradition at Rupp Arena and I prefer to execute the 3-on-1 break in bed. Oh, I expect a little opposition but I’m gonna score. It’s how Kentucky is one of the all-time leaders in wins.”

“Mommy, do I have to sell my Tinkertoys for Daddy to get stone hard?”

“Of course not, Keri, why do you ask?”

“Because it’s on the porch.”

“Mimi was right, as usual. And I didn’t need to sell Raggedy Ann dolls to get my wiener up and blazing. With EREC-3500, there’s no need for garage sales or putting your couch in the want ad section. And good lawyers enabled us to buy all our possessions back that I foolishly posted on EBay or in Thrifty Nickel ads. I dipped into my Coach’s Retirement Fund to withstand the legal fees. With excellent finance terms available at rates that will get you erect in all phases of your body, isn’t it time you took charge of your manhood? Without the repo man at your door? Come to Milford Men’s Clinic where it is never difficult to get hard.”

I keep telling you, that isn’t Buddy Holly. Or Big Bopper behind him. They have a show Saturday at Milford Outdoor Amphitheater and need rest.

But God bless you, Gang, and Happy New Year

Continuing P3

“…so how’s your mom doing. Did she recover from her hysterectomy?”

“She’s been under heavy sedation but some Mott’s oughta do the trick…”

At the Thorp household one afternoon

“Gil, what are we going to do with a yacht?”

“Mimi, I won it on Let’s Make a Deal. That amd the elephant.”

“Elephant?”

Dance to the music

Dance to the music

Dance to the music…

Ramspringa

The Rogers Rams jet to a ten-point lead and hold on to that double-digit lead for the rest of the first half, hitting the locker room up by two touchdowns and leaving the Milford Mudlarks mere shadows of themselves. Did the Rams come out hot, or did the Mudlarks come out cold? Does it really matter? Gil’s made his determination and is letting his boys have it with both barrels.

If Gil’s accusation is true, where do you think these kids learned about saving their best stuff for the conference schedule?

Gil Thorp and Pro Wrestling. Two Things That Definitely Aren’t Fake.

Face it, Gang. You can change the channel to HBO, to CNN, to the Milford Fine Cooking Channel, to Milford Community Calendar Channel, to Milford Sports History Channel, to The Nashville Network, to Milford Musicians Who Played At The Grand Ole Opry on The Nashville Network, to Milford Home Improvement Channel, to Milford Auction Block Channel, to NBC, to PBS, to Milford Arts & Entertainment Channel, to ESPN, to Milford Real Estate Happenings Channel, but if you go back to WDIG-TV, they’ll still have Memphis Wrestling with Lance Russell, Dave Brown, and Cory Macklin.

We have tried to will Peppermint Potty out of existence but she keeps turning up to abort the flight even before it gets off the ground. You better grab a magazine. As I mentioned yesterday, I should have known better.

We were all hoping she would ride off into the sunset after Milford’s game with Valley Tech, especially when she made her point, albeit castigating two lunkheads who set their own agendas with brownies was questionable. We gave her a donkey to ride, an appropriate mode of transportation, to ride off into that sunset.

At least the donkey didn’t return.

So brace yourself for more Corinavirus. And with Doug Unser and his NASCAR jacket in the scheme of things, what is Corinavirus going to do when Doug Unser shows up late for class because DAYTONA ran past schedule, tell him fly a Cessna next time and then hand him a frozen Butterball Turkey on a platter? Advise him to use a real race car, a Salt Walther Special, at the Indy 500, not a monster 4-wheeler that could crush all the tackling dummies at the Milford Football Practice Field? Oh, and eat the rest of this Rhubarb Bundt Cake. Betty Crocker has a way with careless race car drivers who occasionally play point guard for the Mudlark Basketball team.

“Damn!!!!!!! I knew I shouldn’t have raced at the Poconos!!!!!! Too much snow on the mountains!!!!!!”

“If you’d get your head out of your ass and wake and smell the Gil, you wouldn’t have taken the Pennsylvania Turnpike for a silly contest that only shows the stats in the Milford Enquirer Scoreboard section. Your team needed you and lost in triple OT because you’re a selfish cad and a worthless lout and a boneheaded turd who only thinks of individual accomplishments and you deserve to get guillotined at noon this morning at Milford Community Center for leaving the team to get eaten by the alligators. Want some Oreos? They’ve been lagging in the cookie jar for three weeks.”

Are they going to put a hood over Doug Unser’s head? Sometimes these beheadings can get messy.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. And Tommy Rich Win Back The Southern Heavyweight Tag Title At Milford Veterans Memorial Coliseum!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“That’ll teach Lawler and Jarrett to talk about our mothers on WDIG.”

Who are those ladies from behind those towels sopping up sweat and continuing a Nice Game Corina You Got Game Fellowship Hand Extender And An If She’d Quit Yakking With That Tow Truck Of A Body That Would Back The Whole Opponent Down And Play Defense Rejoinder well into basketball? Only The Shadow knows.

SURPRISE!!!!!!!!!!! It’s Becca and Corinavirus. Attaway to execute a flailing attempt to display an element of surprise to the plot. Like that’s Blondie and Tootsie covering their faces with smelly towels. Is that Mimi in the corner wiping her butt with one of them things? I can’t tell, the Holiday Inn towel Gil stole at the last Coach’s Convention is covering her head.

Thorpiverse was just trying to delay the inevitable. We can’t sit on Tessi Hilton and the clothing she wears at Milford Girls Basketball games and Valley Conference Chemistry Seminars, no, no. Thorpiverse played it safe by extending soap operas at Milford Girls Volleyball matches into basketball season that saw Corinavirus and her two girlie-girl friends embroiled in controversy-of-the-week situations more than we EVER saw Mimi coach. She did coach, right? I was too wrapped up in Peppermint Potty receiving the MVP trophy at the football game. She and Becca were co-Milford Moose Lodge Sportsmen of the Year at the football banquet.

And guess what? If removing those smelly towels is any indication we’ll see MORE General Hospital than 3-on-1 fast breaks at girls games, assuming we’ll see the game at all. It’s nice that Corinavirus can make a move on somebody IN PRACTICE. Whoops, we have to pre-empt One Life to Live if we want to see her do that IN A GAME???? Darn the luck.

It’s comforting to know that Vic Doucette will be there with the call should she remove the towel and execute the give-and-go. Let’s not have Vic navigate through Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman.

At the girls basketball game

“Corrrrrrriiinnnnnnnnaaaaaaa-VIRRRRRRRRUUSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Twwwwwwwwooooooooooo points!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Uh, Vic, that’s not Corina. She’s down at Talladega giving Doug Unser a tongue-lashing. And some Ho Ho’s.”

If ya keep comin’ ta tha same Game area year after year even tho THIS year they’s 1,547,034 hunters in the same patch uv acreage just cuz ya bagged an 8-pointer 20 years ago, ya might be a redneck.

And The Shadow People return. It’s not enough for T-Verse to have Peppermint Potty torture us with another in a long line of smartass zingers, no, we are once again forced to use process of elimination and try to reason through who’s in the background.

Okay, T-Verse, let me get my Idiot’s Guide to Logic and Lewis Carroll’s Logic Games You Can Play While Waiting At The Milford Airport (had to have been updated, given the time Carroll lived-see, I’m using logic here. Carroll is proudly looking down from Heaven) out of the drawer and let’s see if we are on the same page.

That person with a bustline has to be one of the basketball players. Doug did not return from Talladega and suit up at the wrong practice. He can’t be that tired. And I scratched out Jerry Lawler. He’s at Milford Veterans Memorial Coliseum with The Moon Dogs in a Milford Death Match. I also entertained Marcell Irby but he’s too tall. And given that it’s a girl basketball player, that cannot, cannot, cannot be Cressa. She had a bustline that could do an NBA clearout. I thought Rick Mahorn used to set bone-crushing picks. Cressa can run the picket fence all by herself. All we need is a shooter. Corinavirus is the logical choice if she decides to play.

And the other one has to be another basketball player unless the Quaker Oats Man went out for the team. But remember, this is girls basketball. Stay within the rules of logic.

If ya is involved in a civil lawsuit with the Milford Veterans Memorial Coliseum cuz ya is in a dispute with Coliseum officials over Pro Rasslin’ season tickets cuz ya wanna sit one row further but the officials contend yore preferred section is fer senior citizens and yule giv yore lawyer a coupla tickets as a first-installment payment if ya win th’ case, ya might be a redneck.

And who isn’t surfeited with Corinavirus and her stinging witticisms by now but usually when she utters something acerbic, it hits the mark. Alduous Huxley would have been proud. She could have written “Point Counterpoint” and nobody would have noticed the difference between her and Huxley.

The punchline fell on its face today.

I am THINKING she is making a back-handed stab at Tessi’s silliness, given the eye-rolling a few panels before this practice. Even if I personally have no problem with Tessi’s fun-loving nature, especially because I worked for years for bosses like that (the day went better, trust me) , Corinavirus proved it on the court and give her credit for knowing where to go.

Just don’t take that remark to the Milford Comedy Club

“…wasn’t that nice for Gil to stand in for one of the back-up vocals on ‘Jackie Blue’? The Ozark Mountain Daredevils are certainly appreciative. Now here’s a comedienne who never had to work because she knows how to work a crowd. Herrrrrrrrrreeeeeeee’s CORINA!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Well into the act

“…and the Mock Turtle asked the Blue Crab where his turtle shell went and the Blue Crab responded ‘Well, somebody faked something…”

“…and Dr. Pearl said to her clerical assistant ‘Can you finish these 2013 Cafeteria Condiment Shortage Reports? I have to go to the faculty bathroom and take a royal dump’ and the clerical assistant answered ‘Somebody faked something…”

“….and Kermit the Frog asked Dumbo the Elephant when they were sloshing in the bath tub ‘Where’s my rubber ducky?’ and Dumbo cheerfully answered ‘Somebody faked something…”

Later

“Folks, she’s a little nervous. Cut her some slack. She’ll knock ’em dead at the Milford Comedy Club Valentine’s Laff-Off!!!!!!!!!!!”

Gang, I just received my 5,000th view and it is because of YOU.

I never get caught up in scoreboard watching. You take care of the people, they’ll take care of you. Now I’ll admit when I was getting close, I did peek at it from time to time(ha) but I’m no fool, if I do more scoping than writing, then I’d be trapped in my own numbers plus that wouldn’t be fair to you. You have been way too good to me. I am painfully aware “Write good stuff, they’ll read it”. And I am nothing without you TWIMers.

You have given me 5000+ reasons to continue and thank you for three solid years of support. Without your loyalty, as the Washington Post says, Democracy dies in darkness. You people are our hope for Free Speech. Please keep that hope alive, for America’s sake.

I have enjoyed working with Tim, Doug, Rob, and Teenchy these past three years. George Harrison joined the Traveling Wilburys because he wanted to be part of a group again. My sentiments exactly. I love the feeling of belonging and associating with first-class dudes such as these gentlemen.

God bless you all.

Where is Marjie sitting???

Marjie, if there is an adjustable function on the high chair, you might want to use it. We know you lap up to Gil but we really aren’t in need of a demonstration. Just press the button and voila! You’ll be eye-level with Gil. Granted, Fred Flintstone gets intimidated whenever he gets called in the office by Mr. Slate but Fred was never in line-of-sight of Mr. Slate’s crotch.

And whattup with the hand? Do you grow your hands out of your torso or are they connected to the shoulder like the rest of the human race? Just don’t try to shake hands with Gil once the interview is over. Or stand up from that chair Gil borrowed from the 7th Grade Tonette Band class.

Dr. Pearl, while listening to “Walking on the Moon” by The Police

“…I don’t know, Mimi, I know Tessi goes through uniforms like used underwear at a yard sale but I don’t know if we’ll have another batch at the Milford Women’s Christian Temperance Union Annual Quilting Bee ready by Tuesday. I’ll call again…”

Why is Gil mistreating Marjie so badly?????? Marjie is not afraid to ask the tough questions but it’s not as if she has ever attained muckraker status like Marty Moon has reached. Goodness, Marty is Muckraker Emeritus.

All Marjie is asking is what a reporter at the beginning of the season would normally ask but Gil has to be a jerk and confirm to the TWIMer readers that coaching will be secondary to everything else you pursue. Jive Turkey is right. Gil, you are a turd.

Marjie doesn’t even show up enough to be a fly in anybody’s affairs. She just appears at the beginning of the season, eats sloppy joes in 90 degree weather, crawls out of the vent space when she’s done talking to Gil, then heads back to the cave for hibernation until it’s time to talk to Gil at the beginning of the next season. Until she goes on sabbatical. Somebody else will have to come through the bathroom window if they want to talk to Gilberto.

Gil, we know one thing. Tom Muench won’t have to drive anybody to practice. A. J. Foyt will get Doug Guthrie there until Doug’s Teo Fabi special is out of the shop. I understand it’s getting a tune-up.

“And we’ll be back to see if Corinavirus can stand a second helping of eggs on Milford Comedy Club Open Mike Night after these messages. You’re watching WDIG-TV.”

Folks, I laughed my butt off when Corinavirus was telling jokes one night at the club. I can’t remember half the things she said because I got stoned and I missed it. Should’ve told the waiter ‘no’ after the 9th Busch Light.

But I didn’t waste time in this studio to ramble about a teenager’s fledgling attempt at humor and my fledgling attempt at booze. Hi, this is Coach Thorp here on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse and they are seriously comcerned that our fine liquors for purchase are being misused every New Year’s celebration. And The Warehouse would like to step to the plate and address the issue.

Come in now and bring your Certified Papers from the Milford Board of Health verifying your sobriety the last 3 weeks and The Warehouse will give you a voucher good for 1.75 Liter of Jim Beam Kentucky Straight Bourbon with every purchase of at least $15.00 in merchandise. Shoot, you don’t have to buy booze. We’d love to clear out those Chef-Boy-Ar-Dee Cheese Ravioli cans that have been vegetating on the shelf next to the Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whiskey end cap for 6 months. Shoot, a whole 24-pack of that Chef-Boy-Ar-Dee Macaroni and Sausage will getcha about 3 or 4 vouchers, for sure. Mmmmmmmm, Cannelloni and Bourbon, now that’s a Super Bowl snack right up my alley.

But some of you got religion and would like to get Notarized by your preacher. Hey, I have no problem with Oral Roberts avowing that you won’t be sleeping next to the lockers at Milford Greyhound Station while you’re satiated with the hard stuff. And The Warehouse wants to recognize your road to recovery with a coupon good for half off of a Michelob Ultra 24-Pack with a $25.00 purchase. Just buy $25.00 worth of 2% Prairie Farms Milk and I betcha ol’ Oral will cut you some slack when you tote that Michelob in your shopping cart to your trunk.

And some of just got released from the Milford Penitentiary and you would like to show you can hold your liquor and not wind up driving the getaway car when you’re holding up Milford Federal. Sure, everybody wants a fresh start, we understand. Bring in your cover letter from your parole officer and with a $10.00 purchase, you’ll get half off Bud Lite in the 24-Pack. With the 50 dollar bill you got from the Warden, a piece of paper and some chump change will get you back on your road to reform. We’ll even throw in a can of Milford Vending Low Salt Beer Nuts to encourage your return to society. You’ve paid enough debts.

The Warehouse wants to prevent accidents lije the one at the Milford Courthouse Annex last year that had to call 3 firehouses to bring under control. With incentives like these, New Year’s celebrations will be truly a celebration with the police only used to sing ‘Auld Lang Syne’. Come get your own piece of reform, make sure they signed and notarized it, and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

May God bless you in 2021, Gang. You mean the world to me.

At the Milford Nudist Colony

“Mommy, Dr. Pearl said somebody told her she has bustline like Sunmaid Raisins but she said she’ going to Senior Disco Night because she wants to prove she’s still got it. What does she mean by that?”

“Oh look, Keri!!!!!!!!!!!!! The Good Humor Man has fudgcicles on discount!!!!!!!!!!!! Here’s a 50. Have at it!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

At Milford Comedy Club one night

“…and I asked Kaz, ‘when is Guthrie returning from the Alaska 500?’ and he answered ‘What do I look like, Kermit the Frog with a sex change????'”

The keg can be heard pouring

“Don’t worry, people!!!!!!!!!!!! I don’t think Corinavirus has left the building!!!!!! I guarantee, she’ll knock ya dead!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Plot Is Just A Four-Letter Word.

Seems like only yesterday

We left this rot behind

Wallowing at The Bucket

With no gist of a plot in mind

We sat with a concrete block on our knee

We begged to be rescued from slavery

Our eyes deluged with tears of misery

A phrase popped up about Gil

Occurred

That plot is just a four-letter word

Gang, I had to start off with a Dylan Classic, sung by the great Joan Baez, her album “Any Day Now” just a killer of a disc. My dad used to play that back in the ’60’s in his Corvette on his cassette players when those gadgets were in their embryo stage. Had to use the tune for Gil-slaying. I’m sure Joan will understand.

And why not? Ol’ Doug just returned to Rockville from Florida, like any of us could just skip homework and go to Disneyworld. Hey, Coach, can I ditch practice? I’ve always wanted to meet Mickey and Minnie and this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I’ll work on my free throwa on the way. I understand this one rest stop on Florida’s Turnpike has basketball goals and a full court in its parking lot. Right next to the IHOP. I’ll get my FT percentage up to 70% before I load down on Blueberry Paradise Swedish Flapjacks. Pass the Aunt Jemimi Lo Cal.

Coach Thorp, name me one player from an Indiana high school which won the High School Boys Basketball State Championship back when it was one-class who would essentially TELL his coach, not ASK his coach, that he was skipping practice or a game because he was racing in the Daytona 500 over the weekend. Just about any coach from that period would have told that player to stay in Daytona because you won’t be on the team. No hard feelings.

Coach and Doug, Marion High School did not accumulate the State Championships on the city water tower because the Giants (nickname of the school) had players who did as they durn well please. Nobody skipped practice to play in clabber tournaments. No beach volleyball participants. The point guard for the ’75 Giants (one of the years Marion won) did not tell his coach he was going to attend a Jehovah’s Witness convention.

Gunnar Wyman, the coach of the Vincennes Alice that won the State Championship in ’81, was a target of a petition to remove him as coach. When his team won the State, he kept that petition. Thank God my name isn’t on it (ha) . Anyway, I’d hate to know that one of the reasons the petition came to be in the first place, besides not winning enough games, was because Gunnar wouldn’t excuse the team from Sectional when they were in the Vincennes Lanes Teenage Division Bumper Bowling Final. And Gil, Gunnar has more Indiana State Banners than you. Take the hint.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O. J. Wins The Senior Adult Single Exhaust Turbo Funny Car Finals At Milford 400!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I’m really proud of that trophy. I’m gonna put next to my Heisman on the bookshelf.”

And Thorpiverse is once again assuming the idiotic, that TWIMers can’t reason together and sort out the fish from the rubber tires floating around Mudlark Lake. That’s right, T-Verse, I’ll just grab my bamboo pole and reel in that Michelin tire. Heck, you can’t tell that from trout. It all filets the same.

Did Doug drive at warp speed to get to Florida so that he could race in God knows where? As many of our readers have pointed out, it’s debatable where Gil’s Milford is located but let’s situate Milford, for argument’s sake, somewhere in the Midwestern or Mideastern portion of the U.S. C’mon, Gang, he didn’t drive to Florida over the weekend from Milford, Maine just to get to Boca Raton for a Go-Kart Tournament. I mean, it’s about 5 hours from Atlanta to the Florida state line. Anything beyond that and your piling on more hours, several at a time. So unless he lived on Bankhead Highway in the Milford Neighborhood of Atlanta, I’m wondering how he managed to motor, say, 20 hours to maybe Arcadia or Clewiston or Tampa, run a corridor along I-75 to stay in basketball shape, do his homework at Denny’s (does Denny’s Conference Room at Gainesville have a chem lab?) , have spare tires in his trunk if his Go Kart blew one around turn 3, recruit the locals to be his pit crew, win the race, go out and date the girl that’s normally one of the prizes besides perhaps a fairly sizeable check, CASH THE CHECK, go back to the hotel and do more homework and pray the Clewiston Marriott has a gym to work on basketball defensive footwork, then head back home. Oh, I forgot the tolls. Better bring a change purse.

In time to talk about Donald Duck on Monday morning after plenty of sleep.

Yeah.

And he drove 20+ hours (maybe) for anything short of Daytona????? If he raced in a swamp pit outside of Osceola driving a 1911 buggy with a motor fresh from Rudolf Diesel’s laboratory where the loser gets devoured by alligators, well, telling Coach Thorp “take the team and shove it, I’m heading for adventure” would be worth it, otherwise, Doug, take your tolls and shove it. And go to practice.

If ya tell the boss at the insurance company ya work fer that you is skippin’ Friday at the office so yuz kin drag race at the Milford Speed-o-Rama and ya enjoy takin’ off the shirt and tie fer some major smoke and grease inhalation and a trophy ever now and then ta stick on yore desk, ya might be a redneck.

I heard Gil rambling in his office

Dogs howled to the break of day

Doug should keep his mouth shut

Gil has no words to say

Your coaching was limited and underfed

You prated and crowed, we flipped our lid

You’re incompetent as supposed coach of the kids

You probably didn’t think we’d

Rid

Of you

But, Gil, Plot is just a four-letter word

ANOTHER CHANGE OF DIRECTION!!!!!!!!!!!! No sooner has Doug stepped off the S. S. Minnow at Mudlark Lake after a weekend of rubbing elbows with Huey, Dewey, and Louie and racing his Radio Flyer at the Daytona in time for his first class than we have a bouncy, giggly female who wears her basketball uniform in the hallways, the school prom, while singing Handel’s “Messiah” in front of the Christmas tree at Milford Civic Center with Milford Choral Society, while she’s getting her wisdom tooth yanked out at the dental office and at campfire sings. Now if she forgets her uniform at the basketball games, I give my carte blanche for somebody to shoot her.

And it would only be fitting that Shiny Happy People are following Miss Wore Uniform As Johnny Reb At The Battle Of Vicksburg. They’re about the only people numb to this girl’s apparel.

Not that I really object to her attire. There are people who live for sports. But in the world of Thorpiverse where we’ve observed a succession of persons with no life, I’m betting a Bucket Burger she’s not about to end the losing streak. Keep your shirt on, literally.

So now we have a point guard with a jacket with more decals than on your refrigerator and a girl with a uniform we hope got washed this week. Her joie de vivre is encouraging until she displays her armpits. Actually, she’s doing that now as she shows off her shooting form. As long as Tide goes hand in hand with her sleeping in her jersey, I have no problem with her follow-through.

At the Milford Gym at practice

“Tessi, You’re putting good arch on your shot but…did you take a bath this morning?”

“No, Coach, the Milford Sewer Department had to dig behind our house again.”

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“SST’s Seen Soaring In The Milford Skies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Unconfirmed reports say a student on loan was being returned from Florida.”

And Corina is back AGAIN???????? I’m sure she was sent as a wet blanket to Miss Wears Uniform Over Her Graduation Gown and the bubbly enthusiasm thereof, but why? Is it really necessary to send Corinavirus to shoot down another human being, even if that human being is accumulating BO on her stats, not to mention shirt? Every time someone gets bigger than his or her britches lately, Corinavirus is there to rise to the occasion. I’d hate to have Gil talking about his next Dream Team on WDIG. Corina would call in and compare Milford’s Dream Team to the ’62 Mets. Shoot, I’ll take a girl’s halitosis on her uniform than one with halitosis to her mentality, Corinavirus most definitely in mind.

So when Doug steps off the SST and talks about the trophy he won at the Osceola 500, is Corina going to be there and say he couldn’t take his Go Kart and do the same thing at the Indy 500? Is Corina going to be our resident rain on everyone’s parade? Thank God she wasn’t skating with Coach Kaz at Gil’s Christmas Party. She might have checked Kaz’s skates for lice. Anything to stay in character. I’m talking about Corina, not the lice. Or did you think…Nahhhhhh.

Let’s kill off Corina by having a Coffee Bean Ornament fall straight off the Thorpmas Tree square on Corina’s head, splitting her skull in two. Problem solved.

COACH KAZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! COACH KAZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I KNOW WHO SHOT COACH SHAW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Really? Who was it?”

“It was-“

“Time out to wish all my fans and friends a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.”

P3 will never be the same.

Gil bolted from his cubbyhole

Escaped from coaching games

Drifting in and out of plotlines

Unmentionable by name

Searching for real coach, nothing more

That evaporated to the core

Though Milford pined and canvassed any door

We all surmised that there was nothing more

Absurd

Than that this plot is just a four-letter word

Gang, remember Karl “The Mailman” Malone? He always delivered in the NBA. One of the greats who I highly respect for an excellent career.

I think Tessi is talking to The Mail Truck in P3. Where is Corinavirus when you need her? Oh sure, she’ll shoot down a paper airplane but when a C-130 goes blasting over the Milford School grounds? She left like Gil. Corinavirus, you disappoint me. You can take the wind, but not the smell, out of somebody’s sail until someone comes along and looks like they not only haven’t missed a meal, damn, she ate the whole buffet table. She ate everybody literally out of house and home. Don’t go to lunch hour at Milford Diner if she’s ahead of you in line. Unless you plan on ordering water. Corinavirus, you’re not there with Maureen to throw stones at someone whose culinary methods are flagrantly careless? As long as you’re going to be a public nuisance, you might as well crucify them all, although you admittedly would need bar joists to hoist Cressa on a cross while heading to Golgotha.

Though I hardly understood your methods

When you were speaking to your team

Your players fixed the agenda

Every day or so it seems

Your shoddy plans that’s supposed to last eternity

Blow up in your face, that’s the destiny

Fall on deaf ears, discipline roams free

Yes, we know now, your trapped yourself liberally

Your laissez-faire coaching

Assured

That plot is just a four-letter word

And I really don’t think “Fat Farm” is really in Tessi’s vocabulary even if Cressa really won’t have to do what Alexa did last year to heighten her aggresiveness. Cressa could back down a Greyhound in the paint, it wouldn’t be necessary to knock her classmates around in the library, they could go flying into the non-fiction section if Cressa wasn’t careful. Cressa should have no trouble blocking out a water buffalo and smaller this year. And if Cressa decides to wear her uniform to school like Tessi is doing, serious alterations would obviously have to be met. I think there’s still some used American flags in the storage area that could pass for a temporary uniform until the UPS truck arrives with the specialty orders.

But the TV show sounds like a winner. I will check it out.

At the Thorp household during the Holidays

“Mommy, Daddy dead-bolted the garage and won’t let anybody in. He says Santa forgot to give him something. But I don’t hear any Ho Ho Ho’ing. And where’s Rudolph?”

“Uhhhhhh, he still might be on the roof. I saw hoof prints on the antenna.”

Mimi heads outside

“Gil, what are you doing in the garage? And why is it locked?”

“Hang on, Honey. I have to give myself a shot in the butt because I want to get sexually aroused. But I forgot which needle he wanted me to use first so I’m trying to find the winning combination.”

“Is thst the reason why there’s hypodermic needles on the coffee table?”

“Darling, I’m tired of being limp in bed. I don’t want to start strong in the race and poop out at the finish line. If I stick the right formula in my rear end, I’ll have more moves than Jordan in the ’91 Finals.”

“Mommy, I didn’t know Jordan could dunk because he gave his butt a shot.”

“Keri, that’s silly. Daddy is wasting his maxed-out credit card on medications prescribed by Dr. Seuss. If he’d use those EREC-3500 supplements like I have begged him forever to do, he wouldn’t be freezing out in the garage.”

“Mimi, I’m fine. I have 15 more needles to try and one of them will make me feel like Tarzan. I’ll bet he had fun jumping on Jane like a trampoline.”

“Daddy, I thought Santa Claus was in the garage with you.”

“Blubba blubba, he is, Sweetheart, as a matter of fact, he’s eating his milk and cookies while I’m taking care of a very important medical problem. Santa understands. He delivered the goods to make me big and strong. If I can soar with the eagles rather than caw with the crows, I’ll give him some more Oreos.”

“Gil, I’d rather you have Chips Ahoy! for dinner than to be needlessly sticking yourself like that. Why don’t you open the door and let my love in?”

“Daddy, I don’t see Rudolph anywhere.”

“Glippy Glop, he’s probably with someone he can hump, I mean, he is probably off with someone who really likes him, right, Santa?”

HO HO HO THAT’S RIGHT. I’M GIVING HIM SOME DOWN TIME BECAUSE HIS RED NOSE GOT ME THROUGH THE LAST BLIZZARD YOU WANT TO TRY THIS NEEDLE GIL?

Mimi, rolling eyes at awful imitation, a flailing attempt at James Earl Jones with some Dick York thrown in

“Gil, please get out of the garage and come to your senses. You don’t need a vaccination clinic at Walgreen’s to conquer your ED problems.”

“Mimi, I will stand firm or all get some more needles.”

“Daddy, I’ll bet Rudolph doesn’t use needles to get a girl. That’s what his nose is for.”

“When my daughter made it crystal clear, it was time to face my problem. And Mimi was right. Just a glass of water and one dose of EREC-3500, and I got me a brand new bag like James Brown. And with other effective treatment problems that work at Milford Men’s Clinic, isn’t it time YOU found your reindeer to slip under the sheets with, brimming with confidence that your red nose will rise to the occasion? Guide your own sleigh at the Milford Men’s Clinic today and tell ’em Santa sent ya.

You’re wrong, Gang, Cressa can back down a moose in the paint. Shoulda seen the number she did on Bullwinkle.

But God bless you, Gang.

Doug!

Oh boy, we get three more panels of Doug Guthrie’s appeal to Gil be excused from practice for a Senior Kart race in Florida! Let’s just settle in and enjoy the splendor of Doug’s enthusiastic pitch to Gil conveying the thrills of Senior Kart racing.

Now Gil, being Gil, has to have a sarcastic response belittling Doug’s hobby as something for kids, like the kind of thing one does over in Central City! Gil dispenses his snark from the comfort of his bizarre office chair with oddly contoured padding. Maybe his chair is made from recycled volleyballs.

Au contraire, says Doug Guthrie. Senior Kart racing is not for kiddies! It’s a thrill ride at dangerous speeds and poses serious risks to ones tailbone! Yes Doug, that does sound like a party!

Do we need three more panels for Gil to deliberate? Maybe we need at least one for Gil to look Doug in the eye and ask him to never do whatever he’s doing in Panel 3 again. C’mon, attempt to be cool, Doug.

metapost: Here’s a little secret that only a few TWIM insiders know. nedryerson is just the account name I set up to comment here ages ago and I just continued to use it when I started blogging here. My actual name is Doug. (I mean, there’s really only one Ned Ryerson, amiright? Bing!) I just note this here because it’s weird writing my name over and over in this post. Also, this is the first character named Doug that I recall in the Gil Thorp strips I’ve seen, so that’s….something. I guess it had to happen eventually. Also, here’s a plug (a Doug plug) for Doug Benson’s podcast Wide World of Dougs. It’s kind of about Dougs, I think.