Googling Molly

We now return you to Mike Granger and Ken Brown, Boy Detectives. Mike and Ken are working a case to determine if Aaron Aagard is rolling on molly on the regs or just plain flakey. The first snag they hit is that Ken Brown’s fingers might be too freakishly big to efficiently google molly. His iPhone looks like a pack of gum in those mitts! Then, our investigators must grapple with how to proceed with their information. Who needs to know about Aagard’s fondness for disco biscuits*? Stay tuned for more Mike Granger and Ken Brown, Boy Detectives.

I’m enjoying the foreground tray of Bucket chow. Nice touch, Whigham.

*slang term for molly found by googling it

 

The Quarterback Whisperer

Heather Burns works magic with timely advice. Hakeem Archer needs help with fundamentals. Gil Thorp will soon be free to pursue other interests. Randy Weiss is still looking for his first win on the PBA tour.

Nobody Puts Shelly On A Roll! (Yeah, I Got Nothing)

Here we are, well over a week into Del’s client dinner/Boo’s triumph over Tilden. We’re waiting for something to happen. It looks like nothing is going to happen at The Bucket (unless you want to run this through the Bechdel Test and see how miserably it fails).

That leaves us with Del Bader, who is somewhere in panel 3, presumably. Is he the one with his back to us? Sure, I guess. We never even learned Mr. Businessman’s name, but we do know that he and Del have moved on from wine to something served in rocks glasses, so that shoe is poised to drop.

While that pot continues to simmer, here’s a little extra thing where I will share something from the Google newspaper archives. This ran in the Sept 15, 1972 edition of Norwalk, Connecticut’s The Hour, announcing the arrival of Gil Thorp to the pages of that great publication. I also snipped out the illustrated Jack Nicklaus On Golf that ran next to Gil.

Name Games

I know we’ve already covered this, but Pete De Windt seems to be someone you would not want to mess around with. I don’t care how scrappy Barry Bader truly is, but give me Pete in a brawl behind Verne’s in Central City any day of the week.

Minus points: Why is panel three still even happening?

The Airing Of Grievances

August 11, 2015

Is this a potentially pro football camp or a scoliosis ward? I guess I should google Rey Lujan. I guess I did. Not much to work with there.

I think I’m going to file this one under Boredom In Milford and go to sleep.

Wade Who?

Back to the field after having way too much coffee and its .. Wade Mason? Was he in the rotation at the beginning of spring? I dont remember him at all, we’ve been to busy with the True/Boo friendship to notice stuff like baseball or games or anything of that sort. Anyway he’s an ace in the mold of Marty DeJong (2001-2) and also throws portside, so leftys have a devil of a time with him, as we see in P2 even though its nothing but shadows. P3 has another wierd conversation, as a Milf player thought a pitch sounded outside. Well, if you can hear an outside pitch, more power to you, cuz I sure cant.

Collin LaLonde: The Headhunter Becomes The Headhunted

May 18, 2015

Things aren’t going well at Jefferson. Pitcher Collin LaLonde (who took time off from placing 360-integrated talent in the advertising and marketing space*) is getting shelled by rocket line-drives.

True Standish, in relief of LaLonde, doesn’t make it any better. He seems to be crossing up the catcher. Is that what’s happening?

*Real life LaLonde is an advertising headhunter, like that sleazy Duck Phillips character on Mad Men. Given Milford’s LaLonde’s performance, maybe they should call him Duck.

If Boo Radley Had Wheels…

April 14, 2015

It’s like living in a cliché? Have you tried your hand at snark-based comics blogging, Boo? It will really make you question how you got to where you are.

Since Boo already tried the whole “If I had a car it would simplify everything” approach with Mom and got shot down in flames, the next step is to work on Dad. Dad is already guilt-ridden about the divorce (precipitated by an affair with a coffee shop waitress) and the sad bachelor apartment (not totally bed bug free and smelling strongly of potatoes) where Boo has to sleep on a sketchy futon. (Say, that is pretty cliché…touché, Boo.) I’m sure Dad can cough up a 1994 Ford Aspire*. You’ll soon be driving to the Bucket in style. Also, your dad is the comics curmudgeon, because any time a thin guy with a goatee and closely cropped hair shows up, it’s the comics curmudgeon. With all his sweet comics blogging dough, he might even spring for a 2001 Pontiac Aztec*.

The more I think about the whole teen girl nicknamed Boo Radley, the more I shake my head in wonder. I guess so far it just seems like an inconsequential jokey thing, but it really seems like something that parents with any sense would never encourage. Maybe the parents just aren’t big readers and were fans of the 90s britpop band?

*These car models show up in a couple different online lists of the worst U.S. made cars.