This Week in Milford

May 3, 2019

Shadow dancing

I want to start out by saying thanks to teenchy for filling in for me due to my mothers passing. She lived 93 years, her childhood was during the Depression, after high school she immediately got a job at a chemical plant, where she worked for 14 years. She wanted to try college, but her brother had recently been shot down over the Pacific during World War II, fighting for his country, and her father wanted his kids to stay close to home after that. So off to work she went, until meeting and marrying my dad in 1957, after which she quit her job and became a stay-at-home wife. In those days women often only worked if they werent married. My dad supported the family on his paycheck, the norm back then. 8 years afterward they adopted me from Chicago, and my sister joined us 2 years later. And we became a family in every sense of the word, and Mom was our heart and soul. Me and my sister could never repay those two for the difference they made in our lives. 48 years of happy marriage ended with my dads passing in 2005, and now with Mom joining him, again, they can rest assured knowing we will live  our lives with their love in our hearts.

To the strip– this hippo in P1 reminds me of Barney Rubble always getting his thumb in the way when he was taking pictures in one episode of the Flintstones. I thought at first it was an inkstain. Nope, just a shadow of a hippo.The sun couldnt do that if it tried.

I also recall the Angels in 2002 having a rally monkey, which they used on the way to a World Series title. Stupid, but hey, whatever works. I believe current Cub boss Joe Madden was with them.

Well it seeems to be working, if only for the hokey reason that its a comic strip and we need a reason for this hippos existence, aside from blotting out P1. Why not let the kids believe it works, even though logic dictates that hitting and pitching win games, not stuffed animals. Positive mental attitude never hurts anyones performance either.

 

 

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March 1, 2019

Bad Moon Rising

gt03012019

When I was in college I was talking to one of my dormmates about Harry Caray and Steve Stone of the Cubs broadcasts. He said he was watching a game where Harry made some off-hand remark during what Stone thought was a commercial break and Stone said -” Harry, you’re full of shit.”  not knowing they were still on the air.  My friend embellished it by paraphrasing Stone immediately saying – “..   Oops we’re on the air!! ”

I guess dopey Robby Howry is too dense to figure out that in a freakin’ radio studio he MAY be on the air with his remarks. Hey, I’m sure all of them are true and needed to be said one of these days but leave it to ol’ Marty to put Howry down a peg, and re-establish himself as the WDIG front-runner for top radio DJ. I have no idea what the bonus is, and will leave it to the commentors to figure that out.

metapost: teenchy here, dropping the March 1 panel on top of Rob’s March 2. Consider this a twofer. Never let it be said that Marty Moon can’t learn: having had his Lonesome Rhodes moment at the hands of the Milford Pirate Network, he hands B/Robby one of his own.

 

February 22, 2019

Sorry I’m late gents but…

Filed under: freak hands, hands in the air, Marty Moon, Mimi Thorp, Pissy faced Mimi — robmize2013 @ 10:17 pm

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

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

 

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

 

 

December 5, 2018

But Did Milford Beat Tilden?

Remember football?

Pepperidge Farm remembers

But Milford doesn’t

 

“VT P-U”? Is

Valley Tech playing Dover

Boys from Pimento?

 

Rough year for Techies

Old Dominion beat VT

Now it’s Milford’s turn

 

Milford not used to

Being number one for a while

Sign guy broke his wrist

 

Hiawatha James

Remember him from baseball?

Great name but no lines

 

Know what else is an

Uncharacteristic romp?

No Jansen and no Bolek

 

Also no cheap shots

Express or implied

Where’s the burial?

 

 

metapost: Trying to learn to use the new WordPress Gutenberg editor on the fly.  Hope this doesn’t look too wonky.

November 22, 2018

Looks like a flash mob is starting

Hey gang – happy Thanksgiving to all! Its not my day to post, but just like Chase Daniel showed us today, you have to be ready when you’re called upon, and my Bears showed the nation why they are serious Super Bowl contenders a year after being a disaster for 4 straight seasons. So I had plenty of Bears Kool-Aid with my turkey and stuffings, thank you.

Back to the strip– and what better way to spend your holiday then in sunny New Thayer? Wtf is Tiki  doing? Standing in front of an on-coming auto is not the best way to extend your life insurance tables lad. Of course no-one else is outside, except for some kid who recognizes him, and runs across oncoming traffic to accost him. Thats how I wait for word to spread that I’m IN TOWN— by just standing on some shit corner. Of course anyone else who tries this — and I mean the other 350 million humans on the planet– would get absolutely no result of their action, other then to be handed a Salvation Army kettle. So why the fuck would Tiki think he’s any different??

Oh yeah, its Milford. No its not. Its New Thayer. Now what?

 

 

 

November 16, 2018

Stupidest Plot ever

Filed under: actual action, Gil Thorp, hands in the air, Milford Idiots — robmize2013 @ 7:37 pm

You know what most high school coaches do when theyre LOW on anything? Use guys from ANOTHER position! Its freakin high school! Use your wideouts. Use your backup linebackers. Jeez..

So we have a convenient excuse for this loss. Gil benches a player (1 player) for not being upfront about where he LIVES!! Does that have Anything to do with football?? No.

How the hell would Madison Notice that Milford is Low on db’s?? God damn it, the plays would be the same no matter what the hell the defense was doing! Its freakin high school!!  Oh yeah I said that.

And after commenting that the db’s are low, how does Madison still run a draw 8 yards? Where’s all those LB’s that Milford presumably has plenty of and none of which are suspended for ralphing about where they LIVE??

And we were bitching about the punter crap. Take me back to that era please…

Every storyline gets worse then the last one. Agreed?

 

 

October 17, 2018

Milford @ Jefferson: Haiku

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The Jeffs are wearing

Helmets that look like Dartmouth’s

Or pencil sharpeners

 

Another team dressed in

White at home, like the Cowboys

Or Bayou Bengals

 

When did the players

Stop wearing wristbands and switch

Over to Fitbits?

 

Tiki Jansen won’t

Be getting torched on this play

Saw that pun coming

 

But wait, he’s been flagged

For making a reacharound

Not in the shower

 

Marty Moon cannot

Believe his eyes; dancing ice cubes

In front of floodlights

 

That’s liquor talking

It’s just some good old lens flare

Lay off the rotgut

 

 

October 16, 2018

Ooooooooooo, This Has Already Gotten Messy

Filed under: actual action, football, hands in the air, Jefferson Jeffs, Marty Moon — tdrewhardin @ 3:50 pm

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“This football is afflicted with boils, warts, and the bubonic plague. Oh, and zits. I ask everyone in the congregation and you out there in TV Land to pray along with me and all my other zebras in Christ. Lord, I lay hands on this pigskin and cast out all diseases and afflictions in the name of Jesus. Help this football rise up and walk and receive a double portion of your Spirit. We know that Beelzebub has tormented him throughout the game and Satan, we order you in the name of Jesus to release your grip so that others may grip it, either to look it in the tuck for that 89-yard TD reception or when the Milford Mudlark or Jefferson Jets (Hell, I don’t know their nickname, Thorpiverse didn’t brief me ahead of time ) score the winning TD because the RB didn’t fumble it because of Godly stronghold on the ball. We lay hands in Jesus’ Name. Amen.”

“We know who you are, you are the Son of God!!!!!!”

HOLD THY PEACE AND COME OUT OF HIM!!!!!!!!!!

Legions and legions and legions of demons come out of the football and head toward the trees behind Gil’s office. Small wonder they’re so deformed. Pizuzu must be possessing the poplars on top of the elm tree and mulberry bushes.

“Good as new, Coach Thorp.”

“Thanks, Jesus.”

 

So at this juncture we’ve negotiated a slightly bizarre twist in the scheme of things.

We NOW have a punter kicking for the team, although we had to tread through Siskel & Ebert reruns to garner the position player. Oh, but wait (to quote my favorite group, Emerson, Lake, & Palmer ) , not content with that, with our hands behind our backs, give it the old college try and develop a legitimate storyline that could be a heart-warming Disney feature, sandwiched between “The Jungle Book” and “Son of Flubber”.

Kinda sorta like “Angels in the Outfield”. Kid hates football, Hard-Luck Loser Coach (not naming any names like, say, Gil or Kaz or maybe Roy Gillen) convinces him to go out for the team, baiting him with a lifetime supply of M & M’s, the Mars Candy truck dumping the wares in the kid’s driveway every week, Marty Moon morphs into another Ranch Wilder and broadcasts on WDIG, after returning from his suspension, natch (gotta have a little controversy so the Disney plot doesn’t get syrupy like a runny Aunt Jemima bottle all over the kitchen counter) , that his dad point-shaved his high school football game, Dad comes along for a press conference in the Milford gym and clears the record, reveling when he was in middle school that he received a $1000 scholarship to Alabama to play for Bear Bryant from the opposing principal if he would throw an interception in lieu of the winning TD (Hey, this is Disney, plots don’t gotta be airtight) , Dad merely gets a paddling after the truth is solidified, everybody hugs and kisses in a heterosexual way (this is G-rated, bear in mind) , even Marty and Peaches gets caught up in the feel-good atmosphere and speed off to Mudlark Lake Resort in Marty’s Rolls-Royce, kid kicks winning FG after Hard-Luck Loser Coach tells the kid a la FDR that this day will be a Day of Infamy if he chokes, game over.

Oh, no, no, no.

Nope, we gotta chase down another rabbit after we damn near blow out Bugs Bunny’s brains. Cheez, no wonder why Elmer Fudd never killed ANY animal, let alone Bugs.

Daffy Duck is sleeping in the pond about to get a wet dream over Daisy Duck.

EF is about to hit the jackpot.

“Hey, I say, hey, look at that elephant running away over yonder.”

“Wealwee? Where’d it go?”

“It’s runnin’ down that path there, leadin’ to the back door of Milford Iron Kitchen. Ya better git it or it’s gonna be on the buffet table tonight. BTW, he goes by the name of Dumbo. He’s an old rogue I went to high school with and we were teammates on the football team. I was the field goal kicker and he was the star running back. But he’s lost his speed. Kinda like Kareem when he was with the Lakers.”

“Hey, wait a minute, YOU’RE AN ANIMAL!!!!!!!!!” about to cock his gun.

“Now hold on there, Fuddy-Duddy, My Man. If you shoot me, there’ll be, I say, there’ll be no one ta guard the chickens. And then Mr. Green Jeans, my boss, will be up your, I say, up your ass in alligators with The Shark cuz yore gun ain’t registered . I can see the Kohl’s price tag on the barrel.”

Fuddy-Duddy lowers the gun.

“Besides, isn’t Dumbo a lot tastier? And you’d have his head to mount on your wall once ya done fileted him. Better ‘n’ that anteater mug that Gil has staged in his den.

Fuddy-Duddy turns around.

“Shhhhhhhh, be vewy, vewy quiet. I’m hunting Dumbos. HAHAHAHAHA…..”

 

BIG BIG shout-out to Albert Carr of Louisville, Kentucky. When he was stricken with high-blood pressure that caused him to collapse, injuring his neck and dental work, he was told he might not survive.

BUT NOW, he has not only surviving but is THRIVING, going to the Rehab Center once a week and living a full life. He is close to walking again, able to walk a few steps, such as taking a trip to the kitchen, for example, and he exercises, performing different hand and finger exercises, not to mention getting on the bike and workin’ those legs. Gang, I think he has decided to GET BUSY LIVIN’. If you see Albert Carr in your neck of the woods, treat him with respect. HE’S EARNED IT!!!!!!!!!!

 

And JUST WHEN WE WERE HOPING THAT WE’D GET TO SOME FOOTBALL (y’know, oval shape, made from hog intestines, the ones you throw for the Flutie Miracle or the one you recover for a fumble at The Miracle at the Meadowlands or Franco Harris returned for a miraculous TD when it bounced off Gil’s hairdo, Kaz’s earring, Marty’s butt, and Tiki’s sister) , we’re given 1/3 of the output. Thorpuverse, let me spell this one out.

A referee with crackless pants (we’re assuming, the jury’s still out since we’re stuck with a side shot and can posit nothing positive) that he bought from Rural King, Marty sipping from his Ensure Rockin’ Raspberry while keeping his potty mouth in check (again assuming) , and a Jefferson punt returner (see the other two bracketed comments) doing the Charleston IS REALLY NOT FOOTBALL. I could transmogrify this in the middle of a L’il Lotta comic book and I’m wondering how many people I could dupe.

“I’ll show you, you fat-mouthed piece of horse-dung bully that you can’t beat up my dad when he’s coming home from the factory after 4 hours of over-Sorry, Coach, next time I’ll use the Port-o-Let behind Team Bus #12. I still didn’t fumble it and you have to admit my fair catch signal would have won an Oscar.” “Very valiant to admit that you let the team down when you didn’t address your bladder problems in a timely fashion. But we have excellent field position so no harm-I’m sorry, L’il Lotta, L’il Dot can’t come out to play. She’s in bed with the mumps after too much Livercheese ‘n’ Fries at The Bucket. She can’t even chew on a Bucket Slushee Icee Mocha ‘n’ Melon. Have you tried Richie Rich? I heard he got another $100,000,000 and he didn’t even have to call 1-FON-TH-Hey, George, didn’t you  read the Point of Emphasis in the rule book this year? The committee was coming down hard on derrieres in the open field. You might get a Letter of Reprimand-and the next time you try to shove a Twinkie up my dad’s butt or his uneaten BLT for that matter, you scumbagloserwormeatingtoadswallowingRichieRichstoogeflunky, I’ll stick your face in Marty Moon’s cup and you’ll know first-hand what Ensure High Life tastes-Burn, baby, burn/Disco Inferno/ Burn, baby, burn/Burn this mother down…”

Well, I think you get my point. No sense in saying that the Jefferson Fair Catch Caller was not doing any Texas Two-Step with himself or that Richie Rich bought into a share of The Milford Enquirer. Let bygones be bygones.

 

 

“If your farm animals have been injured in an accident, call The Shark today at 1-FON-THE-JAWS. Get the money you deserve.”

Mr. Green Jeans: “My chick-a-dees were attacked by a Rottweiler after the hunter was out in the Milford Fish & Wildlife area hunting moose. The Rottweiler was documented as being dyslyexic. (Holds up 100^100=Googol check) . Thank you, Shark.”

Farmer in the Dell: “My lead rooster, Foghorn Leghorn, was shot up several times after Elmer Fudd missed Dumbo. Found out later on that Elmer Fudd didn’t have his Winchester legally registered.  Mr. Leghorn survived after Garfield fed him several bowls of lasagna. And I received this (Check worth a generous Powerball ticket from the Milford Lottery) . Thanks, Shark.”

Insurance companies are working hard to protect their losses. Don’t let them clean you out of house and barn. If Mr. Ed gets herpes because the FedEx man failed to properly seal the hay, call The Shark today. Easy to remember, 1-FON-THE-JAWS. One call, that’s all.

 

No, really, Alanis Morissette is helping me to bring sanity to this plot. Or I’d go insane. Alanis, you rock like you have for eons. Let ‘er rip.

 

If it wasn’t for your immaturity/none of this would have happened

If you’d watched movies with a logical sequence/we might have a decent storyline

I know you like to ramble/and steer this concept ’til it gets too goofy

Just get it to basketball/and I doubt anyone will do any snooping

 

Ooooooooo, this could get messy

But you evidently don’t seem to mind

Ooooooooo, don’t go tellin’ everybody

And tell Gil and Kaz about this supposed crime

 

We’ll fast-forward to some two months later

No one knows save the readership

And I have tried to honor the demands for reason

And you’ve washed your hands of this shit

 

 

A passenger is holding his nose.

“Ooooooooooooeeeeeeeee!!!! Marty, you need to take this buggy through the Milford Soak ‘n’ Suds. How many skunks did you run over on the way to the County Fair?”

Later, that evening

“Peaches, I told you bathing the mini-bus in Febreze on my lunch break was a horrible idea!!!!!!!!!!!! And I still itch on top of that!!!!!!!!! I’ll never take another shortcut through the Milford Wildlife Plot between Milford Wal-Mart and Milford Target!!!!!!

Thanks to Cyndi Smith from Louisville, Kentucky for helping me with the comedy idea. You make the place a better place to live. You’ve overcome a lot to get to where you are. You have a great sense of humor and you treat people with TONS of respect. Treat HER with respect, gang. She’s earned it.

 

I like how you depend on me/to kick the ball and not forfeit away a win

I’m happy how you sexualize me/I’m the boss and say it with a Cheshire Grin

One day Gil will shout he owes it all to me/and award me half his teacher retirement

If I keep a firm body and watch that weight/I can be a supple Milford fireman

 

Ooooooooooo, this could get sucky

But youuuuuu don’t seem to mind

Ooooooooooo, don’t go tellin’ everybody

And slip a news tip to Marty about this supposed crime

 

We’ll fast-forward to a few months later

And we’ll plop into girls basketball

And I have tried to honor pleas for common sense

And you’ve washed your hands of this folderol

 

Gene, ya gotta help us. Please tell us Match Game 2018 is here to the rescue from all this malarkey.

Dumb Dora was SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO dumb (HOW   DUMB   WAS  SHE???????), She thought a Fair Catch was when a football player grabbed his ______________ when he celebrated the winning TD catch.

 

Take ‘er away, gang. I’m going to the Milford Dance Studio to learn Polka/Disco step the Fair Catch dude is executing in P3. By the time they’re done with me, I’ll be at Studio 54 a la John Travolta tripping the night fantastic to a “Saturday Night Fever” melange,  accompanied by an accordion. Sexy.

 

THE GRAND FINALE

Tiki, Tiki’s sister, Joe, his nameless friends who tag along like Lassie pursuing Timmy, ALL accompanying Alanis on the refrain

WE’LL FAST FORWARD TO THIS BALLGAME NEXT DAY

AND I AM DOUBTING THINGS WILL CHANGE THAT MUCH

AND I HAVE HONORED CRIES FOR OUTRIGHT SANITY

AND YOU’VE WASHED YOUR HANDS FROM GIL’S CRUD

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