This Week in Milford

March 26, 2020

She Wipes Her Face Of This Whole Affair.

Filed under: big arms, freak hands, hands in the air, Pointy Fingers — tdrewhardin @ 8:55 am

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We TWIMers are anticipating the onset of baseball/softball so that we can get jerked around like a rag doll for another 4 months replete with inchoate mini-plots and directions leading us to No-Man’s Land and we’re left holding the bag how to get OUT of No-Man’s Land. Do you take A-1-A? Yeah, Jimmy Buffett would have better success getting out of Florida than we would escaping from March. Remember that Saturday Night Live sketch where Frank Zappa gets broken down and he has to go to this house where these hippies are like zombies? “Night on Drug Mountain”? And anybody who knew Zappa knew, bizarre as his music was, he never touched a drug in his life. He was VERY politically active and many of his albums are imbued with political messages.

Well, you can imagine the scene.

“Fraaaaaannnnkkkk, so good to see yoouuuu. I got some of this weed fresh in the bowl,  maaaannnnnn.”

“No, thank you, I don’t do drugs. Do you have any jumper cables?”

“Heyyyyyyy, evvverrrrryyyybodyyyy, it’s Frank Zapppppppaaaa!!!!!! Here, Frank, tryyyy some of this LSDDDDDDDDD. It’ll take your minddddd off this plot. Gil will be a thinngggg of the passsssttttttttt.”

“Look, I don’t do drugs. Do you have a phone? I can call AAA and get my car towed. I have a credit card.”

 

And with Dan Akroyd in that ponytail, that confirmed the hilarity of the situation.

“Night on Mudlark Mountain.”

Kaz in a ponytail

“Here, Gillllllllll, I got some coke straight out of the ovvvvveeennnnnn. You ought to try sommmmmmeeeeee. You aren’t going anywhheeeerrreee in this ploootttttt, anyway.”

“Kaz, you know I don’t do drugs. Did you get that Geography Final grade for Chris? I have to have it on Dr. Pearl’s desk by Monday.”

“Oh, Gil, don’t be such a party poopperrrrrr. I have a nice toke under my typewriiiittterrrrrrr. I smoke it when the studentttssssss aren’t loookkkinnngggggg. Open your mind and smelllllllll the cofffffeeeeee, mannnnnnnnn.”

“No thank you, Ms. Rizk. I have a reputation to uphold. Did you get Chris’ AAA record? I understand he’s in arrears and I want to pay the balance before that goes to print in The Trumpet.”

“Heyyyyyyy, no harmmmmmmm, no foullllll. He may have landed on the practice fiiiiieeeelllllddddd but it’s ancient historyyyyyyy to meeeeeeee. And I’llllllll give it a decentttttttt burialllll if you’ll broaden your minnnnnnnddddddd, Gil. And I’ll go half on the towinnnngggggggg.”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Mudlark Girls Basketball Ends With 21-Gun Salute!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Mimi Thorp: ‘Scriptwriter told me he didn’t have any room in April for the Playdowns and my sermonizing on the softball diamond. I had to flip a coin.”

 

Okay, Mudlark Ladies, it’s time to get up and stretch. Yeah, I’m also gettin’ antsy for this thing to end. What the Academic Rat Race That Ended In Detente had to do with basketball is a free throw do-over because someone entered the lane too soon. Mimi needs to drill her players on proper footwork, maybe stick an anvil in their butts so they don’t lean over, um, er, EUREKA!!!!!!!!! THEY’RE STRETCHING BECAUSE THEY WON!!!!!!!!!!!! Sometimes it doesn’t always register. Like the Vegas gambling house that has no clocks because they want people to keep gambling by losing sense of time, the Mudlark gym has no scoreboard because Thorpiverse wants to keep dragging this along to fill up space until Spring sports and let us draw our own conclusions. Make us think this is a Ban Roll-On commercial.

 

WE WON WE WON

“Yup, we sure did. Have you checked your pits lately? I have some Sure in my locker.”

Raise your arms if you’re Surrrreeeeee

 

What a commercial. Team celebrations in Milford will never be the same.

 

If ya conk out yore bloodhound and all the ticks and fleas on yore bloodhound as a result of lack of usage of Mennen Speed Stick Spe-shull Formula Apple Cider Supreme for longer than this plot, ya might be a redneck.

 

And we won’t have to worry about the Mudlark gym getting COVID-19 thanks to the mosquito netting hanging from the basketball rim in the background. Mudlark girls can flash their B.O. knowing that protection comes in the niftiiest places. Shoot the winning shot at the buzzer and keep the flies away, now there’s a concept you can tell your grandkids. Yup, we won and trounced malaria. Works for me.

Too bad it didn’t get all the fire ants off of Alexa. Poor girl is still concerned about developing her game and now she has another problem to contend with. I’ll go get another towel. It might not help get you a starting spot on UConn’s team next year but you won’t have fire ants eating your corneas. We’ll get something out of the deal.

Better not get too close, Chris. Fire ants and Fake SAT exams don’t mix.

 

And it appears that Chris went to Mudlark Mountain and back, judging by P2. Better watch out, Alexa. No telling WHAT’S going to be at his party. If you’re expecting Lay’s Wavy Chips or Grippo’s Reduced Fat Bar-B-Chips or Diet Coke in 20 oz. bottles or Mudlar-K-Cola Watermelon Wonder in the same size, you might be disappointed.

“Here, Alexaaaaaaaaa, try some of this acid, mannnnnnnnnnn. You won’t have to practice being aggresivvvvvveeeee by knockinggggggg Dr. Pearlllllllll into her file cabinet. This tripppppppp willlllll send your opponent into the cheap seatttttttttsssssss. You’ll be Moses Malonnneeeeee, mannnnnnnn.”

“No thanks, I don’t do drugs. Where’s the Star-Kist tuna sandwiches? Chris said there’d be enough to feed the Valley Conference.”

 

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Milford Evangelical Camp Meeting Results In 15 Converts, 32 Rededications, and 10 Baptisms At Milford High Girls Gym!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Mimi Thorp: ‘And we won the game!!!!!! Can you Lady Mudlarks say HALLELUJAH!!!!!!!!!!'”

 

And it’s bad enough that this plot had to go to Mudlark Mountain and end things at a pot party but WE’RE STILL WAITING ON SPRING SPORTS!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don’t get me wrong, to each their own and I’ve always liked Clapton’s Slowhand album that includes the signature tune, Cocaine, but I’d understandably prefer to listen to it as good music, not be the ending to Hoosiers. Jimmy Chitwood ending the plot laced on LSD really wasn’t the fate of the gods. Bobby Plump in the Sky with Diamonds? 15-footer in Marmalade Skies? Try sticking that one on the Milan Water Tower next to “1954 Champs.”

 

“How many fingers am I holding up, Alexa?”

“5?”

“That’s how many bags of pretzels will be at my party. And that midget standing next to me that hit the winning lay-up? That’s how many bowls of quiche will be on the table.”

 

OH GOD NO Puh-llllleewaaaseee tell us we’re not opening up another can of worms with the possible intro of Chris’ girlfriend. We’ve already been through enough ethics-challenging without finding out what SHE’S all about. Or, judging by Alexa’s reaction in P3, there might be a possible thing for Chris. Folks, there are only 12 months in the year. Don’t cram plot development into a glass of Nestle’s Quik. Using a spoon to stir won’t help.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. That McCartney Moment didn’t mean anything? I had a fun time under the sheets at The Lake House.”

“I’m really sorry, Alexa. It was wonderful. Well, gotta go. I gotta pick her up before the Milford Zoo closes.”

Times like these I usually switch over to Buzz Sawyer. There’s no sports in that one either but he usually catches the crook by April. And there’s no mosquito nets on the basketball backboard in his driveway.

But as long as Chris has Fritos and Con Queso dip, I might have some room on my schedule.

 

“Here, Alexa, I got some weed, mannnnnnnn. Freshly grown on some farm in New Mexicooooooooo. So good, they smuggled some across the borderrrrrrrrrrrr.”

“No, thanks. Hey, Chris, don’t put away that Amish potato salad in the fridge just yet.”

 

Today’s Women’s History Month entry is Nancy Kassebaum. She was a very powerful Senator from Kansas for 18 years, able to enact legislation that made a difference from improving affordable health care to removing Apartheid in South Africa. Her father, Alf Landon, a man who lived to 100, was a famous presidential candidate in 1936, so she was no stranger to politics. In fact, she became the 2nd woman to win a Senate seat without her husband first occupying that seat. She has always displayed good judgment and has voted middle of the road on several issues, despite coming from a heavily Republican state (her own party affiliation, BTW) such as her native Kansas. Please join me in saluting a person who has displayed quality leadership when it counted and made this nation that much stronger through her well-balanced style.

 

“We’ll return to The Olde Tyme Gospel Hour at the Milford Girls Gym after these messages. You’re watching WDIG-TV. Don’t go away.”

 

“Amen, Sister Mimi. That was a great homily about The Sermon on the Mount. Probably the key to the game. And we rallied from 14 points down in the 4th quarter. Uncle Mo was on our side. Blessed are the meek.

And what better way of celebrating The Prodigal Son returning home to get the key rebound than to have a clearance sale. The timing couldn’t be better.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse and with the COVID-19 epidemic keeping our customers from coming to El Dorado, that’s even more of a reason to clear ’em out and I don’t mean Alexa puttin’ a body on Ms. Rizk’s typewriter so that it can get an easy put-back.

Man o man, I couldn’t believe Knob Creek Straight Bourbon piled high to the ceiling because nobody wants to get drunk and do it with Rocky Raccoon. Gotta slash the prices if you want to bring ’em back in their gas masks. Best coaching advice I ever gave.

Boy, Jameson Irish Whiskey in 750 ml at a throat-cutting $14.99 and that’s not even counting the coupon that’ll knock off another 2 bucks. Shoot, the cashier we’ll even apply hand sanitizer to your coupon so that you don’t get sick off of Jameson and the virus too.

And the good people at The Warehouse got tired of using a bulldozer to plow through the cases of Miller Lite 30-Pak 12 oz. cans to get to the restroom so they slashed the price to a ridiculous $9.99 so that sanity could be restored on the way to the john. My goodness, for a dollar more, they’ll throw in Latex Sanitary Gloves you can use to help carry the booze to your vehicle. No sense in contracting The Plague while sippin’ The Good Life.

 

And when one of The Warehouse employees is practicing climbing Mt. Everest by punching a piton into a mountain of Bogle Vineyards Select cartons, I think it’s safe to say The Warehouse better reduce the backstock. For $7.79, you can be a Cheese and Wine whiner and if you brought your calculator you use to calculate your piece count at your factory, you can be an even cheaper whiner if you can figure the 10% off that price to the nearest tenth. Good deals, good booze, clean hands, and mold-free Roquefort, sounds like Whiner’s Paradise to me.

Keep yourself safe through these trying times and when you feel justifiably disinfected, come on down and partake of the clearance sale now happening at The Warehouse. Prescriptions don’t just get prescribed at Milford Apothecary. Come buy what the doctor ordered at prices that won’t make you regurgitate and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

 

Gang, stay safe. Follow the Center for Disease Control guidelines to the best of your ability. Don’t underestimate this one. That and common sense and I like the odds. God bless you all.

 

CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!! SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!! SPLASH!!!!!!!!

“You know you could have used a step-ladder. There’s one in the closet. Now we have to mop up all this Captain Morgan Spiced Rum. We might have a few bottles before the store opens.”

 

 

In Dr. Pearl’s office one day

“Heeeerrreeee, Gil, I have some more crack in my fiilllllleeeee cabinetttttt. You oughta try someeeeee.”

“No way. I tried that in the Marines. Did push-ups with my ears buzzing all day. Did you ever get Chris’ girlfriend’s transcript FedEx’d here?”

 

 

 

March 6, 2020

Think you’ll ever take your vest off?

Filed under: freak hands, hands in the air — robmize2013 @ 11:36 pm

Like 2 mighty ships passing in the night, the heavyweights of Milford academia run into each other in the library. I sense a truce developing between them, as if Alexa knows Chris wouldnt cheat given the opportunity just like she turned down Divot Head. They both know how hard it is to keep up such a lofty ranking and the only true way to settle who’s number 1 is to do it fairly.

Thats what I hope.

Of course the comic strip reality is she thinks he is using the old test sheet, and if he beats her out, will accuse him of cheating. But the evidence is crumpled up in a garbage can. Who knows how this will turn out; the problem for Chris is if Divot Head is questioned he will say he gave Chris the test. He didnt see Chris throw it away.

P3 can be spun different ways too. Is Chris saying the workload cant get any worse, or that this time of life for these 2 will never be exceeded? When they sit on top of the class looking down on the other 400 or so students, if only on a numerical list in cyberspace? Alexa sounds like she is reading his mind as to the meaning of his vague question.

Gee, if high school is the highlight of ones life, thats a pretty sad life, no matter how well one did.  I finished 250th out of 330, in a very smart class by the way, (my college career was also very forgettable academically) and the rest of my life has largely been way more successful then those 4 years, which at this point are a blip on the radar. I figure financially I’m doing better then half of the kids I finished behind. Thats a good goal to shoot for for those C students who never once make the honor roll, and if I ever give a speech at one of these things (seriously doubt it but you never know) that would be the gist of it.

February 1, 2020

Alexa ist Deflatermaus

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Nothin’ but action to take us into February, so let’s get to breakin’ it down.

P1: The Milford boys come out to cheer on the Milford girls and show off their nose-picking techniques. Left to right: the “Flying Fickle Finger of Fate,” the “Little Jack Horner,” and the discreet “Raiding the Booger Vault While I Pretend to Cough.”

P2: Those are some freaky hands but not gonna lie, that’s a pretty good drawing of someone stuffing someone else’s shot. Compare these examples from a Wisconsin-Purdue game and Freeport-Yarmouth high school game in Maine.

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Right?

P3: The fun is about to come to a crashing halt as Alexa dislocates her right leg (this has been a running theme this season) in an attempt to trip up the Valley Tech defender. Can Alexa catch Phoebe’s pass, make the shot and break the tie before she collapses to the floor, writhing in pain? Check back a few hours after the end of the Super Bowl…

January 22, 2020

Lightening the Load, or Taking It?

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The Thorpiverse is known for its occasional stilted dialogue and colloquialisms (the constant use of “ease up” to name one) but it’s by no means the worst offender in the realm of the comics. (Try reading a week’s worth of Funky Winkerbean or 9 Chickweed Lane and you’ll see what I mean.) Still, context is everything in the Valley.

Take today’s strip. If you read the narration box in parallel with the dialogue, you get that Susan Wilcox (née Wilcox-Olson; maybe she got divorced since the last game?) has lightened the mood with her lame joke and lightened her teammates’ loads by taking shots every chance she gets. If you read them in sequence, you might get that Susan is capable of things unfit for print.

But hand it to Susan: she’s singlehandedly helped solve Mimi’s offense problem, at least for the Central game. Solving Alexa’s obsession with her stats – or undoing Mimi’s toxic scoring advice to Alexa – is a load she doesn’t need to take.

December 6, 2019

The green green grass of December

Filed under: actual action, football, hands in the air, Milford Weirdos, The Bucket, Valley Tech — robmize2013 @ 9:56 pm

Whoopee- back to football now that Chet Chit Chat has received his comeuppance, and although the fans in the stands are dressed for near-winter the grass on the gridiron shows no signs of turning brown like every other Midwest-based grass does when the warm air turns cold and the sunlight is much more minimal. Sunlight is very underrated when it comes to grass appearance. In the summer the sun is up  for about 14 – 15 hours a day, plus the light is more direct with its  path starting due east and going directly overhead at noon, providing much more intensity even though its actually farther from the earth in summer then winter. Then it majestically sets due west, taking its time and sqeeezing every bit of its daylight out before dissappearing. Even then its light lingers for a while, and sunset-watching is a fine way to spend a summer evening. By the time its completely dark out, its almost bedtime.

By winter the sun is rising in the southeast, and takes a much more angled approach in the sky as it peaks at just-above- eye level before hurrying down to set in the northwest, its extreme angle explaining why it gets dark so quick this time of year. One minute its broad daylight, then bam- dark. No twilight in December to speak of. I deliver the mail outside in a truck, and believe me, when its 4 o clock I can feel the light just fading away almost immediately and the temperature drop, and my dome light is needed almost every day now. Daylight is our friend these days, because it doesnt stay long.

So the grass feeds off the warm sun and temps, and when those resources dissapate around November,  it loses its green hue and turns brown, preparing itself to survive the cold and dark winter in a frozen ground caused by the much colder night temps; so it can grow again in spring when the warmer air re-awakens its roots. Nature is fun to watch if you pay attention.

So in Milford-land the grass stays green all year round, and the Mudlarks are still celebrating beating tomato cans like Valley Tech, and heading to the Bucket to toast Charlie and Chance for being the 2-headed monster the offense needs in the backfield. Huzzah!!

November 6, 2019

Oh, What a Feeling!

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Is Chance trying out for the cheerleading squad or auditioning to sell Toyotas?

I realize I’m dating myself with the latter reference (“Ok Boomer” is the pissy way the kids are saying it this week IIRC). Speaking of pissy, nice shift from pissy-faced to all smiles by old Gildeaux there. You’d think Gil would be having a cow about one of his starters benching himself with a fake injury to give his backup some playing time, but it didn’t faze him that much when True Standish did it for Jarrod Hale a few years back.

Nope, Gil’s just relieved that Chance is staying away from The Bucket, where they have sharp utensils handy. Better Macy and his shadow teammates punch the air harmlessly, another audition to shill old Toyotas…

 

November 5, 2019

What A Coincidence. The TWIMers Have Staged Their Own Self-Imposed Punishment.

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DUM DA DUM DUM

DUM DA DUM DUM

DUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“The story we are slogging through is true. The names have been mercifully changed to protect the innocent and our sanity.

On November 5th, 2019, trial was held in the Milford Municipal Court for a one Chance Macy. In a moment, the results of that trial.”

 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My eyes are on fire!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Quick, turn off the TV!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Hold on, dear, let me get a glass of water, you’ll feel better.”

 

“Hello, this is Joe Sharkey with The Shark Law Office. George Smutfield was one sick puppy after his frontal retina plantar discs were reduced to ashes after being subjected to a Chance Macy Marathon on WDIG-TV. His pupils became Play-Doh at the juncture where Dr. Pearl was due-processing Chance to Milford Boys Reformatory.”

“I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had to rinse out my corneas after Chance got a paddling, with the science teacher Gil dragged out of Advance Chem Lab, because Chance said Gil couldn’t coach a tandem bike even with handles on. Thank God Chance didn’t say he saw Gil’s crack, like I did, when he was fixing the spokes or I would have had to wash my corneas in Palmolive. Thanks to the aggressive tactics of The Shark Law Office, WDIG-TV settled out of court for $4,548,920,601. Thanks, Shark.”

“Ouch. My eyeballs are in dire need of Visine after listening to that testimonial. But there was a happy ending as you can see.

Insurance companies are hard at work to cover for the couch potatoes who are defenseless against bad programming. Don’t wait until The Joker sinks Batman and Robin in a sulfuric acid bath to get the money you deserve. Call 1-FON-THE-JAWS today. One call, that’s all.”

 

“The Milford Municipal Court accepted the self-inflicted punishment engineered by Chance Macy after Chance had violated Milford Penal Code 134, Section 9, Article 57 “Intolerable Activities that can and many instances indeed lead to Unwarranted and Unforeseen Implications, including Excessive Maudlin Circumstances and General Incorrigible Apathy, which is punishable by 5 years of Incarceration in said comic strip or a fine of $123,000 or both.”

 

“Chance Macy is now serving 3 years in the Flemings’ household and will be compelled to forfeit 25% of his allowance until the $98,345 fine is paid.”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Turns Himself In After Shoplifting Incident At 12 Years Of Age!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I couldn’t go on with THAT on my conscience. The Blow Pop was spiked anyway. And Ito’s a fair judge.”

 

Hoo boy. P1 just uttered Ridiculously Obvious Comment of the Year.

Who ELSE was going to bench Chance after it has become clear, time after time again, that the inmates are running the prison. Couldn’t you see The Shawshank Redemption?

“Warden Norton, I’m going down to The Bucket for that 1/2 off Bucket Steak and Lobster Special. Hard to pass up. Even comes with a salad. Want anything?”

“Yeah, Dufresne, but tell ’em I don’t want tartar sauce this time on that Bucket Grilled Salmon Bowl. Gives me heartburn. Here’s a 50. Keep the change. And don’t forget to shine my shoes when you come back. Me and Hadley are going to a Cubs game this afternoon.”

Spur of the moment, Robmize(ha).

 

I mean, this is just plain silly. After a week of wasting the reader’s time with a practically brazen lack of an invite to investigate Dennis the Menace and why he slugs Ruff every time the poor beast doesn’t eat his Ken’L Ration, our roving reporter morphs into Mr. Rogers?

“Coach, my butt itches something fierce. I gotta take a seat.”

“Hold on, Rick still has some Preparation H left over from that Milford Band Fundraiser Double-Elimination Softball Tournament. Let me go ask him”

As commercial fades to product

“Preparation H helps shrink the swelling of an ego and hemorrhoidal tissues caused by oversweating on an end sweep or off tackle right.  Available OTC at Milford 24-Hour Apothecary today.”

No.

 

“When it’s time to relax

One beer stands clear

Year after year

 

If you’ve got the yards

We’ve got the beeeeeeeerrrrrrr”

 

Miller Time couldn’t get any finer for Chance

 

And nobody more than I is happy for Charlie as he is getting his chance to shine under the bright lights. It always warmed my heart when a kid who was a best-kept secret could overcome things beyond his control to strut his stuff in the public eye.

That said, you KNOW before too long that Loudmouth Ballard will be demanding the game ball after Charlie arguably, at the rate we’re going anyway, chews up the field to the tune of, say, 134 yards, 3 TD’s, as Milford goes on to win, 101-6 (one TD called back because the Mudlarks had 12 men on the field-Chance got a little carried away as a cheerleader-Preparation H will do that, I s’pose) .

 

If ya turn yoreself inta th’ Game Warden after ya killed a ‘coon one day after Bow Season ended but ya eat the contents in yore jail cell and add some Lowry’s Sea Salt ‘n’ Vinegar and share some with Otis the Drunk after he woke up from sleepin’ 12 hours, ya might be a redneck.

Then there’s the scenery. Based upon actual projections and assuming the Madison player to Charlie’s immediate right is not love-fist-bumping Charlie, the second-stringer might have a monster game but not on this play. If this were mathematics and the Convergence Graph were duly employed, Chance will not be asymptomatic here. In plain English, he’s about to get knocked on his ass.

Unless there’s some Arctan function that can ride him out of this trap. Well, as long as Gil isn’t coaching, he might want to employ his trigonometry ratios he learned at Milford Community College. He can teach Law of Cosines while he’s on Coaching Sabbatical.

 

“Coach, I’ve got jock itch bad!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Here, let Lassie lick the wounds. Can you be ready by the 3rd quarter?”

“How ’bout the 4th quarter if I buy the Purina Dog Chow Chicken Flavor?”

“Said and done.”

 

HAVE YOU VOTED!!!!!!!!!! Today’s the day if your area has people running for office. Be sure to get your butt down to the polls if you haven’t already. Remember, you don’t have a right to complain if you don’t exercise Democracy.

 

Hating to repeat myself but oh so true, I love it when a player has faced adversity and then winds up in a feel-good moment as in P3. As a coach, oh, let me count the ways.

That out of the way, it’s a cryin’ shame that Bluto Ballard is primed to ruin this Angels in the Outfield setting. It’s like Ranch Wilder actually WINNING and taking over the Angels or the Mudlark.

AND CHANCE IS BACK ON THE FIELD. WHY HE’S THERE AFTER HE JUST GOT OFF FROM THE MILFORD PRISON FARM LOADING HAY IS BEYOND MY COMPREHENSION. WHY DOESN’T GIL TAKE THE HIGH ROAD AND KEEP CHARLIE IN. THIS IS BAD FOOTBALL, FOLKS.

The generic station manager of WDIG opens the door and walks in

“Ranch?”

Ranch turns around flashing that Pepsodent smile

“Marty’s coming back next week from his flu epidemic. You’re fired.”

YOU CAN’T FIRE ME!!!!!!!!!!!! WE HAD A CONTRACT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’M RANCH WILLLLLLDDDDDEEEERRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Easy, Ranch. Remember, less is more. Especially with those truancy records you and Bluto tried to pawn off at the Milford School Board meeting.”

 

Oooooooookkkkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is back to restore reason to this sad state of affairs. Take the mike, Gene.

“Dumb Dora was soooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought Chance went to the Federal Pen because he committed_____________________ at school.”

 

“And Milford is really running up the score as Coach T. is pulling out all the stops. A new rule in effect this year allows parents of the players to put on a helmet if there are no comparable players available. Looks like Chet Ballard is joining the 4th-string and taking the field. I understand the coaching staff had to use a putty knife to wedge his helmet in with his beard. This comedy of errors gives me an opportunity to take a station break. This is Marty Moon on WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

One late evening at Milford Stor-for-Mor, Door 79

“Honeyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!! I’m hornyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I want you to come home with meeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“I can’t now, Mrs. Shaw. I gotta store these records of Chet Ballard when he set the kindergarten teacher’s dress on fire with his Zippo. As long as he is going to pursue Chance Macy with illegal wiretapping, well, two can play at that game.”

“But is it really necessary to have the iron door clamped shut and dead-bolted?”

“Woman, this is top-secret information that not even the Milford Police SWAT team is privy to. Ain’t no way I’m going to let anybody know who Chet’s 3rd-grade teacher was when he flushed her dentures down the toilet. What’s in-house stays in-house.”

“Darling, I know Chet’s a creep but I don’t think a U-Stor-It place is really necessary to conceal Chet’s vaccination records.”

“Shows you how much you know. He was diagnosed with herpes and didn’t tell anybody. Well, I have his prognosis right here that he tried to keep a secret but after I slipped a sawbuck to the secretary at Milford Minor Emergency Clinic, we can store this El Dorado until the appointed time. If Chet so much as reveals Chance’s Snickers purchases at Milford Confectionary, we can blow the whistle pronto. We’ll show him we can reveal his dirty laundry if he starts messin’ with Chance again.”

“I’d like you to reveal something all right.”

“No way am I going to reveal Dr. Pearl’s love tryst with Benjamin Rush. Yet.”

“A man with a padlock has his own dirty laundry to hide. But when he unzips his pants, the padlock does no good.”

“What could I say? I couldn’t hide my Erectile Dysfunction in the U-Stor-It bin. I had to come clean on my problem and glad I did. With treatment programs that work, shouldn’t YOU make a trip to Milford’s Men’s Clinic for your erectile problems? Come on down and let them unlock your potential. Don’t hide it under a bushel or the flame will get smothered and your significant other will be a Crayola. And there’s only so much Bridge you can play with your wife or Omar Sharif. Come to The Clinic and see for yourself. You’ll be glad you did.”

 

Gang, thanks for your patience. One of these days, I’ll get it together. I promise.

 

“Chet’s song flute is in here somewhere. Oh, here it is, under my picture of me and Mario Andretti in ’69.”

 

On a Haley’s M.O. commercial on WDIG-TV one fine day

“How’s your bowels holding out, Chance?”

“M.-O.K., Coach. I dumped a wad in the Port-a-Pot right before your half-time speech. I’ll go in on the next series.”

“That’s fine. If you need some prune juice, let me know.”

May 31, 2019

Beasts of Milford

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Beasts of Milford, Beasts of Milford,
Mark the baselines out with lime,
Hearken to my doleful tidings
As I put this crap to rhyme.
‘Cause of skating (or of blogging?)
Linda Carr left on her own,
No one likes to play a scrimmage
In the infield all alone.
Okay to have outside interests,
So said Nancy, that was that.
Then we started winning ballgames,
Then we got these awesome hats.
Then we thought that we were hot shit,
Then we were “too cool for school,”
Celebrating all our interests
Kinda turned us into tools.
Bright will shine our spirit buttons,
And to earn one will be sweet,
Sweeter yet to watch kids grovel
For our praise and at our feet.
For that praise now they must labour,
And it is for us to judge;
Band geeks, scholarsstamp collectors,
Didn’t get one? Hold no grudge.
Beasts of Milford, Beasts of Milford,
Are we guilty of a crime?
Now we’re stuck with weekend reading
So much for our leisure time.

(apologies Orwell but hey, we didn’t drag you into this)

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