The Bases Are Loaded: Is the Artist Loaded Too?

Okay, could all y’all who said you were going to sleep please wake up and help me figure out the bizarro details in today’s strip?

Panel one starts out okey-dokey. Nice detail on the batting gloves, Chief and, uh, nice effort on using words that a softball player might use, Rubin.  Jocelynn Brown must be part of the Brown-Hiatt family ’cause she’s making things happen.

We get to panel two and what the hell is going on here?  Is this a Milford baserunner, base coach, or someone standing on a bag about six feet from the outfield wall?  Did she get her arms from an all-you-can-eat Alaskan king crab leg buffet?  Is she wearing Japanese tabi cleats?  Isn’t 410 a deep wall for high school softball?  (With this perspective, kinda makes you think that should read 4/20.)  Finally, is that a smaller Ricozzi’s Pizza billboard on the fence?  How funny would it have been had big money BRobby Howry kept buying ad space ripping Gil on his own playing field?

On to panel three.  I know that ideally a home plate umpire doesn’t line up directly behind the catcher, so as to have a better view of the outside corner of the plate.  I can’t recall ever having seen an ump line up that far off center – nearly perpendicular to the catcher – even with an unseen left-handed batter up.  Maybe someone who’s been to a softball game more recently than I can confirm this is legit.

Oh, and someone please tell me Benson uses this cheer:

 

Okay, everybody back to sleep now.

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I’m from the psychologist’s office and I’m here to help

It’s been a very long day for yhs and I have a sneaking suspicion that however I choose to snark today’s strip, it’ll already have been done to death on the Curmudgeon. With that in mind…

Time moves slowly in the Valley. Milford may be 1959 with cell phones, but in Tilden they whip out their 143-year-old campaign posters to decorate the gym.

Wow, will ya look what a little counseling – or just the promise of counseling – will do.  Just like that shortstop-in-waiting Filion has turned into Mr. Helper. Even with Gil having benched the four failed wannabe billboard defacers, the Filion-driven Mudlarks are putting the Tildenites away in short order.

Meanwhile Marty thinks he’s being witty by labeling Marcell Ledbetter Irby the “stovepipe sophomore,” which conjures up imagery of Ralph Sampson, Chuck Nevitt or Manute Bol. His face tells another story, revealing the unfolding, horrifying realization that a winning Gil Thorp-coached team will destroy the Marty n’ B/Robby Show’s raison d’être. Not to fear, o soused sportscaster: Milford only wins when other teams have either thrown in the towel or benched their starters to rest them for the playdowns.

Milford Hoops: It’s Not Life or Death

Boys and girls, suicide is no laughing matter.  Especially when your coach/authority figure suggests you might be considering it.

Even the Milford cheerleaders are getting sucked into the abyss of despair.  Too bad they don’t have a girls’ team they could be cheering for.

In my own (admittedly ancient) experience, having crappy sports teams doesn’t typically drive a student body into mass self-harm.  What typically happens is that apathy sets in. The crowds get smaller until they’re composed mainly of the players’ parents and those kids who still want to see and be seen. Students find other extracurriculars to fill their time and boost their college applications. I hear the A/V Club is getting popular in Milford.

Whatever they do, they certainly don’t let some self-aggrandizing punk-ass who couldn’t make the team or remember to do his equipment manager job for daydreaming about coaching get under their skin.  (Speaking of self-aggrandizing, I seem to recall a post that kinda sorta predicted B/Robby might end up working with Marty.)

I suspect Rubin is setting us up for A Very Special Gil Thorp but I also suspect this isn’t gonna win him a Reuben.

 

Odd Bounces Sometimes

It’s the last day of the year. It’s time for predictions. What will happen in 2019? Maybe Bobby will be crushed by a falling billboard. Gil and Marty will finally profess their love for one another and open a bed and breakfast near the Old Mystic Seaport. Dr. Pearl will replace Gil with coach Kaz and the sports programs at MHS will all be replaced by mixed martial arts. Kenzie Hanley will come back to coach the girls team after Mimi takes her divorce settlement and splits town for good. Kaz and Kelly will tie the not and then Kelly will suddenly decide to take a job in Charleston and never be heard from again.

An alternate prediction: Marty’s mother will finally kick him out of the basement and in order to afford rent at Milford’s famous Dumpy Apartments, Marty will also have to serve as an onsite property manager as well as street level pharmacist.

That’s all I got for now. Anybody else?

So our billboard guy is relishing the Milford loss because he’s rather be vindicated in his Gil Must Go stance than see his team prevail. He’s a true fan!

Happy New Year to all!

Metapost: For some reason, I can’t access the tag feature on the WordPress editor. I’ll update the tags later. (If any other staffers want to tag this post, feel free.)

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.

Freddy Got Fingered – No, Really

I was looking for a Freddy Got Fingered reference in the archives and sure enough I found one.  Still it wasn’t a post title, so…

Freddy’s form looks to be a bit off, but not as far off as the Oakwood ballcarrier in P2 who appears to be running parallel to the goal line, not towards it.  Could be because he’s dislocated his head, or that he’s distracted by Gil’s withered monkey’s paw on his shoulder. Maybe he needs to watch Sam Koch do it.  Better still, maybe he needs to find Sam’s golf bag.  (Seriously, if you have a few minutes to spare, read that golf bag link.  Pretty interesting stuff if you’re a football fan.)  Even better still, after this game take a practice teaching some other schmoe how to long snap and get Sam Finn back there to punt.  Then Freddy can get back to the business of placekicking, working at the family auto mall and dreaming of soccer.

Speaking of soccer [read in Andy Rooney’s voice]: Did you ever notice that Neal Rubin holds a not-so-secret grudge against soccer?  Earlier this week, Freddy uses soccer as an excuse for his lack of punting ability. (Okay, I can buy that, since we’re talking about two entirely different approaches toward putting foot to ball.)  In our last arc, Gil’s Golfing Gallants had turned to golf as an escape from soccer concussions (well, at least one of them; the other just went along for the ride).  Before that, we had the whole Heather Burns saga with mediocre girl soccer player turned backup tight end via the training room. Going back further still we had Milford’s soccer players and coach portrayed as villains for not doing Gil’s bidding and placekicking for him*, which in turn led to the Brody Abro Era. Why does Rubin hate the beautiful game? [Andy Rooney voice off, Linda Richman voice on].  Talk amongst yourselves.

 

*BTW, note in that link that I once had a different screen name. I don’t recall what made me change it.  Note also that the comments section was about triple of what we have now.  Wha’ happen’?

A Mediocre Football Game Is Better Than Paintbrushes Chewed Up By The Dog

At a Mudlark football practice one day held at the Luke Bunkin Multiplex Practice Facility:

I WANNA BE A GIL THORP RANGER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I wanna be a Gil Thorp Ranger!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I WANNA LIVE A LIFE OF DANGER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I wanna live a life of danger!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

LET’S GO!!!!!!!!!!! YOU WUSSIES’LL NEVER TACKLE, LET ALONE PUNT, IF YOU LOAF LIKE THAT!!!!!!!!!! THE PLOT LASTS 3 MONTHS INTO SUPER BOWL WEEKEND AND WE GOTTA STAY FIT. ALRIGHT, SAY IT AGAIN

I WANNA BE A GIL THORP RANGER!!!!!!!!!!

I wanna…

“Seconds” by U2 is blaring over the intercom at the facility.  Gotta keep the troops motivated. Plus, “New Year’s Day” seems to have improved the punting technique of a few Mudlarks.

 

Man, this is getting ridiculous. Who better than to turn a no-brainer into a quasi-dilemma? Ya say ya don’t know what a dilemma is? Okay, for all of you who got an “A” in Modern Vocabulary in high school (ME ME ME!!!!!!!) ,  you can take your dog for a walk and let him/her piss on his/her favorite fire hydrant while I explain to the rest of the numbskulls who were pulling wings from flies or tripping little old ladies while they were in the crosswalk on a busy street corner in downtown Milford even as the teacher was trying his/her damndest to define supercalifragilisticgetsmeoutadocious ((I think the second s in the word has 2 of ’em) . “It’s the atomic number for carbon!!!!!! Y’know, the black stuff that blows out your tailpipe?” “What’s atomic number?”

Dilemma, Gil, is when you’re stuck with basically 2 options, neither one very appealing but also have equal merits. To go one way, is to get the bad consequences and the good consequenes of the other and vice versa. Gil, what you said REALLY isn’t a dilemma. Granted, a mediocre punt meant that, well, at least you got off the kick and if the chickenshit punt receiver tries to do an end-around and finds himself cornered by Mudlarks and regresses even further and winds up on their own 2-yard line when the PR should have taken his punishment like a man and started at, say, their own 39-yard line, not great but STILL decent field position, then at least your Mudkarks got SOMETHING out of a potentially disastrous situation.

What GOOD consequences arises to the surface from a botched punt?

“Kaz, let’s screw this thing all to Hell and have Finn sail the damn thing over Malouf’s head and once Malouf picks it up at our own 20-yard line, have him kick it toward the goalpost for a field goal attempt. Rumors are he has a booming foot. We’ll call it Razzle-Dazzle Get on the Good Foot, C’mon, Double Out Right Curl Slant Option Wishbone Formation on two.”

“Way ahead of you, Gil. I’ve got it written in the playbook, on down to Razzle-Dazzle. Should the fullback pick up the nose guard on the blitz?”

“Nah, Finn can botch and chew gum at the same time. He oughta be ready for the gorilla comin’ to sack Malouf.”

 

I tried to tell you I can’t punt

But I’m never talking to you again

I showed you every way, you grunt

And I’m never talking to you again

I’m never talking to you

I’m tired of wasting all my time

Trying to talk to youuuuuuuuuu

Talking to you.

 

BTW, that isn’t Tiki’s car at the top of the pile in Husker Du’s “Zen Arcade”. As long as I’m quoting one of my favorite groups, just thought I’d set the record straight.

 

 

Sent forth from the realm of TV Land

Bringing truth and justice to our hands

It’s Milkmannnnnnnn!!!!!!!!!

 

“I like it cold.”

 

Tiki is moping in his war-torn sedan in the middle of the Luke Bunkin Multiplex Practice Facility. Is there more to life than football? Will Maine ever field an NBA franchise? Does a skunk shit in the woods (more than likely yes on the last question) ?

“…I’m glad you introduced me

And I hope you’ll understand

I’ll be faithful to this bottle in my handdddddd.”

 

Milkman has just dropped off 3 crate of Milford Dairy Skim Milk  at the Milford 7-11 and is just about to clock out when he spots Tiki, which he’s able to do by the blaring music.

“Tiki, when you’re screaming George Jones, I know things aren’t kosher in Mudlarkland. Why the honky tonk offering on your Close ‘n’ Play?”

“Milkman, my piece of shit just got shittier. It’s got a busted headlight, kids spray-painted “wash me” on the ash tray, and there’s more dents than dimples in a golf ball. To top it off, the car won’t start.”

“Tiki, I think your problem is very easy to solve. One day, my milk truck wouldn’t start and I was putting my Christianity to the test attempting to get to the root of the problem. I kept my profanity to a minimum but it was getting to the point where before too long I would sound like Bruce Willis in “Die Hard” (“Can’t you get the milk truck started?” “Does it sound like I’m ordering a fucking pizza?”) . Finally, my boss came out and calmly and gently put his arm around me and said ‘I believe you need one of these.’ And when I put the key in my ignition, I was able to finish my rounds at the Milford Toyata plant. I was overjoyed that I was able to deliver fresh Milford Dairy Homemade Ice Cream Blueberrry/Cheese Cake to the starving masses. And this (pulling a car key out of a container of  Milford Dairy Reduced Fat Kosher Prepared Cottage Cheese) should solve your problem.”

WOW MILKMAN THANKS HOW CAN I EVER REPAY YOU???????

“Gentlemen, start your engines!!!!!!!!”

Tiki takes the cue, fires up the busted commodity and flies off the Multiplex Practice Facility playing Tammy Wynette’s “Stand By Your Man”, loud enough for Oakwood to hear it.

 

As Milkman drives into the sunset

“Milk is the Key of Life.”

 

Now THIS is what gets me. We’ve spent all this time in the Agora with Socrates and Plato debating the merits and demerits of Democracy vs. Republicanism, with Jeremy Bentham, John Locke, Adam Smith, and John Kenneth Galbraith thrown in, I mean, they’re chewing through The Invisible Hand Theory (“No, Plato, the butcher will let The Hand determine if he should tell the customer that his Ground Round has flies in it.” “On the contrary, Socrates, the government should swoop in like John Maynard Keynes on Bad Hair Day and rescue the customer from this rancid set of circumstances and inform him before this customer develops herpes and is therefore incapable of sustaining himself in The Good Life.” ” I respectfully disagree, Plato” said I) , only to have the Romans come in and Rambo the Acropolis, Delphi’s Oracle, the Parthenon, Mount Olympus, and even the Labyrinth, after all that work the Minotaur put into it only to watch it reduced to plaster,  and drive the Greeks to the Rock of Gibralter.” Yeah, Gil, Bad Hair Day is better than dandruff, I suppose, but it looks like a football game, or a sport played of ANY kind, Hell, I’ll accept hopscotch at this point, would keep this strip in character and my sanity in order,  I’m that desperate for the Lincoln/Douglas debate to end and get READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL (“I move that we put a moratorium on this debate so that the good people of Quincy can watch the Bears/Packers game and we resume after the contest, assuming that is acceptable to Senator Douglas.”) !!!!!!!!!!!

 

Gang, get ready, cuz Gene Rayburn is rarin’ to go with another Match Game 2018 question. Take ‘er away, Big Guy.

Dumb Dora was SOOOOOOOOOOOOO dumb (HOW   DUMB   WAS  SHE???????) , she thought mediocre sex was better than a botched ________________.

 

Gil and Carrie White one night in the Milford HS chem lab.

“Carrie, you really get me erect. I don’t care what your Pentecostal mom says about you, your dirty pillows are better than Charmin Deluxe at the Milford IGA. You are saved, filled with the Holy Ghost and sexy. Let’s spend the night together.”

Carrie, weary of hearing that line after listening to the song 1000 times on Gil’s 8-track (“Coach, I didn’t know you were a Stones fan”) in his classic ’76 Plymouth Duster still lightly nods her head, a bit shy. Let The Games begin.

 

The Games are interrupted by a short in the Torch.

 

“Coach Thorp, you’re a hunk and I don’t mean to be disrespectful, you’re the teacher and coach, but…where is it?”

“Hmmmmmmm, I could have sworn I read more Penthouses than L’il Audrey Comix this week in preparation for The Moment. Is nothing peeping out?”

“Do I need to drop a coin to find out?”

Here, let me look in the Grand Canyon. The Colorado River is trickling here somewhere. Wow!!!!! I didn’t know Gila Monsters lived down this far. Hope they don’t drown but they probably won’t the way my ED is flaring up again. You have any IcyHot? Man, that cactus is dangerously close to my pubic hair. Ah, here’s the Lily of the Valley. Take me to the river, Carrie. Carrie? Carrie?….Carrie?

Carrie?

Gil searches around the house and turns up nada. He combs every nook and cranny of the house, then finally walks outside. He scales the front, careful not to step on Mimi’s plumerias, and heads to the back. He spots an old gravemarker by his Toro riding mower, just beyond the 3-point arc of his basketball court where he works with Keri and Jaime on their game in preparition for their pre-school league where they’re defending champions. Gil kneels and reads the inscription of the grave marker.

 

Carrie White and Principal Ek burn in Hell!!!!!!!!!!

 

SUDDENLY a woman’s hand with a Mudlark engraved into a bracelet and a man’s hand donned with a Milford HS gold watch both grab Gil.

Gil yells at the top of his lungs, desperately clinging to his Soul, scraping and scratching and clawing to keep from being dragged down to the pits of Hell.

“Gil, I’m here, I’m here, Gil, I’m here. I’m here, Gil…”

 

“Boy, what a nightmare. Thank God I had an ED injection ready by the nightstand. Mimi and I had a quickie and I returned to Heaven. Principal Ek and Carrie would have to endure the Lake of Fire by themselves. Fortunately, I would not commingle.

The Milford Men’s Clinic can cure your Erectile Dysfunction as well so that there’s no weeping nor gnashing of teeth. Shoot, it performs better than Sominex so YOU can perform better than Sominex!! I know, Mimi conked out just at the point of climax. You’ll be off to La La Land with a boner the size of a Coney Island dog. But don’t take my word for it, come to the Milford Men’s Clinic at their new location in Downtown Milford, right between the World Trade Center Towers. There’s free parking on the 100th floor. It can’t get any easier than that. My erection seemed to think so. Check ’em out today and check out the view from the Observation Deck on the 98th floor while you’re at it. You can see all the way to North Dakota and Apartment 3-G on a clear day. An erection with a view, now that’s the ticket.”

 

Gang, go to it. A bad commentary is better than a good Gil episode at this point.

 

“Hi, I’m Dennis Weaver. I was chased by a crazy oil rig driver all over the country. As a result, I developed Fybromyalgiacenterofibrosis of the panatella and the lateral cruciate ligament. I also received several head injuries, one on the medulla oblongata, one on the right dorsal lymphoid tissue of my cerebellum, and one on the frontal parietal bone, barely missing my left occipital lower cranial cavity, just getting off with a contusion. Then my butt hurt something awful from sittin’ so long, runnin’ my ass off from this lunatic. Thank God for The Shark. He helped me recover my back wages from lost time at work and the insurance company even paid for the IcyHot to soothe my butt. And we even found out that the driver was Charles Manson and that his driver’s license had expired, so he not only received more prison time for his escape but got his license revoked. The company paid extra on my center ventral maxilla for hirin’ him. If ya got a cell phone handy whether you’re at work or sittin’ on the john workin’ out yore IRA, it’s 1-FON-THE-JAWS.”

 

” I’m Joe Sharkey. Don’t fight Milford Mutual alone. One call, that’s all.”

“Coach, I Thought Jimi Hendrix Did That Guitar Twirl. I Got Confused. I Didn’t Mean To Take Us Out Of The Inning.”

Barry, you just absolutely dashed my hopes. Just when you went to the altar to accept Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord and swore you were going to turn over a new leaf and live right and stop drinking doubles with Marty down at the the Milford Lounge, you go on a shopping spree at Milford Liquor Warehouse.

You DO know what Coach Kaz means when he holds up his arms. The same damn signal a cop gives when he’s at a random busy street corner in Milford, USA. Let me throw you a hint: STOPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now when Coach Kaz is doing that Pete Townshend spiel as he’s air-guitarring “Won’t Get Fooled Again”, sure run like Hell towards home plate and test that Oakwood fielder’s arm. It’s only 90 feet. Take your chances.

And this after the “Four score and several plots ago, I started acting like an asshole and haven’t changed but I am sorry and am ready to take orders from George Gordon Meade or Coach Thorp, dependent on the venue of battle” and was willing to swallow the subsequent “even though I’m still a better general than George Brinton McClellan and can beat him in poker any day of the week” as long as he was willing to go to battle and fight the good fight. P3 shot that one down. Oh well.

 

Coach Kaz at the Milford Clay Oven restroom, on his cell phone, responding to text messages

“Gil, I’ve gone over a THOUSAND TIMES in practice with Barry over what the ‘Stop’ sign means. I’ve even done note cards on him. Burned several matches sending smoke signals. What do you want me to do, use sign language? I can try…” Coach Kaz looks down. He discovers he’s at a low urinal. Don’t text and piss. A message from the Milford City Health Board.

 

And gang, Duke Ellington is my idol. I live for Duke. “Live at Newport” is in my vocabulary.  But no way is he a baseball coach as in P1. He looks awkward conducting “Blues To Be There” Or is he egging on Paul Gonsalves on that electrifying 27-minute solo in right field? Hard to tell. His hands are too active for “Mood Indigo”. I can just hear that trombone growl from Joe “Tricky Sam” Nanton in the 1st base coaching box. No wonder why Bader ran through the sign. Too much of a jerk to appreciate good Jazz. Maybe he’ll listen to Barry Manilow.

 

Marty, stone drunk from the Drewrey’s he had carted to him straight from the delivery truck to his bar stool at Milford Lounge, is standing on the Milford Lounge street corner, calling Mudlark Transportation, Inc.

“Hello, Mil-Fart Trans-Part-Tay-ShunHICCUP? I needs a cabbbbbbbubbbb. Where am I located?”

Head bobbing, barely able to read the signs

“I am at the cor-nurrrrrrr of ‘Walk’ and ‘Don’t Walk'”

Well, at least he didn’t text and piss. Gang, if you must do nature’s duty, take Marty’s cue. Put your cell phone down on the Milford Lounge portable sign(“Happy Hour-1/2 price beer-battered onion rings and unlimited Jack Daniels liqueuer, 4-7) and pee-pee behind the bushes in Milford Lounge’s alley. Who’s gonna notice and you don’t involve an ambulance. Perfect way to avoid calls from injury lawyers(“One call-that’s all”).

Thanks to Frances Gregory for her help with the above joke. You help make America great with your hard work making MRE’s for the military. And you’ve got a great sense of humor as shown above.

 

I am like everybody else on the Jay Bhatia pitching issue. As a writer has mentioned, has ANYBODY in Milford heard the word ROTATION? Right now, it’s Ryan Van Auken and whoever else has a halfway decent connection to the plot, regardless of talent. You could make Captain Kangaroo the closer but he’s not been in the scheme of things for quite some time. Guess we gotta stick with Jay and his Orwellian “Curve ball is a fastball approach”. Hey, it’s got the Oakwood batters fooled, just like the rest of the readership.

 

Steve Luhm, calling at the phone booth by the kitchen(“dial ‘9’ to get an outside line”) at Milford Clay Oven(“The Taste of the Himalayas comes to Mudlarkland”)

“Yes, I’ll tell ’em not to put too much paprika on the Ramen Noodles or the Tandoori Chicken Wings!!!!!!! I’m painfully aware it makes you fart in the Journalism room!!!!!!! I had to use heavy-duty deoderizer to wipe out the residue of the tamarind sauce. Yes, I’m sure the students could smell it in the seats!!!!!!

 

“And Barry is thrown out by a mile at home plate!!!!!!!!! Well, that’s Coach T and his baserunning strategy for you. We’re still tied, 3-3, after 14 innings and we will take a commercial break. This is WDIG radio, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

“We’re here at Milford Downtown Mall where we are conducting a taste test between Pepsi and Milford’s own, Mudlar-K-ola.”

Coach Shaw, after walking out of Milford Ammo Emporium, samples the merchandise. He spits out the 2nd, getting spray all over his wife’s shopping bag.

“Man, who BREWED this bucket of piss?”

The incognito can is revealed

“PEPSI?????? Brother, we’re going grocery shopping next and we’re buyin’ 2 24-packs of Mudlar-K-ola. I KNEW Pepsi had changed the last few years.”

His wife heartily nods in agreement, if only to get more intimate at Mudlark Lake Resort once again

 

Generic Fan, seen especially at blowouts of Milford Basketball games, in favor of Milford and not in favor of Milford, samples the merchandise. After sampling 2nd choice, face immediately caves in and reappears as Generic Milford High School Cafeteria Lady.

“Jesus, we serve THIS to the students!!!!!!!!!!!!! After we microwave it and serve it with pepperoni pizza that’s been under the lamp for 2 days!!!!!!!!!!”

When informed that it’s Pepsi, he/she says “I need to call Milford Vending and tell the trucks to stop delivering Pepsi and bring in 10 canisters of Mudlar-K-ola.”

 

Daffy Duck, after walking out of Milford Beauty School after completing her recertification on chunky bracelets, takes a sip.

“Ooooooooooooooo, this thing’s got cooties. What is it?”

The culprit is revealed

“Yuk. Somebody doodied in the Pepsi. Thank God I got some change in my purse. There’s a Mudlar-K-ola machine by the mall entrance.”

 

When all is said and done

“You sure they weren’t looking when you switched the cans?”

 

Gang, sorry it took so long. Thank you for your patience. I’ve been dragging along like this plot. Now I’m scheduled to pitch so I better start warming up. You can comment on my slurve if you want.

 

As Coach Kaz leaves the Milford Clay Oven drive-thru, satisfied with the Merlot thrown in on the deal(only with coupon) Padoka Veggie Combo, his wife lets out a scream

“WHAT’S THIS PLASTIC SPIDER DOING IN THE ALLU PAPDI CHAT??????????? IT’S CRAWLING ON THE CHAAT MASALA!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Thanks to Joseph Szerletich for his idea that he threw at me at work. It worked, Joseph. Nice job. You da Man.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Jay Bhatia No-Hits Oakwood!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Had Batters Completely Fooled All Day On Ephus Pitch He Learned From Coach Luhm.”