So Did Heather Just Totally Bail On Freshman Orientation Or What?

P1: Shaq retired in 2011. Just saying.

P2: So, one of the highlights of following my local collegiate basketball team when I was a kid (I am now an old man with kids of my own) is that they beat a visiting LSU team featuring Shaquille O’Neal.  Just saying.

P3: Seriously, we’ve all kind of skirted around this but he is a thirty year old NBA veteran and she is nineteen, maybe eighteen. Not just saying…

Bonus point:

Each panel has a hilarious depiction of a car. I would even argue that panel three is actually showing a golf cart that Gil drove from Milford CC and abandoned at Milford HS.

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Expectation-Proof 6-Foot-8 Small Fish

What’s a guy who’s apparently had a reasonably successful academic and athletic career to do, what with all the gushing and the tweeting? My dislike for ‘the Don’ isn’t particularly intense but it is growing, like a boil on my ass that I’d mostly just ignored but now was finally having to reckon with.

Meanwhile, off in the distance, Papa Burns looks at his watch and clears his throat.  Casting a sideways glance at Kevin, he says “Did I ever tell you about my last game at Monmouth?” Kevin, visibly exasperated, heaves an exaggerated sigh and tosses his shaggy mane. “Please, Mr. Burns…” He entreats, “If I have to hear about the time you led a drive in the rain during the fourth quarter that would’ve put you ahead of Canisius but then you sprained your ankle and the team lost one more time, I’ll go insane.”

Metapost: Shout out to any and all Houston area TWIM readers. Reach out if you need help!

Or Is the NBA Tired of You?

“Must be nice. When I was 18 I was fending off ‘consulting’ from washed-up 30-year-old hoopsters. At least you might’ve made some money off the deal.”

I really feel like something’s been missing from this whole arc: the arc of Jaquan’s NBA career. We know he had star potential BITD, but is he going from 10-day contract to 10-day contract now?  Do the Sixers Trust the Process enough to not even touch him?

Since when did Heather get a set of delts like Jaquan’s?  They weren’t there yesterday.  Did they pop out when her neck got longer?  Stay on model, Whig!

 

That’s Not How Journalism Works

Looks like we’re tying up loose ends left and right. Let’s have at it:

P1: How often have you high-fived someone across your body? Carrie’s pose is just all wrong.

P2: If DD can find a few experts she might get this onto some obscure online content mill. “Two Milford girls discovered this one weird trick that’s revolutionizing the Billion dollar anger management industry!”

P3: Did Alison Bechdel key Rubin’s car or what?

Theoretically Feeling That Flash

I’m not saying I need, or even want, a moral that makes sense to wrap up a Gil Thorp season… but this is some pretty weak sauce denouement. Also, too, didn’t someone slug what’s his name?

What else do we have today?

P1: Ms. Rizk’s clenched fist makes this quite the arc for that sort of thing if that’s what you’re into.

P2: I love the twin terminals in the foreground. I guess that big scoop on expense account abuse freed up funds for the paper.

P3: Prairie style window muntins are what do it for me, so let’s just focus on those and ignore whatever lame point Dafne is trying to make.

That’s “Dafne.” “Hello” is my kitty’s name.

I will refrain from falling back on my go-to “Who saw that coming?” from Black Dynamite except to say, well, I saw that coming.

Now that that’s out of the way, hey, sports! Well, sorta. Not only did laissez-faire Mimi let Daffy back onto the field after that fiasco, she let her take infield. Some of the other Lady Mudlarks must have run off from practice after being distracted by something or other.

I notice Drafty has a soccer ball in her room. Maybe Heather Burns left it behind for her. Anyhoo, while we await a week of hand-waving at Milford losses and Dafonte’s print mea culpa, we can at least have fun speculating on what misogynistic fun and games await us for the next eight weeks thereafter.

 

The Hits Keep Coming

July 5, 2017

July 6, 2017

Shot Putter Jimmy Caruso better be glad that Milford ain’t old school Westview, else he’d be getting shot at for mouthing off at a hall monitor like that. How plausible is Jimmy’s defense, anyway? If we look at Tuesday’s strip we can see a dark object with a protruding right angle at Jimmy’s face height, but that angle is about level with his shoulders. Chekhov’s cabinet door…

…or Chekhov’s black eye?  Whichever, they fall into place for the logical conclusion of this arc. Braying Daftpunk, flashing her best Biting Pear of Salamanca leer, chooses her words carelessly. Anybody with an ear could draw the conclusion that she intended to hit Jimmy and, even if she didn’t, that she moved past him with such force that he fell into Chekhov’s cabinet door. And you know what? Anybody will. Daffy will soon find herself in Ryan Van Halen’s shoes, which will lead her begging to Ms. Rizk to be let back on to the Trumpet staff to defend herself and Ryan. Lessons learned, fade to silhouettes, walk through a doorway and we’ll see you on the Thorps’ back porch.

Think we’ll ever see any sports being played in this arc again? Maybe that Van Halen kid will play some chin music on some Central batters and cow them into being no-hit. Then he can get killed off like the last Milford pitcher who threw a no-hitter.

We hate to see you go but we love to watch you – oh, never mind

Poor Carrie Hobson. First she gets shellacked by Jefferson in the first game of the post-Boo Radley era, then she gets soundly rejected by Hurdler Gary Meola. Another spring arc, another tearful exit for Carrie. What did she ever do to piss Rubin off?

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Dafne finds herself having to fend off Shot Putter Jimmy Caruso’s poorly aimed Vulcan nerve pinch. Let’s hope it doesn’t turn into a bad touch.

Wishing our friends to the north a happy Canada Day on the 150th anniversary of your confederation. A bit of hardball nostalgia for you today as a lagniappe: