This Week in Milford

February 21, 2019

Girls Just Want To Play Ball

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Didn’t the Mudlark Girls Basketball season just whiz on by? I know they only play five games but I couldn’t even go to the fridge for a Grape Nehi, I might miss something. Isn’t Mudlark Girls Basketball Camp just right around the corner? Oh, there’s softball. No problem. Once the homer umpires are lined up, the 6-game season, grueling though it sometimes is, oughta be done before you can say Daffy Duck.

And I’m connecting a lot of dots here. Mimi “No Games” Thorp is overloadin’ on the Hills Brothers to conceal her true colors, i.e., she checked in last week at Milford Detox Center because the bottle was getting the better of her. We know, Mimi, a 5-game season can stretch your mental health and the dam just broke. Go party ’til it’s 2099 (we already passed 1999) and don’t worry about Gil. He has plenty of Reader’s Digest Condensed Books to keep him busy. We at least we know what he’s been doing when the coaching was ebbing in his life. Oh, also, when the Cocoa Puffs bird’s wife was in the hospital because she was going through labor pains (Well, SOMEBODY’S got to take Mr. Cocoa Puff’s bird’s place when he retires; why not his son/daughter?) , Gil filled in on a dime. He might be bouncing off the wall in the office after all the Cocoa Puffs he ate after enduring several commercial shoots but Kaz can cart in a dolly full of bananas from the cafeteria. Anyway, next time you see a psycho with a Joe Friday precipice advertising Lucky Charms or Cocoa Puffs, assume Lucky the Leprechaun and Koko the Cuckoo took a personal day and Gil had a bye week.

 

Oh yes, it’s Ladies’ Night

And she dumped Gil tonight

Oh yes, it’s Ladies’ Night

She’s drinkin’ Sprite

 

As part of Black History Month, Kool & The Gang, a group I deeply respect and admire, will be helping me today to scorch Mimi, who evidently has a lot of time on her hands and a lot of money if she’s spending MORE time at Darney’s Pub than in the gym, teaching her girls how to shoot free throws. At least get Gil’s lazy ass off the concrete slabs he was sitting on and let him be a proxy coach. He might see an epiphany along the way and the girls out-free throw the opposition, if they don’t learn any plays. Heck, I bet they don’t even know how to DRIBBLE or PLAY DEFENSE, Mimi’s been a slum landlord. But with Gil leading the way to teach them that there is no one guarding you and pummel the opposition without grasping the Give-and-Go? It can happen.

 

We might as leap over Girl’s Basketball, it was a speed bump anyway. Honestly, has ANYONE seen the girls play this season?  I will croak if they have Midnight Madness. How can you have Senior Night? Where would you hold it since it’d be silly to stage the event in a venue that wasn’t used by the girls at all, save for Girls P.E., and I’m not even holding my breath on THAT one. It’s kind of unique to have varsity letter winners in a sport they had zero participation in. We’ll get ’em next year. At least the Cubs showed up when they said the same thing.

And while Gil is getting tendinitis of the gluteus maximus while reaching the 1000th page of “War and Peace”, Mimi is engrossed in Peggy Sue’s culinary habits (“Peggy Sue/I love you/But cover your mouth when you chew/O Peggy, My Peggy Sueeeeeeee…”) at a dive started by Barney Fife from the money he saved from the Mayberry R.P.D. Retirement Fund (C’mon, you know Barney the Dinosaur couldn’t have had a hand in this-serving Gerst to the kids?-“WOW, that stuff’s too strong to be a Yoo Hoo!!!!!!! And you don’t need a chaser for Grape Kool-Aid!!!!!!!!!!!!” “Barney, you look funny with foam on your mouth”, all the kids giggling and snickering from Sideshow Bob’s remark) .

That’s right, Mimi. You’re so preoccupied with losses from graduation next year, not to mention Peggy Sue’s slurping Heinz Ketchup from the Nacho Fries Barney imported from Taco Bell that you hardly noticed that bowl of Cream of Wheat onthe table and the upside-down bottle of Cutty Sark you wash it down with. Yeah, I’ll admit Denny’s ketchup packets are not priority for me when eating nachos but it’s not like you’re at Dairy Queen and Peggy Sue is pouring horse radish on a Peanut Buster Parfait.

“Well, I love you, gal/And your choices make me puke…” , Buddy Holly ready to rip into another riff

 

And I’ll give the benefit of the doubt that that’s a “B” in the window, lopped off cleanly by the panel edge. Also, Freddy Mercury, after he cut his hair, is in the background serving more Cream of Wheat and Dunkin’ Donut &  Bar-B-Q Chicken Surprise to that lady with a clinical case of harelip. Or maybe she stapled her mouth shut so she wouldn’t overdo it on the Quaker Oats Cinnamon and Schlitz.

 

 

 

 

Digging into peach ‘n’ plum quiche

Wash it down with something nouveau-riche

Leave Gil without a leash

To watch the kids

 

Oh yes, it’s Children’s Night

And Gil’s not even in sight

Oh yes, it’s Children’s Night

And that’s a fright

 

Thanks, Kool, again. Love your music. You were always yourself and that will ALWAYS sell.

 

And whattya know, Yakov Smirnoff just came in, ready to indulge in the upcoming Quaker-Oats-and-Vodka Fellowship, sponsored by Milford International Ministries, to warn Mimi:

“In America, you can always find Peggy Sue’s party and Barney Fife’s watering hole. But in Russia, the party finds you and they dump Fife in Siberia down a hole somewhere.”

Thanks to the mysterious Sarcastic Jack for help with the last comedy idea and bringing his oregano to Barney’s Pub

Which reminds me

Because I’ma little perturbed that a group of kids were suspended for having a bag of oregano, a harmless spice, in their possession at school, including one who just had it for 30 seconds, passing it from one student to another, ALL BECAUSE IT LOOKED LIKE marijuana (Common sense, School Board, next thing you know, I’ll get arrested for possession of Coffee-Mate in my Wal-Mart shopping bag under the passenger seat because it looks like cocaine)

Dr. Pearl, still hung over from heartburn from her Meat Loaf ‘n’ Grits and Ale, looks up from her table at Fife’s Fine Pub and Dining and notices Mimi and her girlie girls with a Glad bag of Cream of Wheat, Reduced Fat, Gluten-free, Zero Calorie, Low Microwave AND  a bag of oregano.

]Gulping a quick pair of tums she snatched out of beehive and summoning Friday and Gannon in the next booth, still plunging their sporks into Baked Chicken Alfredo & Pommes Frites, dipped in Marinara Sauce and sprinkled with bits of Lucky Charms, while sating their thirst with Canada Dry Ginger Ale (can’t drink on the job) Mimi and the rest of the Go-Go’s are surrounded.

“Awwwwright, police officers!!!!!!!!!! Get your hands up where we can see them!!!!!!! And take off that Barney Rubble mask, Peggy Sue!!!!!!! You’re at the wrong Barney’s!!!!!!!! I’ll let that slide THIS time!!!!!!!!”

Mimi is perplexed

“What’s the charge?” Writ of Habeas Corpus never was so enthralling.

‘Violation of Milford Penal Code 219, Section 82, Article V, Clause 13, “Possession of imitation controlled substances with intent to sell and traffic to the public, such as an eating establishment!!!!!!!! You ladies get your kicks off of taking  some kid’s lunch money so he can snort some couscous??????”

“Mr. Friday, I’ve always watched your show and the lessons I’ve learned from them, such as how to fend off a prowler with a Mr. Coffee appliance-”

“Mimi, you’re in trouble this time. I knew something was wrong when you ditched the season. I always wondered why you disappeared after a TV time-out. Now I KNOW. You were free-basing parsley.”

“I was going to add this Cream of Wheat Sourdough Blend to this pile of nachos. The Dijon mustard was too spicy and giving me the runs. I thought I’d neutralize the recipe.”

“That’s what they all say. But I’m bettin’ Gannon’s Lions Club lapel on his tweed jacket you’ll be draggin’ on cilantro next. Couldn’t handle the hard stuff??? Peppermint too strong for your nose??? Book ’em, Dan-O.”

“Isn’t that Hawaii Five-O?”

“I’ll write the script around here, Mrs. Jalapeno Pepper addict, thank you. Check their purses for ketchup stains. I understand they were peddling Frisch’s Big Boy Burgers w/ Nutrasweet on the black market. That’s a powder only Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds could love.”

“And Mimi, next time you have your girls going door-to-door selling Earl Grey herbal tea leaves rather than World’s Finest Chocolate to raise money for the team, PLAY THE DAMN SEASON!!!!!!!!!!”

“Watch your language, Ma’am. Fife got religion at a Billy Graham Crusade last month at the Milford Convention  Hall.”

“Sorry, Joe.”

 

Rum and cheese lady

Drunk with rabies

Unsophisticated Mimi

Come on, you without a team

Drink like there’s no referees, yeah

 

Oh yes, it’s Ladies’ Night

And B-Ball’s not in sight

Oh yes, it’s Ladies’ Night

That really bites

 

And based on P2 and the above lyrics, you KNOW I have another Milford Beverage Warehouse commercial up my sleeve. Stay tuned. In the meantime, enjoy, I say, enjoy the funny Mimi uttered while imbibing her (maybe) umpteenth glass of Martini & Rossi.

 

Shout-out goes to Craig Holt of Louisville, Kentucky, who today helped many ladies get their seat belts on while riding the bus. That’s what I like about Craig. He’s always at the ready to help ANYBODY who is in need. There is not a negative nor a phony bone in that man’s body. Factor in that he always comes to work READY TO WORK and does so with a smile shows you how America is the better with people like him. He is always so giving and his smile is contagious. I salute you, Craig. America needs you.

Then there’s P3. Gang, didn’t I just get done with Monsters in Milford? Evidently not, given the flying saucers buzzing around the room. Oh, those are LIGHTS. Or maybe Spielberg went the B movie route and is filming on location “Attack of the Amazon Bumblebees”. But since we’re trapped in a hopeless plot, we might as well take roll call and include Annette to the roll call of Mouseketeers. She was just running late from her non-basketball game. It went into overtime. Surely Ms. Latecomer isn’t referring to Booby. Man, he’s tried many hats but Mouseketeer is one he needs to leave in his locker or back on the shelf he hocked it from at Milford Novelty & Gifts.

 

Today’s Black History Month entry is one you’ve already heard of but I want to include him here because I’m angry that his whole career wasn’t publicized. I’m talking about Scott Joplin, yes, the one who wrote “Maple Leaf Rag”. And he was indeed VERY instrumental in Ragtime music, “The Sting” promulgating his music throughout the movie. BUT Joplin was a think-outside-the-box kind of person, much to the chagrin of his publishers. They said that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, but Joplin was too brilliant to be confined to a single genre of music. He had envisioned for years to write an opera score, and understanding that the readership might not take to opera so keenly (understandable) , STILL, he wrote arguably one of the Top 50 operas of all time, “Treemonisha”. The plot was based upon a girl, Treemonisha, who wanted only things to get better after the Civil War had ended. Initially, it was not popular, as people were tired of war and the opera was written during that period of burn-out but caught hold as the ravages of war faded and people began to give a listen. Joplin succeeded in rising out of a rut that was only getting more hopeless and lived to tell about it. Please join me in saluting Mr. Joplin who teaches us all that those that say they can are absolutely right.

 

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, get a T.O., Auguistus Caesar, the Centurions are runnin’ Lions back in their cages!!!!!!!!!! I’m smellin’ a run, Baby!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“And that is what Coach Augustus is doing. Time out on the floor, with the score, 39 dead Lions and 34 dead Centurions.’

 

“Ladies, lookin’ for a place to go to get away from your hubby? Well, Friday Night at Milford Beverage Warehouse is Ladies’ Night and if you’re a woman, you’ll receive half off on all your favorite liquors. Hi, Mimi Thorp here, taking over for Gil who’s on assignment, tucking the kids in bed.  That’s right, leave your attitude, the kiddies, and your wife-beater at the door because the Warehouse is gonna party in style. This Beer Bacchanalian Feast is gonna have all your liquors all over the Warehouse with a live DJ spinnin’ the records while you dance and drink. Man, it’s nice not having Gil around pestering me about the kids while I get it on to ‘Disco Duck’ while sipping on some Maker’s Mark. And you shoulda seen Mrs. Kaz doin’ the Travolta, including splits while all the spotlights from the Milford Shop Class were gleaming brilliantly on her while she was drunk with the spirit and some Heineken Dark Malt. AND SHE DIDN’T SPILL A DROP!!!!!!!!! Hard to do when ‘YMCA’ is playing. And if slow-dancing to ‘Sail On’ by The Commodores with a Clos du Bois Chardonnay in your hand is your thing, the DJ has that on his set list too. Just don’t slow dance with someone like Dr. Pearl if you don’t want the gossip mill to spread all over Milford. What’s at the Warehouse stays at the Warehouse.

Anyway, come thirsty and happy and wearing a bra, as all bare-chested specimens will be assumed to be a man, this Friday Night and melt your Blues away. After all, Milford Beverage Warehouse is an Equal Opportunity Liquor Distributor. Come this Friday and get drunk on ‘From each according to her ability, to each according to her need.’ Groucho Marx couldn’t have said it any better. See you Friday.”

 

Gang, comment away. I’ll be in the corner, trying their Cream of Wheat Key Lime Nacho Chips. As long as I watch my sodium, I oughta be OK.

 

So if Yakov Smirnoff brings his imitation controlled substance to Fazoli’s, I’m assuming he can still order. I don’t think the KGB cases Italian food joints in Milford. Yet.

“Okay, kiddies, let’s sample this Bugs Bunny cup. Mmmmmm, I think it’s a Bud Lite. Do you boys and girls agree?”

 

This is your night

Tonight

Everything will die

In flight

 

This is your night

Tonight

Wine stains on your teeth

Soooooo white

 

This is your night

Tonight

This plot’ll disappear

Out of sight

 

This is your night

Tonight…

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February 14, 2019

Lou Grant Anthology Series: Volume 7-“The Coaching Years”

Filed under: actual action, basketball, Gil Thorp, Just plain sad, Oakwood, Prairie Style Windows — tdrewhardin @ 5:43 pm

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I’m having this nightmare of giant snakes attacking me in the Gobi Desert while being trapped in that giant scorpion chair that Vulnavia pushed me into while Dr. Phibes goes to Gil’s house and kidnaps Mimi and sticks her in a mummy case in his hideout behind the Milford 24-Hour Coin Laundromat (what other laundromats are there?-I’ve yet to see one that had changers giving wooden nickels or Canadian quarters or 3-dollar bills or buffalo bones that the Kiowa used in transactions, any of those for your 20) , my being surrounded by scorpions and tarantulas, helpless to do anything because I’m confined to that seat, all the while observing Robby going door-to-door selling Electrolux Vacuum Cleaners to finance his billboard addiction.

KNOCK!!!!!!!!!!! KNOCK!!!!!!!!!!!! KNOCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Ah, Vic-TOR-ia, I shall return to your loving and amorous presence as soon as I dispose of this incompetent and foolish churl. Enjoy your Journey into Never Never Land in the interim. You’ll find treasure if you stay there. And me too, I hope.”

Using mental telepathy at high voltage

“Yesssss?”

Taken aback that Phibes doesn’t move his mouth when speaking, R/Bobby trudges on

“Hi, I represent the Electrolux Vaccum Cleaner Company. Here’s my card. Uh, Can I come in?”

Sure, Booby, just come on into the Pits of Hell where Phibes is shish-kabobing a victim who dared harm Vic-TOR-ia and make yourself at home. Sorry the place is a mess. I’ll have Vulnavia use a Swiffer on all the blood stains on the tile floor. And that skeleton on the Broyhill dining room table? Well, she was an anorexic. Vulnavia couldn’t coax her to eat a Pudding Pop.

“You’ll love these hose attachments, it’ll pick up all those dead locusts on your floor, Man, you got a ton of ’em, some on the China cabinet, and even in the vegetable compartment in your fridge, you might need an extra vacuum bag…”

I wake up, coming to my senses. I realize it was just a bad dream, that the vacuum noise was a street sweeper passing by.

But just in case my nightmares overlap into reality and I see my next-door neighbor cleaning out his Volvo and sucking all the cigarette butts and chewing gum and stale Chee-tos with an Electrolux, extension cord thrown in as an added bonus, you could run the gamut of choices, Tom Thumb, James K. Polk, Booby Doody (nice one, Teench) , Ethyl from “I Love Lucy”, Herb Woodley, Dagwood’s next-door neighbor, and Mother Theresa, and I believe you can narrow down the list of candidates very quickly. James K. Polk didn’t have the luxury of electricity and P.T. Barnum, Tom Thumb’s protege, sold circuses door-to-door, not vacuum cleaners. There might have been a sell after the elephant act, flunkies scoopin’ up the elephant poop while somebody is shouting from a megaphone “It slices, it dices, it sucks up popcorn and Julienne fries in a nanosecond…”, but aaaaaaaa, kinda sorta doubt it. So R/Booby is our culprit Electrolux salesman.

And now R/Bobby is living to tell about it on The Sleazy Hour w/ Marty Moon. Thank God Booby had an extra wide-scoop dustpan attachment to corral all the dead scorpions on the VCR in the den or Booby might have been victimized by Phibes’ Deluxe Head Decapitator in the Maytag dishwasher. And Booby is practically saying Gil should give up coaching and sell vacuum cleaners himself. And as long as we’re going to get RIDICULOUS about this, what with a guy who still hasn’t confirmed how he’s financing these billboard deals and really has no business on a radio show criticizing a coach and saying he needs to resign when he was only the equipment manager, I might as well go all the way with this.

“So you’re saying he never moved his mouth when he was calling time outs?”

“I am.”

“How could he communicate with his players? Did he use a cue card?”

“Nooooo, he kinda spoke as if he was using mental telepathy. Like somebody sewed his mouth shut so the only other way was to hold a can at one end and shout out the back door play through the hanger wire to the cup at the other end through his nostrils. Good thing he used Vic’s Nasal Spray or Luhm’d have some heavy poop to sweep up tonight. And don’t even talk about buffering.”

“What did he say?”

“He threatened to dunk their heads in an aquarium of piranhas and use their bodies for mannequins at the Milford House of Horrors if they coughed up another late lead and disappoint my dear Vic-TOR-ia who’s been waiting centuries to awaken and be part of the State Champ photo with the basketball team.”

“And I understand tarantulas were coming out of his scalp?”

“Right. Some heckler in Section B said he COACHES like Dr. Phibes and only Phibes’ organ-playing is worse than his play-calling. Vulnavia positioned a cement chute in the heckler’s direction and the tarantulas had a feast on the heckler and his 2 Baby Ruth bars.”

 

And wasn’t Tod Andrews in charge of the Oakwood team(s)? Billytheskink, correct me if I’m wrong and you do excellent work on the subject so if you know, by all means, clear the record. I admit I’m getting senile(ha).

RIGHT NOW, Lou Grant has come out of retirement and is pursuing a second career after taking night classes at Milford Community College. I reckon he skipped the infomercial on WDIG-TV at 3:00AM in the morning, the one where Bodies by Jake had a special promo “Yes, you too can be a coach.” And when you order now, you’ll get the 2-ton Nautilus equipment sent to your door plus a 2,354 page booklet “Kevin Loughery: ‘How I Coached Great Players On My Next Team After I Got Fired From My 3rd Team'” Classic reading. Is there a foreword by Bob Knight?

 

Hank Finkel (or Chuck Nevitt or Don Noort-last one, courtesy Indiana Basketball) : “Coach, I’m ready as a 12th man if you need me. I know you’ve blown some games because there was no one to send in when you were ahead by 61 with a minute to go, so I’m available.”

“SURE. We have an empty seat at the end of the bench. I put Chuck D’Alosio (ditto IU) on the DL.”

 

Isn’t “disappointing loss” a redundancy? What loss is ENCOURAGING? I’ve been a high school booster/coach and a college booster for ages and have never experienced  a loss that WASN’T disappointing.

Then when we’re subjected to giga-second photo shoots of basketball action on one end of the court and Gil-thrashing by Marty and Booby on the other end, no wonder why tip-offs are a bit tricky. Talk about lack of action and making no desire to penetrate in the frontcourt. Only the 4-corner stall implented by Dean Smith is less entertaining. But at least THAT won games. No wonder why we have to have a shot clock.

“…shot clock down to 7, Gil is rambling and rambling, Reggie wanting to shoot, shot clock down to 4, Booby is using a crane to erect another billboard that says “Gil has serious crack when he kneels to design a play”, shot clock down to 2, Reggie is begging for the ball and trying to get Kaz to quit trying to remove his earrings, ANNNNDDDDD the shot clock expires and the Pacers will turn it over, down 6 to the Bucks, 2:37 left in the 3rd Quarter…”

“There’s absolutely no reason for that, Mark, absolutely no reason.”

“I agree, Slick, you just don’t leave Reggie that wide open, especially with Robinson laying off…”

 

Going back to P1, the players, if you really want to liberally interpret the word, are displaying some interesting stances. Is the Oakwood player in the upper panel doing the River Dance? I knew it was a craze or at least the commercial during Bugs Bunny & Pals said so. Sure helped with his footwork on defense. Glory Thanks to Jesus he wasn’t doing the Funky Chicken or Milford Might have made it a cakewalk.

And that’s either a Smurf or The Hunchback of Notre Dame in the lower corner that missed his defensive assignment. Help defense does wonders, Hunch.

 

One day, a visitor drops into Gil’s office.

“Hey, Coach, I understand you’re short-handed, especially on the interior. Need me to suit up?”

“Pulver, you graduated in the ’70’s. How am I going to slip that one past the other coach, let alone the officials?”

“The same way you’d slip the Coach’s union card you’ve had since ’58. And I can douse my head in a bucket of Grecian Formula.

 

Today’s Black History entry is actually 2 people, Booker T. Washington and William Edgar Burgard DuBois. They were on two sides of a coin, Washington espousing learning a trade for the black man to better himself, especially through his school, the Tuskeegee Institute, and Dubois, the first black man to earn a Ph.D at Harvard, who felt that a black man should better himself through the Liberal Arts. I’m not prepared to delve into either side but both men were VERY INFLUENTIAL in the lives of blacks and therefore I ask that you join me in saluting them for their significant contributions.

 

 

 

 

And, OF COURSE, Lou, he’ll turn it around. You’ve been looking up Mary Tyler Moore’s butt one too many times, that’s your problem when you’re not running a newspaper when you’re not coaching the team. What do you think Gil’s going to do after 60+ years, RETIRE???????? Wash your mouth out with Irish Spring. And head to a Florida condo? Go sit in the corner. As incompetent as Gil is, Coach Kleats ain’t gonna take his place and take the baton and continue to run the team and/or plots in the ground. You and Ted Knight, sheesh.

And what would he do? Play shuffleboard? Strive to be the Bocce king? I’m sure he’s been practicing in his office for the appointed time. Equipment’s right behind the golf bag. Oops, that reminds me. Since he golfs, he’d be on thecourse 24/7.

The St. Lucie Police shining a floodlight on Hole #7, dog leg right, par 5 and speaking through the loudspeaker

“May I ask your business?”

“Not now. Gotta do a ball drop.”

 

Air Jordan walks through the hallways, signing 1,946,738 autographs, including posing with the cafeteria ladies and with Dr. Pearl, Doctorate proudly behind her, eventually winding up in Gil’s office.

“Coach, if you need me to come out of retirement, I’m available. And Pippen’s in the limo.”

 

P3-“Not now, I’m in the middle of Ultimate Chess. I’m workin’ on my endgame. My rook got sliced in pieces but I still got another one, plus my one and only pawn is 2 squares away from queening. Mate City.”

And only in Thorpiverse do the background mutated pine trees kibbutz the match. Move your bishop and protect your queen, Thorp. Shut up, fellow mutated pine tree, I’d move his knight. He’s got an easy fork. Rook’s a dead man.

 

“And there’s a time out on the floor as the towel boy is wiping up all the locust poop, with the score, Milford, 67, Oakwood, 62, with a minute to go. We’ll see if Phibes can pull this one out.”

Because I’m unclear on what a blood flow massage or stimulator is on these ED commercials

Gil, pulling down his Valentine’s Day boxers that Mimi had air-mailed this morning

“How does it feel?”

“Aaaaaaaaaaa, a bit snug. I need circulation but don’t lop the damn thing off. I need to piss, y’know.”

“Sorry, Gil. They do stretch in time. You might get a little woozy walking down the stairs but you’ll get comfortable in a day or two. Leather stretches that way.”

“Can I try something one size smaller? I usually wear a 12 but I’ll go 11 even if it’s a bit loose.”

“Absolutely, Gil. And I can put some pinch pads in them so it doesn’t keep slipping.”

“Go for it. Now you’re saying it’ll get me erect 1/2 hour before bed time?”

“Sure, but if it’s loose, it might take a little longer.”

“”I think I better go a little tighter. Mimi gets horny in a hurry and the quicker I can get the motorboat started, the less tempted Mimi is to use alternative means such as the bed post.”

“Sure thing. And I’ll give you a shoehorn in case you have trouble slipping it on before desperate times come about. Mimi won’t rub the parquetry again, that’sour money-back guarantee.”

 

“The Milford Men’s Clinic friendly staff is ready to assist you and treat you like a Coach. Don’t take my word for it, ask Mimi. And see for yourself down at the Clinic. Give your significant other a Dr. Scholl treatment.”

 

Gang, comment away. I’m staying on the other side of the gym. I saw people getting eaten by anacondas. Sometimes Phibes goes too far when he gets slapped with a T.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Gil: ‘I DID see Elvis.”

sub headline

“Presley seen as a 2 guard in Thorp’s offensive schemes.”

 

Bulletin board at St. Lucie Heights Luxury Condos

“Congratulations to Coach and Mimi Thorp for 1st Place in the 27th Annual Croquet Tournament, Handicap Division. Mimi won in a one-hole play-off. Thanks to ALL the participants.”

February 7, 2019

All The World’s At Milford’s Gym But There Are No Actors

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Gang, if you’re looking to start out the day on a cheery note, you might want to skip today’s strip. Filion is getting comfortably numb when he’s not reciting Hamlet’s soliloquy. And it, of course, is interfering with any basketball action, ay, there’s the rub. Thank God the National High School Athletic Board approved of the make-up schedule after all the snow days, rain days, soap opera distractions, Gil’s hunting trips to Nepal, Mimi’s appointment at the hairdresser,  Kaz’s unused sick days, Dr. Pearl’s annual Teacher Enrichment Seminar Retreat at Mudlark Lake, Dr. Pearl’s Annual Wig-Shedding event, WDIG’s pre-empting Mudlark basketball games to cover ESPN’s Big Monday (“Look at Gil’s hair bob up and down while a Mudlark sets a down screen on the weak side and there’s no help on defense or for  Gil’s hair-FREEZE IT”) , and Luhm’s calling the Orkin man to machine gun all the roaches in the gym. I don’t know, some guy dressed like Mr. Freeze with a long hose attached to a couple of air tanks on his back so he can stage a Holocaust  on all the bugs, couldn’t we slip in a game or two?

ANYWAY, until the end of February, all games, played at 3 per day, including girls’ basketball, should get things caught up, barring Valentine’s Day, nobody’s going to be in the mood to slam dunk a basketball after he or she ate the whole box of Russell Stover Cherry Cremes given by grandma or mom or a girlfriend. Gastronemic considerations and fancies of love flings were taken into consideration when discussing make-up dates. And the girls’ season would end tomorrow at that rate as a 5-game schedule enables us to say sayonara to a season that really never was. I hate to admit it, gang, but I missed not being able to watch Mimi high-five a girl after her Lady mudlarks dismantled a team in 2 panels. Missing those missed memories is killing me.

“Ah haaaaaa, Coach Torp. I FINALLY have you vere I vant you. You vill be mine forever and ever. I vill reign over Gotham City AND Milford.”

“That’s nice, Mr. Freeze. BTW, could you respray the girls stalls? I saw a couple of critters scoot by.”

 

And while I’m exploring all the wonderful possibilities of all the boys games being wrapped up before the Playdowns and/or The Bucket calling it a night, assuming Mr. Freeze nuked all the roaches with cybernetic bug spray (works better than Roach Motel, trust me) , take a look at P1. Geez, it is tearing my heart out to see Filion in Death Valley. At least U2 made an album, “The Joshua Tree”, when they returned to the surface.

But even Filion’s butt appears to be mired in the pits of Hell. It’s times like this I’d rather have Plumber’s Butt. All I need to do is get a longer shirt.

“Why the long Plumber’s Butt?”

“Oh, my dog just died and Santa got ran over by his reindeer. And The Bucket is going to shut down indefinitely after Mr. Freeze stunk out the bathroom when his icer broke down at the same time he devoured that Bucket o’ Tex-Mex Chili w/ Jalapeno Peppers. The EPA will have to give clearance after the Milford
City Department deodorizes everything.  They had to evacuate residents within 2 blocks of the place.”

 

It doesn’t help that Gil is failing as a mental health therapist. Gil, just because you’ve read all those Psychology Today magazines while you were waiting for Mimi in the gynecologist’s office. doesn’t entitle you to spit-shine that Ph.D in Clinical
Psychology with Windex so that it streaks diagonally. I know some of your certificates on the wall have streaked the Norman Cross, but sheesh. Then you press your luck by mounting that Ph.D  next to the railroad-crossing-streaked Real Estate License you earned from the corresponding course at Milford Real Estate Solutions on the computer. Next thing you know, you’ll be using Turtle Wax  on that suitable-for-streaking Dow-Jones-streaked Kentucky Colonel certificate. Buffer it nicely so the streak is spotless when you’re entertaining the guests in your office. We wouldn’t anybody to think you’re a slob.

 

Hello (Hello. Hello)

Is there anybody out there?

Can anybody hear me?

Are we close to tip-off time?

 

Sue me, you whippersnappers, I had to satisfy my Floyd fix. I’m just trying to figure out what the heck to do when I see a teenager dragging his Plumber’s Butt in Gil’s office and Gil makes a sorry-ass attempt at Handy Man. Talk about jack-of-all-trades, master of none. Gil, you can’t use a ball-peen hammer or an Allen wrench on a guy who’s comfortably numb. But leave it to Gil to ignore the advice.

What are the readers supposed to think when it takes a week for Gil to tell Filion to GO SEE A SHRINK????????? We’re almost to Friday and Gil is hem-hawing on this one? What was he thinking, go to the Snap-On Tool man for a 3/8 when the dude makes the rounds every week? That’s right, Gil, head towards the UPS-like truck and ask for a hacksaw when Filion is going schizo. And don’t forget to put a plumbline on his head. He might look funny with this blue streak running down his nose but if that’s the price we pay for psychoanalysis, I’m all for Holistic healing, by dingies. And you might need a Briggs &  Stratton cordless drill when Filion says he’s Napoleon. No need for a strait jacket when all ya gotta do is drill his forehead should he go too far.

Why not read him a bedtime story and let him suck his thumb. Steal Linus’ blanket and give him some security. I read this Dr. Seuss story the other day and it is perfect.

 

Makes no sense at all

There’s no basketball

Said the Cat in the Hat

In the hall

 

Gil Thorp and wife Mimi

Are getting progressively steamy

The rest of us hit The Bucket

For green eggs and fettucini

 

Boy, if that doesn’t put him to sleep in that cot you rolled out in your office and keep him from slashing his wrists in the bargain, Marty Moon didn’t make little green apples in the summertime.

 

 

Stand up (Stand up Stand up)

I think the PALS is working good

That should work for tomorrow’s game

Your shooting won’t be the same

 

There is no pain

You are a wussy

Coming in when

I break down the D

Don’t forget to drink it with tap

Your rebounding will be a snap

Youuuuuuu have become

Comfortably dumb

 

 

Dr. Pearl approaches Gil at the faculty table in the cafeteria

“Gil, I’m a little concerned for Mike. Did you loan him a gym towel? Because he’s over by the Hostess rack rubbing the towel on his head while sucking his thumb.”

Some things are better left in “Snoopy has Rabies, Charlie Brown”.

 

Then there’s P2. Oh my God, either that is a painting between “Death in the Family” and “A Question of Fear” on the Night Gallery or some idiot, while taking a drag from his Marlboro Menthol Lights 400’s and/or sipping his Diet Cherry Mountain Dew knocked over the jar of black paint and good reflexes kept P2 from Filion being afflicted with a blackhead the size of a slaughterball that Clearasil couldn’t dissolve down the garbage disposal. I’m opting for the former.

And you Rush fans (been a 2112 freak like you all) are in for a treat. This plot couldn’t get any more saturnine and since reading “Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs” hasn’t sent him to La La Land (“Gil, you read with such ENTHUSIASM”) and he is STILL in his present funk, it’s only right that I quote from 2112, “Soliloquy” the tune, a one a two,

 

The basketball is still in my eyes

Mouthguard still in my head

I hear you rambling and sadly smile

And lie a while in your bed

 

I wish your speech might come to pass

And fade like all my dreams

 

Thinking of what this team can be

Playing like the ’96 Bulls

But the ‘Larks can’t carry on

Pretend we’ll fight for the Championship

 

Why don’t we end this silly charade

And

Play

Basketballllllllllllll

 

Electric Alex Lifeson solo for several minutes, suddenly Steve Luhm breaks in on Dr. Pearl’s intercom after playing “3 Blind Mice” on the xylophone as an intro

“Attention all you Milford Mudlarks out there, this is the Dictator of the Confederation

We have assumed control

We have assumed control

We have assumed control”

 

Dr. Pearl approaches Gil at the faculty table in the cafeteria

“Gil, I’m a little concerned. I caught Filion with a blanket sucking his thumb with his head buried in the toilet.”

“Wait a minute, what were you doing in the boys’ room?”

“We were short-handed for hallway duty today, remember?”

Ah, well, nobody can’t say I didn’t give Filion the ol’ college try. Better than a trowel from Snap-On Tools.

 

BTW, is Gil wearing kilts in P1? Never mind.

 

P3 is scaring the daylights out of me. What is Gil going to do, give him a shot? Brother, I can see this. Go for it, Gil. Dig that needle the size of a putty gun out of your desk that you left under the spare umpire ball bag, indicator included, in case some dumbass umpire left his at home when doing your games in the Spring, and just plow that needle straight ahead in Filion’s Gluteus Maximus. You may fire when ready, Gridley.

 

Okay (Okay Okay)

You might feel a little prick

But there’ll be no more

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

But you might feel a little sick

 

At the doctor’s office

“How did his cheeks get glued together, Nurse Ratchet?”

“Gil, used the wrong injection again, Doctor.”

 

 

“They’re Rockin’ and Rollin’ here in Mudlarkland!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Filion’s a Diaper Dandy. Boy, he’s awesome, Baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I love Aardvark when he Slam Bam Jams!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And he cleans the glass so well, I’ve put him on my All-Windex Team!!!!!!!!!!!!! Better get a T.O., Coach Andrews, I’m smellin’ a run by Milford!!!!!!!!!!”

“Time out is called out on the floor. This is Mike Patrick along with Dick Vitale, with the score, Milford, 54, Oakwood, 44. We’ll be right back after these messages.”

 

“Do you want to spend a weekend with the kids but still enjoy the finer things that life has to offer? Hi, this is Coach Thorp. I’ve asked the same question myself, especially when I’m with the travel squad.

The Milford Beverage Warehouse has just completed tghe multi-million dollar Budweiser Multi-Purpose Family Playground & Generic Recreation Facility, or Budplex, as we call it around here.

Shoot, you don’t need to go driving around the neighborhood looking for a jungle gym when there’s 10 to hang from right here where you can get your favorite Message in a Bottle. Sipping from a Canadian Mist 750 ml while hanging upside down while kiddies go play hide-and-seek? Ma, plenty of room to hide in this bad boy. And we have Pinkertons to make sure they don’t hide in roped-off areas. Don’t want Jack and Jill clueless around the Boone’s Farm shelf, now, do we?

It’s a blast going down the slide with Keri and Jaime as I satisfy my taste buds with a long-neck bottle of Heineken from a 12-pak. And if you aren’t afraid of heights, you can teeter-totter with your kids guzzling any Smirnoff. Shoot, if you can walk and chew gum at the same time, going up and down with your daughter while keeping every drop in your shot glass oughta be a breeze. Trampolining with the munchkins with your tummy chilled with Michelob Ultra. Buddy, only doing the same thing with the Swedish Bikini Team is better.

Why go down to McDonald’s to their playground when all you’ll be running circles on the merry-go-round forever with just a Happy Meal? Man, that’s no fun. Who wants to get dizzy and puke up a small order of fries? Come on down to Milford Beverage Warehouse where you can get it on with the kids legally and they don’t even card you at the playground. Works for me. Come on down, Milford. Give your kids the thrill of their lives and enjoy a tall boy too. Only at Milford Beverage Warehouse.”

 

“Today’s Black History Month entry is another person dear to my heart, Phil Lynott (LINE-it) . You may not know his name but many of you know his group, Thin Lizzy. Phil is an Irish African-American who really got the ball rolling on the Double Lead Guitar sound which just ABSOLUTELY worked and worked well. It came in handy for his most well-known song, “The Boys Are Back in Town” which has just flat-out been a standard for a lot of scenarios, in particular sports scenarios. Yeah, our Boys are gonna whoop some butt this season cuz they’re back in town.

Phil also sent “Whisky in the Jar” and “Jailbreak” to the charts for good measure and was also noted as a STRONG songwriter (trust me on that one) . Phil broke the mold that African-Americans were confined to R & B, Disco, and Jazz. His kick-ass Rock ‘n’ Roll style has an audience with me. Please join me in saluting a man who has long been overlooked for his talents and his contributions to Rock ‘n’ Roll. RIP, Phil. Ya done good, My Man.

 

Gang, if you’re not comfortably numb, take ‘er away. Give Gil the ride of his life since we’re being taken for one ourselves. Only right.

 

Dr. Pearl approaches Gil at the faculty table in the cafeteria

“Gil, I’m a little concerned. Mike is attached to that blanket while sucking his thumb.”

“Dr. Pearl, you interrupted my Boston Market Meat Loaf and Bucket Fries for THAT??? He’ll grow out of it. What’s the big whoop-de-da????”

“He’s using the other end to wipe.”

January 31, 2019

“I Know I Have The Receipt For That 130-Foot Ladder From True Value Hardware Somewhere.”

Filed under: Cops, Just plain sad, Milford Idiots — tdrewhardin @ 3:22 pm

013119

Well, well, boys will be boys, The Sequel. Oh, I’ll get to my Sopranos Moment in a moment, but I’m still basking in the cherubic glow emanating from Mr.Clean’s brother and his subsequent catching them in the act. Switching from Pine-Sol indeed nabs more miscreants.

P3 is really interesting. The consolation prize to this whole farce is that we know now beyond a reasonable doubt that Thorpiverse is adept at drawing spray paint cans. And didn’t have  to paint by numbers this go-round.

Peace of mind in my pocket aside, what’s going to happen in P4? Because if it WERE The Sopranos, they’d be shooting back, no questions asked. Just typical war with the cops after they were witnessed attempting to ditch R/Bobby’s corpse in the woods and are now trying to save face.

But this ISN’T The Sopranos, NOW what are the greenhorns going to do? Shoot back with Krylon? Wonder where they store the ammo? In the Milford Dairy 2% Gallon jug? Boy, that’d be an interesting police report.

At the Milford Detention Center

“So what are you in for?”

“Got busted for resisting arrest with Benjamin Moore.”

Really, Kurt from “American Graffiti” can brag to the Pharaohs on that score.

“Okay, rookie, you gotta spray his police scanner but you gotta wait ’til he calls his mom collect for Valentine’s Day. Look for my cue. You pull it off, we’ll make you a Pharaoh yet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The greenhorns will learn the same thing The Sopranos and The Pharaohs learned. Bring a hefty wallet full of cash to the Milford Precinct Office (Ben’s, no George’s) , to eliminate odor at the source, then get better lawyers in case some rookie cop catches them doing a Crayola job on the tinted windows of Gil’s ‘vette.

“But, Your Honor, there WERE doing an art project. They were mixing red crayons with the blue windows and called the whole thing ‘Purple Haze’. Scored an ‘A’ and won 1st Prize at the County Fair Albrecht Durer’s Wood Cuts of ‘The Hanseatic League in Milford’.”

Really, isn’t that better than getting caught literally red-handed by Mr. Clean trying to impress the camera with his hair slicked back by Vidal Sassoon?? Isn’t it??

 

 

P2-11:03 P.M. It was raining pentagons by the time Gannon pulled in. It was fortunate Gannon went to Pep Boys to change the wiper blades. The SWAT team had their Uzi’s ready under their ponchos.

 

P1-Before the Pentagon Meteor Shower douses Milford, Random Hood has this to say

“C’mon, Guys, I’ve got an idea. I saw an ad where Swifti Mart was running a BOGO on 130-foot step-ladders. If we hurry, we’ll make it before 12 when they close. And they have free installation. Fellow Hood, could you move your spare tire out of the trunk?”

 

At Marty’s Place in WDIG Studios

“Okay, fans, my next guest is a famous commentator who reportedly has a true disdain for Gil and his Modus Operandi. His occasional derring-do is just right to join in the fight Gil, killing Gil softly with his song. A man who needs no introduction, Mr. Paul Harvey.”

“Thank you, Marty. Did you know…more Americans read Gil Thorp than…Nancy & Sluggo…The Ryatts…Rose is Rose…Mother Goose & Grimm…Rivets…Bringing Up Father…Prince Valiant……………………………………………………………………………..combined?

Gil’s popularity has just torn the roof……………………………………………..off his house. His name is mentioned……………………in the same breath…………………………..with Matthew, Mark………………………………………..Luke………………………………..John…………………………………………………………..The Book of Acts…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..even The Book of Mormon…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

My land, Gil even has his own Dial-a-Prayer line. When the angel Moroni came into his office bathroom and told him to write down the rest of the plates to finish the message Joseph E. Smith left behind to complete The Book of Mormon, Gil asked if he could wipe first and the angel Moroni handed him a Prayer Cloth personally autographed by Jehovah himself…”

“PAUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You’re supposed to be criticizing Gil, not EXALTING him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Sorry, Marty, I got carried away. Somebody slipped a 3 x 5 of Gil in my wallet from Milford Photography right before we got on the air and, honestly, I was enamored with his hairline. He won’t be needing Rogaine in the next 2 centuries. And I never liked Nancy & Sluggo. Too corny. It’s like Aunt Fritzi, Lulu, Roy Clark, Buck Owens, Grandpa Jones, the cartoon donkey all singing ‘Rose Garden’ on Hee Haw with the Lawrence Welk backup singers accompanying them.”

 

At a random time on Hee Haw in a fake corn patch with a bit of the plywood showing through a corn stalk with Lulu, Grandpa Jones, Gomer Pyle, Archie Campbell, Floyd the Barber, Otis the Drunk’s grandmother, Roy Clark, Buck Owens, AND Aunt Fritzi as the guest star along with Hank Snow, Jeff Foxworthy, and Tom T. Hall

Aunt Fritzi: “Lulu, you know why Coach Thorp stopped by Jiffy Lube?”

Lulu: “No, I don’t. Why?”

Aunt Fritzi: “Gil needed an oil change on his hair.”

Lulu: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

 

All this trouble could have been avoided with Mr. Clean and Charlie’s Angels if our hoods had taken a different tack. Why not borrow Rosie the Robot Maid from The Jetson’s and use her to procure much-needed titanium (damn it, she’s a robot, she KNOWS these things) to build Inter-Continental Ballistic Missiles (ICBM’s) in a random hood’s garage? Should the Milford Police stage a raid, they can always leave Rosie the Robot Maid as the fall guy, not to mention use The Soprano’s lawyer to bail ’em out. The lawyer can work out a deal with the judge. If the judge will sentence them to a wrist-slapping 1 year’s worth of Probation, they’ll dismantle, with the aid of Rosie the Robot Maid, the whole shebang into Tinker Toys.

Thanks to Sarcastic Jack for help with the above comedy idea.

 

While Marty is sleeping in the booth, Paul Harvey prates, proving Marty doesn’t need Sominex

“More Americans prefer to read a plot that makes sense, according to a recent study. The Gallup Polls reveal that 61% of the people like to sit down at the dinner table and discuss the day’s events, hoping, for example, that the bathtub ring doesn’t linger for 3-4 months. And they won’t need Windex to remove the stains.

Page 2

Basketball!!!!!!! That winter sport that Mr. Naismith invented is regaining popularity. So much so that they’re rioting in the streets of Milford for its return to the gym. The Milford Enquirer reports that glass was shattered, the floor was ripped up, graffiti was spray-painted on the bleachers, and the south wall has a huge gash on it after someone shot a bazooka at it. They’re mad as honeydew in Mudlarkland, I’m telling you.

Milford City Maintenance estimates that repairs will run in the millions. And speaking of repairs, your Milford True Value Hardware store is running a fire sale on tools this week. A 3-piece Adjustable Wrench Set, $24.99 at Staples is a bargain at $6.99. Perfect for screwing the flotation device back in the toilets in the locker room commodes. A 30” 4 Drawer Cart, 580-lb. capacity, sells for a ridiculous $107.99. Just don’t let Lulu use it as a bean bag chair and you won’t void the warranty. And did I mention that a 125-Amp Flux-Core Welder is yours for only $99.99? Now the construction crew can fuse  the basketball goals back on the backboard in the ‘B’ gym. Folks, without True Value Hardware to call off the Riot Squad, the gym wouldf resemble the Roman Colosseum. But Joe Tourist isn’t interested in free throw lines with “Gil shot his wad” written on them so stop by your True Value Hardware store today and put your pocket book at ease.”

 

Aunt Fritzi: “Lulu, do you know why Coach Thorp stopped by Jiffy Lube?”

Lulu: “Do you think I’d be sitting with Otis the Drunk’s grandmother if I did? Phewwwweeee, Granny, your Dewar breath’s worse ‘n’ Buck’s.”

Aunt Fritzi: Because Grease Monkey wouldn’t do dreadlocks on his hair.”

Lulu: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Caught Spray-Painting Neighbor’s Vega!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Issue reportedly over a $20 promissory note.”

 

“America is thinking bigger. Bigger cars. Bigger houses. Bigger restaurants. In fact, SPLAT the Milford Mall is discussing SPLAT increasing its capacity to include more shops, restaurants, SPLAT fast food stores, and boutiques. A tattoo parlor is in the works and SPLAT the Milford Men’s Clinic is expanding SPLAT .Now there will be no waiting in line SPLAT while the Clinic is SPLAT ordering better equipment and medicine. The days of lying in the tanning salon SPLAT because one of the doctors forgot to order light bulbs for the lamp are over. Your SPLAT Significant Other will be browned and in SPLAT functional order by the time you leave.

Orville Redenbacher SPLAT is in the news. He is donat SPLAT ing $100 for every Orville Redenbacher SPLAT Ready-Popped, Through-Chewed, Margarine-Enriched box you buy.

Now here’s the hitch SPLAT . You have to come SPLAT to his farm to validate the deal. Just take I-90 for 945 miles, then take Exit 113, the Milford 76 Truck Stop exit, then when you reach County Road 375 SPLAT , take a right. Go by New Thayer High School  Driver’s Ed SPLAT Course and hang a left where the wooden cut-out of the farmer’s wife’s butt is displayed by the pin oak SPLAT tree in somebody’s yard and head straight down east, 3rd farm on the right SPLAT . A veritable feast and each box has been debugged.

More than I can say for WDIG SPLAT Studios where Marty is flailing at the flies with his swatter.

Looks like WDIG Studio could have used Roach Prufe. For $4.97, you can buy Roach Prufe tablets. That’s right, 2 tablets and a glass of tap water out of Marty’s liquor locker and the roaches and flies are retreating faster than Hannibal’s elephants. You can also buy Raoch Prufe in Injectors for just $9.88.  Handy when Marty spills El Nopal nacho sauce all over the floor and it slips through where the wall meets the floor. If you don’t want the roaches to be mooching for your El Pollo y Arroz Caliente con Vino Negro y Azul sobre La Carne Esplendido, may I suggest you inject liberally through the cracks. The roaches will wave the white flag. And when company comes to call as the CEO at WDIG will do from his bungalow in Bermuda, you’ll impress him with NO ROACHES in the building with the Roach Prufe Boric Acid for just $19.57. Nuking bugs never came so cheaply——”

“PAUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Not only did you break your word about Gil, But you said you wouldn’t bring up Roach Prufe!!!!!!!!!!! My sponsors will pull on me in a heartbeat!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“But the studios and your ethics will be deloused.”

 

 

 

 

“Ohhhhhhhhh, Gil. Ohhhhhhhhh, Gil. We both coach basketball. We love the sport. We both love coaching players. Don’t you notice a positive vibe from this conversation?”

Gil is desperately trying to break down the match-up zone that Goshen will throw at Milford when they play Goshen in March and is lunging at the cross-court pass. No luck. The back-door is run to perfection.

Won’t stop Gil from steppin’ up his D.

“Honey, if you want good vibrations, why don’t you use the Ronco Cordless Vibrator I gave you for Christmas? There’s still a package of AA batteries in the kitchen shelf next to the silverware. Or listen to ‘Beach Boys Anthology, Volume 2’ that I gave Keri, the one I listened to when I started the freshman football team in ’66.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh, Gil, you can’t reach sexual Nirvana plugging it in. I need to feel you and I don’t need Eveready for that. Just drop your pants and give me a jump. I don’t need cables for that, My Sweet. We can do ‘Good Vibrations’ without Brian Wilson’s falsetto.”

“But this one will hold you down until I Rambo Goshen at their gym. It’s so powerful, it can warm up Julienne fries better than a GE Microwave. C’mon, use it, I didn’t waste my Milford Farm Emporium Visa Gold on a toy only to watch you put it next to your Raggedy Ann collection. I had to twist the lady’s arm on the 800 number that I would pay a $50 penalty if she would overlook my past expiration date on the card.”

“Gil, are you afraid you’re gonna double dribble?”

Gil is at a loss for words. Turnovers will make you do that.

“Because this is bye week and I’m horny and I need more than a Jacuzzi on a popsicle stick to get me stimulated.”

“BYE WEEK???? Mimi, you’ve already played 3 games which didn’t show up in the comics section because they were pre-empted by “Days of our Basketball Lives”. You won’t play again until Boys Basketball runs out of melodrama or April, whichever comes first. Don’t you mean bye WEEKS???????”

“Whatever, Gil let’s stop wasting time. That’s right, just drop those Levi’s and wet wittle Mimi fill you up wit some sensual dewights, that’s it,that’s it…”

TWEEEEEEEEETTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Max the Referee from the ’80’s comes out from behind the curtain

3 SECONDS IN THE LANE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

“Max was a horseshit official in football and basketball but unfortunately he made the right call that night. I was stuck in Mimi’s Grand Canyon until my neighbor could come over and turn the hose on us. It was embarrassing having to have Jerry Pulver pull me from one end while the neighbor’s wife had to pull Mimi from the other end. Good thing our neighbor had a crowbar in his spare tire kit. All of this could have been avoided if I’d gone to Milford Men’s Clinic. They have treatment programs that work and if you stop in by next Friday, the Clinic will give you a free True Value Hardware Door Jack to avoid those way-too-intimate moments. Better than a fire sprinkler, believe me. Avoid the Milford Fire Department answering a 3-alarm emergency at your house and see for yourself. Because intimacy should nevere involve the Fire Marshal.”

 

Gang, comment away. I’m getting the bail money from The Sopranos. I had to raid the Flower Fund but they said I’m covered. There were no funerals this week.

 

“…and Gil and Mimi will finally finish the basketball season in style and with a taste of logic to it. WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That Dr. Seuss can really write. I liked the part where the concession stand will be selling green eggs and ham from now on at every game.

 

Now you know………………………………………..the rest of the story.

Paul Harvey………………………………………………….Good Day.”

January 24, 2019

The Lunatic Is In The Booth

Filed under: Bobby Howry, Just plain sad, Marty Moon, Milford Idiots, Pointy Fingers, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 5:11 pm

012419

The lunatic is in the booth

The lunatic is in the booth

You second-guess

And undermine the team

We’ll just pretend that it’s a bad dream

 

The lunatic is on the court

The lunatic is on the court

Your patient file

Is wedged tight in your gym shorts

Got to play zone D and still hold the fort

 

And if Gil starts bitchin’ and pullin’ out his hair

Ranting and raving like Yogi Bear

And if this game you’re in starts playing different tunes

I’l see you in the booth with Marty Moon

 

 

Shout out to Devin Cameron, of Louisville, Kentucky, for his VERY perceptive mind. Our discussion on politics while taking him to work was INTENSE. It is clear he has a VERY brilliant mind and a good head on his shoulders. And he cares about things as well. Without people like Devin, the world would go a little slower because he LOVES to be a working part of our upward march of humanity. Treat him with respect, gang, he’s earned it.

 

 

 

 

P1-Day 14

“All right, you’re on the air. It’s Psycho Pete from suburban Milford. Go ahead, Pete.”

“That’s PSYCHO Pete to you.”

Marty, a little annoyed, swallows his pride. He needs to get his fan base back and what better way than someone who just received his diploma from the Milford State Hospital.

“Okay. Will do. What’s on your mind, Psycho Pete? Is Gil past the expiration date?”

“A better question is, are YOU past the expiration date? You’ve been second-guessing Gil ever since they launched Sputnik and I’m surprised McCarthy didn’t interrogate you when he was on the witch hunt for the Reds. I was on the Anti-Communist Committee with Kefauver, Stevenson, Nixon, Acheson, Morgenthau, Bretton Woods, Dumbarton Oaks…”

“Wait, wait, wait. Weren’t the last two conferences on, refresh my memory, improving world peace or, maybe, the world economic system? I flunked International Studies at Milford Broadcasting School but I remember those names when we took a pop quiz. Saved my license.”

“Shows how much you know. We were set to sentence you to the chair for all the nasty things you said about Gil back in the ’50’s. At Dumbarton, we were trying to get the OK from the Governor to pull the lever after you remarked that Eisenhower had a hair style like Gil when Ike and McCarthur were classmates at West Point. Low blow, Moon.”

“Look, what this has to do with the present topic-”

“And John Maynard Keynes thought your show needed a pump-priming after the Free Market was allowed to send people to the soup kitchen. Sure, scandalize Gil while someone is at the ticket booth at the Milford Gym asking “Brother, can you spare a dime? I’d have put your show under the Tennessee Valley Authority, for sure.”

“Will you PLEASE get to the p-”

“That’s why, soon as I hang up, I’m going to drive down to the WDIG studio and chop you up. Your goatee oughta be great jowl bacon at Milford Bar-B-Q Shack. The rest I’ll just feed to the hogs on my farm.”

“Now you’re threatening me and I’m gonna call the p-”

“Then I’ll be nice. I’ll just use the chain saw on Peaches. You better hope it’s plugged in cuz Milford Gas & Electric threatened to cut off my electricity. Said I was 3 months behind but if I paid $1,563 of it by this Friday, they wouldn’t send a temp to put a lock on the fuse box. Peaches might not have to die in vain after all. Did you ever play Operation when you were a kid? I hope it doesn’t buzz when I get to her boobs.”

“NOW YOU LEAVE PEACHES ALONE, YOU PSYCHO YOU!!!!!!!!!!”

“That’s my name don’t wear it out.”

“IF I COULD REACH THROUGH THIS TRUE VALUE #2 COPPER WIRE-”

“BTW, to show there’s no hard feelings, I was the one who shot Coach Shaw.”

“NOW we’re getting somewhere. If you’ll reveal your name, WDIG will send you a check for $10,000-”

“$20,000. Still gotta get caught up on the M G & E bill.”

“-$20,000, cashier’s check, no questions asked.”

“Hell, you don’t have to do that. I trust you. A Milford Kwik-ee Mart money order will do. They only cost 79 cents.”

“Whatever, fine. OK, the scoop of my life, the career-saving news item, my retirement nest egg, Psycho Pete, what is your name and where do you live?”

“My name is—————————–”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Marty Moon, On Assignment By WDIG Out In Milford Nature Area, Stampeded By A Herd Of Elephants!!!!!!!!!!”

sub head line

“Curator noted they were doing a ritual dance while an East African female was in gestation.”

 

 

Shout-out to John Buntain, of Louisville, Kentucky, for losing 80 pounds!!!!!!!!!!!! This was his 3rd straight day of working out and he is DETERMINED. He told me one of the keys to his weight loss was WILL POWER. He just laid off the heavy stuff (burgers, fries, etc.) , no matter how tempting it was to gorge into a Big Mac or Whopper, and exercised a lot. Sounds like a recipe for success. John deserves respect because he did all this while at an oloder age. Sometiomes losing a pound as you get older is TOUGH. But John did it. Got my respect, Big Guy. You da Man.

 

 

And as for P2

If these walls could speak

 

They would tell you that I’m sorryyyyyyy

For being an overarching snake

They would tell you that

This program is sponsored by Shake ‘n’ Bake

 

If these walls could speak

 

They would tell you that I owe Gil

Twenty and some dimes at Milford Lounge

They would tell you that I’m only

A jerk, a lout, a scrounge

That’s if these walls could speak.

 

Dedicated to you, Amy Grant. You make a difference in people’s lives and LIVE your Faith as well. LOVE your music too.

 

 

“…a bear on Snuffy Smith’s porch while Jughaid is scratching himself????????”

“Oh, Gil, no wonder why Milford Comedy Club changed the locks. And we’ll take a commercial break. This is Marty Moon. You’re listening to WDIG on Lear Field Sports.”

 

“Hi, I’m Mr. Wall. I’m literally the front for WDIG. And I can’t afford to have bad breath when I’m on the job. the employees would call in sick and sponsors would defect to WMFD. That’s why I use Industrial-Size Scope. One spray from the Milford Fire Department fire truck hose, a gurgle for 30 seconds, spit it down the sewer and as long as the pipes aren’t stopped up, my breath is horticulturally fresh. I can’t afford to reek embarrassing odors that bring the EPA out of the closet. They have enough to worry about in Gil’s office since I heard he rarely flushes in his personal WC. Imagine doggy-doo on your carpet with a Bucket Rocky Road Shake spread all over it with a heat lamp bearing down on it, magnified by a power of 10, carry the one, and you get the idea.

Try Industrial-Sized Scope today. Now available in Mint or Creamy Apple Cider at Milford Pharmacy, home of the 99 cent X-Lax. Constipation has met its Waterloo.”

 

Thanks to Sarcastic Jack for help with the above idea. He’s a funny guy who feeds me great ideas. He proves no man is an island. Can’t do this post alone, trust me. Sarcastic Jack is one of the little help from my friends.

 

The lunatic is on the mike

The lunatic is on the mike

He’s doling out programs about ‘Larks lack of game

And every game the head usher brings more

 

You lock his door

And cut off his podcast

You rearrange his head

Cuz this won’t last

 

And if Boob won’t shut up and seek real jobs

Besiege his screed with angry mobs

And if he won’t shut up about Gilbert’s lack of shrewd

I’ll see him rambling in the booth with Marty Moon

 

 

The laughter you hear is Boob making fun of Gil’s coaching in a padded cell somewhere on the grounds of Milford State Hospital. Sometimes having no life catches up with you. Or gets you run over by Babar’s family, as Marty proves.

 

All that you shoot

All that you root

]All that you miss

All you dis

All you rebound

And all that you bounce

All that you front

Block, box out, or steal

All you deny

And all you post up

All you tech up

All you pass

All that you bank

And all that you brick

All that you tank

All balls you kick

All the time outs

20 seconds or full

All plays you call

All you ball

And all you fast break

And every press you break

All that you swish

And everything you take out of bounds

Is the game

But the game is eclipsed by ol’ Moooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnn

 

The scoreboard clock is ticking while Luhm is heard to say

“Man, why doesn’t Marty clean up after himself? I’ve  never seen so many used-up coffee filters under the press box. Whew!!!!!!! Pewwwwwweeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!! Is that coffee grinds in tne corner???? That isn’t urine I smell, is it? I always wondered why he had both arms under the booth during a 20-second time out. Thank God it’s all dark, hard to tell.

 

 

WE ARE MILFORD’S KIDS. A MILLION STRONGGGGG AND GROWING

“Y’know, every time I hear that song, I’m thankful for our future generation. But sometimes that can be a problem when you have prior commitments and you still gotta watch the kids. Hi, this is Coach Thorp for Milford Beverage Warehouse. Don’t let babysitting detail impede you from The Good Life. The Warehouse is proud to announce that every Friday night from 7-10 is Kid’s Night Out. You heard right, when you purchase any bottle of booze, your child, as part of the Kids Drink Free promo, will receive a free soft drink of his/her choice. Oh boy, if you use that Visa Gold for Crown Royal Whiskey, the kids get a Mr. Pibb on the house. And all you have to do is show proper ID at the door and the kid present their Student ID. But hey, we’re not picky around here. If you have no prior convictions, your child can bring his/her Jungle Book lunch box and as long as it his has his/her name on it, why, come on in, the liquor’s fine. Just clean the Jif Peanut Butter stains is all we ask, for health reasons. We don’t want anybody getting germs off Chateau Ste. Michelle Blackberry Wine. Mmmmmmm, mmmmmmmm, Jim Beam Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey tastes a little sweeter when ya see the kids downing a Choc-ola. I know, because when Mimi went to her basketball seminar in Minneapolis to talk about improving the 5-game schedule so that the hotels wouldn’t be overbooked, I got left hangin’ with Keri and Jaime when it was Strip Poker Night at my house. No problemo, I just hauled off the kids to Mecca and got a couple of cases of Samuel Adams Boston Lager, a case of Bud Light Lime in the 24-pack and a bottle of Svedka Imported Swedish Vodka for Kaz. Some people love blowing their guts out while playing Old Maid. The kids were treated to Bud canes and some licorice, given generously by Bud Man who made an appearance and signed autographs for the kiddies and the kids at heart. They all washed it down with a Fresca. AND they went inside the Bud House, that’s right, a free-standing structure where the kids can go in and float around all over the place. NOW they know what it’s like when Daddy is hung over and the living room starts spinning. Golly gee, Chuck E. Cheese’s can’t do that. They just have humanoid bears trying to act like KISS and they serve refried pizza. I’d be blowin’ smoke like Gene Simmons on that pepperoni specimen, fer sure. C’mon, everybody, take the family down to the Milford Beverage Warehouse. I just lost my shirt and boxer shorts that night after  Coach Shaw showed a full house and the kids went off to La La Land with their Bud Man teddy bears. And the Milford Girls Basketball team will be staying in a Motel 6 from now on. Hey, Me and Tom Bodette will leave the light on for you.

 

 

 

 

But Coach Thorp is eclipsed by the Mooooonnnnnnnnnnnn

Whoops, oh well, same difference. At any rate, comment away. Booby should end his vigil by the time the skating marathon begins. He can’t bitch forever. I wouldn’t think.

 

P3-Remember that Martian that was Bugs Bunny’s nemesis? I claim this gym in the name of Mars. Maybe they can work out an exchange program and send Gil up for a coaching symposium. Send Booby the Martian back for a permanent lobotomy. It could happen.

January 22, 2019

We’re Telling You, Gil Thorp, We’re All Going Insane

Filed under: ?, Gil Thorp, Just plain sad, Milford Idiots — tdrewhardin @ 2:51 pm

012219

Early evening

April 4

Shot rings out in the Memphis skyyyyyyyy

Free at last

They took your life

They could not take

Your pride

 

Remember Doctor Martin Luther King, Junior on his birthday.

 

He rose above the hate to set us free.

 

 

 

Oooooooooookkkkkkkkkk, as long as we’re not going to play basketball for the time being (or maybe at all) , and the issues are getting a little weightier, I might as well address the issue before Gil goes Dr. Joyce Brothers on us.

If you or someone you know has suicidal thoughts, please get help IMMEDIATELY. Don’t let things fester or spin out of control. It is a brave thing to do to admit you need to get your life under control. ANYBODY saying he or she is going to end it all, even if he or she says it as a joke needs to be taken SERIOUSLY. Again, please get help and encourage others you know to get help if life just doesn’t seem to be working out.

This is a comedy site and I have every intention to keep it that way. For the moment, however, I felt it wise to talk about something that is ALWAYS a sensitive issue. Give yourself a chance, folks. These are your important years, you better make them last.

 

Gang, just when the interview, no matter how absurd it was, started getting warmed up like that El Nopal Valentine’s Day Chocolate Manwich Burrito you stick in the microwave after working overtime on 3rd shift, Thorpiverse took matters in its own hands and scheduled an unauthorized Public Service Announcement. Really, that’s what the damn strip is today, watered-down a bit by Filion’s smart-ass comment. Not that his point isn’t well-received.

“Coach, I’m going to end it all!!!!!!!!!!! I can’t take another 71-point shellacking. Any way we can use the gym to PRACTICE?????? I think Billy Bob’s had sufficient time in the gym to design his billboards. Isn’t there a church gym nearby where he can continue to ply his trade?”

 

All right, you whippersnappers, as I told Timbuys, the Sabbie in me is just bustin’ to get free, so you’re in for a treat, sung to Black Sabbath’s “Am I Going Insane(Radio)

 

Every coach is looking at me

Feeling quizzical inside

When I leave the gym, I’ll feel free

Think I’ll slip to The Bucket and hide

 

So tell me, Gilbert

Am I going insane (…aneeeeeeee)

Tell me, Coach Kaz

Am I going insaneeeeeee(…aneeeeeeee)

 

Really, I’m sure you’ve noticed, unless you’re Grog from the comic strip, “B.C.”, that we have leapfrogged from “Death to Gil-Viva la revolucion!!!!!!!!!!!” and its ensuing “Fidel!!!!!!!Fidel!!!!!!!!!!!!, a los Mudlarks dalos dure!!!!!!!!!! (“Hit the Mudlarks hard!!!!!!!!!!!”, if you’re too damn lazy to get your Fodor’s Spanish in Milford in 10 Days) to “The lunatic is in my head.” That’s right, Coach Thorp, you rearrange me ’til I’m sane. Should I practice 100 free throws/day instead of 50 free throws/day? Would that keep me from getting psyched out when the crowd is waving their arms? When they display a sign saying “You play for “Child Molester Thorp?”

We SHOULD be playing basketball but noooooooooooo, Gil’s gotta call everybody in the locker room, perhaps from their classes to make sure “Fairies Wear Boots” isn’t ringing in their heads or going to cause them to jump the dock at Mudlark Lake. Coach, I’ve been listening to Black Sabbath forever and I doubt that “Children of the Grave” is going to cause anybody to neglect to box out. You’re covering the bases on a football field. So Filion is having problems, no doubt, WHAT TEENAGER DOESN’T????” You’re transforming him from a carefree teenager to Franz Kafka in the name of plot interest. Kafka, miserable as he was, is happier than this sad state of Gilcare.  And I’d understand your concern a lot better if we’d get on with what this comic strip was intended to promote and that’s SPORTS. Ya know, S-P-O-R-T-S. Heck, play that instead of H-O-R-S-E but play the damn game. Yes, I understand your concern and taking Filion seriously is the right thing to do but you’re going beyond passing out Crisis Line leaflets and playing the doctor per se. Only thing missing now is the stethoscope. Oh, and a couch.

Okay, Herman Munster in P1 might need to get his head screwed on a little tighter but give him a hearty referral and let’s head back to the gym. We’re spending more time in the doctor’s office and the magazines like Better Homes & Gardens Bikini issue and The Saturday Evening Post (“Where do you think this plot is going-If you think the answers will be easy(but you won’t)…”) are collecting dust.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Winds Up At Milford General After Slitting His Throat!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Lost at Scrabble because he’d used up all his Q’s when spelling ‘loquacious.”

 

 

Shooting’s making me go schizo

My B-Ball game is heading south

Insanity won’t let me rebound

My mental health has just fouled out

 

So tell me Coach Shaw

Am I going insaneeeee(…anneeeeee)

Tell me Coach Boone

Am I going insaneeeee(…annneeeeee)

 

I mean, Coach Thorp, WAKE UP, we’re still in THE LOCKER ROOM!!!!!!! Don’t tell me you’re having an overnight slumber party there. I wouldn’t call it a lock-in if you catch my drift. Some player might interpret that nom de plume, not to mention your goodwill distribution of the Milford Crisis Line leaflets to mean that a couple of orderlies from the Milford State Hospital are waiting in the shower, assuming there was no game (more than likely NO) so nobody’s using Prell or strychnine on their scalp, to haul off a Mudlark or two in straitjackets in the paddy wagon. Nope, ixnay on lock-in and thumbs up on slumber party which it it pretty much is anyway, in more ways than one, at the rate we’re going.

Gil, I’m sure people should call 1-800-GIL-HELP should this plot get heavier than your hair when you aim the garden hose on it, but it really isn’t necessary to schedule an appointment with Dr. Freud who will analyze you for months, using Dream Therapy as one of the tools (“So this is what a basketball looks like-I always thought it resembled Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”) .

 

And to tie loose ends from my post the other day, I’ve been thinking (uh oh) . Marty, this isn’t 3rd shift at a distribution center, you’re not asking Bobbyhead if he can work overtime.

CAN YOU COME BACK TOMORROW???????

And what are we going to talk about THEN, assuming the psychoanalysis doesn’t today doesn’t overlap into tomorrow (Primal Scream Therapy should be done by then. Lennon said the album was a take.) ?????? Gil’s dental chart??????

Boobyhead in rare form on WDIG

“I told Gil after he’d bitten that Dutch Chocolate torte the wrong way, while I was cleaning the basketball jerseys, that he’d have to get his wisdom tooth extracted. Gil told me to F— off, spitting parts of his tooth on the towels I was getting out of the dryer. He told me to use my own Crest with Cavity-Fighting Peroxide. And use an Oral B toothbrush next time. It’s the toothbrush most coaches recommend.”

Sheesh, I could understand Marty prolonging the agony if the enfant terrible was a father unhappy with his son’s playing time or a booster who’s also a businessman who runs a nursery and threatens to shut down the Milford Annual Flower Show at the Milford Expo Center until they can Gil because 60 years on the job and not winning a State Championship at least 58 of those years (allowing for losing players to graduation or injuries) is inexcusable, given the talent and resources at hand. But an ex-equipment manager leading the charge on Gil’s firing is hardly Joan of Arc material. Let the man pay his dues in sports form a SPORTS angle (his own kid playing or a pet project who needs guidance (even better, Boobyhead will be that much taller down the road, trust me from personal experience)) , and THEN come back to Marty Shark. Then again, if Boobyhead grows up, he’ll avoid WDIG altogether.

Otherwise, I heard Otis the Drunk was starting a petition from his own jail cell. So far, a guy in for shoplifting Slim Jims at Milford 7-11 and a foreinger who chopped up an INS employee with a pick-axe have been his only signees.

 

Day 13

“Marty, I’m really not comfortable with this arrangement. Don’t get me wrong, Gil’s gotta go but talking to a naked man at 2:00AM in the morning  with a cougar howling 15 feet in back of us is not my idea of a great interview.”

“Relax. It’s only natural. Pretend like you’re talking to your dad after he wiped himself with a towel after he got out of the shower. You’ve seen him bend over when he uses Sani-Flush on the john, haven’t you? 8 years old. See? No problem. And Anonymous Calculus Dude is ready to pull the trigger any time. He goes on safaris semi-annually.”

“Where’s Peaches? Wasn’t she here just a minute ago?”

“She went the wrong way when she went to take a piss and got swallowed in quicksand. I’ll get the producer to pull her out after the 2nd Mudlar-K-Cola Misty Dew break.”

 

Oh, goodness, then there’s P3. When the 3rd panel is replete with teenage smartasses snickering at Filion’s comment even after Gil has been gracious enough to implement an estoppal on basketball to promote the Gil Line and keep the teenage male population from heading to the cliffs with the rest of the lemmings, becoming the crux of this farce and not the jump-off point to P1 the next day, I’m tempted to call the Gil Line myself and be his first customer. Boys will be boys but his time, they have every reasojn to be boys. To paraphrase Jesus in Jesus Christ Superstar, Gil, stick to coaching from now on.

 

Anonymous Calculus Dude on the Gil Line

“Gil, you need to get a life.”

“I understand your hurt. How long has this mental anguish been giving you ulcers?”

 

If ya talk ta the head man at the Milford Bait Shop about yore bad marriage cuz ya cain’t afford a marriage counselor, ya might be a redneck.

 

Ooooooooooooookkkkkkkkkkk, since we really can’t get any basketball out of Gil for a while, my philosophy on life comes from Harry Truman who once said “If I make a bum decision, I just go out and make another one.” All righty then, Gil is pretending he’s Sigmund Freud, he has an elongated, cigar-shaped couch in his office, Filion is lying on it, Gil with his notepad

“Okay, Mike, in order to probe why you can’t play defense, we’re going to play Word Association. Just relax and when I give you a word or name, tell me the first thing that comes to your mind. Ready?”

“Anytime, Coach Freud.”

“Very well. Here we go.”

Pause

“Plot”

“Sucks”

“Coach Kaz”

Conan with girlie studs”

“”Basketball”

“Non-existent”

“Marty Moon”

“Anaconda with a goatee.”

“Rebound”

“What this plot won’t do”

“Assist”

“What you do with Mimi stirring Country Tyme”

“Peaches”

“Alice the maid who has sex.”

“WDIG”

“Paul Harvey meets Ida Tarbell”

“Backboard”

“In your driveway”

“Referee”

“Someone you bribe after every Goshen game.”

“Basket”

“Weaving”

“Ernie”

“A parrot is the guest star on ‘My Three Sons'”

“Dribble”

“Milford Men’s Clinic”

“Double dribble”

“Getting a refund at the same place”

 

“Well, Filion, I need to analyze your results which could take weeks. In the meantime, as part of Primal Scream Therapy, let ‘er rip one more time.”

MIMI SHOULD USE STORE BRAND ICING IN HER COCONUT BUNDT CAKE!!!!!!!!!!!

“There, all better? Now scram. I’ve got a crisis with Marty at 1:30.”

 

Gang, comment away. I have an appointment with Coach Freud in anb hour. Don’t want to get charged as a no-show.

 

“Peaches got gang-raped?????? In Milford Nature Area???????”

“Apparently, there’s more than one Bigfoot on the loose. No wonder why there were conflicting reports.”

 

Listen to me, all you readers

Pray the ball will bounce back soon

If I don’t sound very cheerful

It’s cuz I spilled my guts to Marty Moon

 

So tell me Gilbert

Am I going insannnneeeeeeeee(…annnneeeeeee)

 

Fading into a sudden eruption of laughter, Dr. Pearl and her staff trace it to Ms. Rizk’s room. The door is locked.

AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHH

AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH

AAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH

 

“Ms. Rizk, are you OK?”

“I’m good. Daffy just spilled ink all over the newspaper we were about to run. But I have a copy in my duffel bag in my car.”

January 10, 2019

The Billboards Are Due On Maple Street

011019

Gil, aren’t we understating THE OBVIOUS????? My Friend, you were just awarded Comment of the Year by the Milford Kiwanis Club. Wanta know who got #2? None other than Marty Moon for stealing Calvin Coolidge’s maxim “I choose not to run”, when Moon was asked if he was interested in the station manager’s job at WDIG after the present manager retires. Suspending people for saying “He plays like elephant poop”  and “Gil has a face that bears a striking resemblance to Dumbo’s butt” on the air can start to wear on you down the years.

Melodramatic??????? Really??????? I don’t know about you, Coach Thorp, but I’m beginning to like Larry, Curly, and Moe run the basketball team.

“Nyuk, nyuk, let’s run that give and go a little faster.’

“Yeah!!!!!! And no dunking on the volleyball net!!!!!!!” BOP!!!!!!!!!

 

 

Well. I was going to get that video lined up for today, “The Radio City Rockettes at the Milford Girls-a-Go Go Club” but the VCR ate the tape and I gotta sort through the spools and that’ll take some time. How ’bout a Twilight Zone episode instead???? I know, I know, watching strip to “New York, New York” accompanied by Coach Shaw on the jazz guitar and Gil on the baritone would have been a fascinating after-Christmas presentation but I KNOW there’s a lot of y’all that love to be Zonin’. Let’s Zone the night away, shall we?

 

I mean, really. Remind me to remind you that this could just be a front. Anyone remember “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes?” Isn’t this just the same difference?

And remember Claude Akins, before he attended Northwestern and majored in Tractor Trailer Technology with a minor in French and went on to pursue a rewarding career driving Kenworth’s on “Movin’ On”, when he appeared on that Twilight Zone episode? Well, gang, guess I shouldn’t give the story away but he WILL figure mightily in the festivities today. He’s taking a break and somebody else is taking his seat in the semi.

“I’mmmmmmm Mr. Mooney and I have driven Freightliners beforrrrreeeeeee.”

Yeah, but looks like you’re having trouble getting it from 4th to 5th gear.”

“I can alllllllwwwayyyysssss call Mrs. Carmichael. She’s been going through the Swift Trucking Schooooooolllllllll when she’s not working at the bannnnkkkkkkkkk.”

 

GIL THORP AND CLAUDE AKINS GO TO THE SAME BARBER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Look, Marty, I catch enough of your shit on the radio but this time you’ve gone too far. Some of my best friends watch Claude Akins on ‘B.J. and the Bear’.”

Mimi rushes up, barely missing the Lamar Outdoor Advertising billboard.

“Gil, every other comic strip’s plot has the lights on in its house except for ours. Let’s ask Billy, Jeffy, Dolly, P.J., and Barfy what the deal is. They live one block over.”

“NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! Don’t let them go!!!!!!!!! They’re trying to escape with the rest of E.T.’s friends!!!!!!!!!! I knew you ate too much quiche at The Bucket!!!!!!!!!! I didn’t get suspicious until you insisted to the waitress to start adding Edam cheese!!!!!!!!!!! He’s not as macho as he’s been presenting himself the last 60 years!!!!!!!!”

“That’s not true!!!!!!!!!!! My husband just beat out G. Gordon Liddy to pose for the Marlboro Man when they had to find a replacement after the Marlboro Man died of lung cancer at our basketball game with Tilden!!!!!!!!!”

Claude using his French major to good use

“Arretez-vous!!!!!! Arretez-vous!!!!!!!!! Ne soyez pas malade!!!!!!!!!!”

“Claude, we’re not crazy but Gil goes to Fine Cuts. His barber died of a heart attack last year.”

 

 

Kaz’s earring is wired in gaudy

And Gil’s hair is combed out wrong

You better take off this masquerade

Cuz this stupid plot

Is too lonnnngggggggggggg

 

A little Procul Harum for those of you listening while you’re going down the elevator. “Homburg” is the tune, you whippersnappers.

 

BUT CLAUDE USES MORE BRYLCREAM THAN GIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Kaz, I don’t even use Brylcream anymore. That went out with the Hula Hoop. I use Vidal Sassoon Extra Hold Deer Scent. You, more than anyone else, oughta know when we hit the Milford Athletic Club what toiletries I use the way you’re always mooching for my Old Spice Watermelon Wonder Soap on a Rope and slapping on my Mennen Cool Mist After Shave behind my back.”

“Look who’s talking!!!!!! If you’re gonna swipe one of my jock straps, will you at least put ’em in your Maytag and wash the damn things, cold cycle preferably????? My doctor diagnosed me with Jock Strap Rub and it keeps me awake at night!!!!!”

“Kaz, between signing contracts for officials for Mimi’s basketball games and helping my kids with their pre-school pre-algebra homework, I don’t always find the time to get the mildew. I have used Lysol in the past. Did you ever try to call around for zebras for Mimi’s 5 basketball games????? I’m lucky to have 2 games under my belt so far. And I had to promise one that Rick would wash his referee shirt after the game.”

Claude intervenes.

“I’ll do one of the games. I have my Middle School License through the High School Athletic Association.”

 

Parents complain about YOU, Gil???????? Coach, from what I’ve heard, they pray 5 times a day facing the Mudlark gym. ANYBODY caught complaining on this strip will have his day in court for, 3-4 months at the max, but we all remember what happened several plots ago when Mr. Promoter tried to plug his nephew and his singing talent. He had his nephew AND Gil on the ropes until the script called for Dad to come in and clean things up. We could have used Santa Claus, Barney Fife, Don Rickles, Ed McMahon to run Mr. Promoter out of town but that’s pressing our luck if we want to make restoring your status half-way believable.

“And now, HEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEE’SSSSSSSS GIL!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Thanks, Ed, good to be restored to the strip. Guess one shitty apple doesn’t spoil the punch. It’s nice to know all the parents and Doc’s band still support me.”

No.

 

 

 

 

MIMI COACHES A BIDDY BALL SCHEDULE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kaz’s girlfriend and Mimi at each other’s throats

“I never put that billboard up but if you’d play some REAL teams instead of those ones you phone out of the Milford Yellow Pages under ‘Social Organizations’, you’d have a couple of championships under your belt, Girl.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one to sprinkle extra garlic on the Texas Toast Tomato Souffle when the recipe called for paprika. You could’ve caused a white rhino to sneeze his horn off the way you threw your ingredients on the baking pan.”

“Ladies, ladies, now take it easy. There’s no need to fuss at each other. Just cool down and eat another slice of Texas toast. And pass the pimento peppers.”

Claude takes a bite.

“Ummmmmmm, good!!!!!! Where’d you find the recipe?”

“Oh, my great-grandmother baked them for the GI’s when she was a WAC, she-”

BBBRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Sorry, Ladies. Anybody got a Tums?”

“PHEWWWW, Claude, you’re gonna start a riot if you don’t get back on that spaceship with Gazoo.”

 

 

The funky-looking tree behind Gil saying “Hi Mom” is due in Gil’s office on Maple Street.

‘Nuff said.

 

 

 

MARTY MOON STAPLES HIS GOATEE ON HIS FACE BECAUSE HE RAN OUT OF EPOXY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Peaches, that was a pretty low blow. I know I may have a flat tire when we go to bed that needs to be pumped up to at least 35 pounds PSI but leave my Leon Trotsky look alone. He’s my idol. In fact, Mr. Mooney is trying to sport one just like this to intimidate Lucy Carmichael into working faster.”

“Darling, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Yeah, you need a Breathalyzer Test done on your wim-wim but I don’t even have a stapler. You’re just being your usual paranoic self. Happiness is so unreal and love you definitely cannot feel, not with that steroid-starving specimen.”

“Claude, isn’t this your time to intervene? The Twilight Zone is about to end and Rod Serling is due anytime now to step to the plate.”

“Marty, you suck. Ain’t no way I’m standing up for a guy who skipped his group therapy session at the Milford Men’s Clinic. I’m shovin’ off in my truck after Will is done showering in the cab.”

 

Gang, raise your hand if you’re tired of the North By Northwest shot in P3. Don’t you just love the Transitive Property of Equality being employed while Cary Grant is hanging off of Kaz’s left nostril? Don’t think Hitchcock was THAT innovative.

So let’s go ahead and work out the logic while Hitchcock devises a way for Cary Grant to get down (“We could try an escalator. It worked when ELO did ‘Xanadu’. Think of the majesty and grandiloquence of the concept.” “YEAH!!!!!!! THAT’S IT!!!!!!!! Anybody have Jeff Lynne’s number?”) .

 

Only smarmy pricks who went to the DeVry Institute to major in Refrigerator Electronics because a Milford High School diploma was only going to get you a job at the Milford 7-11 can afford to stage malicious billboard messages.

Bobby Howry a/k/a Robert Howry a/k/a Claude Akins’ Evil Twin is a smarmy prick who went to the DeVry Institute to major in Refrigerator Technology because a Milford High School diploma was only going to get you a job at the Milford 7-11.

Quod Erat Demonstratum

Bobby Howry a/k/a Robert Howry a/k/a Claude Akins’ Evil Twin can afford to stage malicious billboard messages.

 

I think we have narrowed down our culprit. We know does not refer to Felix the Cat. Don’t bother. I checked.

 

DR. PEARL DOES HER SOPHOMORE ATTENDANCE REPORTS FOR JANUARY IN THE RAW!!!!!!!!!!!

“Ms. Rizk, I know I’ve been encouraging you to get your head out of that typewriter but honestly, did you have to resort to desperate measures to get a little sunshine?????? You ever try to go to the Milford Tanning Clinic?????? You’d be browner and my reputation would be intact.”

“Mrs. Clampett, I have no clue what you’re talking about. If you would have backed me when I had that run-in with Beaudry’s parents after I’d flunked him, there’d be no need for this conversation. Why would I waste my time insulting you on a billboard when I can say to your face that Mrs. Butterworth and you put fillers in their bras?”

“WELL!!!!!! Sonny-”

“Claude, ma’am.”

“Sonny, Claude, Red Sovine, whatever, I just want to get a Honeywell Word Processor and smash her head!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Oh, don’t do that. Mz. Rizk, I’m sorry, I gotta call it like I see it. I’m getting erect for Granny Clampett right now. Her beehive and her false bicuspids are just sending blood through my dick. No need for an ED commercial here. Would you mind leaving the office?”

“Oh, Claude, you say the sexiest things. So you graduated from Northwestern…”

 

Gang, some of you have already commented away and I thank you MIGHTILY for the support and the discussion has been TERRIFIC so far. If ya wanna jump in, have at it. Democracy works, gang. Keep it going so we ALL can breathe.

 

“Wow, Gazoo, you were right. Just put up a few billboards and the next thing you know, the Governor has to call out the Guard on Milford.”

“Yes, yes, my slinky friend. I used the same technique in Bedrock. When I put up a sign that said FRED FLINTSTONE AND MR. SLATE ARE IN A SAME SEX RELATIONSHIP AT THE BEDROCK QUARRY, Barney and Fred were shooting their air-powered rifles at each other in their respective backyards. And Bedrock shared a similar fate with Macchu Pichu.”

“Looks to me like Coach Thorp will get voted out by the survivors and that Kaz will move to West Beverly Hills High School where Dylan Mckay will be his only problem child. And he doesn’t even play basketball.”

“Oh, Coach Thorp is a dum dum. I’ve been telling Dr. Pearl that for years. Maybe now she’ll listen. Want to go for a spin in my UFO? They have a great sushi restaurant on Neptune.”

 

I SHOT COACH SHAW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

signed

http://www.anonymouspsychomegalomaniac.com

 

“I got a run to Salt Lake City and Will’s been driving for 16 hours!!!!!!!!! One intervention at a time!!!!!!!!!!!! You hold off Freddy Krueger and Coach Shaw until I get back, goddammmit!!!!!!!!!”

January 2, 2019

Once Again, We Are Confronted With (Select Random Milford Student On The Screen) And His/Her (Select One: Ghosts, Shaky Past, Generic Problems) That Will Supplant (Select One: Football, Basketball, Baseball, Golf or Hockey or Track, Depending On How The Plot Shakes Out For The Latter Three).

 

010319

Gang, looks like we have set aside Snoopy battling the Red Baron in the name of warding off the Commies from billboard vandalism and now we’re plopped in a sudden jerk of direction for the, you guessed it, the soap opera version of the strip. If you can imagine “Days of our Lives” in the middle of “The Sporting News”, you have a firm grasp on the situation at hand.

And to put it in perspective, try imagining Ralph Kramden stepping into Gil’s domain, as long as we’re going to sidestep Dr. Pearl because evidently she spends more time down at the Milford Bingo Parlor rather than running a high school, and talking about Norton’s academic woes causing his bowling average to nosedive. Just try, I know you can do it.

“Gil, you and I have been buddies a long time and I remember when you were cleaning out the tail pipes of the Milford Shuttle Lines and mopping up the bathroom floor and usin’ the toilet plunger to shove a lotta doo-doo through the lines so this should come as no shock.

Norton is flunkin’ Algebra I, just seems to have problems figurin’ out the difference between Addition Property of Equality and Denying The Antecedent and he’s also barely passin’ English Composition III. For some reason, he keeps dangling modifiers and writin’ run-on sentences when he’s doin’ his book report on Ivan Turganev’s “A Sportsman’s Notebook”. And cripes, don’t get me started on U.S. Geography. He still thinks Hawaii is a U.S. possession. I hope to God he don’t answer that we annexed the Yukon Territory or he’s gonna flunk his Finals. He’ll never pick up that spare if he keeps insisting that Puerto Rico has a team in the NBA. It ain’t a state yet, pal.”

“I’ll talk with him. He had to have been the culprit who put the message on that billboard by the truck stop “Mediocrity and Stuckey’s are not alike in fact try the new 10-pound Tenderloin sandwich only $599.”

I suppose it’s better than James Brown’s sister being one of the rest of Milford’s 4,567 teachers who down through the years realize it is a waste of time to travel the pipeline to Principal Ek or Dr. Pearl when there’s a convenient detour leading to Gil’s office. In fact, when you hit the front door ( you didn’t notice the flagman with his “Slow” sign?) , you should see the sign that says “Hallway will be closed from 1958 to the present” due to construction on a better plot. Gang, I’d use an alternate route if it were me, even if I had to go to Luhm’s office which, when you think about it, has become a conduit leading to Gil.

So now we are left to slog through the plot just after a couple of days before we witnessed some Jordanesque moves. I guess we really can’t expect the 4,568 teachers to follow suit, not even perform the layup drills just to humor us, so kick back for some more J.R. Ewing and like it. Maybe after we slam down the antenna down on the boob tube a few times, we MIGHT return to basketball. Jerry Pulver ripping down another rebound without having to worry about seeing the Trinity River in the opening of “Dallas? It could happen.

 

Belated shout-out to Courtney Cooper of Louisville, Kentucky, who, though confined to a wheelchair, was out shopping at Wal-Mart and, boy, did she get her money’s worth. 4 bags and a mini-bag testified to her will to get out and about. Like Dan Fogelberg, her choices were clear and she chose to get busy livin’. Her friend, Angela Flanagan was there to guide her along and she is living herself. Angela is making this life worthwhile through her quiet strength, will, and determination. Both Courtney and Angela represent America through their nuts and bolts approach and IT WORKS. Treat them with respect PLEASE.

 

 

“So the badger says to the mushroom, ‘I can go down the hole faster than you can say ‘Hank Finkel’, morel.’

‘Big friggin’ deal’, replied the mushroom, ‘We run the Mushroom Marriott Suites at the tectonic level, rates starting at $57.99 and up, and we also serve Cheerios and Fruit Loops for breakfast while the Milford Holiday Inn doesn’t even serve Cocoa Puffs. I didn’t see you bring your Samsonite!!!!!!!!'”

The Milford Comedy Club ran out of onion rings and are forced to fix up a batch of bagels and lox.

 

“…a zebra from Madagascar???????”

 

If yore pickup has more giddy-up and stop than a dangling modifier cuz yore transmission don’t even run on a sentence, let alone a bottle of Dasani and ya bypass AAMCO ta have Merle and Geech have a look at it, ya might be a redneck.

 

 

CANTCOACHCANTCOACHCANTCOACHCANTCOACHCANTCOACHCANTCOACHCANTCOACHCANTCOACH

GOLF COURSE GOLF COURSE

ERNIE AND HIS PARRRRRROOOOOOOOOTTTTTTTTTTTTT

 

“Dag nab it, Kaz, didn’t I tell you to keep Moon out? If he sees our basketball players going down holes, we’ve got a lot of explaining to do. I wanted to keep this aerobics class a secret to motivate my players without attracting a lot of publicity.”

“Gil, I tried but he snuck through the vents. He used one of the holes to climb up the chute. I caught his camera just about when the team was aerobicizing to

FILION’S DEMMMMMMMMMOOOOOONNNNNSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

 

And while I’m enjoying Mrs. Living in America express her concerns over Filion’s funk, I wouldn’t put it past Thorpiverse to turn this basketball plot into “Invasion of The Body Snatchers.”

“Gil, he used to be able to dunk with two hands but now he can’t even thrown down on a Nerfhoop. Something’s different about him.”

Think about it. Thorpiverse desperate for ratings, attempts a new twist to the plot in the name of bringing back part of the audience who switched over to Roscoe Sweeney. There’s more of a chance of him and Buzz Sawyer playing one-on-one basketball in Sawyer’s driveway than perhaps the next few panels of this strip. I thought I’d never say that but as Dylan said, the times are definitely changin’. So the next thing you know, a pod appears beside Gil’s bed and essentially strangulates Gil and he becomes like Filion and the body-snatching of Milford is complete. Everybody’s got that monotone personality and they screech like an owl when they confront someone who is still human.

Now what do you do?

Invent some antidote, pick up the prescription at Milford Pharmacy, revive the players and incite them to go on to kick some A in the Playdowns and eventually bag another State Championship trophy. Hey, there was an antidote in Snow White. Maybe leave a couple of stragglers, say, Tiki, i.e., keep his pod by his bed, let him be an outcast for a few months and repeat the process in baseball. Instant plot renewal. You can retrieve the fan base once again and still win. In the bag.

 

Gang, remember when the episode on “Happy Days” where Richie Cunningham is trying to get Clarabelle the Clown’s face without his makeup? Like the group Kiss, their makeup was their persona and raison d’etre.

That said, Richie contrives a plot where he’s going to enter the Howdy Doody look-Alike Contest and by getting close enough to the action by being on the premises where he cango behind the scenes, he reasons that he has an excellent chance of photographing Clarabelle without his facade.

Of course, he has to get past the contest per se and the idea of Richie’s standing next to 3 8-year-old boys, all in their Howdy outfits is hilarious when you imagine the discrepancy. Cowboy Bob walks by each contestant to register the amount of applause each contestant gets and when he gets to Richie, the audience understandably applauds with a great amount of incredulity but nowhere near the level of the other three boys.

Still, winning the contest was not the intention, sorta like a Milford Baseball player on some Little League team in Williamsport, Pennsylvania, the team going on to win the World Championship. I’m sure he’d be uncomfortable posing with them, sorta like posing with the Rockettes. Anyway, Richie gets consoled by Cowboy Bob backstage which Richie takes in stride, really, what choice does he have? Especially when Cowboy Bob STILL appears to be oblivious to Richie’s intentions (“Kaz, why is Richie the C taking that basketball rack full of basketballs out to his station wagon?”) .

Suddenly, Richie spots his window of opportunity. Clarabelle the Clown has his makeup COMPLETELY OFF which gets Richie to grab his camera and get a bulls-eye shoot. He runs out of the studio with his prize possession.

In the next scene, Richie is with his parents, bragging about how Life Magazine had been unsuccessfully banging at the door to get his unmasked mug before the world. Richie is in hog heaven when he hears the doorbell ring. it’s Cowboy Bob and Clarabelle the Clown, the latter back in his makeup. And after the intros, Cowboy Bob tugs at Richie’s heart by explaining that if Clarabelle the Clown was ever unmasked, it would be the end of him, like The Joker revealing to the world that Batman is really Bruce Wayne. Richie swallows hard but decides in the end, perhaps wisely enough, to tear up the photograph. Tears of joy come out of Clarabelle the Clown  as Cowboy Bob observes (“All over the living room floor”-Mrs. Cunningham) .

Before we go any further, nobody questioned Richie’s motives when he was clearly a head above the competition? I mean, If Kareem were to enter the same contest and stand next to the same three boys, I’d be wondering what a guy 4 feet taller than the other guys in the room has up[his sleeve. The TV producer or the key grip or the #2 cameraman or even Cowboy Bob just lets Kareem participate anyway?

And where’s he going to put the Howdy trophy if he wins? In the trophy case next to his 1971 MVP Trophy? He’ll tell his grandkids that he slam-dunked Dennis the Menace because Dennis had blond hair and Howdy Doody had a thing for his afro? Cowboy Bob had considered converting to Islam and changing his moniker to Cowboy Shareef Abdul-Aziz?

Then there’s the camera. If a 7-footer with a Polaroid carries it past security and stashes it in the guest locker next to Clarabelle the Clown, knowing the latter is high risk, somebody at WDIG Studios where they hold the show oughta fire the Pinkertons.

“Well, Kareem, I knew you had it in ya. Congratulations!!!!!!!!!”

“Thanks. I was a little worried because Tommy Heinsohn did a nice job with that Revlon painting freckles on himself. But I was confident.”

“And well you should. And that Hank Finkel had no chance. Those Dingo Boots and that Arrow shirt just didn’t cut it. And he got tangled up in his own Howdy strings trying to get a drink of water. You were most definitely a cut above.”

“Thanks, Cowboy Bob.” They shake hands and part ways.

Kareem sees the kill. Headin’ to the locker and

FFFLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

 

At the L.A. Forum one day

“…Kareem, it’d be like Freddy Krueger chopping of your right arm with an axe so you couldn’t shoot the Sky Hook…”

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Places 3rd In The Howdy Doody Look-Alike Contest!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Luhm’s grandsons finish 1-2 in day-long event; Marty Moon disqualified due to goatee.”

 

Gang, have at it. Nothing like Kaz to weigh in when he has nothing better to do than add to the Body Snatcher discussion when he’s not Rent-A-Teacher. Really, Gil could have asked the other 4,566 teachers at Milford High about that pod in Filion’s locker but might have been repelled by Spicoli’s reefer odors in the adjoining locker. So when you’re worried that Filion turns into a zombie, just bail out and go to Kaz and pump some information.

“Kaz, I heard rumors that Filion ate one of the cafeteria ladies.”

“New one on me, Gil. I did notice him snortin’ with Spicoli out in his van but everybody reported for work in the cafeteria.”

 

Finally, I noticed that the world’s (reportedly) oldest human at 120-something was really a sham, her 99-year-old daughter evidently picking up the slack. You can understand my decision to stay neutral in this one.

“No, I saw her down at The Bucket sitting in the Senior Citizen’s Section, chowin’ down on a Bucket Liver Cheeseburger that she got with her Bucket Senior Discount, 15% off one of those babies. I know because I remember she couldn’t drink Mudlar-K-Cola Cherry Burst because the cherry formula would leave permanent stains on her dentures. Had to resort to milk.”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Milford Historical Society Doubts Authenticity Of Gil’s Having Had Lunch At The Bucket With Chester A. Arthur.”

sub headline

“Documents confirm that The Bucket was established during Cleveland’s 2nd term; sources also point out that Dr. Pearl was a 9-year-old attending Milford Normal School.”

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