This Week in Milford

June 17, 2020

This Plot Finally Gets Its Much-Needed Crutch

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P1: Don’t look so surprised, Mimi. You knew her ankle looked sketchy. Where was Trainer Rick Scott when you needed him? Does he only train for the football team?

P2: Having once again failed to develop any pitching depth (see Radley, Boo and Hobson, Carrie), Mimi resorts to strategically planting land mines along the basepaths. Unfortunately the mines aren’t very powerful and the Madison runner still scores. An eye for an eye and an ankle for an ankle won’t cut it in the Valley, Mimi. As if you care.

P3: Ah yes, back to the perspective we’re used to in this strip: Girls watching boys. At least I think that’s a girl. Maybe it’s Phoebe and she’ll help Mike and the Misfits hone their skills to beat the Mudlarks. After it’s all done she’ll say it was her way of protesting the draconian zero-tolerance policy that went unchallenged and sent Mike down this path of pathos.

March 28, 2020

Siriously?

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Four months’ setup for this. One of the lamest intros since “Oprah, Uma. Uma, Oprah.” Alexa is left with a deer-in-the-headlights look the likes of which we haven’t seen since Boo Radley had an unfortunate run-in with Del Bader and a pickup truck.

Although some sources say it’s legit, I have never heard anyone named Serena given the nickname “Siri.” In all the years I’ve followed tennis I’ve never heard it used on the greatest female player in recent times. I never heard called Samantha Stevens’ evil cousin called “Siri.” I never heard Sifl and Olly’s fantasy girl referred to as “Siri” either, but supposedly it’s of Scandinavian origin and that’s her mother’s given name. Okay, fine.

There are still a couple months left in most school years. Many of them will be completed via distance learning, which starts on Monday where I live. Another plot should be starting on Monday in the Thorpiverse as well. Newspaper syndicate lead times being what they are, it will probably not involve distance learning. Some elements of this plot may continue over into the spring. Chris and Alexa may still duke it out for valedictorian.  We may find out Siri’s parents are named Cortana and Mercedes.

Siri and Alexa have nice boots on. Maybe they’ll go ride horses together at the afterparty.

Chris gives this plot the finger. So do I.

January 15, 2020

You Gotta Have ‘Watha

Filed under: basketball, big arms, freak hands, Gil Thorp, Madison Time — teenchy @ 6:59 am

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You might think that a kid named Hiawatha would be nicknamed “Hi” but this is the world of the comics. Beetle Bailey’s brother-in-law already goes by that name and even though Gil Thorp has been around since 1958, the Walker-Browne Comics Consortium has seniority. Then again maybe Rubin has baseball on the brain and was thinking of long-time Royals catcher (and later manager) John Wathan. I know The Duke was who first came to my mind; after all, Hiawatha is a catcher too. Since I have baseball on the brain, it naturally followed that I thought of that seminal work on Japanese baseball and its reflection of Japanese culture.*

Time for the Mudlarks to start conference play and boy is Chris Schuring edgy. ‘Watha (sporting a new ‘do since football season) and Tom “Butt” Muench try to calm Chris, but little do they know about Chris’ secret humiliation in Gil’s office. Sure, it’s one thing to tell someone to trust their instincts, but what if their instincts and their coach’s directive conflict? Something tells me there’ll be a lot of passing but not a lot of scoring, and the Mudlarks will leave Madison with a big L. If that other big L Teddy DeMarco ends up stuffed in a locker by Saturday, it’ll have been worth it.

 

*If you’re bored this winter and in need of some hot stove reading material, I highly recommend you pick up a copy.

November 7, 2019

We’ll Do The Absentee Coaching Around Here.

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What? The Haley’s M.O. Moment was just a put-on? Chance really wasn’t constipated? His bowels were moving fine, he didn’t need Mudlar-K-Cola Prune-Enriched to fuel his Toyota Corolla jump? He really wasn’t M.-O.K.??????????

What was he doing in the Port-o-Pot? A better question is what happened to all that T. P.????????? I heard of taking one for the team but this is ridiculous. I’m glad he stepped aside by faking his stomach cramps but there is an unaccounted-for amount of Charmin floating around the premises of Milford High School.

So next time you are substitute-teaching at Mudlarkland and you find this Mt. Everest amount of Bounty in the faculty bathroom, you’ll know that it was because SOMEONE remembered at Milford High “There’s no ‘I’ in the word ‘Team'”. Maybe in the word “Shit” but SOMEONE was “Shitting” for the “Team”. Supposedly, anyway.

“Mrs. Thorp, please don’t squeeze the Charmin!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“I wasn’t, Mr. Whipple. I was testing the firmness of these cabbages. It’s our turn to bring the food for the Milford PTA meeting and I’m bringing Southwest Salad Supreme. Where’s your Newman’s Own Roquefort?”

 

And you talk about false advertising. At least SOMEONE was coaching by faking his taking one for the team by faking his swelling of hemorrhoidal tissues. So Rick Scott had to apply a liberal dose to Chance’s crack. Whoop-de-dah. At least his butt was in order and the trainer’s medicine cabinet has an ample supply of Preparation H next to the Flintstone’s Chewables. Nice to know that if Charlie is called upon to fill in again in a pinch to run up the score, Chance will have plenty of Barney’s and Wilma’s when he’s faking his migraines. And doing his part to exercise leadership in the process.

Oh, not Gil, nooooooooo. True, he took the time from Milford Lounge to visit Chance’s grandparents to be assured Chance wasn’t Norman Bates. But he could have sent Lassie to investigate. And saved the trouble of prolonging his absentee landlord status in relation to the football team.

“Lassie, what’d you find out?”

RUFF

“Chance was an ax murderer? How’d he get released?”

RUFF

“He and Papillon jumped the fence? Weren’t they in chains?”

RUFF

“Oh, they were playing flag football.”

RUFF

“And leading The Mean Machine by a touchdown.”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“30 Rolls Of Milford Tree Farms Toilet Towels Found In Shower Stall Of O. J.’s Condo!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Trail stops cold after contraband unloaded from Milford Roadway terminal.”

 

When I came home last night

You wouldn’t make love to me

You went fast asleep

You wouldn’t even talk to me

 

Give it to me, what you say

Give it to me right away

 

“Dear, you’ll have to turn that down. Chance just went to bed. And put my wig back on the dresser when you’re done funking. I need it for the Embroidery 101 class at Milford High Night School.”

 

On our journey that is the Mudlark Football season, we approach P2 with some reservations. Like who all these people are, which we assume are the fans and families who are celebrating the victory and well they should. I’m having a bit of a problem with the Kent State arrangement of humanity after the Milford National Guard just stepped on the gridiron but I think we can hold our breath that nothing is going to occur. Gil can blow his whistle should a Guardsman aim his Uzi at Chance or Grandma Macy. The whistle is being used for something since it was hanging in the linen closet in Gil’s office, y’know, the one with the windows affording a view of the Trump Towers. Gil was out on the road on another stint of absentee coaching. I heard Courtyard by Marriott gave discounts to Coaches In Absentia.

“But the coupon said that if I was not coaching 10 times, I’d get the 11th stay in a double suite. Free. Shoot, I can’t remember the last time I told the team ‘Win one for The Gipper’. I think when Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was released.”

“But the coupon expired after the Tet Offensive.”

 

SOME PEOPLE MIGHT SAY I’M INFATUATED

BUT I DON’T CARE

CUZ THEY JUST DON’T KNOW

THEY’LL NEVER SEE OR HEAR…

 

 

THEY CAN ALL GO TO HELLLLLLLLL

YOU AND I (DO DOOO)

WE GET TOGETHER LIKE GIL AND SHAW (DO DO DOOOOOOO)

Kaz knocks on the door leading into the Intro Woods class which is tightly locked

“Luhm, are you OK? I can hear that music all the way down at The Bucket.”

Luhm rips the needle off of the Vintage Vinyl “Come Get It!!!!!!!!”

“Yeah, just gotta dust the lathe machine and then damp-mop and buffer the floor. I’m good.”

 

RIP, Rick James. Your funkadelic style was an inspiration to many.

 

And while they’re rioting in the streets of Milford in P2, does somebody have a surgical kit handy? I think Gil and Charlie just welded their hands together with a soldering tool. I’ve heard of a coach bonding with his players but this is ridiculous. I hope neither has to go to the bathroom anytime soon. Man, it’s a bitch when one of the Siamese Twins has to let off a load in the Port-o-Pot. The other one can get the Charmin to wipe, assuming Luhm replaced the stolen merchandise.

 

If yore 3rd-shift foreman at Milford Foundry is bein’ non-existent but ya reach yore produk’tivitee goals in yore department and the man comes around ta reward y’all by turnin’up the air conditioner one degree so ya don’t sweat thru yore Hanes T-shirt so bad or smelly, ya might be a redneck.

 

And P3 arrived at the train station right on time.

One of the things I learned when I was pursuing a foreign language in school was that foreign countries, especially Europe, prided themselves on how PUNCTUAL their passenger trains were.

Well, the Orient Express couldn’t have arrived any sooner to practically take the credit for Charlie’s success. And as you can see, Bluto is willing to risk Foot-in-Beard disease to achieve his stated objectives.

Now before we go any further, I am inspired by Bluto’s Weight Watcher program that he has inflicted on himself. Last I remember, he had a paunch that could crush Olive Oyl in the opening round of the Milford Sumo Wrestling Holiday Tournament.

In P3, he has evidently weighed his portions punctiliously, using the metric balance scales he hocked from the Milford School Corporation Science Supply Building while fishing for Chance’s records. Hey, I need to lose a few pounds myself. Bluto, the next time you are in the complex digging for Chance’s dental records (“The pediatrician prescribed Poly-Grip????????”) , would you slip a balance my way? I need to count my Ritz Crackers wisely.

NOW, why in the name of Agatha Christie were we not surprised when Bluto showed his face again? This was the proverbial “Not if, but WHEN”. J. Wellington Wimpy, 1000 Bucket Burgers up his butt while munching on a Big Mac was not going to take part in the baccanalian affairs on the football field (A Funny Thing Happened To Me On The Way To The Football Field-“Something appealing, something appalling…”) to locate Charlie and talk about his TD run. Swee’ Pea was in bed. NO, BLUTO WAS GOING TO UPSTAGE POPEYE ONCE AGAIN AND SAY HE WAS THE ONE WHO INSPIRED HIM TO RUN LIKE FRANCO HARRIS OR ANY OF YOUR FAVORITE NFL RUNNING BACKS. Popeye forgot to eat his spinach and couldn’t inspire you to run around your living room or Gil’s office. Popeye and Bluto will not be at Denny’s for breakfast and Christian fellowship.

That off my chest, notice Gil doing a double-take in P3. The predictable continues. Stay tuned.

Assuming you’re well-endowed with Sominex.

 

“And that’s the gun signaling the end of the game. Milford wins it in a laugher, 121-10. I’ll have all the stats for you in a moment. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

 

SHE’S A VERY KINKY GIRL

THE KIND YOU DON’T BRING HOME TO MOTHER

SHE WILL NEVER LET YOUR SPIRITS DOWN

ONCE YOU GET HER OFF THE FIELD

 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

 

“Yeah?”

“Gil, your wife just called again. It’s 10:35. Don’t you think you ought to go home to bed?”

“Kaz, I’m as lame as a lollipop that’s been out in the sun too long. I couldn’t stiff if I put on Dean Martin’s “Houston.”

“But Gil, you’ve been playing Super Freak for 3 hours. And I hope you aren’t dancing in your Fruit of the Loom boxers again.”

“Crap. I forgot that Luhm didn’t fix the curtain rod. Do you think anybody can see the lemon-lime pattern?”

“Maybe in the Trump Towers but they’d have to use binoculars and care about what you look like when dressed down to your Calvin Klein Boysenberry Print.”

“It’s just that Rick James gets me in the right mood. Sometimes it takes a little longer, especially after I’d eaten that Fazoli’s Sampler. Lasagna just slows any Erectile process. Bit me and Rick will be partying like it’s 1999. And I’ll be sawing the logs with Mimi cuz I’ll have something hard to saw with.”

“Gil, I think you mean Prince.”

A momentary check into the record inventory

“That’s right. I’ll be gettin’ pumped to Purple Rain by midnight.”

“Gil, I think a better solution would be checking out all the ways Milford Men’s Clinic can help you. They have proven techniques and equipment and you don’t need Milford Book and Music Exchange to solve your problem.”

“You’re saying I won’t need O’Jays ‘Money, Money, Money’ to junp on Mimi with confidence?”

“Gil,  I think you answered your own question.”

 

“There it was. I was confident to open my office door and let Kaz see me in my Hanes Fred Flintstone Print Boxers and Rick James wig. Price you pay if you want to be consistently efficient with your Significant Other. And I am having great sex and couldn’t care less if the tenant on the 11th floor of the Trump Towers sees us. They need to watch infomercials anyway. Come to Milford Men’s Clinic and be your own Funkmeister. Whay have you got to lose but the wig?

 

Gang, go to it. You have truly been patient and I thank you. I just hope Bluto doesn’t dig into my records and find out the reason.

 

At the Milford School Board meeting one evening

“And I also have records when his dad was down in the south, doing heists with Pretty Boy Floyd. What more evidence do we need to declare that Chance is not fit for the football team?”

“Mr. James, some of the evidence is circumstantial-”

“That’s Mr. Ballard!!!!!!!! You don’t recognize me?”

“The dreadlocks don’t match the beard.”

 

At the Milford Comedy Club on Open Mike Night

“…what do I look like, Rick James on the Quaker Oats label?”

Mimi stands up

“I better go out for a smoke break. Anybody got a light?”

“But you don’t smoke. When did you take up the cancer sticks?”

“Believe me, Gil is worth 2 cartons of Virginia Slims.”

November 6, 2019

Oh, What a Feeling!

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

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

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

 

November 5, 2019

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

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DUM DA DUM DUM

DUM DA DUM DUM

DUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

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

sub headline

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

 

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

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

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

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

Spur of the moment, Robmize(ha).

 

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

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

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

As commercial fades to product

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

No.

 

“When it’s time to relax

One beer stands clear

Year after year

 

If you’ve got the yards

We’ve got the beeeeeeeerrrrrrr”

 

Miller Time couldn’t get any finer for Chance

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

“Said and done.”

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

“Ranch?”

Ranch turns around flashing that Pepsodent smile

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

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

November 4, 2019

Is It Madison Time Already?

Filed under: actual action, football, Gil Thorp, Madison Time — nedryerson @ 10:23 am

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Chance Macy is back and look at him go! He’s leaving everyone in the dust!

By the 3rd Quarter, Chance’s ankle is a little sore. How much did the use him up until that point? I assume Milford is leading 27-6 (if the score is shown as Visitor-Home, which is how I usually read such things). So was Chance running all over Madison for the first half and then some? He must be fast.

So now it’s time to see Charlie Roh get some reps. Maybe we’ll find out if Chet and Charlie’s mother made the drive to Madison.

What a big whoop-de doo. At least we have Madison Time (now with funky organ):

May 23, 2019

Chef Gil, This Plot Has Been Chopped

Filed under: actual action, Just plain sad, Madison Time, softball, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 12:37 am

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You’re kidding, right? It’s this much of a no-brainer, kinda like someone handing you a $100,000 check when you’re leaving Milford Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market to take your groceries to the car. No strings attached??? Just don’t forget to sign your John Henry on the back when you cash it at Milford Federal.

Still doing a mental background check on the person the implementer of such largesse, well, gee, duh, if you’re caught up in “Tippicanoe and Gil Thorp too” buttons, worried more how they’ll play on the free market than THE ACTUAL GAME ITSELF, isn’t that another way of saying YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW???? Yeah, it’s rocket science when you forget “There’s no ‘I’ in the word ‘team'”. We gotta go back to kindergarten to figure that out????? Linda, right now, I wouldn’t give you a scholarship on Romper Room’s intramural team.

 

“Coach, since you’re not going to do much coaching until, say August, loosely speaking, you understand, do you mind if I take a vacation?”

“No, Coach Boone, you only show up around the Playdowns anyway. To paraphrase Dylan, you just want to be on the side that’s winning.”

“Coach, that’s not entirely fair. I watched you work with your kids the entire afternoon practicing their putts at Milford Golf Course because you got tired of maxing your credit card at Putt Putt by teaching them how to negotiate the windmill. It was as exciting as watching paint dry teaching them how to avoid a bogey on par 5 dog leg left Shoot Through The Bazooka pin, but the cashier at Putt Putt was proud. Little victories in everything.”

“Oh, Hell, Boone, take the whole summer. If you can’t handle having to endure physical activity for long stretches at a time, take your candy ass to Wheel of Fortune for all I care. Win a trip to Bahamas and get lost.”

 

The trip to “Worst Cooks In America” is getting off to a resounding start, doncha think??? Hope Coach Boone brought his ‘A’ game.

 

How’ bout dippin’ into the ’80’s for a little Talk Talk?

Funny how the crowd observes my every move

I walk with lack of privacy at school

I wish I’d never paid 39 pennies

For the El Dorado

 

They just drool

 

I ask myself

Can I make it to a stall

 

 

It’s my badge

Don’t you forget it

It’s my badge

You touch, you’ll regret it

 

I like how timbuys mentions “just plain sad”. What other scenario can be drawn from today, especially P1? Gang, do what you want but I ain’t touchin’ P1 with a 10-foot pole. She is puttin’ on a clinic. Good arm extension, hip rotation, eye on the ball, level swing, ball poppin’ off the bat at a good angle. Guarantee it, Walt Hriniak is taking notes and he didn’t do that often.

But do we have to learn from The Joker about how to swing a bat because Batman was out in the Batmobile too long???? Yeah, it is, indeed, just plain sad when this clinic is coming from the other team. F— you, Mudlarks, and quit pullin’ your head when you swing. Correct me if I’m wrong Thorpiverse old-timers, especially from the Berrill era, but wasn’t some of the tips we’d see flashed on the screen not only educational and an added bonus, it actually came out of GIL’S MOUTH???? I know I’m not going to Tod Andrews’ Oakwood Baseball Summer Camp Junior High Division to learn how to use 2 hands and squeeze when you catch the ball.

The Philistines are teaching the Israelites how to Punt, Pass, and Kick.

 

Then there’s P2. What can ANYONE say????? It is going 180 degrees away from P1. Just about ANYTHING that’s right in P1 is wrong in P2. Players with heads up their asses, putting their own selfish agenda before what’s going on  the field. How can I mention fielding technique? I had a saying when I was coaching Babe Ruth League Baseball, “What do you tell the player who knows everything? Nothing.” In P2, rest my case.

 

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“USF Holland Semi Collides With TCFS VW Company Van!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Miraculously, no one was injured. Semi on the way to The Bucket to deliver guacamole chips.”

 

“Coach Boone is pulling the chips out of the oven-he forgot to add KC Master Bar-B-Q sauce to the recipe. You have 10 minutes on the clock, Coach.”

 

“So Coach, what are you making, if I may so ask?”

“I’m serving up a Guacamole Chicken Salad Tostada en los Frijoles Morenos y una Copa del Vino Merlot Fresco serving for 8 people. This has to be seasoned just right, especially when I lay the Grippo’s on the sheet pans.”

“Absolutely. I noticed you’re using Bar-B-Q chips. Aren’t you a little concerned that the judges might have Grippo’s breath for days?”

“Way ahead of you. I solved that problem watching ‘Trisha’s Southern Kitchen’ one night. She doused a pint of chocolate cherry liqueuer all over the Baked Chicken Gumbo, Sauteed in Nabisco Cheese Nips .I understand Trisha only needed a half a pack of Certs when she performed with Garth for a Nashville charity event.

 

If ya burned the guacamole chips and sneak out the back down to Piggly Wiggly, buy out the store of Golden Flake Cheddar ‘n’ Sour Cream Potato Chips, stick ’em in the bed of yore pick-up, lay the tarp over ’em so the judges don’t notice when they’re on a smoke break, then smuggle ’em to the cupboard on a commercial break, ironically enough Lay’s Vinegar Chips one of the sponsors, ya might be a redneck.

 

Being stalked by everyone

Green with envy

Can’t even approach the water fountain

 

Need a hall pass to Chem or French

Econ field trips are simply out

 

What a mountain

 

I ask myself

Can I buy a Twinkie from the cafeteria

 

 

 

 

 

It’s my badge

Don’t you forget it

It’s my badge

You just don’t get it

 

After coaching the linebackers for 2 strips while Gil is off another Big Adventure, Coach Boone returns for prep time.

“Okay (flush) , I put the guacamole sauce in the microwave. While that’s sizzling, I will get the chicken ready. (To himself) Goddammit, I told KFC I wanted white meat this time. (To the audience) Fortunately, I have a glass bowl ready, sitting by the Cocoa Pebbles, whattya know. I dump the chicken strips in the bowl, add a pinch of paprika, a pinch of cilantro, add a tablespoon of raspberry red, half a teaspoon of orange orange, and a quarter cup of green clovers and a half cup of yellow moons.”

“Coach, you think Lucky Charms will mix evenly in the bowl with Green Onion Grippo’s Chips.”

“I had to try something. I’ve already used Grippo’s Bar-B-Q Chips for my other secret recipe. Besides, it’s no different than making a free safety whose family is from Laos line up with the outside linebacker whose dad’s a hog farmer. They talk out their differences and BOOM BABY!!!!!!!! Next thing you know, we stop the tailback at the line of scrimmage. Friends For Life do that.”

“Just don’t forget to add Contadina Tomato Paste so the flavors don’t overwhelm. And some Lysol. The yellow moons got a little chewy when I sampled the product.”

“Thank you, judges. And I’ll add a few drops of iodine so that the acid-base reading is close to ‘7’ as possible.”

 

Then P3 is the culmination of the failed “Keep Cool with Cool Buttons” campaign. Yeah, I reckon you need to call the whole damn nation/keep the tailgate down with your glove if you don’t want another “Dewey Defeats Truman!!!!!! moment at the Mudlark Softball Complex.

Madison is just simply dancing in front of the Mudlark dugout, doing their best Travolta rendition, complete with disco ball. The spotlight is going back on the team bus with the rest of the Philistines. Lady Mudlarks, you’ve been chopped.

 

“Coach, I don’t understand. Weren’t you going to add guacamole chips to your dish?”

“NO!!!!!! Those were the appetizers to hold down the fort while I work through this. Kroger ran out of store-brand Restaurant Chips. I want this Guacamole Chicken Salad to be just right. The soy sauce clicked with the blue diamonds so CYA in that regard. But I got some Dorito’s Cool Ranch under the sink in case I gotta go to Plan B.”

 

Ooooooookkkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is back to help skewer this plot. Take ‘er away, Gene.

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooo dumb  (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she wore a button that said ‘Too Cool for ________________'”.

 

“Coach, you ARE aware you have 5 minutes?”

“And your point is?

“The Guacamole Chicken Salad Tostada en los Frijoles Morenos y una Copa del Vino Merlot Fresco looks a little overdone. I can see au gratin potato stains all over the green clovers. And I’ve seen better cooked chicken at Mel’s Diner. I’m not sure Alice would even eat that Waffle House in Paradise.”

“HA!!!!!!!! That’s where I’ve got you judges where I want you!!!!! I want you to THINK I’m burning the merchandise but not only am I going to marinade it now, but the slight sizzle, or overcooked as you say, will bring out all the flavors, especially all the anise. The Trix portion of the dish won’t know what hit it. Honey Nut Cheerios pieces and Kroger Restaurant Chips simmering in a cream cheese marinade sauce? Like to see Thorp do better. He can barely marinade water.”

“All right, we’ll see what happens. You’re the cook. I just hope you come through with the Chocolate S’mores and Louisiana Lightning Sauce mixture that you highly bragged about.”

 

I snuck into the dugout gate

With my Holy Grail

Locked in the gym bag, best know the combination

 

Only “All The Way With LBJ”

Stopped TCFS hardware

 

From world domination

 

 

Convince myself

Mussolini ran campaigns better

 

 

This is my badge

Don’t you forget it

This is my badge

You can’t even pet it

 

This is my badge…

 

As Gil rides off into the sunset with one of the ostriches, rumor has it thst he was at the Savannah Section of Milford Nature Area

 

“Chef Boone, congratulations, you have earned the distinction Worst Cook in America. I wouldn’t feed this concoction to starving children in China, let alone on my block. The chicken was chewier than a Nerfball, the lemon juice was overbearing with the Cocoa Puffs, and don’t even go there with the guacamole chips. I could buy better chips from a street vendor who sells chili dogs at lunch.”

“I’m just getting Lay’s Potato Chips and KFC  Breast Dark Meat and maybe the mashed taters in the pee cup that comes with the chicken. You sure you didn’t take a urine sample yourself in this slop?  I’d be drug-testing you for stupidity at my restaurant right now. How you can have the audacity to mix Chic-Lets and oregano just so you can spice up your dish is more than a travesty. And the raspberry red was undercooked. Don’t quit your day job.”

“Chef Boone, or maybe just Mr. Boone, since you can’t coach or cook. Why in the world are you using Arm & Hammer Baking Soda after you take it out of the oven? You needed to mix it in to give the chips a more even texture. your chicken was raw and the substitute Tater Tots ‘n’ Vine Ripe Tomatoes that you got from your grandfather’s recipe didn’t really replace the guacamole chips you ran out of. Ever heard of Pam? Chef Boone, you’ve been chopped, I’ll save the trouble before the commercial break.”

 

“Thank you, judges.”

 

“HUGE HUGE shout-out to the staff in 5 Core Unit of the Intensive Care Unit at University of Louisville Hospital. They have waited on me hand and foot during my stay here and have done it with a “Service with a Smile” atmosphere. It would not be fair to name names, since there were many of them and the beauty is, many would rather not be mentioned anyway. Classic unsung heroes. You factor in the Medical Team that has stayed with me patiently throughout my recovery and you have a recipe for success. I can see why my nephew, a medical doctor himself, highly recommends them. A big THANK YOU is in order to these people who make a difference in our lives.

 

Comment away, Gang. No, I’m not getting autographs from the Madison players. I won’t go that far.

 

“What can I say? I need to use more Pam and canola oil next time. I appreciate the judges’ honesty as they’re only trying to make me better. I’ve chewed out a nose guard for not wrapping a guy when he’s tackling him. It’s all in the execution.”

 

“You callin’ me a candy ass???? Shoot, you couldn’t ride an ostrich through the Picnic Area!!!!!”

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