This Week in Milford

September 9, 2020

Spirits Among Us

Filed under: football, Gil Thorp, Marty Moon, Milford Idiots — teenchy @ 10:09 am

Oh look who’s finally popped his head in at Milford High. Where the hell was Marty when all that ridiculousness was going down in Milford last spring? Drying out in rehab somewhere? You just know he would have run with that whole “the mayor” situation like a kid with a pair of scissors. Either he would’ve been anti-zero-tolerance and given Gil hell for not sticking up for Mike Knappe or pro-zero-tolerance and given Gil hell for not drilling the zero-tolerance message into Mike before the butter knife incident. He would’ve had a field day with the Milford v. Valley Modified “scrimmage,” too – how it made a mockery of high school sports, exposing the Mudlarks to potential injury in a game that didn’t count; how it mocked, patronized and denigrated the Valley Mod kids all at once; and how it was even allowed to be scheduled in the first place. Finally he would’ve had something to say about the Knappe kid getting his admission revoked by State and magically reinstated via Thorpian sleight-of-hand.

Instead Marty now shows up in time for Mouseketeer Roll Call and one step ahead of Marjie Ducey, who must’ve clued him in about those freebie sloppy joes that get handed out during the preseason. He’s used his keen powers of observation to deduce that there’s a competition at quarterback between two guys who (as astute TWIMer Jive Turkey observed this past weekend) would probably get fragged if they were military officers in combat. Marty and Gil share a Milky Way bar an interest in getting blitzed themselves, hence their mutual dropping of the code word “spirited*” in conversation. After practice, they’ll go their separate ways to tie one on: Gil to the MCC or home to the company of Mimi, Marty to the end of the bar at Barney’s Pub or back home, in either case alone.

* It came to my attention after composing this post that the title, which I thought was a common phrase, is also the title of a movie, the plot of which is best described as “Christian paranormal thriller.”

April 14, 2020

But, Hey, Gil’s Big In Japan.

Filed under: actual action, baseball, Gil Thorp, Marty Moon — tdrewhardin @ 12:14 am


He’s got the roster but does no coaching

He’s got the talent but none approaching

Mayor’s got the food but not the batting stance

Gil’s got the mood but not a frickin’ chance


But Gil’s big in Japan

Gil’s big in Japan


Hey, but Gil’s big in Japan

Gil’s big in Japan


Will somebody pick up that pie pan that some jerk littered on the field after he devoured his Sara Lee Choco-Creme Heaven Supreme? You’d think some people would throw that darn thing in the receptacle by the bleachers-oh THAT’S HOME PLATE.

Is there anybody in Thorpiverse that has enough artistic skills to draw a batter’s box that’s proportional to the plate, let alone the rest of the field? No wonder why Muench signaled “Time” the day before. He had to get his feet set in The Grand Canyon before he could swing for the fences.

And I am befuddled why the Thibidoux catcher couldn’t block the plate for at least one of Milford’s runs. Yeah, it’d be silly to be called for obstruction attempting to defend a Chinet Paper Plate that is supposedly home plate on a grand slam but he could have SAT ON THE DAMN THING when a Mudlark was trying to score on a base hit. It would have given the Tigers time to get the relay throw to the dime, er, plate.

Yogi Berra once said that if you see a fork in the road, take it. Just don’t attempt to score on it as Muench is venturing to do in P1.

Because I am intrigued by Jimmy John’s little advertising ploy in his window for “free smells”.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Arraigned And Will Stand Trial On May 21st; Bail Set At $1,500.”

sub headline

“The Bucket manager: ‘We preferred he took a whiff of our Bucket Tuna Souffle in the dining area, not back in the kitchen.”


He’s got the team but not the lead

He’s got the charm but much bad seed

He’s got the cards but not the pluck

When he flashes signs, you better duck


But hey, Gil’s big in Japan

Gil’s big in Japan


Hey, Gil’s big in Japan

Gil’s big in Japan


To paraphrase Casey Stengal, can anyone draw a simple batting area around here? You could square dance in the batter’s box. Swing your partner ’round and ’round, watch for batting donuts all around.

I should have brought my hula hoop. I could have wiggled my butt with 10 of those things, perform a whirlygig on both arms with another 2-3 and do half a Riverdance on my leg with 2-3 more and Muench would STILL have room to imitate Bobby Thomson in the ’51 Series. Did Ralph Branca give up the winning shot AND chalk the batter’s boxes? Thank his lucky stars he’s just an answer to a trivia question for only one of them.

“Who did a shit-ass job of laying down the field and should really be cleaning the erasers in the Milford High School classrooms when Luhm’s on a vacation cruise with Ms. Rizk that he set up through Milford Travel Agency and also gave up the record-breaking home run by Hank Aaron in ’74?”

“Hmmmmm. Buzz Capra?”


Boy, nothing like home plates that you can add to your stamp collection and double-decker trees that Milford Nursery has been growing around the ballpark. Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack. Looks like the Grand Old Game has commenced. Finally.

But Gil, I think you forgot to put your uniform on. I know you must have overslept because you forgot to set the alarm and it is evident by the Levi jeans you are parading in P2. I know you should have a blue-collar mind-set and teach the kids the value of hard work and getting down and dirty. But it’s the PLAYERS who get down and dirty and who wear the jeans. Did you leave your baseball uniform at the cleaners? You must have left your coaching there too. No wonder why you are displaying Dockers. Well, at least one of them won’t be taken from the clerk and taken to the car with any lint on it. Oh, I’m not saying your coaching has any dandruff. Surely not me.

Really, Gil, I’ve always wanted one of those double-decker sugar maples in my back yard. I could build a tree house. The upper tree’s branches should be sturdy enough. BTW, is that the foul pole in left field, i.e., if Muench’s shot had hit the double elm, the umps would have signaled a round-tripper? Let me check the rule book again and get back with you.

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Controversy Aplenty As Thibidoux Manager Plays Game Under Protest!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Hitting the whirlygigs on the lower half of the tree should not have constituted part of the foul pole.”


He got mooned, he cut the cheese

His coaching’s got us begging on our knees

He lost his boosters, he shouldn’t crow

He got the ebb but lost the flow


But hey, Gil’s big in Japan

Gil’s big in Japan


Hey, Gil’s big in Japan

Gil’s big in Japan


And we actually have STRATEGY as the game keeps rolling along. I follow my favorite college baseball team and I watched my own nephew play high school baseball, so when the other team hits a couple of ropes, Gil in Japan is wise to make a call to the bullpen with a 6-2 lead. Put this one on ice by getting your reliever in there to slam the door.

Just don’t wear your gardening outfit when you go to the mound next time, Gil. Really, when my car is getting fixed and needs a brake job and the brake shoes need to be replaced, I’m not expecting the mechanic to be wearing cleats and stretch pants like the ones I wore when I was managing Babe Ruth Baseball. Dressing like Bob Vila and expecting me to give you the ball for a middle reliever just doesn’t mix in the salad. I never threw a whole slab of salami in a Caesar’s salad anyway. Talking to Richard Petty on the mound and giving him the ball is a bit uncomfortable, don’t you think?

If ya think Gonzalo Aceves is named for a kind of Mexican jumping bean and if ya drink too much Jose Cuervo, you might flutter like Gonzalo Aceves, ya might be a redneck.

Now who the Hell is Speedy Gonzales? Okay, we know he can run all over Mexico when he isn’t training in Milford for the Boston Marathon but I didn’t know that was one Looney Tuner that was left-handed. Thorpiverse must have been taking notes when it was watching Bugs Bunny run from Elmer Fudd in Milford Fish & Wildlife Area.

And I’m fluent in Spanish, having translated for management several times over so I don’t need Gil’s Guide to Workable Spanish When Recruiting Players Across the Rio Grande to Rescue the Plot. Was Gil at a Dollar General in Chihuahua buying X-Lax because they ran out at Milford Apothecary and he was behind a teenager who wore a Mudlark cap? Gee, he looks like he could help the team. He must have read the scores in the Milford Enquirer and bought that hat from a street vendor to show his true colors.

“Hola, necesitamos lanzer para los Mudlarks y le damos mucho dinero, mucha carne de El Bucket,” oops, forgot, I’m addressing an English-speaking crowd.

Let’s try again.

“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice that cap you’re wearing. We are in dire need of pitching. You’re interested? Let me run it by Berrill and get your Green Card from the Milford Consulate and I’ll get back with you tomorrow. Ah-SAY-vehs? Is that how you pronounce it? I’ll have Marty Moon practice in front of a mirror with a bunch of marbles in his mouth. First pitch is this Friday at 4:00PM. Work on your curve.”


My team’s clam chowder, I got the runs

Wear hair like a whippet, I got big buns

I coach in clouds, no one knows why

I got the stripes but not the tie


But hey, Gil’s big in Japan

Gil’s big in Japan


Oh Lord, Gil’s big in Japan

Gil’s big in Japan


Tonight’s headline running off the presses for the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Placed On Probation, Sternly Warned By Judge Ito That ‘Free Smells’ Does Not Extend To Condo Manager’s Private Bar-B-Q”

sub headline

“That’ll be the last time I barge in to his back office to get a pork pit plate.”


Because I admire these Robin Hood lawyers who advertise that they spend more time fighting for their clients than advertising



“Good golly, the lengths some outdoor advertising people will go to get a buck. But I will never put someone’s boobs on the chopping block over the integrity of my clients. You have my guarantee.”

“I found out about Joe Sharkey from a wino at Milford Rehab Clinic. Word of mouth goes fast. My wife got ran over by Santa and his reindeer and I wanted to be justly compensated. The drunk recommended The Shark. He said The Shark even paid for the bunk at the shelter house while he was recovering his liquor. I called 1-FON-THE-JAWS and was I pleasantly surprised. We got $3,563,754,872,045,375 in compensation for our loss. We bought a Christmas tree and a few presents. The kids will love what we put in their stockings. All we could afford for years was coal until we called Joe Sharkey. Thanks, Shark.”

“That’s advertising enough for me. Why pay some flunky to unwrap the billboard message and have to call Milford Bankruptcy Lawyers as a result when Skid Row saved the day and brought home the bacon? And pass the word along? People with bulging pockets of money have a hard time hiding the good news.”


“My house burned to the ground because Milford Gas & Electric left the meter running when the service rep came to read the electrical usage. I got 3rd degree burns and couldn’t work as a forklift driver at Milford Foundry. I found out about The Shark from the Milford Psychic Hotline. I got a shitload of cash at my Hooverville address. I’ll be able to rebuild my home in 3 weeks. Thanks, Shark.”

“You heard the man. He may get fined from the FCC for his language but he’s got the money after being justly compensated. And he didn’t need billboards all over the Milford Mall parking lot to learn how to fight companies like M G & E who are hard at work to defeat you in a court of law. Some companies will spray paint the evidence but you can’t apply Krylon to word of mouth. When word gets around that the fat check’s in the mail, people wait by the mailbox. Why trust your mailbox to a sign next to a sign advertising for Milford Tanning Clinic?

Call 1-FON-THE-JAWS today. One call, that’s all.”


Gang, you’re my world. I’ve been running around all day and it was hell flying over the ocean to drop Gil off at Tokyo but I’ll take one for the team, thank you.


His lineup fizzles, his pitching’s fake

Fielding’s a joke, it drowns in a lake

He’s got the sheets but not the bed

Baseball’s anemic and softball’s dead


But hey, Gil’s big in Japan

Gil’s big in Japan


Hey, Gil’s big in Japan

Gil’s big in Japan



At the Milford Lounge Happy Hour one fine afternoon

“When I had to take a dump, I saw some writing on the toilet paper. Something about telephoning a shark.”




April 13, 2020

Muench Salami

Filed under: actual action, baseball, Marty Moon, Secret Thoughts — nedryerson @ 5:55 am


We’re really making a meal out of the opener against Thibodaux! I think we are still in the third inning. We’ve got plate discipline, speed on the base path and POWER! Marty is loving it. That’s it. I got nothing.

So, let’s look at Tom Meunch, digging in at the plate. See how he’s holding the bat with his left hand and extending his right hand behind him? What is that? We I see that in professional ball, I assume it’s a signal to the umpire that the batter is still getting set up (maybe still getting feet situated?) in the batter’s box and not quite ready. Maybe it’s a balance thing too? I don’t know. It’s something I’ve seen a million times but never really thought about until this moment. I wonder, if this is an “I’m not quite ready” signal, how does that come across in high school? Does an ump just tell the kid to put his hand down and get ready because you’re in the box and the pitch is coming, son?



April 10, 2020

Wasnt he a Bulls coach?

Filed under: actual action, baseball, Gil Thorp, hands in the air, Marty Moon, Milford Weirdos — robmize2013 @ 7:23 pm

Where.. the hell does Whigham come up with these schools for Milford to play?? Thibodaux High School is in Louisiana, 70 miles from New Orleans.

Jesus; who the hell would drive from the Bayou State to Michigan to play a freakin HIGH SCHOOL BASEBALL GAME??? Especially this time of year when the weather can change 4 times an hour in the Midwest?  Nobody should have to travel longer then Christ hung on the cross on Good Friday just to play baseball. But Thibs does.

Thibs of course is Tom Thibidou , ex-Bulls coach who the Bulls couldnt wait to get rid of because he coached defense and won 60 games. They wanted Freddy Hoiberg and they got him. They got him all right. Freddy allowed more points in a half then Thibs allowed in a game.  The Bulls were so bad they fired Freddy and replaced him with Jim Boylan. Not to be confused with the other Jim Boylan they had for a while. They got the wrong Jim Boylan. Only the Bulls.

Marty has his new laptop and what looks like an old tape recorder in P2. Hey Marty, if we Didnt dodge the snow, the game would likely be postponed.

Of course Mike Knapp not only is number 1, his number is the shortest and fattest 1 I’ve ever seen. I dont like the way he’s standing on the base; he should have his left foot on the third base side of the bag. Hard to believe we dont see one Thibs defender in P3. And that ad on the fence is for hot dogs but .. ops is what I read. Fill in the rest for me.

All Mike is missing is a can of deodorant.


December 24, 2019

Betcha Can’t Muench Just One.

Filed under: actual action, basketball, Marty Moon — tdrewhardin @ 10:47 am


Gang, I hope and pray all of you have a very Merry Christmas. Let God shower you with gifts and blessings. It is a time to rejoice and spend time with family and friends. May the Holiday Season be a Season of Joy.

For me, as a Christian, it is an opportunity to remember the Birth of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He has done SO MUCH for me that I couldn’t continue to write this blog without mentioning that. I am nothing without Him. As much as I love goodies in my stocking, it is also a time to celebrate His Peace and Presence. Amazing how it all goes hand in hand.

However you worship, be true to the God you serve and take time out from your schedule to celebrate.

I am thankful for YOU, Gang. You mean so much to me. I am nothing without you TWIMers.


Interesting that Marty Moon mentions Thomas Muench as one of the starters. Now if you’re going to pronounce that the German way, pucker your lips as tightly as you can and say the word “cheese”. Now take that sound and apply it to that name, everything else like “munch” but adding in that sound I just mentioned. That’s the best German on tap.

The name is actually in place of an umlaut that is supposed to be placed over the “u” and the name was originally “Munch” with that umlaut included. My guess would be that when Germans immigrated, it was easier to Americanize and drop the umlaut and add the letter “e” and pronounce it like “Meench”. Pronunciation took the lazy route(ha) .

But that’s how “Kuebler” like “Keebler elves” got to be pronounced. Again, it was easier to cut the Gordian knot and make it easier for everyone to sound out, American or otherwise. Another good example is Koehler (German for “coal miner”) , only this time the umlaut got removed from the “o” (if you want to pronounce the umlauted “o”, pucker your lips halfway and say “shay”) and the name got pronounced like KAY-ler.


Now as long as Marty Moon is going to be lazy himself and sound like he got his brain taken out of him like the gorillas did on The Planet of the Apes: The Year They Conquered WDIG, he can at least go the way of Chris Berman. The dude was great for ESPN with all his nicknames he gave the baseball players when he was recapping the game a la “…and Babe ‘They named a candy bar after me’ Ruth hits one deep to left field off of Randy ‘You rang’ Lerch to tie the game. Next batter, Keith ‘Should have never been a Met’ Hernandez doubles off the wall, Willie ‘Reading this plot is like going through a’ Mays cannot get to it. Then ‘Wizard of’ Ozzie Smith lines one off of Gene ‘Lieutenant’ Garber to drive in the winning run, ball game.”

Oooooookkkkk, so here we go if Marty broadcasts for ESPN in the Mudlark gym as the “Let’s Get Ready to Rumble” theme blasts out

“Ladies and Gentlemen, at forwards will be Chris ‘The Season is a time for’ Schuring and Leonard ‘Ian’ Fleming. At center will be Marcell ‘Morceau’ Irby, and at guards will be ‘The Song of the’ Hiawatha James and Thomas ‘Lays’ Muench. They are coached by Gil ‘Forgot to clock in’ Thorp. Interesting that he changed his sobriquet last week from Gil ‘You don’t add an ‘e’ to my name, dammit, like Jim’ Thorp. The officials tonight are Joe ‘Homer’ Numbknuckle and George ‘Christmas comes early to the Thorp’s residence whenever I’m officiating in the Mudlark gym’ Thompson.”

Okay, I went a little wild with the last few. It’s Christmas, the time for giving.

Huge shout-out to Amberdean Adwell of Louisville, Kentucky. I gained a lot of respect for her yesterday when the Pizza Hut on Dixie Highway and Lower Hunters Trace was just SWAMPED. Her grace under pressure and deft aplomb got us all out of a very tight spot so that we could all laugh about it later on. Sounds like leadership to me. She proved why she is one of the managers and why people respect that. She also goes to school as well. Gang, I think that represents America and how America should go about its business. Anyone who can balance work and personal life like that deserves my respect and should get yours as well, Gang. Next time you see her, Gang, salute her. America needs her.


And then Thorpiverse graces us with a stocking stuffer, those crotch shots in P1. When I was taking TV Techniques in high school, Mr. Edelman, our teacher,  made his point how big of a no-no the Crotch Shot was by allowing the camera to be zoomed in on him while he’s being interviewed, then standing up to stretch while the camera man was caught napping. Mr. Edelman made his point.

But Thorpiverse is proudly wearing the Crotch Shot as a Badge of Honor as if that is all there is to basketball. I may not hit the backboard when I’m shooting 3’s or jump higher than a hippo when I’m going for the rebound but if my see-through gym shorts and matching jock strap are good enough for the camera, by gum, I’m on the team. No tryout necessary.

I’ll have to remember that the next time I’m watching The NBA on CBS at Christmas.

“Reggggiiiiieeeeee for 3!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

BOOM BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“And the Pacers lead by 12 with 3:53 left in the 3rd quarter. Slick, you think Reggie oughta pull up his shorts?”

“I was wonderin’ if anybody had noticed. The camera guy musta spilled his Starbucks when Reggie was shootin’, Mark.”


Then, besides Ted Bessell taking in a game after a heated argument with That Girl on where to move the Christmas tree (“Not near the World Book Encyclopedias!!!!!!!!! And I’m not using Gil’s hair as a star for the top of the tree!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”, I noticed Bobby Howry taking in a game. Or so the Milford Enquirer would have you think


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Mimi Thorp: ‘I Saw Booby And Elvis In The Home Opener!!!!!!!!!!!!! They Were Sitting By The Visitors’ Bench!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Elvis escorted out by security after lewd comments directed at Gil’s mother.


Gang, I’m a Classic Rocker ’til I die (The Rolling Stones, The Who, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, etc.) but don’t the rest of you Classic Rockers or population in general get annoyed when those so-called commercial-free Classic Rock stations prate about how commercial-free they are?

“We’re commercial-free so we don’t do any talking. We know when to shut up when all the other stations keep flapping their jaws and talk about Happy Hour at Milford Lounge or The Bucket because we can’t stand it when the DJ talks about how wonderful Breeze detergent is, that it makes his clothes whiter than Porter Waggoner’s hair or Dolly Parton’s Cold Creme and that he wipes his ass with the Breeze towel that came out of the Breeze Detergent box when he’s not using it to polish Gil’s bowling ball, we know when to shut up when the other radio stations won’t shut up, we know how to keep Mimi’s love affairs to a minimum-”


“And that was my station manager making a request, The Purple People Eater, spinning your way now…”


And isn’t that what we’ve endured the last 2 weeks?

“Other comic strips talk on and on but we here at Thorpiverse know when to get to the point. While Dennis the Menace pitches a tent in Mr. Wilson’s living room, Alexa the IBM is swatting away her opponent’s shot, while Charlie Brown is calling Linus a wussie for clinging to his security blanket for 3 months, Mudlarks are displaying their private parts as a sign they’re ready for Tip-off…”


There, I feel better.


Come to Jeff Smith Marathon in Edwardsville, Indiana and say hi to Crystal, Bre, and Georgiana. They keep the place humming and treat the customer like family. And the place is ALWAYS busy. They are ALWAYS working on cars and trucks. Do things VERY well and at affordable prices and you have a winning business. Factor in great gasoline and my vehicle is on the road chewin’ up the miles. Don’t take my word for it. Take Exit 118 off I-64 in Indiana and get on Indiana 62 west. Once off the freeway, it’s the first road to your left. You can’t miss the building. Come see what I mean and get in on the fun at Jeff Smith Marathon.

Support Small Business, Gang. You need to go where EVERYBODY knows your name. Crystal and Bre and Georgiana know mine.



And the action indicates that all of Springfield’s basketball team, bench included, will utilize the Doc Councilman Indiana University Swimming Breast Stroke Method to shoot 3’s, being somewhat guarded by the Mudlark with the pancake on his head. Well, there might be a few bugs in the system but we have action. One can’t have one’s cake and eat it too.

“Who’s guarding that guy with the yarmulke? Stay on him, he’s got 13 already.”


If ya git promoted ta producer cuz ya wuz the cameraman for RBN (Redneck Broadcasting Network) and ya showed more crack than a sidewalk when they wuz lined up fer the free throws ta be shot, ya might be a redneck.


But in P3, who’s doing the clamping? The Mudlark looks like he’s getting a garden hose job while Edward InvertedScissorsHands is making an attempt to secure the ball, futile as it appears to be.

We appreciate Thorpiverse getting an early jump on basketball, Lord knows we were holding our breath until Valentine’s Day but the Mudlark in P3 appears to about to get the Pile Driver applied to him. Oh well, if this is Thorpiverse’s way of clamping down, shooting a breakaway layup while getting body-slammed, it’s a start.


“Yeah, yeah, Coach Thorp, I know when to shut up. The other players may say ‘up yours’ and ‘Only The Muppets can coach better than you’ and ‘Bob Knight threw a chair at your wife’s 5-game season’ but I know how to shut up and listen to you teaching how to take a charge or readjust my jock strap when I’m itching like Lassie or get out of the lane before the ref calls 3 seconds unless we’re continually shooting at the basket-”



Looney Tunes will never be looked at the same way.


“And that’s halftime here in Springfield, with the score, Springfield, 31, Milford, 28. The Mudlarks have made some defensive adjustments, no thanks to Coach T.’s inept coaching, and they’re paying off here. If you’re in the area, come on down for the game. The gym is easy to locate, the building is the only one with crooked doors. And we’ll be back after these messages, this is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”


“Isn’t high school basketball exciting. I can’t wait until Martin Luther King’s Birthday when we host the Kris Kringle Holiday Tournament.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp and speaking of exciting, Milford Beverage Warehouse has a promo for you. For every bottle of Korbel Extra Dry Champagne you buy, the Warehouse will enter you in our Sweepstakes Drawing for a chance to win a trip for four to the Budweiser Clydesdale Horse Farm. Boy, I’d love to show my kids how they make horses and Bud Lite straight out of the stable. And no better time for romance than for me and Mimi to walk the Clydesdale and Coffee Tree Heritage Trail that runs through the woods of the estate. Even as we speak, I’m envisioning kissing under a poplar tree while some squirrel is barking its head off at a nearby oak tree. Nuts and nuzzling just go together like a Bud Dry and pretzels.

But even if you don’t win, you won’t go away empty-handed. The consolation prize is a bag of liquor goodies guaranteed to cure the beer tooth in your family. I understand some lucky loser is going to have a plastic bag of a bottle of Four Freedoms Vodka, The Recipient Cabernet in the 750 ml size, some M & M’s, a coupon for a free Bucket Buffalo Chicken Burger, a set of Paper-Mate pens in blue ink, and a $25 gift card from Milford 24-Hour Coin Laundry. Y’know, I’m in Heaven whenever I’m steam-cleaning my Hanes while sipping on a Cabernet, aren’t you? And even if you don’t get a chance to take the Clydesdale wagon for a ride around the lake, you may not have your Class B license, but you may have a chance at a plastic bag full of Miller High Life in the 12-Pack, 1.75 Liter bottle of Evan Williams Bourbon, a bag of Cheetos, Jalapeno-style, Gillette Trac II Triple Blade Disposable Razors, and some Breeze towels. Hey, Porter Waggoner knows where to go for the best deals on booze.

And even better news is this year’s event will be held under the tight security of the Milford Police Department Horse Patrol Guard. There’ll be no more incidents like last year of any shooting while a plastic bag of Coors Light 18-Pack and Tootsie Rolls is attempted to be doled out to its rightful owner. Rifle checks will be taken at the door, so please, you miscreants, don’t ruin all the fun just because you didn’t get your Bud and Blow Pops. Leave the gun on the gun rack.

Come in and enter for your chance to watch how Clydesdales breed and let the birds and bees shower you with gifts notwithstanding, only at Milford Beverage Warehouse. And tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

Thanks to Chloe Whitaker who helped spark the last comedy idea. Your Christmas gift of a bag of goodies and gift card was extremely thoughful and shows how much you care about the people working under you.  Treat her with respect, Gang, she’s earned it. God bless you, Chloe.


Gang, enjoy the Holidays. God bless you again.


Holiday Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Clydesdale horse found mixed up with meat processed from Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage plant!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“O.J.: ‘I told Cochran I was wondering why my Kielbasa Fritters and Pancakes breakfast tasted funny.”


Mugsy and Rocky rob the Milford Federal Credit Union and get in the getaway car. They find Bobby Howry and Bugs Bunny in the back seat, the latter pair thinking it’s a taxi

“Awright, Booby, whattya know?”

“Know? I know Bugs Bunny could broadcast better than Marty Moon, Milford is the capital of Cartoonland, Gil has no sex life with Mimi and has 2 kids to show for it-


“Oh, don’t you worry, Rocky, when I’m told to shut up, I shut up, I don’t drag a plot for 5 months and call it football, when I know I should shave like Chet Ballard, I shut up-”


Mugsy, driving the getaway car, intervenes

“Duhhhhhhh, gee, Boss, Bugs and Booby are right, the basketball plot could last until Memorial Day and I don’t want no basketballs at the Indy 500-”



November 29, 2019

This storylines’ a real turkey

Filed under: actual action, Marty Moon, Milford Idiots, Milford Weirdos — robmize2013 @ 9:39 pm

The story drags on with Marty basically jumping off Ballards ship, much like Clarence Boddicker and Dick Jones partnership fell apart in RoboCop after Clarence involved Jones in his criminal doings.

Hopefully Chet will only go to jail and not wind up fired like Dick Jones in the end– maybe Chief Lind will do the honors this time.

November 28, 2019

Get Out Of This Comic Strip, You Misguided Puppet.


For Thanksgiving,  I wish nothing but the finest for all of you. May God have you prosper at work, at home, and with your family.

I am VERY thankful for the TWIMers who keep this thing going. You amaze me, people. What started out with one person has branched out into a pitch-in campaign and that’s what makes the humor that much more effective. In the nearly two years on the staff, I humbly sit back and watch you people write your stuff and I am never disappointed.

I am nothing without Jesus Christ. He makes it possible to write this nonsense and I praise Him several times over. He has blessed me on the site and off the site, i.e., my family, home, work, everyday living, and that makes Thanksgiving truly a holiday for me.

You may worship a different God. If so, give Him your best if you don’t worship mine, is all I ask. Either way, a HUGE thank you for all that you do, Gang. Again, Thanksgiving is not the same without you. You all mean the world to me.


Is Chet Ballard in trouble. How else could you explain the extra Magic Marker stains on his forehead, hair, apparel, beard, well, I wouldn’t go that far on the last one. Maybe lice but not Magic Markers. The lack of trimming of his beard or ethics is enough of a smudge mark(s).

Black Bart, Snidely Whiplash, The Joker, Jerry Pulver have all challenged Gilberto the last 60 years. As you can see, in spite of lack of coaching or styling mousse (dips his hair in the same vat where Crayolas are allowed to cool and settle) , Gilberto is always Last Man Standing. What makes Chet think he’d be an exception? When you have a weasel for a School Superintendent suddenly coming across like Wyatt Earp, Chet should have seen the signs. Wrist snapped back into place after Howard Elston nee Elston Howard finally got his Tinkertoy parts FedExed, conversations with Filet Mignon Head the Receptionist, Mrs. Roh appearing on Divorce Court. You didn’t notice, Chet? You might have a fine six-shooter but if Gil’s been lugging around a cannon for six decades…

“I’m Doug Llewellyn, reminding you that if you’re husband hasn’t pared his beard since FDR implemented the TVA program and is a stiff-necked lout with more teeth than moral behavior, and try as you might to tell him not to pick the lock on the door leading into the students’ records, let alone hot-wire the Macys’ station wagon when the Die Hard battery failed in his own vehicle, don’t call Don Corleone and have him dumped in Mudlark Lake. Take him to court.”

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Judge Wapner Orders Chet Ballard To Hand Over Stolen Records Of O.J.’s College Transcript!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“A lot of good that did. We still wound up in second place in the Milford Parks & Recreation Adult Flag Football League.”


And to think, Marjie and Janis Ian thought that Mr. Flex-Name, er, School Superintendent couldn’t bring Chet to his knees. Amazing what happens when you actually exercise your authority, especially when the crime was painfully obvious. Guess he got his head out of his butt and saw daylight and the truth, whichever came first. This Bud’s for you, Flex.


Now I’m helpless, it’s a killing spree

This travesty and farce will drive me to the sea

It took some time to plan where I’m coerced to flee

The Mudlark team is all coming after me

I had no thought about my own reward

I cheated without Chance or Charlie’s firm accord

Just don’t say I’m



Andrew Lloyd Webber couldn’t have said it any better.


Now, come on, Chet. Extenuating circumstances? We’ve been reading the Milford National Toilet for 3-4 months and have observed Gil not doing his job because he was riding in the back seat with Friday and Gannon and have watched Marjie conduct what amounted to an audit when she wasn’t puking with Sam Finn over Manwiches  and Canada Dry during the same length of time and you can’t lie any better than THAT????? You better upgrade your prevarications to “I was bitten by a zombie and therefore was not in  my right mind when I walked in with the combination to the records vault at Milford High School Complex that I stole from Dr. Pearl’s purse under her Pond’s Cold Cream and walked away with Chance’s time at Devil’s Island when Chance was rooming in the same stockade with Papillon” if you want to earn your 30 pieces of silver is all I can say.


If ya turn in a poacher and the Con-ser-va-shun Officer tries ta reward ya with 30 pieces of silver but ya turn it down and insist on a 6-month supply of ammo instead cuz ya cain’t shoot an 8-pointer with 30 pieces of silver, especially during bow season, ya might be a redneck.


P2-now that we’re in the High Horse section of today’s strip NO WAY do any censures or castigations of a general nature occur WITH A HALO SURROUNDING HIM OR HER. I know we’re going for the inspiration angle here but Gil cussing out Kaz because the laundry lady forgot to wash all the jock straps before kickoff with Gil environed with St. Elmo’s Fire just doesn’t cut it.

But let’s examine a few more examples for all you stubborn mules who don’t know when to say “uncle”.

“Gil, get out of the trash can!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Milford Sanitary Disposal, Inc. picked up the trash this morning. The Totino’s  Supreme is long gone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Peaches, I’m pumping as fast as I can!!!!!!!!!!!! Why don’t you go brush your teeth? I should be good to go by the time you come to bed.”

“Darling, quit sneaking out with my dentures!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nobody respects a principal  of the school if she metes out In-School Suspension displaying her gums!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There’s an ample supply under the sink!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Oh wow, Beaver, when Dad comes home and finds out that Ms. Rizk caught you jacking off her typewriter, you’re gonna get clobbered!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Somebody’s been dumping rabbit meat in the Spaghetti O’s again and I will fire the next cafeteria lady caught dragging in Bugs Bunny!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Catwoman, I perform oral sex when I’m off the clock!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now it’s time to send you up the river to the Milford Women’s Correctional Facility!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Always after  me Lucky Charms!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The last one was on the house.


I did it cuz I had to, I’m the one who saw.

That Chance never polished all his silly flaws

Moreover there’s an issue that I hate to broach

He lacerated the jaws of his clueless coach

I had not thought about my own reward

Though I wouldn’t mind driving home with Gil’s Accord

Just don’t say I’m



And I know that Thorpiverse is trying to create the right mood given the situation at hand but does anyone think Il Barbiere di Siviglia as a Moor is a bit much, especially when it’s mixed in with the clown paint before he lets ‘er rip with Vesti La Giubba? I know Thorpiverse and Pagliacci were collaborating in order to ensure proper effect but putting on clown paint when you’re already a clown, let alone that life goes on even if Mrs. Roh runs off with Steve Luhm is throwing one too many irons in the bonfire at the Milford Pep Rally. And Il Barbiere’s nightmare has just begun, not sidetracked looking like The Joker after Catwoman split on you without signing the divorce papers. Looking like Bozo whwn you’re already Bozo anyway isn’t going to stop Pontius Pilate and his Ring of Fire he borrowed from Johhnny Cash from pointing a finger at you. It’s never too late for Il Barbiere to get his A license and drive semi’s.



On a recent episode of Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw

Racing his butt off in his Range Rover, Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw, after leaving the iceberg in the background that had more parallel lines, eyes his target.

“All right, Goofy, take off your  mask and let me see your driver’s license and registration.”

“But I’m not wearing a mask. I just tanned a little too long on the tanning bed at Milford 24-hour Laundromat.

“That;s what they all say. But I noticed you didn’t bring any Mudlark Cling-Free sheets. Dead giveaway. They always wind up with static on their Breeze towels when the sun lamp goes haywire and they don’t have an updated registration.”

“They’re holding up my face.”


And I remember from my school days when I attended a Model UN Conference. I represented Austria so I was mainly a minor player since Austria never mixed it up with, say, the U.S. and the USSR in negotiations. Anyway, we had an issue on the table that involved Israel and the PLO. Naturally, true to the real world model of the UN, the one representing Israel and the one representing the PLO are slugging it out, the rest of us trying to mediate the conflict, again as in the actual UN proceedings.

And somewhere in the middle of the presentations, Israel is flailing of course at the PLO but then, while discussing a potential agreement, the Israel representative yielded the rest of his time to the PLO, something Israel would NEVER do in the UN proceedings.

That’s why I had to adjust my set on WDIG-TV. I could have sworn I saw Marty Moon tell the truth about Gil. Sometimes the antenna outside gets chewed on by the raccoon in the neighborhood. Santa has been known to have had one Mudlar-K-Cola Non-Alcoholic too many and trip over the antenna while trying to get to the chimney with his bag of toys. And sometimes Donner and Blitzen dump their poop around the area.

If Santa curbed his reindeer, Chet’s in a lot of trouble. Chet’s running out of friends and if Marty yields the rest of his time to Gil, it’s time to head to Antarctica. Hope he doesn’t mind living with penguins.


Thank you for trashing his personal file

We’re grateful for info that’s meant to hurt

You’ll be richly rewarded with coins by the mile

It’s a pleasure to deal with a man of your worth



Oh, why don’t you take it, our wages are good


You’ve hurt Chance’s chances, we think that you should


Think of the many ways you can spend it

The Bucket, a steak house, The Milford Lounge

Just look at it as payment for setting things straight

30 pieces of silver is the least we can

Least we can

Least we can



“Don’t go away. We will return for Chance’s crucifixion on Jesus Christ Superstar after these messages. This is WDIG-TV.”


At the Milford Soup Kitchen on Thanksgiving

“Good Lord, I just swallowed an army boot!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage claimed they used no fillers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Anybody know the number of The Shark?”

“It’s bad enough that one person got nailed to a tree and another soon to follow but while you’re keeping track of the 39 floggings out there, you can wash YOUR hands of your own affairs by calling  1-FON-THE-JAWS. Thanksgiving handouts shouldn’t have to be hazardous dump roped off by the EPA.”

“I got a check for $4,754,968,256 from Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage after The Shark took out his 20%. I was able to buy the ladles at the Soup Kitchen and shave my scraggly beard. I got tired of looking like Chet Ballard with hand-me-downs he got from Milford Thrift Store. People were always asking me about insurance while I was in line getting mulligan stew dumped on my tray. Now I can scrape my succotash with day-old Wonder Bread in peace. Thanks, Shark.”

“Insurance companies are hard at work covering their own end. Don’t let Gil drop a fly in your soup. Thanksgiving is a time to be thankful, not sorting out elephant turds in sausage that Mr. Thorp calls fillers. If your own Thanksgiving celebration is wet from all the pee that one of your hobo friends at The Kitchen let loose on the Cool Whip, that shouldn’t stop you from enjoying the pumpkin pie. Get the money you deserve to replace the Cool Whip and enjoy your own rhubarb pie.”

“I got 39,576 tubs of Cool Whip stuffed in my locker at the Milford Shelter. I can eat real pumpkin pie and turkey plus Jimmy Dean Pure Pork Sausage as an appetizer. The rest of the money I’ll invest in long-term bonds. Thanks, Shark.”

“You heard the man. come reap the rewards of your own handout. One call, that’s all.”


Thanks for your patience, Gang. Thanksgiving was truly good to me today. Working with my great nephew in basketball, playing games with the rest of the kids, being with my mom and dad and several nieces and nephews, while enjoying my sister’s cooking and watching Thanksgiving football just gave me several more reasons to be thankful. I hope you can say the same.


Always knew that I’d be a frickin’ Mudlark

Always knew I’d be one if I tried

Then when I leave school

I can lounge like Gil Thorp

So they’ll all emulate us when we die

November 19, 2019

I heard Marjie Rapping, Rapping At My Door.


Uh oh.

Whenever Marty casts that evil eye and leaves the Milford Recreational Sports 60th Annual Darts Tournament, you know something’s cooking between those ears of his. You just don’t execute a couple of bulls-eyes while you observe your overmatched opponent possess the aim of a welder when he has his gloves still on while still trying to solder the Anchor Pub sign back into place. The results are all over the dart board, literally, in back of Marty while he soaks in the Bud and the gossip. Sorta like walking and chewing gum at this point, when you think about it.

“Okay, Marty, you’re up.”

“I’ll skip this round. I have a great chance of winning the Masters 60 & Over Tournament later on anyway. Whose my opponent? Roy Gillen? In the bag. Anyway, Chet, so you say he mooned his kindergarten teacher and got due-processed? Before or after the teachers threw an Oreo in his chest at naptime?”


Once upon a plotline dreary, our interest weak and weary

I heard a tapping, tapping at my door

Coach Luhm came in to buffer like no tomorrow

We had no aegis with which to borrow

The buffer and the soap (opera) both caused great sorrow

But you could store one back in the closet

The other remained with us



If ya gotta pursue the rent-a-trap route from Milford U-Haul after the crow done disturbed yore beauty sleep where yuz fantasizin’ about bein’ arm-and-arm with the 400-pound beauty queen in yore department on third shift at work and it takes forever ta set up the trap cuz the UPS driver forgot ta send the instruction manual, ya might be a redneck.


Unfortunately, our TWIMers may prove correct, i.e., Marty may rat out Chet rather than use the artillery Chet provides. I liked Teenchy’s omerta comparision because Marty may not only not recycle Chet’s lowdown on Chance’s truancy from Song Flute class but may use info like that to stultify Chet.

“So what if Chance couldn’t toot “On the Banks of the Wabash?. Hell, I had trouble accompanying the soloist on “MacArthur Park.” Did you ever try to keep up with Richard Harris on a song flute?”


Heard blasting on Gil’s speakers out of his Chevy Nova one day while he applies Turtle Wax Lime to the hood, the vocorder proudly proclaiming the message from Parsons’ “Tales of Mystery and Imagination”

While I was vacuuming

And emptying ash trays

I heard a knocking at my door


It wasn’t a Witness

No Girl Scout selling

Her fudgies evermore


In my amazement

She stood there intending

My assistance to implore


A School Board member

Must be dismembered

So we won’t hear



Thus quoth Gilberto


Thus quoth Gilberto



Nevermore Nevermore Nevermore


Nevermore Nevermore Nevermore


Nevermore Nevermore Nevermore





Thank you to the Milford Chorale Society for the accompaniment to Ian Bairnson, Stuart Tosh, London Symphony Orchestra, etc.

Oh, and kudos to Milford Pawn ‘n’ Carry for the vocorder


I mean, Chet better watch his backside here. Which, if everything goes according to script, is really the idea. Chet’s about to get hoisted by his own petard because any time you unload confidential information to Loony Moony, well, you Hooligans know what the OTHER Loony Moony did with those cars. Wound up in Davy Jones Locker at some podunk Holiday Inn, last I recall. Chet, YOU might find yourself in the bottom of the swimming pool at the Oakwood Holiday Inn alomg with Chance’s parole records for the month of February if you continue this conversation at The Pub That Serves Anchors and Onion Rings and Darts That Are Really Dr. Pearl’s Knitting Needles.

Oh, pay no mind to Marty’s leer. He gets that way when he’s welcoming new members of the Wide Path of Destruction. Those Boys Town records of Chance you got FedExed from Father Flanagan ought to be secure at the safe deposit box at the Post Office while you’re attending Marty’s Day of Reckoning.


Because I’m really unsure why there’s a tanning clinic under the same roof as a laundromat like I saw recently


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Sent To Minor Emergency Clinic After Overexposure To UV Rays From Heat Lamp At Milford 24-Hour Coin Laundry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“The damn rinse cycle took FOREVER to complete. I had to insert an extra quarter or two just to kick-start it.”


And the silken and uncertain rustling of this plot

Killed me-filled me with needless terrors and ennui I have felt in baseball and golf before

So that now, to the stagnation of everyone concerned, I stood repeating

‘Tis some muckraker entreating entrance at my chamber door

Some Grantland Rice-wannabe entreating entrance at my chamber door

That it is and nothing more


We will return to this Masterpiece Theater Father Brown Mystery in a moment but first let me explore the meaning of the phrase “to chat up”.

Now I can understand Chet and Marty CHATTING at the Anchor Pub in the family room because ya gotta leave your attitude and your gossip at the entrance leading into the bar. No discussion of Chance’s molestation of Milford Head Start children accusations when he was in charge of leading recess (“Okay, kiddies, grab your private parts and go ‘I think I can, I think I can…”) or when he sent Grandma Macy to Milford General Hospital because she served the wrong Hamburger Helper (“I wanted PORK and pasta!!!!!!!!!!”) .

And I can understand General Lee and General Grant CHATTING at Appomattox when discussing terms of surrender (“Sure, everybody can keep their pistols. Just gotta drop your Winchesters in the bin. So how’s your boy doing? Did you have to hold him back another year?”) .

And I can understand Batman and Robin CHATTING before they break into that deserted warehouse that hasn’t been used since the old ladies moved to Lowell, Massachusetts to comtinue their 18-hour shift of looming and weaving to arrest The Joker (“You’re flunking Phys Ed, Robin?”) .


A better question is

WHO CHATS UP???????????????


When Franklin Delano Roosevelt sponsored his Fireside Chats, he never, ever CHATTED UP the Tennessee Valley Authority project. Didn’t CHAT UP the WPA. Hitler was never CHATTED UP like it was North Carolina CHATTING UP Duke or vice versa (FUCK HOLLAND) . I mean, if I want to CHAT UP my Muriel cigar, I’ll go get my Zippo, thank you very much.

Anybody want the rest of these Bucket Buffalo Wings, BTW? Otherwise, I’m going to CHAT THEM UP.

Marjie is CHATTING UP the door in P2. And looks like she got an answer. Those Avon techniques work every time.


Open here I flung through Marjie’s peruke, when,

After many a spit and sputter

In stepped Margaret Nutchall’s mom after

Giving Dennis the Menace a/ka Chet

A tongue-lashing

But, with mien or otherwise uninvited, perched at my chamber door

Settled on a bust of Gil when he just used Tegrin Medicated Shampoo on his hair

She settled and the plot did nothing more


“…still paying extra for your lodging accommodations? Well, at Milford Motel Econo-Stay, you get a nice quiet room for $27 less than Milford Courtyard by Marriott. When Mimi’s aunt stayed a couple of days while traveling the country, why did she need to pay an extra 27 simoleons for a Gideon’s Bible? She brought her own, there was none in the drawer…”


P3-“We had made passionate love at the Milford Motel Econo-Stay…”

Well, what else could it be at this point as people have been doing more investigating than Smiley’s People? I have always liked reading John Le Carre, his deliberate style to FINALLY nail a Doctor No or some Soviet flunky who has engineered a plan to take over West Berlin by slipping past Checkpoint Charlie with the conspiracy hidden in Gil’s hair but do we really honestly have to read about this in Mudlarkland? Before it’s all said and done, Chance will be executed by a firing squad for treason right before kickoff to Valley Tech.

And who’s Ms. Forsman? Is she related to The Joker, given her choice of slacks which runs in synchronization with that villain’s wardrobe? Is THIS the reason why we gotta keep it real in P3 because Chance was seen in the Jokermobile aiding and abetting in the cause when The Joker and his gang set out to rob The Bucket? Well, The Joker doesn’t wear chunky earrings. And Chance may still have to answer for his possible Boys Town record but we don’t think Father Flanagan taught him to be a Commie rat. There’s hope.

Now we have it reduced to “Editor, Reporter, Sailor, Spy” Ducey and her tea time and scones with Mrs. Joker. I can’t wait for this Le Carre novel to be released next month. Oughta be exciting. Definitely more than this plot anyway.


Because I’m intrgued when kids sing around the campfire while dad has finally conquered his ED problems as I saw in an ad


“…take one down, pass it around, 97 bottles of beer on the wall-”

“Honnnneeeyyyyyyy, I’m glad you brought the kids along for our Milford Marraige Enrichment Seminar but we slid the credit card for the that cabin here at Mudlark Lake for a reasonnnnnnnnn. And I’m hornnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

“Just when we’re getting to the best part? Heck, Mrs. Shaw, I still haven’t opened that other bag of Milford Kwik-ee Mart Munchy Marshmallows? Okay, kiddies, who needs a stick? I can always rip a branch off that sugar maple over yonder.”

“Darling, that’s what the baby-sitter is for. Now put that Beanie-Weenie down and let’s do our own roasting in that nice comfy feather bed, the one that comes with a Gideon’s Bible.”

“Okay, who knows the words to Camptown Races?

Camptown Races sing this song

Doo Dah

Doo Dah

Find Chance’s bio and don’t be long

Oh Doo Dah Day-”

“This Camptown Race is taking way too long. You can always air guitar at the Enrichment Seminar Jamboree.”

“Just when I was doing my best Joe Walsh? Okay, boys and girls, repeat after me



“Honey, is your wim wim as lame as that Oscar Meyer Wiener you’re roasting?”

Coach Shaw, getting desperate

“Oh I wish were as hard as this Oscar Meyer Wienerrrrrrrrr

Then my wife would truly be in love with me”


The kids understandably befuddled.

“Those aren’t the words.”


“When the hot dogs were firing up faster than my Significant Other, it was time to ‘fess up and head to Milford Men’s Clinic. You don’t need a pin oak branch to roast this bad boy and with proven treatment plans that work, isn’t it time you sang “Happy Days Are Here Again” at your next wienie roast? And they left the light on when me and Mrs. Shaw entered the cabin for our own Marshmallow Enrichment Seminar. Come get your own silver maple branch and start roasting the Vienna sausages only at The Clinic. You’ll be glad you did.”

Thanks again for your patience, Gang. I owe you one.


As I pondered, pondered the question

Whether my beloved Lenore would outlast this plot

The Raven, fresh from flatulating from a Burger at The Bucket

Reflected upon my inquisitive nature

Insensitive and inured to my desperate plight and the buffoonery therewith

And uttered






“Get to The Clinic. You’ll have 15 minutes before it closes.”

Gil puts “Rocks” back in the saddle, er, album sleeve

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