This Week in Milford

August 7, 2020

Lary Who?

Filed under: baseball, football, Gil Thorp, Milford Alumni — robmize2013 @ 8:41 pm

True details why he isnt playing football, and its pretty much like almost every other pigskin superstar failure– always hurt. But you can get pneumonia playing tiddly winks, True.

Then we really get into the wild and crazy world of comics– oh I’ll just try baseball one day. Yes we know he has a great (right) arm, but the farther you get in the baseball chain, the less you can just depend on natural ability because the better players at higher levels can hit a fastball no matter how hard its thrown.

How long did he go to college and get all these injuries, then still have time, one spring, to not only Start playing baseball, but get good enough to play college ball and get drafted? I mean, dont you only get 4 years of eligibility?

And how many people point at their Cap when saying they tried baseball? As if the listener didnt connect wearing a Rays hat with being a big league ball player? Oh wait, I know a thousand dopes walking around right this minute with baseball caps on who couldnt play dead if they were escorted onto a diamond by Willie Mays himself. So why the hell is he pointing at his cap?? Really looks cool huh?

Oh yeah, and Lary Sorenson the announcer, who played dreadfully for the Cubs in the 80’s….. https://www.baseball-reference.com/players/s/sorenla01.shtml

……and who True wouldnt know from Adam since he retired 32 years ago, helped him become who he is, which is … nobody at the moment. Boy, you get taught by a major league mope like Lary Sorenson, you deserve to have a GIRL catching for you to demonstrate your limited baseball prowess to a guy who’s on summer vacation teaching golf to kids.

The only thing I have in common with Lary Sorenson is… we both have 1 R in our first names. He was as forgettable as this TV show:

August 5, 2020

Corina Karenna Will Have None of Your Mansplaining

Filed under: baseball, Gil Thorp, hideous scar faces, Milford Alumni, Pissy faced Gil — teenchy @ 8:35 am

gt08052020

Well butter my ass and call me a biscuit. Rubin has given Corina a bit of a backbone in today’s strip. You think he’s finally been paying attention to all our comments about his numerous Bechdel test fails and his killing off of practically the only strong female character he’d created in ages? Yeah, me neither.

Still, I’m gonna enjoy her dissmissing Gil for as long as it happens. I’d also enjoy it if she blew off True and told him to just tell her what’s coming and throw the damn ball. She’s here to catch, not learn whatever signs he’s making up for the day. Besides, isn’t it the catcher’s job to put down the signs and the pitcher’s to just nod or shake his head then pitch? True can brush his chest as much as he wants to as long as he doesn’t brush Corina’s.

Oh, who am I kidding? Corina’s probably getting set up as another spunky, short-haired love interest for True. Let’s just hope she doesn’t end up driving a Jeep Compass. BTW, take a gander at P3 in that last hyperlink. Looks like True did remember where his future was, contrary to Gil’s advice. Mr. Coach Thorp needs to stagger back to the MCC and maintain his buzz while he pretends to show grammar school kids how to swing a golf club.

July 31, 2020

Come On Maureen

 
 
 
 
 
Poor old Phoebe K
Sounded sad she lost her Alexa
But she found Corinna Karenna
Their waitress knew
All about Hiawatha
True is grown  (so grown)
So grown (so grown up)

Now the girls can be so clever

Too ra loo ra too ra loo rye ay

And there’s a huge mitt on the table
 
 
Come on, Maureen, oh I swear (what she means)
At this moment, you know everything
You need more tips, that mitt I confess
Is so dirty
Ah, come on, Maureen
 
Come on, Maureen.
 
 
 
The Mayor ’round here
Was beaten down, eyes sunk in Val Mod place
They’re resigned to what their fate is
But not  (no, never), no, not us (no, never)
Phoebe’s far too young and clever
(Remember)
Too ra loo ra too ra loo rye aye
And you’ll  dance with True  forever…
 
 
Come on, Maureen, oh, I swear (what he means)
Ah, come on let’s tell him everything
Rina’s a catch, Maureen (tell him yes)
Ah, come on let’s, ah, come on, Maureen
Milfords a mess, Maureen (nothing less)
Ah, come on, fess
Ah come on Maureen…
 
 
Come on, Maureen, too rye aye
Come on, Maureen, too rye aye
Now you’re full grown
Now you have shown
Oh, Maureen
Said, come on, Maureen
That mitt it is  real and I know
How you feel
Now True must say more than ever
Things ’round here have changed
I say, too ra loo ra, too raloo rye aye
Come on, Maureen
Oh, I swear (what he means)
At this moment, you mean everything
You in that dress, True’s thoughts are a mess
Table’s dirty
Ah, come on, Maureen
 
 
Oh, come on, Maureen
Oh, I swear (what he means)
At this moment, he needs every lead
Who you address, Hiawatha is next
Theyre all  dirty
Come on, Maureen
Come on, Maureen
 
 

 
 
 
 

July 25, 2020

They Tried to Make Me Go to Milford

Well robmize gently reminded me that I was covering for him this week, so let me get on the stick and give you a twofer.

July 24, 2020

gt07242020

You know, if this whole summer plot turned out to be nothing but Corinna tossing off one-liners about her family’s criminal past, I could live with it.

Speaking of burning things, Mimi’s gonna end up with some pretty serious burns herself if she doesn’t stop choking up on that spatula. The handle’s there for a reason, Mimi! Luckily she appears to be grilling on a Hammond B3. In any event, Gil is too hammered to notice.

July 25, 2020

gt07252020

You know, if this whole summer plot turned out to be nothing but drunk, glassy-eyed Gil tossing off Captain Obvious one-liners, I could live with it.

“True should be in rookie camp but the minor leagues have been scrapped this season due to the pandemic he has some lame-assed excuse to come back to Milford.” Quick cut back to the MCC where Gil, with yet another drink glued to his hand, gets the beginning of True Standish’s sob story. Hard to believe it’s been almost five years since True led the Mudlarks to a football state championship and, aside from that little mishap with his girlfriend BFF, had the world on a string. How far and how fast can True fall? Will he be selling industrial solvents on the old Del Bader route before we’re through?

Let’s not cast True aside so quickly. Maybe he can hook up with Trey Davis. I hear Trey’s full-service.

July 22, 2020

Les Expos(ition) sont là, part deux

gt07222020

Called it! Well, kinda sorta, except for the wearing one’s employer’s uniform in public part.

Phoebe has a habit of pointing at everything and everybody a lot, even by Milford standards, so pointing to the diner door to call out True seems a bit belabored. Corinna’s words say “big whoop” but her rapidly swelling hands say otherwise. Careful, Ms. Karenina: sassy, athletic girls who get involved with True come to bad ends.

Corrina’s zinger in P2 pretty much sums up every summer Gil Thorp arc ever and, in a more normal world, should’ve been today’s post title. But nothing is normal these days. Major League Baseball is getting ready to kick off its regular season tomorrow evening, with a 60-game schedule, new rules straight out of the sandlot, and no fans in the stands. Anything and everything that happens in the game this season will be forever tagged with the mother of all asterisks. Besides, it also gives me an excuse to post this, again, something that every wise NL East scoreboard operator should play when the Nats come to town:

Now let’s sit back for the rest of the week and wait for True to explain how he went from being Wake Forest’s QB of the future to a potential future playing in front of sparse crowds in the worst stadium in the majors, and somehow giving Gil credit for it.

July 18, 2020

Thirsty Week in Milford

gt07182020

Look out, Milford! Corina and Phoebe are off to do some crimes! Will they go get sushi and not pay?

Not at the Milford Diner, they won’t! They’re gonna get coked up first. Is all this talk of crime and confrontation getting Corina thirsty for more than just a Coke?

Perhaps this chivalrous gent in the Tampa Bay Rays cap can slake that thirst. Alert TWIMers (i.e., most TWIMers) have speculated said gent is unicorn in cleats True Standish. True left for Wake Forest in the fall of 2016 where he was slated to compete for a quarterback spot. He did wow some scouts during his brief stint as Mudlark bullpen ace, but was that enough to lead him down the path of a baseball career? Even if it was, True was shown not to be the kind of guy to call attention to himself by wearing gimme gear, even if it’s from his employer.

So there’s your Saturday cliffhanger, gentle readers. Comment away and don’t be like me  – stay safe, cool and hydrated.

August 17, 2019

Oh Yeah? Jump On This!

gt08172019

Well, I’m glad that’s settled. Ed is neither the express nor implied racist we suspected him to be (or, at least, he’s not gonna cop to that). Neither is he really that concerned about Jaquan’s post-NBA career. He just wanted baby girl to come home and join/take over his practice. I mean, why should the Foley Law Group beat him to the punch? With that, Ed V. Baxendale joins the pantheon of Milford parents living vicariously through the lives of their children (if not outright preordaining their career paths via their names).

Kinda funny we haven’t seen Gil in the strip for a couple of weeks. Hope he’s watching more of Joe Bolek’s game film. He’d better keep Hadley on speed dial for the next time he needs to intimidate the lawyerless school board, or game the system to recruit outside talent.

Finally, it wouldn’t be a Gil Thorp arc-ending strip without some kind of lame joke and a freeze-frame ending. Good thing Jaquan got Luther, The Anger Translator to stand in for him.

August 15, 2019

The UPS Driver Will Not Deliver Packages To Tiki’s Cave. Miss Hathaway Held Serve On That One.

Filed under: Hadley V. Baxendale, Milford Alumni, Milford Idiots — tdrewhardin @ 6:03 am

 

081519

Gang, as several others as mentioned, it is preeettttyyyyy far-fetched that the Milford School Board is the only school board in America or, come to think of it, THE PLANET, which is dim-witted several times over to walk into a room that resembled your State Representative’s office and negotiate with a shrewd but still a bit-wet-behind-the ears lawyer, her dad who obviously really should have been leading the legal team but was incapacitated because it took a while for the Chem-Lawn to settle on his head and it’s hard to argue a case when you experience discomfort mutating from Lou Grant to Mr. Kravits and an Archie Andrews who was sleeping in his jalopy because Jughead Jones hadn’t cleaned out his garage yet without SOME kind of legal representation of its own.

Thorpiverse obviously thinks the rest of society is stupid and that Mr. Brady will let Alice the Maid argue with Hadley Venom over the whereabouts of Greg Brady. Alice, I know when I send you to the lions in the Milford Colosseum, victory is assured. Just use your broom if they get a little hostile; oh, and run the vacuum for any feline droppings. We don’t want to leave a mess.

Greg will have to reattend kindergarten. He will have to have lunch money this time, the days of Milford School vouchers are over. He’ll have to buy his own Twinkies and cafeteria meat loaf; can’t sneak lasagna from Garfield’s tray, he’s been warned about that several times. No Canadian coins in the Minute Maid machine.

But he can stay with the Cleavers. He can have Wally’s bed in the basement. And he can use Darren Stephens’ bar in Mr.Stephens’ house across the street. Just stay away from the Dewar’s Premium Label. That’s non-negotiable. Larry Tate can be a pain in the butt, especially over The Bucket ad campaign he’s been promoting lately. But Tiki can have the Lowenbrau in the fridge as long as he’s accompanied by an adult (since he’s a minor) and doesn’t drink more than 2. Save some for Samantha.

Oh, he’ll have to help Beaver with his paper route. 1,547 customers is a lot of papers to deliver and Beaver’s gotta make it to school on time.

Anything else, Alice? I understand Mel’s Diner has fish and chips to die for and I’m starving. No, Greg, no French silk pie. It gives you acid reflux, remember?

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Admits To Damages Due To Vandalism At Milford High School In Plea Bargain With School Board!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Yeah, I’m the one who set off the firecrackers under the bleachers at the girls gym but I ain’t no Unabomber. Cochrane told the Board comin’ clean on the TNT in the faculty bathroom was non-negotiable.”

 

“Is that the Orlons you’re playing? Man, I’m feelin’ the heat. Wahhhhhhh, wah wah wah-tusi, See’mon and take a channnccceee and get-a with this dance…”

“No, actually that’s Chubby Checker. He had that voice-change surgery, remember? Watch it, your tie is going to knock over that King James I lamp on the coffee table. Just wah-wah-tusi over by the humidifier.”

 

As I’m still getting over the shock of Lurch in a flannel shirt eating his pumpkin pie in Mel’s Diner (Janet’s Diner is apropos too, Teenchy-ha) , what in the name of New Thayer does Chet Atkins mean “District Mail”? Okay, I’m going to surmise that all literature pertaining to Milford High School THAT GOES TO TIKI is going to be forwarded to the Flemings’ address. But is it too much to ask to SAY THAT? District Mail? What’s he going to receive? A newsletter? Pin-Up-Of-The-Month? Better get out that bikini, Ms. Rizk, Tiki’s gettin’ hot and heavy. Beer ads? Oh, the possibilities.

“And if you bring your student ID this Saturday, Milford Beverage Warehouse will give you a free six-pack of Sprite with an adult purchase of the adult’s favorite gin & tonic. Student will get carded and must have adult present simultaneously. Sorry, no mix and matches.”

You drive a hard bargain, Hadley V.

 

“…and Greg will have to visit the same dentist that Beaver visits. And only toothpaste with Tartar Control and Fluoride. And it’s an In-School Suspension if Greg is caught with Ward Cleaver’s BVD’s. Or even Ward’s jazz record collection, including Duke Jordan’s ‘Flight to Denmark’. Ward still bawls his eyes out over ‘Glad I Met Pat.’ I won’t have some punk kid raining on Ward’s parade.”

 

If ya gotta put down one-a yore Rote-wylers cuz he’s got too many ticks and fleas and causes bed sores in the chair-backs in the meetin’ room not ta mention a mild case-a Bubonic Plague he picked up lickin’ Alpo Chicken off-a the cafeteria plate at Mel’s Diner as a condition ta enroll yore in-bred son in 3rd grade AGAIN, ya might be a redneck.

 

“…and Greg will actually have to play a sport in this strip that’s supposed to be talking about sports, not some bitchy pissy-faced female attorney and her dad and his radioactive head, hair with a shelf-life of 100 years wandering the Appalachian Trail and landing on Park Place. People thought this was Apartment 3-G until I had to set’ em straight when I was selling them on a Farm Implement Policy. And he can only use Breeze towels to wipe his butt, the ones Porter Waggoner used when he was takin’ a shit between sets…”

 

Come on Baby

Let’s do The Twist

Come on Mimi

Let’s do The Twist

Ohhhhh, Dr. Pearl

It goes like this

 

Round and round and round we go

 

“Honey, you’re gonna punch the glass of that picture of Mt. Etna.”

“Darling, I thought that was Jackson Pollack’s watercolor of the State of Maine.”

“No, I hung that in the den, over the fireplace. It had more of an intimacy. It was a conversation piece in case the neighbors came over and we’d run out of things to say before dinner.”

 

“…and Greg cannot hang around Eddie Munster anymore. People are beginning to talk. They traced the robbery of the Milford 7-11 to Grandpa Munster. Says he got $72 out of the drawer and some coins but the Milford Police couldn’t prove anything. And he can only eat Mott’s Applesauce, Del Monte canisters are a thing of the past. The School Board’s on a budget…”

Tim, My Man, thanks for covering for me on Tuesday. I gotta lug this heart monitor around for 3 months (ha) so your tag team effort was a huge shot in the arm. It’s kinda like dragging around this non-athletic plot with no light at the end of the tunnel snoozing in a sleeping bag by the Milford City Dump, well, you get the idea.

 

“I can’t help it, Dear, I’ve always liked dancing to ‘Purple Onions’ by Booker T & the M.G.’s. Willie Weeks plays a mean bass on that tune.”

“Ed, I think it’s ‘Green Onions’ and Donald ‘Duck’ Dunn played the bass.”

“Whatever. It’s been a long day. You should have seen her handle that School Board like Jon McLaughlin whirling his fingers on ‘Dizzy Atmosphere’ accompanied by Duke and Bird and miss your Maxwell House cup by a mile.”

 

I’m still in shock over “District Mail.” Let me see if we’re on the same page, Thorpiverse

“…and if Greg Brady is going to send news about dog-breeding Lassie, he has to specify ‘dog’ in his ad. There were too many complaints about the nature of the ad. People thought he was soliciting porn news. I know he wants puppies, but one person thought he was illicitly advertising Dumbo the Elephant.”

 

Are those actually WINDOWS we’re seeing in Ed’s house? I was so caught in his worst possible imitation of Tony Manero trippin’ the light fantastic to “Disco Inferno” that I overlooked the Brubaker models. Talk about reform. No more Zeus-sent-a-lightning-bolt-worth-100,000-volts-up-Hercules-duodenum-because-he-angered-Hera-when-Hercules-refused-to-take-out-the-garbage-because-it-was-Poseidon’s-week. We can se the Milford skyline for once. Brubaker musta got some heads rollin’ off the Milford School Board. What happens when you got backbone. Windows rooted in reality become a dream come true.

“…Greg Brady and Eddie Haskell must write “I will not throw 2% milk cartons at the prairie-style windows” 1000 times and as far as I’m concerned, we’re square on his reinstatement. I still have to talk with The Skipper but rumors are floating around the lagoon that he thinks that’s a fair punishment…”

 

“Golly, Beaver, you dope. When Dad finds out you spilled a Bucket Banana Split all over Mr. Ballard’s Lucky Charms suit, you’re gonna get clobbered.”

 

TALK TO THE KIDS????????? What in tarnation is he talking about? All I’ve seen is his dining at Mel’s Diner when he’s not ordering the Big Breakfast (4 flapjacks, scrambled eggs, 55 sausage patties, 13 hash browns, gallon of orange juice, bowl of Chocolate Cream of Wheat, saucer of Uncle Ben’s Brown Rice in a saucer, Aunt Jemima Lo-Cal Syrup packets extra) at Denny’s or a chess board full of bowls of Lord-knows-what, we don’t know because Thorpiverse won’t open the damn things, the Baxendales are too busy arguing with Jaquan over his NBA career (Fried squid? Turnips on a shish kabob, over easy? Bucket o’ San Francisco-style Vanilla Mousse?) . Don’t tell me he’s going down to the Milford Boys Club.

“Yup, kiddos, we really whooped their asses. A good lesson to learn about life. If you set your mind to any goal and you have the right attitude, you can do it. My daughter is living proof.”

“Mr. Baxendale, wanna play air hockey with me?”

 

Ned, trust me, I fell out of my chair when I saw “The Sprinkler”. I had ideas flowing all morning long, even after my surgery (ha) , but I just let that one stand by itself. That was HILARIOUS. And the truth. A dangerous combo, My Friend.

 

“Did your loved one get ambushed by Indians and you’re not sure who to trust to be assured of a decent burial? Hi, this is Dr. Pearl here with Milford Funeral Solutions. When my first husband was involved in a massacre at Fort Sackville, George Rogers Clark had too much on his mind to be caught up in the affairs of the Pottawato

mies. My first husband just simply didn’t know about trade negotiations and next thing you know, he’s burning at the stake. Didn’t accept enough blankets from the tribe, I heard.

I had to act fast. His skeletal remains would be hangin’ on the tulip tree, Indiana’s state tree, were it not for the kind compassion shown by the good people at Milford Funeral Solutions. They showed me how they placed a sword over his body, while lying in state, all while embalming him with all kinds of ointments and creams. I only grabbed the yuk bucket twice and the breakfast buffet at Shoney’s was out of the question for me after the service but otherwise they showed why they were voted by Milford Today as the #1 funeral service in our fair city.

They had a chaplain in ASAP to officiate the service, not some student fresh from the Baptist Seminary in Dallas. I wasn’t about to let some Presbyterian Seminary brat majoring in Theology and Nicomachean Ethics lead the doxology nor the singing on songs like “Softly and Tenderly” or “Just As I Am.” The good people at Milford Funeral Solutions told me they only hired people with qualifications like George Beverly Shea to perform the service, including the closing prayer. Would you want Fred Flintstone to be uttering “In Jesus’ Name” at your father’s funeral? I thought not. My husband froze his ass off in the Wabash River one too many times to let Barney Rubble sing “Victory in Jesus” in the Special Music portion of the service.

Come to Milford Funeral Solutions today if someone in your family has died and you’d rather not leave him or her on the dining room table. I know I didn’t want to add new meaning to the song ‘On The Banks of the Wabash.’ My husband crossed the Rubicon and has never looked back. One day, I’ll join him, thanks to Milford Funeral Solutions, now accepting, BTW, American Express. One more amenity on the Stairway to Heaven.”

 

Gang, it’s your turn. Y’know, if Ed Baxendale would use shampoo more often, I bet that carpet-in-disguise he dons on his head wouldn’t itch so bad.

 

“…and Greg Brady will have to come to the altar at the Billy Graham Crusade later this month at the Milford Outdoor Amphitheater and make a profession of faith in Jesus and this time he can’t surrender to Muhammad as God’s Prophet the last time Mr. Graham came to town…”

 

 

“Yoouuuuuu rang?”

“Yeah, get in the car. Me and Morticia are going down to The Bucket. It’s half off  Bucket Fried Spider Legs night and I know how you eat ’em by the plateful.”

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