And yada yada yada.

Not gettin any better folks… I was not a big Seinfeld fan, but it was very well known as a show about nothing. I saw just enough episodes that I kinda get that. They dont really have a plot, its just a half hour of 4 characters screwing around every which way, and the best part, (for me anyway) was Jerrys comedy bits at the beginning and end of each show, where he’d make some vague connection to the action of the show. I remember one episode where he said ” If you’re watching something on TV, you’re missing something else.” Ever since then when I’d be forced to miss some show or game I would remember Jerrys words, and be comforted that nobody can be everywhere all the time. You do what you can, and everything else takes care of itself.

Well I have lost track of who all  these people are. Linda, David, Nancy, Molly…….I can name the Banana Splits easier then these bozos. .Too many characters in 1 plot who intertwine their nonsense about some abstract concept like TCFS. And maybe Linda and David THINK they did something cool. Thats all that counts. I’m just floored that 17-year-olds spend that much time on such BS. By now my friends would forget about the whole thing and be on to something thats more tangible, like what movie is playing or who the Bears should draft. One time my friend was talking about the foosball game he played the night before. 2 days later I brought it up, and he was like – “You’re still on that foosball”. But 2 days isnt like the weeks-long sludge this has become. Its a plot about nothing, and this time there’s no Jerry Seinfeld around to relieve the boredom.

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TCFS Goes To Eleven

Well it doesn’t stand for Top Cat or Twin Cities, that much is certain. Then again, maybe Molly’s related to Mickey. But what the hell kind of thing is she placing in Jamila’s enormous, Ernie Lombardi-like hand as she stands on a classic Nelson bench?  Is it some kind of challenge coin? The equivalent of a merit decal? They put those on batting helmets now, dontchaknow. Or is it a merit decal in pog form?

You know how I know Rubin sees this blog? Yesterday’s Molly Hatchet joke would be a big clue, but he could’ve been planning that from the get-go. No, it’s his response to our steady complaints about the lack of strong female characters in this strip and of story arcs that focus on girls’ sports. What do we get in return? Several months of this drivel. This had potential: internal team strife between girls who have varied outside interests and girls who are monomaniacally focused on the game gets ironed out as the girls come together and start winning. By turning them into unintentional mean girls who form a clique by beating an already dead horse of a phrase even deader (five times in the past week, eleven total in the arc to date), Rubin is flirtin’ with making a mockery of the whole concept.

Girlfriend, your flirting is too cool for..

…oh forget it. Just enjoy the song.

 

That’s Six “Too Cool for School”s If You’re Counting

Long day for me and an uncharacteristically late post, mea culpa.  Today’s the day for people on the perpendicular, starting with the first panel’s awkward hallway exchange.  I’m pretty sure when you go to high-five someone you don’t karate chop them across the palm, but then that’s why she’s the athlete and he’s… some rando MHS student.

The ninety-degree approaches continue in the cafeteria, where Molly Hatchet turns her upper torso and dislocates her left shoulder to face high-five girl (Carla? Nancy?) at a right angle. All the better to feign interest in high-five girl’s exasperation at getting attention for being good at sportsball.  I do find her inability to remember who threw the awkward high-five at her confusing, if only because I’m never quite sure how big Milford is.

On to the Saturday cliffhanger, which hinges on that dead horse of a phrase.  Molly (sporting an earring straight out of one of Raven’s progressive matrices) gets ready to drop a bombshell that has something to do with being “too cool for school.” Something tells me her synchronized skating team has been chosen to demonstrate that sport for the next Winter Olympics, and the prep for that will take her away from Milford for the next year-plus.  With Molly gone, morale on the Lady Mudlarks may crumble to the point that a Rally Hippo won’t be able to save the season and the playdowns will be missed just in time for Molly to come back and get a looper’s job at the MCC.

Again, apologies for the late post.

Shadow dancing

I want to start out by saying thanks to teenchy for filling in for me due to my mothers passing. She lived 93 years, her childhood was during the Depression, after high school she immediately got a job at a chemical plant, where she worked for 14 years. She wanted to try college, but her brother had recently been shot down over the Pacific during World War II, fighting for his country, and her father wanted his kids to stay close to home after that. So off to work she went, until meeting and marrying my dad in 1957, after which she quit her job and became a stay-at-home wife. In those days women often only worked if they werent married. My dad supported the family on his paycheck, the norm back then. 8 years afterward they adopted me from Chicago, and my sister joined us 2 years later. And we became a family in every sense of the word, and Mom was our heart and soul. Me and my sister could never repay those two for the difference they made in our lives. 48 years of happy marriage ended with my dads passing in 2005, and now with Mom joining him, again, they can rest assured knowing we will live  our lives with their love in our hearts.

To the strip– this hippo in P1 reminds me of Barney Rubble always getting his thumb in the way when he was taking pictures in one episode of the Flintstones. I thought at first it was an inkstain. Nope, just a shadow of a hippo.The sun couldnt do that if it tried.

I also recall the Angels in 2002 having a rally monkey, which they used on the way to a World Series title. Stupid, but hey, whatever works. I believe current Cub boss Joe Madden was with them.

Well it seeems to be working, if only for the hokey reason that its a comic strip and we need a reason for this hippos existence, aside from blotting out P1. Why not let the kids believe it works, even though logic dictates that hitting and pitching win games, not stuffed animals. Positive mental attitude never hurts anyones performance either.

 

 

We Never Did See That Scrimmage

“I was at a Comic Con last weekend – and I have this Wasp bobblehead to prove it!”

“I don’t think anybody asked – or cared – where you were, Nancy.”

Pretty tricky of Nancy to hold that bobblehead steady as the floor and the lockers slide away from beneath her feet.

Speaking of writing blogs… Tiny credit where credit is due, or acknowledgement that Whigrub must see this blog: Whigham is gradually moving away from putting huge earrings on his teenage girls to putting multiple small ones on them. Still has this thing for the ears poking out out of the hair elf style, though.

Alright then. All this hoohah about the scrimmage and who didn’t show up for it and why has been going on for two weeks now.  When does it advance the plot?

Flogging Molly

Meow!

Pretty damned presumptuous of  Linda to assume Molly’s skating event didn’t involve her family.  Most young people I’ve known who have been involved with events on ice have had massive family support, not only in dollars but in time (predawn drives to rinks for ice time come to mind).  Also presumptuous of Linda to think her volleyball extracurriculars are somehow more worthy than Molly’s synchronized skating.  Guess that’s what happens when your high school only offers football, basketball, baseball/softball, soccer and track (the latter two we almost never see or hear about because no one named Thorp coaches them).

People who shed in their lockers shouldn’t throw stones, nah mean?  Now Steve Luhm’s gonna have to show up and sweep all that hair off the locker room floor.  More likely, we’re gonna be treated to a couple of days of Molly’s “nobody understands me or my skating hobby” pity party.  That, or Mimi signing up all the Lady Mudlarks for skating lessons so that they can become as graceful as Molly in the field.

 

 

Now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast.

Riddle me this, TWIMers: Is this our first visit to Barney’s Pub? It’s not one of Del Bader’s old watering holes, like Selasky’s Supper Club, is it? Did it take over the Coffee Cantina’s space, or did they just steal the CC’s plates? Something about the place seems a little off-kilter, like the nacho salad with ketchup and the idea of Marty Moon drinking in public rather than in the lonesome misery of his own four walls.

That’s what’s off – not just Marty’s public drinking but his choice of beverage. He’s been shown to be a Johnnie Walker man on more than one occasion. He’s also shown a historic callousness to the feelings of others, not caring who he pisses off as long as it’s good radio. That’s why I read his greeting to the ladies as a dig, especially at Mimi. Everybody’s been ignoring the Lady Mudlarks, so why shouldn’t Marty? Hell, he’s already mentally moved on even as Marjie Lite fires a lame retort. Look at the thousand yard stare on Evil Spock’s puss.

That said I expect Mimi, Peggy & co. will pull Marty back to reality over the next several strips, by pointing out that it’s not just them who’ve been ignoring him but WDIG listeners generally. They’ve come for the B/Robby Howry show and Marty is just old and in the way. That, and station manager LBJ’s diming B/Robby out for throwing broad hints at wanting Marty’s job, will be the straw that breaks the lush’s back. It’ll be Marty who runs B/Robby out of town on a rail, sparing the Coaches Thorp any dirty work and letting their players and ex-players remain squeaky clean.

Special Guest Cameo: Looks like Richard Moll is passing through Milford and has dropped in to knock back a frosty mug.

Apologies for the lateness of the post. I’ve been on a brief hiatus and my timing’s a bit off. That’s what spring training’s for, isn’t it? Inspiration for today’s post title, if not the name of this latest Milford watering hole: