Late start to the day as yhs stayed up late last night to watch Game 1 of the NLCS. With a DeJong and a Bader in one lineup and a Soto in the other, I was getting a very Milfordian vibe. There were no nosy-assed, pushy players’ parents/school board members or hidden backstories (well, one team’s relief pitcher did miss the game on paternity leave) and the announcers didn’t seem like particular homers for either team, so I guess the similarities ended there.
But I digress, mainly because I feel like we’ve trod this well-trodden trail before. Having a player’s past anger management issuesthrown up in his face has been done, and the outcome was resolved to the player’s benefit. The difference here is that it wasn’t one of Van Auken’s teammate’s parents throwing his past anger management issues up in his face in an effort to get him benched (or worse) in favor of their less-talented stepchild. News flash, Ballard: these shenanigans won’t guarantee Charlie will start over Chance, they won’t make your stepson a better player, and they sure as hell won’t get him to stop calling you “Chet.”
We finally get through a football game and now we have to slog through days of madness levels. Chance comes up with a new definition, and us readers are subjected to nonsense conditions made up on the spot, and then Chet somehow overhears the convo and wonders what the nonsense condition Means??
I’m convinced everyone in this strip is an idiot. Coaches dont know how to coach, players dont have a clue where theyre going or what theyre saying, trainers diagnose and treat injuries improperly, parents are either boobs or control freaks, the reporter only cares about lineups, asks gossipy questions and never does any in-depth reporting, the radio guy uses outdated equipment and has irrational fears, , and the police are never around until the damage is done.
Did I forget anyone? Oh yeah, the janitor. He does a great job. Thats it.
Gang, I apologize, I had this one wrapped up for Christmas but a personal matter turned up and like Grandma Macy, she was was hard to bounce out on the street so I had to find her bifocals which we FINALLY tracked down under the cushion of the couch along with the remote we’ve been searching for for several months. Thank God we weren’t trying to find her dentures. Under the seat slobbering on the channel function? Yuck.
Anyhoo, Today’s post includes a performer I have always admired. Her music is electric and scintillating and really gets in me. But I grew up on Alice Cooper, no problem. I grew up on Black Sabbath, in particular, Ozzy Osbourne, no problem. I lived to tell about it every time I played “Children of the Grave”, the lead-in “Embroyo”, if you want to get greedy, off of “Master of Reality”. I grew up on Frank Zappa and Captain Beefheart, no problem.
NONE of these performers have scared the shit out of me the way Kate Bush does. She has an eerie presence that works and adds the touch to her music that really sends me. One night at 2:00AM, I was reading an article on her that I had to put down, her photographs were THAT frightening. But that’s what also makes it appealing for me and will add, in my opinion, the punch to this plotline that is enigmatic and starting to limp after a strong start at the Milford Marathon. God, I hate to see what happens at Heartbreak Hill. Kate will be there to deliver the death blow, trust me.
At the 26 mile mark, situated at the beveled loading dock at Milford Foundry
“Gil, want some Gatorade? You look like you could use some.”
“Hell, no. I can suck it a few more yards. I’ll have my picture with my family proudly beside me.”
“That’s nice, but the photographer went home for the night.”
If ya gotta pass the ‘rithmatic Final by studyin’ the multi-plik-a-shun tables ’til the rooster crows early mornin’ so yuz can FINALLY pass 3rd grade and be eligible as a redshirt freshman for the junior varsity football team and ya FINALLY got 9 x 9 cuh-rehct by placin’ 9 monkey wrenches on the hood one way and 9 the other way, pointin’ towards the dice in the rear-view mirror, ya might be a redneck.
P1 is scary but if Thorpiverse thinks it’s going to get to Chance singing “The Red Shoes”, I think we better stick with Kate, thank you very much. We are led to believe that Chance is the second coming of Ted Bundy, about to chop up Grandma Macy with a Ginsu knife once he gets off the team bus, unbeknownst to the kids sitting behind him, talking about girls, football, what’s available online at The Bucket (“Let’s order that Bucket Tunaburger again. It’s got tuna wild-caught out of Mudlark Lake.” “HOLD ON. My phone ain’t working.”) .
And what sucks, We were getting used to Chet being an asshole and tolerating his inchoate methods for dealing with his stepson and his potential football talent or dealing with Coach Thorp and his coaching in absentia and still putting a product on the field. Aren’t you getting vertigo jumping from Stiff-Necked Lout to Norman Bates about to turn Grandma Bates into sawdust? Like Robert Frost, I prefer the Road Less Confusing. But I know a lot of you aren’t into “Fire and Ice”. Diff’rent strokes for diff’rent folks.
STILL, once the only player who hasn’t been carded at Milford Lounge gets off the bus, I would like a little stability here. It’s time to get back to normalcy. So the League of Nations was a bad concept and now we’re going to have to endure every man for himself. But, Hell, we’ve had plenty of practice watching Chet at football games. Talk about grandstanding in the name of your own ego. His son better make the NFL and make this damn thing worth it, is all I can say.
Oooohhh, game gets close, it gets chippy
On the other side from you
I bitch a lot. I whine a lot
Wish I got ‘Dad’ from you
Don’t let Dreher back, Chuck
Cruel Macy, my one blot
My only other running back
Too long, Chance is in the play
Charlie’s coming in on second down, to put it right
He’s rolling right to
Thorpiverse
Thorpiverse
Thorpiverse Heights
Charlie, it’s me, I’m obnoxious
I’ve read the pattern, I’m a pro at this
Let me call the plays
Charlie, it’s me, I’m etc., etc., etc.,
Well, did you think the lyric was going to be “I’m a Good Samaritan, I believe in sportsmanship, shake the hand of your opponent when you lose, Charlie”? Hell, we could end the football plot RIGHT NOW and take a sneak preview into basketball. But noooooooooo, Chet’s gotta be an asshole for about 2 more months before we schedule the Billy Graham Crusade at Milford Outdoor Amphitheater. Can’t have Chet answering the altar call before October. Ooops, I forgot, we still have Ted Bundy and his grandma. But you can only chop her up 31 ways if that plot lasts until Halloween. Better to drag this jalopy all the way to the finish line. Jughead Jones will be there at Heartbreak Hill with a Radio Flyer full of Bucket Burgers.
Oh, come on, coaches. In P2, we are subjected to a conversation a bit on the unrealistic side. I was only kidding about Chance being compared to Ted Bundy. They aren’t.
As long as we’re going to be ostentatious about weightlifting and hoist something your average senior citizen with his or her yearly pass at the Milford Athletic Club could jerk up and down without Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em head serving as a spotter, why don’t we at least get real. I have dealt with, either in Babe Ruth or at the private school I coached, SEVERAL players who were short on conversation. That didn’t make them Lizzie Borden. As long as they showed up ready to play and listen, giving me 110%, I really didn’t care if they weren’t much for words.
Now don’t get me wrong. I think it’s in every coach’s best interest to establish an excellent relationship or at least a workable rapport with your players as long as you’re in the same dugout or on the bench. I can honestly say that I could get players to crash through a wall for me as long as I treated them with RESPECT (Notice big case letters) . The players were GREAT to me and they made me who I am. They took the wins, I took the losses.
But common sense rules the day. If Chance doesn’t have a meat cleaver in his locker, I think it’s safe to say that his grandma will sleep another night. 2541 will enter another halcyon period since it’s hard for me to imagine Silent Chance attacking his grandma with his Boy Scout knife out of his drawer.
Time to hit the sauna, Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Head.
Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer
“O.J. Cleared On Rape Charges In Grandma Macy’s Living Unit!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“Judge Ito knows me better than that. I wouldn’t touch her with gloves on or off.”
Then in P3, Coach Kaz is really sweating it out, either from bench-pressing the 25-pound weight (allowing for 5 pounds on the bar) or the agony of cerebralizing whether they’re harboring someone who’s old enough to file for Social Security benefits. Heavy-duty mental loads like this can be hell on the last rep, we know, Coach Kaz. Gil is there with a Handi-Wipe.
BTW, how do they know all this unless they were riding on the bus THEMSELVES? And, okay, if they didn’t ride in the Coach’s Limo (So THAT’S where Thorp keeps his golf clubs in the summer when he’s not not-coaching during the school year) , or in a separate bus which some schools do if the team is carrying a lot of players (i.e., Sophomore bus, Freshman bus, etc.) , and they indeed rode with Ted Bundy and his arguably subversive, slightly dangerous demeanor, what were they doing, observing the entire bus ride back to Milford? And not celebrating with the rest of the team? Concern is one thing. Stretching the storyline so it makes the half hour slot without having to fill in with another Toyota Corolla or Breeze Detergent commercial is another. The silver lining to the latter might be I’d get a towel out of the box when I’m dumping detergent in the washing machine with the “rinse” letters barely legible at the Milford Laundromat to wash my tube socks but that’s about it.
But us Thorpiverse veterans are used to Rubber-Band Man scenarios. Stretch away, Coaches.
“And that just about wraps up the Milford Marathon here at the finish line here by the Wacky Water Slide here at Mudlark Lake. Jerry Pulver Jr. wins the event in a record 2:27:16. Coach Thorp and Coach are yet to be accounted for. I understand they got lost by the drawbridge by The Bucket. They had to wait ’til the Milford & Oakwood frigate finally got its orders. That gives me an opportunity to take a station break. This ius Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG-Radio, a division of Learfield Sports.”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
“Go away!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m training for the Milford Marathon!!!!!!!!!!”
“Honey, it’s 2:37 in the morning. And why are you training in the bathroom in the basement?”
“I gotta stay mentally strong. You can’t have any lapses in concentration when you’re chuggin’ for 26 miles.”
“Darling, I can give you that extra boost if you’ll give me a chance. Now come to bed with me.”
“Mrs. Shaw, you don’t understand. I have to be at my peak performance. That’s why I’m drinkin’ all these Nutrament Dutch Chocolate shakes. There’s plenty more behind the Pennzoil 10W-30 bottles here in the closet.”
“Aren’t there linens in there too? Where’d you put those?
“Blubba blubba, you’d be surprised how many Holiday Inn towels can cover a case full of Nutrament French Vanilla and Bar’s Leaks. Why it’s a match made in Heaven. And you can’t have any dissension when you’re at Heartbreak Hill. I’ll be sprintin’ like Jesse Owens if I got the Nutrament Black Cherry Special Blend wrapped up out of view.”
“And I don’t EVER remember your buying running shoes.”
“Ickity ackity oop, uh uh, I bought some cross trainers at a yard sale. Kid ran ’em in the Milford High School X-Country meets. Still got some high school invitationals left. I’ll be runnin’ like the wind at mile 15.”
“I just hope the crowd doesn’t notice the wimpy thing between your legs by then. Hard to hide that one with a Holiday Inn towel, My Love.”
“What could I say? She had me and she knew it and I knew it. It was time to take the towels back to Holiday Inn and pay the $7.00 Missing Merchandise Fee, then head down to Milford Men’s Clinic to deal with MY OWN missing merchandise. With treatment programs that work, my significant other came out of hiding and none too soon. I won my age division at the Milford Marathon thanks to the sprints I won in bed. Boy, it’s nice when you can pump your arms and your significant other simultaneously. My wife sure as hell agreed. But don’t take my word for it. Run on down to Milford Men’s Clinic and win your own age bracket. There’s plenty of ribbons to be won there. Come and claim your own Blue Ribbon. You’ll be glad you did.
Gang, thanks for your patience. I can only pass it along BUT I WILL. Y’all mean the world to me.
Ooohhhh, let him have it
Let Charlie take the game away
Oooohhhh, let him have it
Let Chance slice Granny away
You know it’s Gil, Cathy
Chet, it’s me, I’m concerned
I’ve come home, you’re so frazzled
Let Charlie, though fumbling, through the window
Chet, it’s me, I’m cornered
Etc., etc., etc.,
What are Gil and Kaz doing, pumping iron in Thorpiverse Heights? I hope they have plenty of Off!
Rubin has taken the Mudlarks on a road trip to South Carolina once again. (Starting to think he must have a timeshare there.) Dreher – the only Dreher High School in the US – is in Columbia. It has some nice looking prairie style windows even though Columbia is about as far from the prairie as you can get. The Blue Devils football team has a Twitter feed but I don’t see Milford on that schedule. Maybe they got fit into that bye week between Gilbert and Lower Richland.
To the action: Charlie Roh (and I still can’t get over the fact that Rubin has named this kid of apparent Southeast Asian origin “Charlie”) manages to pick up a first down despite having a Blue Devil take a bite out of his left thigh. Holding that football like a loaf of bread might give us a clue as to why he fumbled in the opener. You’d think Kaz would’ve worked with him on that in practice yesterday. At least douchey Chet Ballard is happy for the moment.
That happiness is bound to last only for that moment as Charlie’s backfield rival, the introverted Chance Macy, reels off a touchdown run. No doubt Chet will have a hissy thinking that touch should’ve been Charlie’s. Chill out, Ballard! Go to the concession stand and grab a nice barbecue sandwich or something. If that doesn’t help, leave the game early, take that two-hour drive down I-26 and bend elbows with Mr. Bakst in Charleston. I’ve been known to do that on occasion.
Chet and the only other party attendee willing to talk to him other than Chet’s wife are both creeps.
Panel 3 is amazing in so many ways, from the off-center lampshade to the multi-surface flooring right down to Chance’s socks, the details all count for so much and yet convey so little.
As is so often the case, we are left to simply ask What The Hell Is Going On Here?
Back from a brief hiatus and feeling a bit refreshed. Know what else would be refreshing? A story arc about a player who just wants to get better and actually gets better through coaching. A kid whose parents are simply supportive of his or her interests and not trying to live vicariously through them or project their own shortcomings onto them.
But that would be asking too much, wouldn’t it? Far easier to trot out the cardboard villain adult who puts it where it doesn’t belong to try to advance their kid’s causes for their own selfish motives. Here busybody Ballard feels that need to for reasons known only to him. Where does he plan to use his observation about Chance Macy? As evidence that the kid is too gassed/hurt to come out to party** and, as such, deserves to be benched in favor of Charlie? Or that his not coming out to party is evidence that he’s not a team player and, as such, deserves to be benched in favor of Charlie?
Either way, it’ll be another strike against Ballard, whose big swing and a miss on Tiki Jansen makes this strike two.
*Alternate title: Chet Ballard, Backdoor Man. Is that an actual transom above the Schuring’s back door?
**Pretty confident of the Schurings to plan a postgame victory party at their house, innit?
Oh, look. Family time at the Jansen household. Time to kick back, enjoy the Gerber Crushed Carrot Cake Mush Souffle Mama Jansen concocted and set out in one of the bowls. You sure she didn’t get Lassie’s bowl confused with the Turnip Surprise, well, never mind.
And before we go any further, don’t you get this sickly feeling that The Jetsons, er, Jansens(I was wondering why we didn’t see a space vehicle parked in the living room) is just a way to take up space in the next 2 months until The Football Chronicles returns for its 61st season in September? Better hurry and get your tickets before theater prices increase.
As a few TWIMers have mentioned, wasn’t this already said and done? Yes, Tiki could stay even though he was a legal resident in another city. As long as he had a venue to lay his head at night and didn’t languish in Hooverville, he could stay in Rockville. He didn’t have to worry about going back to Rockville cuz he was already there.
But that’s when Thorpiverse and the Milford School Board knocked heads on this one (not literally, though I wonder) and decided that the golf plot had run its course. So they rummaged the phone book for any more plot characters and once they hit a snag at Milford Pest Control (Where Termites and Golf Are a Dead Issue) and Mudlark Swimming Pool Supply, they said “What the heck, the Jansens weren’t going to Disney World or the Grand Canyon or anywhere else on vacation, why don’t we tear up that agreement we had with them and throw it in the fireplace at the Milford Moose Lodge and create another living nightmare worth 2 months of Bates Motel drama? We can kill off Norman Bates at the end of the summer by Tiki shooting him with a BB gun in self-defense and dumping his body in Mudlark Lake. It oughta sink to the bottom by the time Tiki turns in his physical for football. Then we won’t have to worry about extricating ourselves from another messy, convoluted golf plot. Just make sure you pass enough $20 bills under the table to the School Board at the meeting, Thorpiverse. The sooner the School Board can fire off that railroad job of a letter to the Jansens, the better. And you don’t want to cut into the 2 months that is getting shorter even as I text. Hurry before the mailman arrives.
And it’s time to play NAME THAT BOWL!!!!!!!!! And now, here’s your host WINK!!!!!!!!!!!!! MARTINDALE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KING OF THE GAME-SHOW-BEFORE-COSBY-HOUR-APPEARS-AT-8:00PM(OR 7:00PM, CENTRAL STANDARD TIME)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now the bowl in the middle has to be some creature Dr. Spock speared on some planet in the constellation Orion. Those are the leftovers. And the one at the far end where the Invisible Man is seated is more than likely the azalea bush Mama Jansen yanked out of the ground with the backhoe and after offering the table d’hote to Mr. Ed, it became a part of the Public Domain. Surely someone has a rapaciousness for true organic cuisine. And you didn’t need to spray it down with DDT, Mama Jansen kept it in the oven at 475 degrees and, Hell, set it and forget it. It’ll get debugged the old-fashioned way.
Then there’s the mystery bowl. This could range from a huge porcelain container of Spaghetti O’s (how many cans did Mama Jansen buy at Milford Kroger? 10 for 10?) to a Betty Crocker Bundt Coffee Cake. Yup, better keep a lid on the latter. You be bitchin’ about the Milford School Board makin’ Tiki finally pay up all his parking fines in the Student Section at Milford High School or he’ll be takin’ the next train out of Rockville, through Petticoat Junction all the way back to his original residence in New Thayer and next thing you know, the Duncan Hines Coconut Supreme White Chocolate Torte got stale. Okay, Papa Jansen, you’re gonna call Hadley Ventura for a possible lawsuit (really, isn’t this script just writing itself? Is this how Mr. Ed got on the air?) but, damn it, put the lid back on the bowl when you’re done scooping your 3rd helping of Chef Boy-ar-Dee Mini Ravioli.
“Willllllbbbuurrr, would you paassssssss that bowl of tater tottttttttttttssssssssss?”
“Ed, you know that’s not in the script. The producer will get mad.”
“Neither is Coach Thhhooooooorrrppppppp coming overrrrrrrrr after Mimiiiiiiiiiiii burneddddddd the hard-boilllllleedddddd eggggssssssssss but sometimmmeesssssss ya gotta immpppppprrrrrrroooooooovise.”
Then there’s the bowl arrangement
I think this was the French Defense Opening employed by Jose Capablanca against Paul Morphy in an International Chess Federation-sanctioned match, before they went to the number system to indicate moves (e.g., k-e2, b(c1)-f4ch, etc.) . No, don’t even go there, Gang. Nothing to do with Bobby Fischer. He always started out P-K4 (p-e4, if you want to be iconclastic) . Notice the bowl of jimson weeds in the way. Unless that’s his opponent, then his opponent can always go en passant if Bobby dares move his bowl of hash browns 2 spaces but I think his opponent is contemplating bowl of Rice Krispies-KB6ch, K-E2, bowl of Stove Top Stuffing-E6mate. I read that pinning combination in one of Irving Chernev’s books. Or maybe it was Bruce Pandolfini.
Come to think of it, Capablanca might be using an Indian Opening Variation. I just wish the Invisible Man would return from the bathroom. How long has he been in there? Is he that constipated? Chickweed will do that, I reckon.
And then we come to the part where we discuss Tiki’s hair. A Rug Rat variation replete with a skunk’s hide and a poor excuse for dreadlocks (E for effort, Tiki) hanging from it is about as tacky as Rug Rats was. Oh, I loved the cartoon but let’s not confuse it with “Wait ’til Your Father Gets Home.”
“Irma, do you realize how much it’s going to cost to move back to New Thayer?”
“Oh, Harry, we’ll manage. We’re cartoon veterans. We’ve seen worse strips in Buzz Sawyer. Remember when he found out that Roscoe Sweeney had come out of the closet?”
“I don’t blame you, Harry Boyle. I heard there’s more Commie spies per capita on any typical block in New Thayer than the whole city of Milford. You gotta watch ’em. Me and my vigilante group spotted an Iron & Sickle on a Slushee machine at a New Thayer 7-11 when we stopped to get gas.”
“Ralph, you keep out of this. Go give Coach Thorp pointers on his golf game. I heard Stalin was his caddy.”
If ya dump deer meat gizzards on the chinet paper plate cuz ya don’t want ta ruin good deer meat that ya shot in yore back yard by dumpin’ the contents in a Louis XIV porcelain bowl that ya bought at a yard sale last week and ya’d ruther suffer from Chinet breath, ya might be a redneck.
Oh, damn, I forgot about the OXO cups on the table. Definite Sicilian Defense, fer sure.
Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer
“O.J. Defeated At Milford Chess Open By Invisible Man!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“”That dude employs the Caro Kann Defense and I fall for it everytime. Karpov killed me at the Oakwood All-Comers Invitational.
Lordy, then there’s P2. Somebody needs to instruct Thorpiverse on the proper technique for hair coloring and/or light and shadow. Papa Jansen is passable, Ward Cleaver misapplying Grecian Formula at worst but, damn, you sure Tiki didn’t spill the bowl of Spaghetti O’s on his head? Thank we’ll probably never know as I didn’t see the colorized version. Groty to the max. There’s only so much I can take from a character who’s regurgitating the past but if he shows up in the hallways at Milford High School, he runs the risk of being stuck with the sobriquet Oreo Head.
And what could be causing Oreo Head to deserve this dubious appellation? Surely there’s not a strobe light flickering by the Stove Top Chicken Stroganof bowl or the chinet platter full of celery w/pimento cheese.
“Hey, you got pimento cheese in my cookies!!!!!!!!”
“And you got cookies in my pimento cheese!!!!!!!!!!
“Quick!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Call 1-FON-THE-JAWS!!!!!!!!!! Then call 9-1-1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Somebody just got decapitated!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“When accidents happen, isn’t it nice to have piece of mind when you call The Shark? Hi, I’m Joe Sharkey and I make sure people get the money they deserve.”
“I was in The Bucket drive-thru ordering a Bucket Chimichanga when a drunk driver slammed into us from behind, thinking he was at the Milford Beverage Warehouse and hoping to make it before it closed.
Thank God for The Shark. I got my head sewn back on, I got my back pay and lost wages from lost time at work. The drunk driver’s lawyer even picked up the tab on the Bucket Chimichanga which splatted all over the glove box. And he made sure I got mild sauce instead of the fire brand sauce to pour all over my replacement Chimichanga. Thanks, Shark.”
“You heard it from my clients. Insurance companies are working hard and past the time The Bucket closes to present a winning case. Don’t let them cheat you out of the money you deserve. Call The Shark today!!!!!!!!!!!”
The Baxendales are going conservative here. Definite Ruy Lopez. And they kept all the pawns covered. Let’s not let the Crock Pot of Sara Lee Apple Cobbler get cold while we’re discussing our options on the remaining years in the NBA. Talking about free agency and one of the teams whose offer intrigues you over a pot of lukewarm Fazoli’s fettucini that you got cuz The Bucket was out of it just doesn’t wash in the scheme of things.
And who knows what Morthead will do? The Bulls would be a good choice. He could hope they draft another Pippen and they can start their own 3-peat or 4-peat, etc. People with that intimidating Bull on their caps and “I Like Morthead” on their shirts, no wonder why Mr. Baxendale broaches the subject. Over Boone’s Farm Premium, no less. Oh, BTW, pass the Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls, Mr. Baxendale. And you might want to be careful leaving that platter of Oscar Meyer Fried Bologna exposed to the rook. No sense in getting smothered mate by one of the Boone’s Farm glasses.
Gang, I don’t know about you but that frickin’ quill that Thomas Jefferson used to sign at the signing of the Declaration of Independence just looks bad on Hadley Venison’s head. As long as we’re going to throw around NBA Lingo like Jerry Lawler used to throw Freezer Thompson around in the ring, can Hadley Venom give VO5 a try?
And whattup with the discussion of the NBA? I don’t think Air Jordan is showing up at the Baxendales next week for scones and tea. Steve Kerr does not have one of his vehicles parked in their garage. Luc Longley does not call long distance from Australia asking Hadley Vermouth how it went at the orthodontist. Nice try, Thorpiverse. This is just a diversion until we get to the real meat of the issue, Hadley Verkampfen battling Clarence Darrow at the Milford Municipal Court over where to attend school.
“Mr. Darrow, he should be able to teach evolutuion at Milford too!!!!!!!!!!!’
I’m sensing an oncoming Battle Royale.
Comment away, Gang. I think I can checkmate Mr. Baxendale once I queen my Paul Newman’s Ranch Dressing bottle. The King is dead.
“Hey Oreo Head!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You got Star-Kist Tuna in my Chips Ahoy!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Sorry, Charlie, but only the finest tuna-chocolate ship goulash gets to be Star-Kist.”
Managed to kill 2 birds with one stone. God, I’m good.
“Harry, you think Hadley Vladimir Ilyich Lenin will ever marry Jaquan? Because you just don’t mix the Commies with Old Glory. Huh?”
“No!!!!”
“Huh?”
“No!!!!!”
“Huh?”
“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! Look, Ralph, Jaquan is doing it the old-fashioned way. He’s earning a good living as a basketball player and is in a position to get married financially. Sounds like the American Way to me.”
“I don’t know, Harry, that Bull on his cap looks too much like Pancho Villa to me. He wins an NBA ring then the next thing you know he and Trotsky lead a revolution right into downtown Chicago. It’s only a matter of time before all the NBA cities come tumbling down. Then Milford High School starts adding The Little Red Book to its curriculum.”
“Oh, Ralph, you come up with the wildest ideas.”
“Just doing my patriotic duty to protect this country from Mao and all his family.”
Okay, we think Jaquan is only kidding when he says he’d like some golf lessons. We think. I know I wouldn’t be spilling my guts in front of an 8-year-old about how I keep slicing everything between the hedges or the poplars or the Midford Country Club Snack Bar tables unless it was in jest. But maybe he’s trying to pull another Bo Jackson on us. Y’know, another 3 panels, another hobby.
To be fair, it’s not entirely out of the question. Alice Cooper, of “School’s Out” fame (“School’s Out(album)” and “Billion Dollar Babies”, classic, you whippersnappers) , is an excellent golfer. I model a lot of my exercise program based upon his advice on how to get better in golf. He always got up EARLY, 6:00-ish in the morning because NOBODY was at the Milford Country Club Golf Course. Yup, Gil and Mimi were still in bed. It was the best time to be there because the weather in Milford was still cooler, plus NOBODY was there to give him advice, No Gil lecturing Alice on his follow-through while Gil was sipping on his cocktail. Alice could work out the kinks that way.
And it paid off. He was consistently golfing with the golf heavyweights (Arnold Palmer, Jack Nicklaus, et al) , gaining respect as a force to be reckoned with in the golf world. In fact, Arnold Palmer wanted him to go pro, good words from a man who knew a thing or two about winning the Masters, not to mention graduating from Wake Forest, a long-time powerhouse in Men’s Golf and Women’s Golf.
Alice Cooper definitely considered it but swallowed HARD and in the end felt that a serious devotion to the sport would take away from his ability to perform on stage. Which made sense. Trying to juggle working on golf for several hours and rehearsing for his next show and then letting all out in front of the bright lights to 10,000+ would have taken its toll on the body. In the end, Alice Cooper wisely declined.
But Jaquan, I don’t know. Hasn’t he already been through one hobby? What’s he going to do, work on his swing along with the other 8th graders in the instructional workout?
“C’mon, Case, grip the club!!! Look at Wally Cleaver!!!! He’s got a sleeper hold on his stick!!!!!!”
Gil working with a guy he didn’t coach in high school and trying to show him how to putt on #3, Par 3, straight shoot to the cup, being in line behind 7th graders with their Play-Doh putters, Goliath learning along with the Munchkins how to sink a 6-footer. Works for me.
“Church Lady, I just want to see what I got. I went over to the Milford Putt Putt and shot one through the cannon for a hole-in-one. Trey and Luhm and Pearse were there if you want witnesses. Heck, they’re more trustworthy than my ex-Bishop Tardy teammates. And I got the ball more often at the Milford Pro-Am Roundball Classic. Pearse dished the dimes to this phone booth.”
“WELL!!!!!!! Aren’t you SPECIAL!!!!!!! A man has the career golf game of his life ditching the crocodiles by shooting a direct line over the drawbridge at Putt Putt #7 and gets an epiphany exhorting him to ask Gil for lessons at the Milford Country Club because he is divinely entitled to them!!!!!!!!!”
“If I can shoot it through the maze at Putt Putt #9 and avoid The Minotaur, why not?”
“Young man (Church Lady rubbing her hands profusely and her right cheek swelling with its usual saccharine amount of piety) , you have no business sweating with the masses at the MCC Golf Course. ‘Suffer the children’ is right. You have no right to hack at a Titleist that causes Kylie and her other 8-year-old girlie girl friends to puke all over their 9-irons.”
“Luhm cleaned up the mess on the greens. He needs something to do when he’s not buffing the Mudlark gym.”
“But God couldn’t stand the stench. It ruined Last Supper. Stick to the NBA or God will slam dunk you with a lightning bolt.”
Now that Baxendale is back, something not entirely surprising to the TWIM readers, WHAT does the ‘V’ stand for? Vaya con dios????? That has been the $64,000 question ever since her persona was hatched about 14 years ago. Okay, so “Vaya con dios, a little more arch on the ball when you’re shooting free throws!!!!!” sounds melodramatic but taking a stab SOMEWHERE might help narrow down the mystery. And I think we can rule out “Viagara”. It’s hard for me to believe that was on anybody’s mind when she was being christened. “Valporaiso”. Possible. Her parents could have been reading a Rand-McNally Atlas on Indiana or Chile while trying to solve the mystery. “Hadley” and Valparaiso” on the birth certificate. Supposin’ it’s better than flipping to the Mexico page and designating her “Hadley Veracruz Baxendale”.
P1: “Sure, Kanamit Jaquan, I can teach you to work on how to rotate the hips on your drives. I’m not doing anything anyway. Just giving the kids a few tips and watchin’ the wheels go ’round and ’round. Like Lennon, I really love to watch them swing.”
“SUPER, I really need a few pointers before that Open back on our planet. You wouldn’t want to go along, would you?”
Jaquan and Church Lady get pulled over by Texas Ranger Studman Machomania Kent Walker Shaw
Wary of getting in trouble over Writ of Habeas Corpus
“I pulled you over cuz your driver’s side brake light is busted. What are you here fer, anyhow?”
“We came by to say hello to Coach Thorp. We heard he was coaching the kids at the Milford Country Club.”
“Alright, get out of the car, both a ya”
“I’m ‘rrestin’ ya fer 2nd Degree Perjury. I ain’t seen Gil do any coachin’ since ’79. Ya have a right to remain silent, if ya giv’ up th’ right ta remain silent…”
After Miranda is done
“Any questions?”
“Yeah, can she change out of that purple garb?? I don’t think I can stomach lookin’ at that at the Milford Detention Center. Nor her glasses.”
Writing out the arrest warrant
“Awright, say it again. How many O’s in ‘Velcro’?”
And P2 is interesting. Evidently, Church Lady a/k/a Hadley Vladimir Baxendale a/k/a soon-to-be Hadley Vladimir Baxendale-Case has surprised and stunned Gil to the point that the Exploding Eye Effect has caused him to drop his left eye on the ground. Sorta like losing a contact lens. And why should he be surprised? Who does he think he was dating, Alice the Maid? She could be a mother hen to the Brady Bunch but doubt she knew much about how to steer a jock from bolting early to the NBA to getting his degree in History.
“Oh, you’ll just love Pepperdine. I majored in Art History and did my Independent Study on Raphael. Did my field studies three times, one in Venezia, one in Napoli, and one in Fiorenze. Scored an A-. Genoa was to die for. I learned that’s where Raphael learned the law. He and Abe Lincoln were studying Art Law Theory. BTW, ya wanna throw all your dirty gym shorts in the hamper? I’m about to do a load.”
And we can eliminate Betty from Archie and the Gang. She is still in love with him no matter how many times he shits on her in favor of Veronica. Hell, Archie might have competition with Jaquan. Y’know how Mr. Lodge wants Veronica dating he-man macho jocks such as Jaquan. Made for Mr. Lodge giving her away at the altar. Betty is always available should that ever occur.
Sooooooooooooo, Jaquan and Church Lady, er, Hadley Veronica SHIT, Hadley V. show up to express their respects to the one person who has made Milwaukee, er, Milford famous by sitting in the chaise lounge while Kylie wins the Masters and snatches the green jacket away from Tiger. Then Gil goes to pieces, literally.
“No worries, Coach. Lenscrafters is running a BOGO special this week. Buy one eyeball at regular price, get the second one free.”
“Thanks, Church Lady. Got an image to protect. I can’t coach these Junior Golfers looking like Cyclops’ cousin. People might think we grew up together.”
“We like ourselves…..DON’T WE???????”
Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer
“O.J. Denies Any Relationship With Church Lady After Seen At The Bucket Together!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“Ain’t no way I’m gettin’ engaged to some granny with the worst-lookin’ orthopedic shoes since ‘Maude’.”
And, Gang, if no one else will say it I WILL. In p3, that has got to be the most raggedly looking hair color Hadley V. has worn since she graced the stage to put girls basketball on the map. I have LONG been a supporter of Women’s Athletics, our high school girls golf team garnering several State Championships, and I mean, all comers in the State, not Class A or Class AA, etc. I have supported the bench warmer up to the star of the team in any sport. I like how the college I follow has LONG made Women’s Athletics a priority.
That said, she looks like a St. Bernard. Is it necessary to streak her hair like that or is that one of the reasons Jaquan is attracted to her. I’ll concede she is very attractive but
“Man, the way you shake those hips and slobber at the same time really gets me going.”
Diff’rent strokes for diff’rent folks, I reckon.
I just couldn’t see Miss Kitty with that hair style at the Dodge City Saloon. It was bad enough she was just cannon fodder for the show while Matt Dillon executed any action. Sure, Matt going after the Dalton Gang while Miss St. Bernard washes the shot glasses. It may have lasted 20+ plus years with that formula but I turned it off after Dillon took care of the Clanton Boys and the next scene was Miss St. Bernard at the Amana Dishwasher.
At the Milford Football Stadium where Commencement is taking place
“…John William Barlow…”
“Congratulations, son, good luck at Harvard.”
“Thank you.”
“…Jennifer Marie Baumann…”
“Congratulations. Break a leg in the Navy.”
“Thank you, I will.”
“…Hadley Vanadium Baxendale…”
“Congratulations. We’ll see you in 14 years. Good luck at Milford Technical & Vocational College.”
“Thank you.”
Comment away, Gang. Some of you already have and I humbly thank you. You’re the reason for my posts, Y’all. Can’t do it without you.
“Harry Caray back in Wrigley talking with Hadley Vending Machine Baxendale. Vending Machine, congratulations on being promoted to general manager.”
“Thanks, Harry.”
“So what about the trade rumors involving Sutcliffe?”
“Not true. Rick has proven to be a major player in our plans and will play a mighty role in the future, #2 behind Steve Trout.”
“Vendy, are you looking to shore up the infield? I know Moreland can play a little 1st base but is that for trade bait?”
Waving off Steve’s cigar smoke with her hand
“Well. Steve, we’re on the table for anything, including Jaquan…”
Robmize will kill me if he sees me in Wrigley.
“Why do you come across so pious? You’re the most sanctimonious individual I have interviewed on WDIG Talk Radio.”
“Marty, I don’t know. It’s just that when I look at that beard, I ask myself, ‘Now who could he be? Could he be…SATAN??????’ But what was he doing at The Bucket for the “Bucket Shakes 1/2 Off Happy Hour? Perhaps demons can slurp one down too.”
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