Well we got through another game with One- Eyed Jack fumbling around with balls hit to him; we have a new hero in Andy Morrison, whose name is so common I didnt bother googling him. Suffice to say he’s not Jim’s son. Although he could have been. (You figure he was born around 2005, Jim would have been 62 that year and Mick Jagger was 74 when he had his last kid 4 years ago. So its…possible…)
These guys wearing jeans — most baseball players wear athletic pants to their games. If not their uniforms. Im sure I saw our high school team on the road more then once and they wore their uniforms to the games. Damn it, they didnt retreat to a locker room after the game— they went from the bus to the dugout and back. Its not football. Baseball uniforms are very normal attire for a day. Whats with all the changing clothes anyway for a baseball game?? Where are all the uniforms? In their dinky backpacks?
And P3 we have One- Eyed Jack hoping Gil doesnt make him work on something in practice THAT HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN WORKING ON SINCE FREAKIN DAY ONE OF SPRING PRACTICE FOR AT LEAST A HALF HOUR EACH DAY. That way Gil could have figured out this dope cant see a drop of bird shit on home plate until he slips on it.
And of course Stat Boy has another brilliant idea to delay the inevitable reveal of OEJ’s vision problem. We’ll get a glimpse (no pun intended) of that tomorrow.
By then everyones uniform will have shrunk 2 sizes on the bus ride home.
Charis the tennis player (the only Milford High girl we’ve been introduced to this season so far) points out how ludicrous it seems to jump to conclusions about Papa Hamm’s camera-shyness. Since the witness protection program idea has already been thrown out, it can’t be the reason. Odds are it’s something really stupid he’s using as an excuse for ghostwriting books for business executives.
Smash cut to La Maison Du Jambon where we have another Milford athlete’s mom ticked off at that Milford athlete’s dad’s bizarre behavior. Shades of last spring,non? Mama Hamm’s appearance begs the question: If he’s the one trying to hide, why’s she the one who’s constantly changing her hair, clothes, and glasses? Mama’s confrontational speech reads like a lame Milford Mad Lib:
“You, fantasizing about Marjie Ducey. Me, indulging your fantasy by dyeing my hair blonde and putting on wire-rimmed glasses.”
“You, trying to live down the failed tryout for Colonel Sanders you lost to Norm McDonald. Me, suggesting you should be the one who dyes their hair.”
“You, thinking you can’t be seen. Me, thinking our son can’t see.” Wait, neither of them are thinking this. That’s how this plot has remained even remotely plausible.
Have at it with your own Milford Mad Libs in the comments, gentle readers, and stay dry this weekend.
A quick review of the weeks strips ( I was out in Tucson all week on a golf /swimming / sightseeing / spring break vacation) and its astonishing how Gregg Hamm is getting through life the way he is.
I had terrible eyesight as a kid too, and wound up getting Lasik in 2001 with corrrection to 20/30 thats now about 20/40. But I merely had astigmatism, and it seems Gregg here is basically half blind even WITH glasses. One of the many things I learned out in the valley of the sun was that bats arent blind– they actually see very well, and also listen to vibrations in the air to detect predators.
As I said before, I cant imagine how Gregg is a pitcher even with a catcher who knows him, as part of the duty of pitching is defending your own position, and hey, if a rocket comes back at him, how can he see it fast enough? Ok, maybe it doesnt matter how well you see sometimes; as we’ve all seen pitchers knocked down by batted balls. But he has many other things to do besides pitch every 4 days in spring. You need your eyes 365 days a year.
No idea what the hell that is on P1, (just figured it out, I thought it was something they had at the field to make noise, and the girl was the DJ)
Then there’s P3. A pink clad pitcher, throwing to a pink clad batter, with a red clad catcher, and there’s Gregg standing right behind the batter thinking about his fastball that may come right back at him in a millisecond. I need help here– and just getting back home I’m not ready to think that much. Have at it gang!
More exposition today of Scooter’s love of baseball trivia. Also more indulgence of the Chief’s latest fetish: shoe bottoms. (Speaking of fetishes, have you checked out Rex Morgan lately? What’s up with that?)
Nice discussion of baseball records unlikely to be broken yesterday. Josh Fruhlinger was pretty spot on when he ventured:
I’m not a “sports guy” but the answer to this question has to be pitching-related, right, since they used to put pitchers in 60 games a year or whatever but now they’ve evolved into delicate, crane-like creatures capable of throwing at superhuman speeds but also they need lots of downtime between starts or their hollow bones will explode?
Count me among those who lean toward the early 20th-century pitching records as the least likely to be broken. I’ll add the 110 career shutouts from the man in whom bitterness was never detected.
Scooter seems slightly impressed that Gregg has some grasp of baseball trivia. That “watch your step,” then, isn’t likely some kind of warning to stay of his trivia turf. Thoughtful of Gregg not to make some kind of crack about Scooter’s step-watching ability being a function of his height. Scoot might’ve gone off Barry Bader style.
What a crock of crap this Prannit is. Did we really need a followup to yesterdays explanation of his collected bet money? I half expected all the money to fall out of his pockets when they flipped him upside down. When I was a kid our dad had a friend who would stand on his head and a bunch of change would fall out of his pockets, and we kids could scoop it up.
So he had to be dishonest to get people to be honest. Sheesh. Why would they give a crap whether he could go to school or not?? YOU CAN PAY SOMEONE ANYWHERE! Why does it necessarily have to be on school property?
And I thought he was just suspended from the basketball team, not from school, period. Big difference.
AND — he’s a dope for not collecting the damn money in the first place. Why make everything so difficult?
And who said anything about “all these poker sites” before? I thought it was SportsDuke or nothing. Another piece of BS from Mister BS.
And if any of these morons who didnt pay him before had a brain, they wouldnt believe his story about listing names on a betting website, because THERE IS NO SUCH LISTING ON ANY OF THESE WEBSITES NOR HAS THERE EVER BEEN!
I’m gettin’ sappy nostalgic on you whippersnappers again but I bet you’ll love this one. You old fogeys like me surely remember the great Johnny Bench when he was with the Cincinnati Reds and the famed Big Red Machine. You hated them because they WON all the time. They would steal more victories than Pranit’s betting network and even when you beat them, you EARNED it. I’ve told this before but bears repeating, once on the day of the 1976 Major League Baseball All-Star Game, an announcer said flatly on the radio “Tonight, the American League will take on the Cincinnati Reds”. THAT’S how formidable they were.
That said, Bench was in this Wheaties commercial where nothing is going right (the whole thing looked staged judging by the softball warm-up shirt the opponent was wearing) as he applies the tag and his catcher’s mitt falls off or he fields a bunt and slips on his ass or tries to field a foul pop in the stands and winds up practically getting a kid’s ice cream and the ball back because another kid feels sorry for him. As this comedy of errors is happening, a jingle is playfully playing, as if some dog-and-pony band is taunting him, “Heyyyyyyyyyy, John, you didn’t have your Wheaties/C’mon, Man, you’re lookin’ kinda sad”, or something to that effect. Finally, the umpire gruffly says “Hey, Bench, you didn’t have your Wheaties today, did ya?” Bench wasn’t going to argue.
But damn, it looks like the Wheaties truck pulled up at this game right behind Nick’s Pizza and Jay’s Subs, judging by Gordon’s physique today. He must have eaten a bathtub full of Wheaties. It’s a shame if they don’t make the Playdowns. He’d be the starting middle linebacker, hands down. And if you have any lingering gambling debts, you better pay ’em now or King Kong will be at your locker faster than you can say Goodfellas. I know I’m looking through my 3-ring binder for any outstanding betting slips.
And Pranit is yet another player leading the Wheaties parade today. Anybody who can toss a beach ball into a waste basket the janitor borrowed from one of the classrooms must have OD’d on the cereal. This is what psychologists call Compensation. You want to show how grateful you are that Gil didn’t put you in a strait jacket and ship your ass in the Valley Modified van to Valley Modified when he was within the boundaries to do so AND REALLY SHOULD HAVE ANYWAY that you become compulsive/obsessive for Wheaties, Shredded Wheat, Total, Great Value Flakes, Life, Post Toasties, Corn Whispies, which helps you play the game of your career. You can shoot a Great Value Flakes box into the basket, you’re that pumped. You and King Kong could win the Valley if the coaching ate its Wheaties but it appears Gil’s had one box of Cocoa Puffs too many. God, no wonder why the team falls apart.
Heyyyyyyyyyyy, Gil, you didn’t have your Wheaties
C’mon, dude, your manhood’s kinda sad
“Gil, you didn’t eat your Wheaties. Don’t come back to bed until you’ve had a bowl or two.”
“Are they still in that Lazy Susan?”
Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer
“Bobby Howry Denied Access From Milford Outdoor Agency For Six Months!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“‘Gil coaches like he’s got a Wheaties box wedged in his butt cheeks’ was deemed inappropriate by Outdoor Agency officials.”
Sheesh, no wonder why Pranit is having a career night. My goodness, the structure of the basketball backboard, goal, uprights, rafters, etc., looks like they were created out of somebody’s jungle gym. If Milford Elementary School cancelled recess due to lack of playground equipment, we can soon zero in on the culprit.I think they kept the slide unless Gil is desperate enough to replace some of the bleachers that have had better days. Keep the chains from the swings in case Homer the Ref blows a block/charge and need something to fling at him when he isn’t looking. We wouldn’t want Homer to swallow his whistle.
Anyway, have a day, Pranit. You should have had more of those but we’re too anxious for Spring sports to care.
Heyyyyyyyyyy, Dr. Pearl, you didn’t eat your Wheaties
C’mon, Ma’am, file cabinet’s overran
“Honey Bunches Moon Pie Sniggle Snuggle Petie Pie, you’re more frigid than a Klondike bar. Did you eat your Wheaties?”
“Oh dear, I knew there was something I neglected to note in my appointment book. I’ll be right back. Where’s the reading lamp?”
Is Thorpiverse still griping about those deadbeats that didn’t pay up on their gambling debts? Folks, I am not prepared to open up another can of worms when we’ve had plenty crawl all over the floor. Like, where is THIS leading? If Pranit solicits Gordon’s prowess again, is Gil going to get tough and use the paddle on Pranit? We know Pranit isn’t going to Valley Modified and you get the feeling that unless he plants a bomb in the boiler room, he’s going to get no worse than the switch. I oughta tan your hide for roughing up students on account of the Indiana-Purdue game. Gil Thorp meets Pa Kettle. What a way to fly into Spring sports.
Let this go already. Pranit is on a roll, then Tevin brings up a subject he was preaching loud and long against and is now basically saying that they may have dragged your ass into Hell but they could have at least rolled out the red carpet on your way there.
And what is Pranit going to do, not that I’m advising playing with fire. He already went the Tough Guy Route. Send the FTD Florist to each deadbeat as a gesture of goodwill? Well, he won’t get suspended by the school or knocked up side his head a two-by-four per Gil but these kinds of things show up in Gene Stratton Porter stories. Some lout in Limberlost didn’t cough up the money, now he’s invited to the church picnic and as long as he brings his own 3-bean salad, the matter is forgiven. Just don’t forget to call the umpire for the Annual Valley Modified-Milford Battle For Valley Conference Bragging Rights game.
“O.J. Turns Down Offer From Milford Screen Actors Guild For A Spot In A Wheaties Commercial!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“I eat Milford Valley Corny Chocolate Crunchies every morning and I don’t see that changing now.”
And really, did Gordon pull a wheat combine and park in the Faculty lot before the game because he bulked up to Shaq proportions. I can see the threat. Pay Pranit what’s owed him or I’ll pull this John Deere all over yo’ body. He could dismantle the goal and uprights all by himself at this point. Get your debts settled pronto or risk getting a Milford & Oakwood Passenger Sunday Special shoved in your living room. Thus spake Gordon.
Heyyyyyyyy, Corinaaaaa, you didn’t have your Wheaties
C’mon, lass, your head is up your ass
“Corina, you okay? That’s the 10th passed ball today.”
“Shhhhhhhhh, I’m trying to get out of my scholarship.”
And again, WHAT is Pranit going to do? Even admitting that we might get a clever ying to this useless yang, Mr. Ed has done left the barn and Wilbur Post is at Milford Auction Services in the market for another horse. It’s nice to see everybody getting all kissy-faced with Pranit when he really needed a size 12 in the you-know-where for his insouciant carelessness and should have gotten butter-knifed to Valley Modified but do we have to sustain more self-inflicted injuries and find out he put anybody who owed him anything through the Salvation Army Debt Forgiveness Program? All they had to do was contribute a tax-deductible $25 to the soup kitchen? How they had money to finance bums eating canned Spam but couldn’t repay Pranit, well, y’know Gil, er, the devil’s in the details. But given the sillliness of the plot, the just-mentioned scenario was simply par for the course.
So now we put a tracker on Pranit and he’s at Milford Moose Lodge Fellowship Hall where a huge feast is thrown for even those who owe him a quarter for what spit out of the gumball machine and we all hug and grab and embrace and Pranit even gets an award for Best Sixth Man since he was being benched for being stupid but bailed out Gil when Gordon wasn’t plowing through the defense. We have a few days until April. There’s still time to form a committee for the feast.
Gang, I’ve tried. I have honestly tried. I know variety is the spice of life but when I heard on the radio the other day about Compressed Therapy for Erectile Dysfunction, how could I NOT address the issue, especially when lots of men in Mudlarkland have wimpy wim wims when going to bed? And all they needed was a laminating press as an antidote? I had to answer the call
“Mommy, Daddy is in the den and he’s making a lot of noise. He’s saying something like ‘I’m goin’ hard or goin’ home’. He also said something about his money back.”
“WHAT????? Keri, Mommy is going to stop this carnival before it makes a clown out of you and me.”
WHIIIIRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Ahhhhhhh, that’ll speed up the process. This Jacuzzi Mini-Tub I ordered will get my thang harder than the Rock of Gibralter in less than half an hour. And all I have to do is add some epsom salts. Gotta flavor the meat.”
“Gil, unlock this damn door now!!! You are scaring the bejabbers out of the kids!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
WACKY TACKY WACKY TACKY WACKY-
“Honey, dammit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don’t bother me now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m in the rinse cycle of this compression machine that I put together from the parts I ordered from Milford Electronics. I need a gentle massage and a spraying away all the detritus from my thang. This’ll only take a moment.”
“Daddy, why were you using test tubes earlier? I heard a lot of crashing and clinking.”
“Honey, Daddy has to be a man and if he has to go to Hobby Lobby to buy a chemistry set to aid and abet in the cause, then by God, it’ll be worth it when he’s making a goal line stance with Mommy in bed tonight.”
more CLINK!!!!!!! CLINK!!!!!!!!!! CLINK!!!!!!!!!!! CLUNK!!!!!!!!!!!
“Keri, if Daddy was using the EREC-3503 Anti-Coagulant Thermal Formula that I laid on the dresser, there’d be no need for test tubes, Erlenmeyer flasks, Bunsen burners, beakers, or Jacuzzi wash tubs. Now, Gil, can this foolishness and get your butt out here NOW!!!”
HMMMMMMMMMMYEEEEEEEOOOOWWWWWWWWWWW as the compressed therapy erectile enhancer machine growls like Joe “Tricky Sam” Nanton used to do with his trombone in the Duke Ellington Orchestra
“Mimi, it’s like this. When you add enough hydrochloric acid to methanedeoxydrylmagnesiumethanolsulfuricpentagranicnitroussonicnutrasweetstinkinggasradicaliondilithiumterrabutylacetylene, it should pump that thang after you have gone through the treadmill and titrated General Mills Reduced Fat Flour and then run off enough phenylthalene to distill through the pipetted solution that contains enough solute to blow up Assembly Hall and generate the cathode tube through your spleen to stimulate the compression process so that tonight, I’ll be a new man after I limped on the court like Willis Reed and still got the Knicks the championship.”
“Mommy, can we go to Toys ‘R’ Us and buy a chemistry set? I want to put sulfuric acid on my wee wee so I don’t go limp like this Mr. Willis that Daddy’s talking about.”
“YOU’LL DO NOTHING OF THE SORT, JAIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Gil, open this door-“
BLAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
“Damn, I knew I should have added acid to water.”
“It wasn’t a picnic cleaning up the mess. And I took that Anti-Coagulant Formula Mimi was pushing on me and can see why she did. We have had the time of our lives and every night is Game 7 of the 1970 NBA Finals and I’m Willis Reed dunkin’ on Wilt with a reinvigorated thang. Come to Milford Men’s Clinic where the friendly staff can show you how to a reverse jam on your partner. Manhood has never been better.”
Gang, that’s enough. Stop sending Andre the Giant into the game. Shoot, he devoured the whole Wheaties factory. ‘Nuff said.
But God bless you anyway
Heyyyyyyyyyy, Thorpiverse, you didn’t eat your Wheaties
We’ll start off with the obvious– Milford is such a tank town that not only does a place like Joe’s Subs get as much business as a more well known place like Subway everywhere else, its logo is a SUBMARINE. Holy cripes– everyone else would put a submarine logo in a FISH place! Not Milford. Now that we got that out of our system…
The 2 besties are reviewing the last game – Hollis and Cathy have been with us for 70 days. (REALLY??) Here’s what they looked like on December 13:
Looks like they both have gotten a winter tan since we started this charade. (Still dont get that Zoomie reference. Cathy hasnt called her that since. Its Bestie now.) Theyve had pizza, cookies, coffee and subs together.
I dont know about lots of playing time for Hollis since theyve hardly played any games in the last month. Theyve quietly won 4 straight; their last loss was on January 12 before Tom Brady retired; they then played 15 days later, then 2 tilts in February and this past win where Hollis blocked a shot with all her newfound playing time. 1 panel in 2 months for Captain Selfish. Cant wait for her to reveal what she’s been thinking about. Has she been invested in SportsDuke with Prannit and about to blow her scholarship on a gambling scheme thats way more badgirl then any drinking party she didnt participate in? Is she in cahoots with FatBoy as an undercover bookie? Is she gonna quit the team ahead of potential gambling allegations with both of the above clowns?
Or is it just some stupid reason we arent even aware of yet? Stay tuned and fasten your seatbelts.
“Not checking scores, Coach. Just nudes from some rando chick I don’t know. Kelly something-or-other. Says she’s a travel agent, wants to take me around the world.” If Pranit Hollywood had any stones, that’d be his reply – not only to Kaz but also to Tevin. “Oh yeah, got some pics of that little gymnast girl you been sniffin’ around, too. Said she was gonna balance my beam.” At least it’d explain Pizza Pranit’s breaking out in a sweat and sheepish grin.
Today’s strip is a whole bunch of mind your own damn business. How does Kaz know if Pranit Fitness is checking scores if he’s not looking at Pardon My Pranit’s phone? When did Tevin get appointed team captain, or to a service academy? Does everyone at Milford High think The Daily Pranit’s business is theirs now? Of course they do…
… or at least they did once he opened his trap about his Sportsduke shenanigans to more than one person. If Pranit of the Apes had kept his frickin’ mouth shut, the only problems he had would’ve been his own, at least until his losses started affecting his play. Not until then would the coaches have cared about what he does off the court. We already had the “gambling is bad, mmmmkay?” story line this past summer. Did we really need it again?
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This Week in Milford 
