It’s Hard Out There For A Thorp

It’s tough to be a Coach Thorp. First we have Mimi trying to facilitate a welcoming atmosphere in volleyball practice without doing any of the heavy lifting. She thought she could count on Becca and Susan to drive the welcome wagon, but they seem to be goofballs. Mimi realizes that she might actually have to talk to Corina if she wants to make sure that Corina feels welcome on the team. Oh, poor Mimi. Sorry you might have to interact with a student.

Then we have Gil dealing with the incessant Milford media, even the one (or only) media representative who isn’t Marty Moon. Marjie wants to know who will start at QB. Gil is evasive, either because he already had to answer one question last week and he’s still recovering from the strain, or because he hasn’t actually figured out how to answer Marjie’s question.

Corina and the Angry Three Inches

I have been compared to several people over the course of my life. When I played baseball I was referred to as “a white Kirby Puckett,” more for my physical dimensions than my batting prowess. On more than one occasion in Philadelphia, I was mistaken for a former Attorney General of Pennsylvania. At a fundraiser for the National Ataxia Foundation and the Bob Allison Ataxia Research Center many years ago, I was mistaken for a certain actor by a couple of drunken attendees and pestered to the point that I signed the actor’s name on a couple of napkins to get them to leave me alone. Until yesterday, however, never have I been compared to Joan Rivers. I was beginning to think of myself as TWIM‘s version of Edwin Jackson – an innings eater. But, okay, fine. If I’m ever half as good at anything as Joan was at comedy, then I will have done well.

On to today’s strip. It wasn’t enough for Rubin to give Corina authority issues; she had to be a general jerk to everyone around her as well. Now we can add “wants to be violent towards people” to her psychological profile. She may also suffer from penis envy a Napoleon complex as she wishes she had Becca’s three additional inches to better inflict harm on her opponents.

I do appreciate the little difference of opinion between Becca and Susan on Corina; hopefully Becca’s take is a sign that Corina’s shtick is getting old. I also appreciate the contortions Mimi’s elbows have to go through to get her forearms parallel to her shirt placket and her palms up at collarbone level.

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, and Shut Your Piehole

Corina must not have gotten enough free meals out of Milford, so she whipped out Mim’s* business card, punched up those digits, and set up a lunch date at the diner to glom one last one. Wow, that diner table sure is shiny, ain’t it? Looks like Steve Luhm must’ve dropped in and applied his mop skills to it. You sure as shootin’ know Maureen didn’t, since her nosy ass has been spending so much time burning up the phone lines.

This feels like an arc-ender, what with Maureen’s snappy one-liner and the fact that this is the last weekend in August. What, really, have the last couple of months advanced in this strip, besides laying the groundwork for two possible long-term (by Gil Thorp standards) characters? That Milford has its own version of Mary Worth in Maureen? That Mimi’s gonna end up with a decent catcher for the Lady Mudlarks next spring? That Golden Boy True Standish isn’t so golden?

Tune in Monday when we’ll see if Kaz and Rick Scott are attaching face shields behind the Mudlarks’ face masks.

*Not a typo; see Thursday’s strip.

The Jedi Mind Trick As Recruiting Tool

[Insert bow-chicka-wow-wow here]

“Recruit you? No. Groom you? Hmmmmmmmmmmmaybe…”

“Whaddaya mean, ‘groom’?”

“Well, look at that hair of yours. Just yesterday you had a bob, and today you’re rocking a mullet. Besides, the only way to convince players to come play for Milford is to actively encourage them not to come play for Milford.

“No, if I’m recruiting anyone, it’s the guy on my – er, our mound. Say, True, you’ve filled out quite nicely. Bet you could fill up these big boxes. (Seriously, is Whigham ever gonna be able to draw batter’s boxes consistently?) I’ve got an itch that needs scratching – I mean, a pool that needs tending. What’re you doing in your free time this summer?”

“Well, Mrs. Coach Thorp…”

“Call me Mimi.”

“Well, Mrs. Coach Mimi, I was just gonna swing by CVS and pick up my mom’s Zoloft prescription then go back to the country club and get some more pointers from Mr. Coach Thorp. But first I gotta pay Corina here for this catching session.”

“Wait, you’re paying her to catch for you?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Well that settles that. Corian, or whatever your name is, you’ve forfeited your high school eligibility, so you won’t be playing for Milford or anywhere else in the Valley for that matter. Come, True, let’s see how else you’ve grown.”

Hypnocookie!

Suddenly, Mrs. Standish produces a plate of cookies, which symbolizes the comfort and support that Milford offers the mentally ill. She suggests to Corina that Art has been trying to get out of the tank town for years now that True’s high school football career has been over for six years. Ma Standish isn’t budging though. There’s no place like Milford. She offers Corina a cookie in a paper cookie holder (?) and Corina freezes in place, wondering what the heck this woman is talking about, how any of this is going to help her mother, and what the heck is in these cookies.

Phoebe stops by the Thorps’ to tell Mimi that she should talk to Maureen at the diner about an exciting softball catching prospect that may be moving to Milford!

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

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

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.

Predictable, That’s The Word Of The Day

Summer has officially arrived. We survived a plot that nobody wants to think about ever again, so we cleanse our palates with a cool, refreshing beverage on the deck at the Thorp house. This event is so predictable that Mimi calls out its predictable nature in the text. Wow, that’s like, meta.

Gil is as predictable as the strip named for him. He knows it and Mimi knows it. Ah, but Gil has a trick up his sleeve. He’s mixed iced tea into the official beverage of the Thorp deck, lemonade, to make Arnold Palmers. (Is Gil already thinking of golf? Probably. He is so predictable.)

I don’t mind an Arnold Palmer, but I am a dedicated drinker of iced tea. We don’t know Mimi’s stance on iced tea. (Have they ever drank iced tea in Gil Thorp, Long Island notwithstanding? I haven’t a clue.) If Mimi is not into iced tea, perhaps an Arnold Palmer to her is a ruined glass of lemonade. Maybe Gil is about to get a pitcher of Arnold Palmers dumped on his head. That would be unpredictable, but…

We’ve got to ease into a new plot with some characters we can’t identify. We have two young women, one who wants to sleep in and one who needs her “bestie” to get her downtown. (Do kids use the term bestie and do they actually address friends thusly? I’m clueless here too.)

So the bestie that’s all ready to go (Earrings: check. Bracelets: check. Bare midriff: check.) has presumably passed through a parental checkpoint and proceeded straight to her bestie’s bedroom. I can’t help but image an Eddie Haskell like conversation in the foyer. “Is Bestie up? No, well Mrs. Bestie, I shall rouse her so that she shan’t tarry in bed all summer. All my best to Mr. Bestie!” Maybe kids just barge into each other’s homes these days. (Clueless.)

The word predictable immediately brings to mind this Kinks song from the dawn of the MTV era. Maybe this era of Kinks pales in comparison to the genius songwriting of the 60s/early 70s. This song is a little trite, I guess, but I have a soft spot for that period when aging sixties acts tried their hand at updating sounds and making videos to appeal to new audiences.

Mimi Thorp: Guaranteed to Satisfy

While I was flat on my back in hospital this past weekend I did manage to keep up with the shenanigans at Milford Town Park, where the Milford – Valley Modified baseball game turned first into a rout then into a pukefest picnic. First the game was interrupted by pizza and drinks, then with a giant sub in the porniest way possible then, finally, with a visit from an ice cream truck with a name straight out of a Cheech and Chong movie and looking like it’s staffed by two Kazakhs and a bear.

As disgustingly as that whole scene played out, it pales in comparison to the victory lap these three mooks are taking in the Milford teacher’s teachers’ lounge. Nice to know that Gil, Kaz and Rooney feel as though buying the Dead End Kids some grub can assuage their guilt over not standing up for The Mayor when he needed it most, effectively screwing up his life for the forseeable future… or have they? What’s this mysterious email Gil’s referring to? Will it help Mike Knappe overcome the stigma of violating a draconian zero-tolerance policy for which none of his teachers or coaches stood up in opposition?

Who knows? All they care about is trying to figure out who sent the ice cream truck to Town Park. Hunkered down with a Popsicle® and a knowing smile, Mimi breaks the fourth wall. She must’ve been the one who stopped Uncle Bud as he was passing by.