This Week in Milford

June 27, 2020

It’s Different for Girls

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As robmize and you faithful TWIMers pointed out yesterday, this turned into a farce pretty quickly. Players in jeans, an umpire in a zebra shirt, one team’s pitcher coming in to pitch for the other, and now this. Since story arcs always end on Saturdays, I was hoping for the ten-run mercy rule to be invoked today. No such luck; we’re gonna get dragged through this for at least another week.

Confession time: I have owned at one time both a baseball catcher’s mitt* and a softball catcher’s mitt. They are indeed two different creatures. I probably could’ve gotten away with using my regular fielder’s glove to catch softball and, eventually, I did, sending the softball mitt on to someone playing at a more competitive level than I.  Has it been that obvious that Lotus Cortina Anna Karenina has been catching with a softball catcher’s mitt? Click that last link and look at the ball in the pocket of her mitt. It’s proportionately large in there, innit? There was nothing to lead us to believe she wasn’t catching a baseball in that “softball trapper,” a term so loaded with innuendo I ain’t even gonna try to touch it.

 

*Two, actually. My first was an Howard Elston Elston Howard model, my second a Bob Boone.

January 28, 2020

Hey, Mudlarks, Didn’t Make The Team But I Can Make This Transistor Radio Fart In 3 Languages.

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Teddy, to paraphrase the famous George Carlin album, with that cheap appliance you have in your possession that you purchased at Milford Antique Mall, it’s no mystery why you DID get the last girl at the school dance.

And don’t misunderstand me, nobody enjoyed school pranks more than I did. When I was taking German in my sophomore year in high school, we had a teacher, Mr. Stieler (like Pittsburgh Steelers) , who had an annoying habit of pulling down this map of Germany whenever the lesson brought up a place within the boundaries of the country (or Austria or Switzerland or Liecthenstein or Luxembourg or Alsace-Lorain, etc.) . Oberammergau, Neuschwanstein, Ludwigshafen, Garmischpartenkirchen, you name it, Mr. Stieler yanked it down and zeroed in on the location as if he’d been there last week to pick up some milk and a loaf of bread.

Well, some students put up a poster of Farrah Fawcett-Majors (’70’s, mind you) , and taped it over the map so the next time we approached the chapter discussing Frankfurt-am-Main, naturally and as if on cue, Mr. Stieler headed to the map and rattled off what an El Dorado that Frankfurt-am-Main was, that it should be your next vacation for the whole family, according to the AAA Travelogue, pulled down the map while singing the praises of Frankfurt-am-Main (O Victory in Frankfurt, my Savior forever…”) , and got the surprise of his life.

So if you’re going to be the class clown, Teddy, will you please frequent Best Buy or Radio Shack for all your classroom prank needs? Going to yard sales for electronic equipment that subsequently serves as a fly in the ointment for your adversary, let alone the teacher, really won’t cut it. Farting out Schleswig-Holstein in Japanese on your cheap Rural King translator while Schuring is doing a linear equation on the blackboard? Yeah buddy. Or maybe employing a used toaster to pop up Great Value waffles while Schuring is doing a book report on the Gettysburg Address. Hold that tiger.

George Wallace, the black comedian, not the famous ex-Governor of Alabama, and one of my favorite comedians, said it best once

“Answer me this, why do you whites have yard sales the next day after you’ve gotten drunk the night before on Friday night? And I’ll answer your question, yeah, when we honk, we all know each other.”

Teddy, therefore, why do you ATTEND yard sales to get trinkets that are meant to be a pain in the butt? Use your Visa card next time. Plenty of annoying contraptions that can also cut up Julienne fries.

 

Because I get a sneakin’ suspicion Mimi was impulse-buying when she purchased “Captain Kangaroo’s Fun Steps to a Better Basketball Player” from the candy bar rack

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Sales Are Shooting Through The Roof Over The Latest Edition To The Non-Fiction Aisle At Milford IGA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Mimi Thorp: ‘We can teach our Feeder Leagues that if Grandfather Clock can make a free throw with the proper follow-through, anyone can.”

 

Not really sure why DeMarco is at The Bucket with his new toy. Like The Joker or The Penguin use The Bucket as HIS hideout. I suppose everyone has to have a place to touch base with when you’re either passing gas from that Brewmaster Instant Coffee machine or robbing the Milford 7-11.

“And when Schuring says ‘Four score and seven years ago, I’ll just nab the moment with my Close ‘n’ Play!!!!!!!!!!!! Still got your vinyl Alice Cooper’s ‘Love it to Death’?”

 

And then there’s the Wonderblender angle on this whole shebang. Anybody who watched Fernwood 2 Night knows of what I speak. Lou Moffett, a reputed consumer advocate playing the role of consumer watchdog against consumer rip-offs, wound up being guilty of his own Close ‘n’ Play.

And it is totally comical to observe Teddy display the calculator with…what? The speaker emanating from a miniaturized version of The Jetsons’ computer?

“Hey, Mr. Wonderblender computer, I know you can slice and dice and make a cherry smoothie out of Gil Thorp’s Pure Pork Sausage Decaf but what are the chances of my making the team?”

“The ppppprrrrobbbbbabbbbilllittyyyy weighs 2,567,390 pppppoooouuunnnndddssss.”

Teddy, encountering the same problem George Jetson came across when George was asking if he had the winning lottery ticket from Milford 7-11’s location on Deneb, trying to decipher a computer speaking with ping pong balls crammed in its mouth

“Okay, but what’s that got to do with my making the team?”

“Fffffffaaaatttttt chhhhhhaaannnnnnccccceeeee.”

If ya go ta the town square and git all the jars of hog chitlins from one table and duct tape from another table and baggy sweat pants from a third table cuz ya got ta have breakfast, ya got ta repair the toilet seat again and ya gotta have somethin’ a wear ta yore daughter’s graduation, in that order, ya might be a redneck.

 

“If you’re as appalled as I am by all the Veggie-matics and mixers that say that they can make cucumber salad out of collared greens and still disrupt Schuring’s recital of the Bill of Rights by memory, let me tell you, the Won-dah Blen-dah here can shred turnips to size and make a nice tuna casserole and put ol’ I-can’t-shoot-in-the-clutch-much-less-bake-cookies-in-the-Set-it-and-Forget-It-Amana-Range out to pasture. Just a matter of pushing the right buttons, sure.”

 

“And fellow stooge, this walkie-talkie/phone bug even recorded who shot Coach Shaw. The salesman at Costco cut me in on a discount. Just insert the AAAA batteries and we’ll know soon enough and collect our reward. Press ‘play’…”

“Bond, is that you? This is M. Report to headquarters immediately. Don’t even check in with Miss Moneypenny. We caught Blofeld’s trail over by Mudlark Lake Dam.”

 

Gang, I’m not even gonna try to wonder how Teddy got that scuzz on his face. Is Thorpiverse trying to send us a message? It’s a lousy one if it’s trying to make Joe Cool out of a face in dire need of Barbasol. Hoo boy, did this backfire.

He may have been obnoxious, crass, ill-mannered, insensitive, impolite, devious, unorganized, smelly, rancorous, but at least Gil shaved. So did Teddy. They both can’t coach but that’s another story.

 

“Folks, I just get furious when I see how expensive shaving apparatuses can be. It’s like Gillette and Norelco could care less about the average Joe and his financial liabilities, am I right, you bet.  When you are so concerned that you’ll get your car repossessed by Milford Federal Credit Union that you cannot afford a disposable blade, it’s time to take action, sure.

That’s why I am proud to present the Gilco Shave-a-Matic. It shaves better than all the leading brands combined, local shaving kits included. You can’t hide from us, shaving company that does a number on Marty’s goatee. Take Teddy in P2, sure. Doesn’t he look like he’s been shaving with the Won-dah Blen-dah? I think so, you bet. But get those rotor blades spinning at the proper angles with plenty of Canadian snake root spread all over his face and be sure the appliance is plugged in and no more fuzz like Gil had the first day of Basic in the Marines. And I promise you, for the same price as that toy graphing calculator that Teddy is touting in P2, his face can shine like his derriere after he wiped with Bounty, sure.”

 

The Bucket would have you think that’s where Teddy and his henchman are plotting Chris’ demise with their amazing technicolor machines. But Xanadu and the rest of the Electric Light Orchestra with Olivia Newton-John on a roller-skating assignment at the drive-in area seems more feasible.

And what’s worse, I have found 2 hairstyles worse than Coach Thorp’s. One is based upon a painting of IGA Ramen Noodles Teddy’s buddy spotted at a studio being oil-painted (so THAT’S what those naked ladies were eating in “Luncheon on the Grass”) for the Milford Chautauqua Fair and the other is Jimmy Dean with a mohawk. Rebel without a cause but with a walkman that can pass gas. Never thought I’d see the day.

 

“Doesn’t this plot stink out Teddy’s hairdo? You bet. Why I’ve heard people complaining that Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids could conjure up storylines better than this watered-down Father Brown mystery, sure. That’s why when you put eggs, cherry bombs, Mimi’s Waldorf salad, refried beans, kelp, orange juice, Gil’s medicated anti-frizzy shampoo, and Gerber’s Peeled Carrots into the Won-dah Blen-dah, turn the function to “mince”, you’ll have a plot ready to eat in no time flat. Just trim the fat, cut out all the bullshit, and drain the kelp, sure. Presto, dinner is served.

 

“No, Jerry, the stork did not deliver a Wonderblender to your house after you were born. I’m sure your mom did OK with those GE formula warmers. And we’ll be back after these messages.”

 

“Folks, are you having trouble keeping under budget every week? Does the grocery bill last longer sometimes than a triple-overtime game? Wouldn’t you like a little relief?

Hi, this is Coach Thorp for Milford Beverage Warehouse. The good people at the Warehouse understand that. After all, they don’t shop only at The Warehouse. They gotta get groceries too.

That’s why they are pleased to announce the Love for Liquor, Food for Free campaign. This week, a purchase of your favorite beers and wines will earn you a voucher for $25 of groceries. That’s right, if you purchase 1.75 ml of Maker’s Mark Whiskey for the unbeatable price of $42.99, you’ll walk away with some serious goodies. Boy, some whiskey and Captain Crunch is welcome at my breakfast table anytime.

But then some of you more discriminating connoisseurs might like Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc for $13.44 to go along with your London broil on the grill, topped by Heinz 57. Hey, whatever yanks your crank. Add some corn on the cob and you make it a meal.

For those of you who like to party to the max, we got ya covered. Imagine, some Bud Light 24-pack and some Betty Crocker Lemon Cake after a plateful of popcorn shrimp and Spaghetti O’s. At $14.99, doesn’t free groceries sound romantic? Looking through my beer mug of love sounds too good to be true.

And for every New Amsterdam Vodka you purchase, you’ll get a Wonderblender as a free gift and our way of thanking you for making The Warehouse the Beverage of Choice. Just think of all the vegetables you can stick into the blender, apples, oranges, mangos, grapes, avocados, and cranberries, saving the Vodka for last. Turn on the blender, watch it spin ’round and ’round, and you got a recipe for success fit for a king.

Come in and spin your own bottle and walk with a blender and money you saved by shopping at The Warehouse and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.

 

Thanks for your patience. I’ve been trying to fix this calculator all day. I finally got the trig functions to work.

With all the views so far, you people are kinder than I have a right to expect. You people keep me going even when I’m cussin’ and fussin’ with the machines (ha) . You all keep the site going. I am truly humbled and blessed by all the TWIMers. YOU’RE the ones crucifying Gil (ha ha) . May God bless you all and thanks again for your eternal patience.

 

“Mimi, come to bed.”

“Just a minute, Gil, I want to see how Mr. Moose slides his feet on defense. I think it’s a key concept I can teach the ladies.”

 

 

 

“…and in this great nation of ours, I have never seen anyone more incompetent to coach the girls team. Seen better coaches from Aunt Bea, you bet. And look at that hair. Why if that’s not a model for matting to fill the gerbil cage, I’m Neil Armstrong, sure. Well, Fernwood, I can’t teach Mimi how to call a time out but with Miracle-Moptop, fuzzy hair while you’re whapping your player’s ass with your basketball program is a thing of the past. Just set the mode to “gel” and-bonzai-no more tears and no more scarecrow hair. Boy, bet Mimi would love to call out a give-and-go with her hair follicles hanging like ornaments on a Christmas tree, you bet. And if you set it to “extra gel”, her hair will be pasted to her cochlea while the team is staging a furious rally. Sounds exciting, doesnt it, sure…”

 

And to round out George Carlin one more time

Remember

You can Gil your finger but don’t finger your Gil

 

June 8, 2019

Coffee Talk with Linda… Carr?

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“Welcome to Coffee Talk. I’m your host Mimi Thorp. On this show we talk about coffee, softball, volleyball, George Orwell – you know, no big whoop. Just Coffee Talk.

“Today I’m coming to you live from the Milford High Teacher’s Lounge. Now which teacher is it for? Well, only one Coach Thorp has their team on the verge of winning the Valley, and it’s not my guest, Coach Gil Thorp, who also happens to be my husband.

“So, nu, how is your baseball team doing?”

“Well, we’ve had better seasons, but I’m proud of the boys for…”

“Feh, no big whoop. Have I told you about my girls and all their interests off the field?  It gives them swagger and it’s infectious. Kind of like toenail fungus.”

“Yeah. I’m seeing more of those ‘TC’ pins.”

“Oh, those. Molly Hatcher got them for 39 cents each. Such a deal. At first it was a fun thing, like a Barbra Streisand marathon. Then the girls had the chutzpah to start deciding who that wasn’t on the team should be getting the pins. So I had them read Animal Farm, let them know that was a verkakte idea.  But let me tell you about Linda Carr. Her swing is like butter, but she’s gotten all shpilkes about her volleyball scholarship.  I gotta get her calmed down; I need her bat for the playdowns.

“All this talk of winning championships has me all verklempt. Talk amongst yourselves. I’ll give you a topic: The ‘Too Cool For School’ buttons are neither too cool nor for school. Discuss.”

(apologies Mike Myers)

May 11, 2019

TCFS Goes To Eleven

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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.

March 20, 2019

TFW You Spot an Ultraman Reference in Gil Thorp

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One of my fondest childhood memories was coming home from school and watching The Happy Raine Show on WCSC-TV 5, the CBS affiliate in Charleston, SC.  Happy Raine was the stage name of Lorraine “Rainey” Evans, who worked in WCSC’s marketing department. The story goes that Evans was working on a promotion for Robin Hood Flour and was mailing out Robin Hood hats, complete with feathers, to clients. One day on a whim she stuck some of the feathers in her hair; the station’s weatherman, Charlie Hall, spotted this and told Evans she could pass as a Native American.  Several months later, Evans was approached to host a live children’s show and thus Happy Raine was born.

The Happy Raine Show featured live segments with kids in the studio audience, like most locally produced children’s shows back in the day.  Interspersed between the live segments were episodes of the Japanese tokusatsu classic Ultraman. I won’t bog you down with the details of Ultraman if you don’t know them already.  Suffice it to say that we Baby Boomer/GenX cusp kids looked forward to seeing what bizarre kaiju Ultraman would fight that afternoon. The kaiju were easy to root against as they stomped around cardboard Tokyo – that is, until the kaiju was Jamila.

The Ultraman Wiki describes Jamila (ジャミラ) as “an astronaut who came into contact with an extraterrestrial mutagen and transformed into a monster.  He returned to Earth with a vengeance for the human race, but was killed by Ultraman.  Deemed a victim of an unfortunate fate, a plaque was raised in the former human’s memory.”

 

 

Jamila was one of those rare things on Ultraman: a villain who wasn’t entirely villainous.  Something to wrap your grammar school brain around before it was time to do your homework.

It’s nice to see that Jamila has been reincarnated as a Lady Mudlarks’ pitcher.  Thanks for indulging my childhood nostalgia.  Now let’s deconstruct today’s strip.

P1: Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball.

P2: Happy Fun Ball is actually a pitch from Jamila that got away from catcher Jocelynn Brown.  Any relation to Big Ken from a few years back?  Nah, more likely a shout-out to one of Neal’s friends at the Detroit News.  Funny how Happy Fun Ball goes from being tiny in Mimi’s hand to enormous in Jocelynn’s, innit?

P3: Since there was no Lady Mudlarks basketball this past season (at least none that we saw), Mimi’s had a lot of time on her hands to think up wacky hijinks like scheduling a scrimmage.  Extra work for the Coaches Thorp?  That’s crazy talk!  Gil’s plying her with Long Island Iced teas to rid her of such notions.

December 21, 2018

Late rush? Go to Denny’s.

Filed under: actual action, basketball, Gil Thorp, huge earrings, Marjie Ducey, oversize objects — robmize2013 @ 8:49 pm

And I get to describe the ball again being too large for the basket, hence the Cold shooting. Why travel that far and use beachballs? P1 has 2 different squares behind the net. One is short and square, the other is longer and more rectangular. Artist error # 234.

A late rush? If  outscoring a team thats blowing you out 11-6 in garbage time when they clear the benches is a late rush, I’m joining Phi Slamma Jamma.

And its Margie D again in P3, warming our hearts on a cold winters night (yes its the first day of winter), gazing at Gil as if he’s nuts with his remark that they didnt give up. Brian Ulmer is not only the best center you will face, he’s also a man without one.

https://provider.stvincent.org/details/545/brian-ulmer-internal_medicine-indianapolis

 

September 25, 2018

And Gil Screams Eiffel Tower High

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Awwwwwwwwww. Gil is in utter disbelief as his team is virtually getting railroaded. No doubt the Oakwood coach did call a time out but us Thorpiverse veterans are used to not holding our breaths when the Mudlark finishes the Mudlark Marathon run from Athens, Greece (where the Olympics all began) to Milford (well, the plot’s always a marathon, anyway) and beats the rest of the world by 2 days, 29 hours, 34 seconds, 1/456 microseconds, lapping France, Kenya, Sudetenland, Maldives (appaently training techniques suck, such as bad nutrition, i.e., dearth of Special K, Lucky Charms, apples, oranges, limes. uglis, mangos, beets, onions, borscht, prunes, etc.) et al only to find out he was disqualified because he skipped the Strait of Magellan when he was negotiating his way from the Atlantic to the Pacific. We’re resigned to our fate, thankful for the day when every ONCE IN A BLUE MOON they win SOMETHING. Nope, gang, Charlie Brown and his band of merry losers can keep on losing and build eternal character along the way and still keep its readership going. Not so in the world of Thorpiverse. Win SOMETHING, preferably a State Championship (Normally that’s wisely the case) or watch EVERYBODY switch over to Dagwood (technically Blondie).  A Doug Flutie like Miracle Bomb from the Strait of Magellan to the other end zone will have subscribers for life.

“Marino heaves a torpedo from 99 yards for the game TOUCHDOWN MILFORD. There’s an injury time out as the explosion caused mass destruction and the game can’t end on a natural disaster but the Mudlarks will likely win as De Windt, though blown in two, still managed to hang on and keep one foot in bounds!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Plus, everybody else got blown sky high!!!!!!!!!!”

If that doesn’t spike subscription sales, Marty Moon’s an astronaut.

 

And if Gil’s frown doesn’t prove that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, nothing will. That arc on his visage is the route you would negotiate through the Alps from Milano, Italia to Innsbruck, Osterreich. You forgot the Simplon Tunnel, Thorpiverse, assuming it’s nearby. Or just pick your favorite Deutscher Kaiser or Pope and attach an appelation to it. Make this fun.

Then there’s the fashion statement the referee is making. Time was, a referee might get yelled at by the Milford die-hards but  THE BLACK AND WHITE was wider in the stripes. Now, they got that look that Jordache is after. They’ll be hitting the runway at the modeling show at the Milford Expo Center after the game. At least there they’ll get cheered at.

 

Gang, wouldn’t you JUST ONCE love to see Coach Thorp do a tarantella when he gets waxed like he’s getting in P1? Granted, throwing a chair out on the field might not travel far in the natural grass and the field has bigger dimensions than a basketball court. But the worst I have seen from Coach Thorp the last 60 years are some Egyptian symbols (planet, ibis, North Star, pound sign, pyramid, etc.) out of some Sphinx somewhere along the Nile but I personally would like to see more animation and violent tempers and it starts with P1 in today’s strip. C’mon, Gil, you can do better than that. Scream so that Bulgaria can hear you, yell if the refs got their license out of a Trix box, say something about their mothers, they all have one, throw a helmet or a shoulder pad or a jock strap out on the field, ANYTHING to get ejected. Okay, Unsportsmanlike Conduct for throwing some player’s smelly piece of apparel is breaking precedent but the punting team has botched the snap several times, the referees are killing you and all you can manage is a Smiley face going the wrong way?  I hope the expression isn’t permanently welded. That might cause problems when you, Mimi and family do a family portrait at Milford Studios.

I do gotta admire the Nerfball sailing through the uprights at the Milford Observatory. The Oreo background makes for great atmosphere.

 

Walking toward the football field

He surely knows where to go

He slaps on his ‘phones

And puts on a show

Feasting on Gil’s fecklessness

And reckless leadership

And that Gil don’t give a shit.

 

He struts into the broadcast booth

He’s been there ever since

He strolls down to concessions

For a box of Junior Mints

Whooooaaaaaaa

Talking ’bout the game at hand

Thrashing Coach Thorp into sand

We’ll shout at Moon and demand

Try to get his attention

Scream at him

And we’ll scream, we’ll scream, we’ll scream

 

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream MARTY EIFFEL TOWER HIGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

 

I may have missed a verse or two. You might want to check me on that one. Also, thanks to Mimi Thorp for belting out the last verse and proving a suitable replacement for Grant Hart. We know she’s busy with her basketball team. She’ll be even busier this year as the conference upped the schedule by one game. How she finds time to sweat through a five-game schedule and rock with one of the best in the business and still find time for the kids and Gil (well, in bed, anyway) is nothing short of amazing. Scripts have a way of easing up the logjam.

 

If yore face got permanently contorted cuz that shot of Jack came straight from the well outta some corn field somewhar and ya wind up as a Witch Doctor Exhibit at the Milford Museum, ya might be a redneck.

“And Coach T’s inept coaching strikes again. That pouty gargoyle mien won’t save his ass this time. We’ll be back to wrap things up in a moment. The final score, Oakwood, 31, Milford, 28. You’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

Coach Shaw is reading The Saturday Evening Post. He’s doing the “Where Do You Think You Are?” section. It’s all the Milfords in all the different states and he’s already figured out Milford, Delaware, Milford, Connecticut, Milford, Pennsylvania, and Milford Indiana, but can’t figure the state Milford, as in Mudlarks, comes from. (“It’s only 5 kilometers to Oakwood?”) While he’s wrestling with an Angel on this one

“Hi, Honey, I have a surprise!!!!!!!!”

“Wow, DO YOU EVER!!!!!!! I’m trying to solve this knotty problem. How many ‘k’s in ‘Mudlarkia’?”

“Darling, how can you indulge in one of Benjamin Franklin’s pastimes at a time like this when I have something in my possession that will alter your life?”

“You finally bought them mag wheels for my Dodge Durango? Wow, I’ll be the envy of my hunting buddies. Them raccoons will get their rings knocked off from all that glitter.”

“Nooooooooooooo.”

“Did my mail-order sawed off Winchester arrive today?”

“Nooooooooooooo.”

“Daggone it, I need to call the Milford FedEx office. It was shipped Tuesday. It’s already Friday. Looks like I get free shipping on my gun anyway.”

“I have something else that’s free.”

“Honey, you know they don’t run specials on deer tags. That’ll be the day.”

“Nope. Time’s up. Ta-daaaaaaaaaaa”

Shaw’s wife pops in the living room in a black bikini.

Shaw drops the Saturday Evening Post in the magazine rack between Field and Stream and Milford Outdoors Today

“Gloopy glop, um, I think I’ll head down to the Milford Public Library. I bet they’d know about Mudlarkia.”

“Uh, It’s Saturday and it’s 6:00PM and I think they’re closed.”

“Blippy bloop. That’s what you think (Coach Shaw recovering as fast as his brain can process the information) . I heard they were having a bake sale and handing out free cupcakes if you can read 500 Louis L’Amours in an hour. Shoot, the way he uses guns and kills off the bad guy in the end, it’s the same old same old. No Martin Charley Horse or whatever the name Dickens called him to contend with, let alone get on his hands and knees down at the Milford Shelter House beggin’ Oliver Twist for oatmeal and onion rings. Nope, bang, bang, take that you slimeball bank robber, you cain’t run off from Fort Knox with 500 tons of gold in your Conestoga Wagon. Louis’ll shoot you dead if ya don’t watch out. Them cupcakes is as good as in my belly.”

“The library has that many books on one person?”

“Oh, Hell, yeah. Then some lucky winner, if he/she can guess the State Flower, the State Motto, the State Flag, and the Admission Date of Mudlarkia will win a whole chocolate cake. I might have trouble with the last one since I don’t remember when the Carpetbaggers entered into our state but I’m pretty sure it was before the Gettysburg Address but just after the Wilmot Proviso.”

“Dear, why don’t we skip the history lesson and make our own history. We’ll do the 21-gun salute.”

“Because we might have run out of ammo?”

His wife caught off guard for the moment, Coach Shaw gets back on the offensive

“And if we read ‘The Positronic Man’ by Asimov before midnight, we get a $50 Gift Card to Milford Donut Solutions. I can taste those custard-filled chocolate long johns mow. Umm, umm.”

“I’ve never known you to read Science Fiction.”

“I read Clifford Simak and Ray Bradbury right before Game Film sessions. I can break down an opponent’s defense right after devouring ‘Fahrenheit 451’. AND the coop de grass is the drawing for the 2018 Chevy Blazer 4-Wheel Drive. It drivews through snow, salt water, sleet, ice, lichens, earthquake faults, Bavarian Alps, gneiss, permafrost, polar ice caps-”

“Polar ice caps? We’re nowhere near the North or South Pole. We’re in the State of Mudlarkia, remember? We’re practically across the Atlantic for the Bahamas, silly.”

“Blubby, blubby, there’s some snow that never melted at the Milford Wildlife area that the caribou dumped a load on and preserved for several months. If you’re not careful, you could drive your Blazer into the swamp and get eaten by crocodiles.”

“Caribou and crocs in the same refuge?”

“And all I have to do to be eligible for the drawing is read ‘Last of the Mohicans’ in Chinese before the cock crows twice.”

“Honey, you don’t KNOW any Chinese.”

“That’s what YOU think. I have this IBM Word Processor that can translate faster than you can say Rosenthal’s Methods for German. And it’s even been broken down into Cantonese, Mandarin, and Shikoku, in case the judges try to pull a fast one.”

“Isn’t the last one Japanese?”

Ignoring last slight, clinging desperately to his sexual barrenness

“And don’t you need batteries for the translator?”

One last stab

“Hell, I’ll get ’em down at Milford Electronics. It says right here, now where’d it go, ah, here it is, right under one of the electrodes ‘can…’, damn this Vietnamese can be a pain to read, only someone from the Gnomemobile can read it, ‘…only…be…special-…orderdered…send…SASE…'”

Coach Shaw looks up.

His wife is smiling in victory.

 

“It’s like Louis being surrounded by Black Bart and his gang without any bullets in his gun. You can’t have a happy ending in his novels if the supply office at Fort Leavenworth or Fort Cheyenne failed to order the right guns and ammo in time. We might still be using tomahawks. But at the Milford Men’s Clinic, you can shoot straight without any fear of the Dalton Gang spoiling your wedding. You can get married, get it on in bed that night, free from anyone crashing the party. With treatment programs that work, isn’t it time your wim-wim got the proper medicine and stood and be counted so that Louis can get that 1,345,586th novel he’s been working on? Don’t let Louis go the way of John Wilkes Booth and let him fight his way out of the barn. You’ll be glad you did.”

Gang, have at it. I don’t know which Art Deco bus I’m riding in, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

 

In Gil’s Living Room Decor

“Kaz, Shaw was listening to ‘Saturday Night Fever’ over the speakers, wasn’t he?”

“How’d you know, Gil?”

“There’s toilet paper forming a 540 degree angle from the shower stall to the film screen.”

August 22, 2018

Mr. Scorer Speaks For Us All

Filed under: Gil Thorp, golf, lessons learned, metapost, oversize objects, Pissy faced Gil — teenchy @ 5:35 am

 

 

Gil’s doppelgänger has taken the words out of our collective mouths.  There’s nothing Mr. Scorer can do, except have scorers accompany the golfers as so many have pointed out since this whole travesty began.  There’s nothing you readers can do except, well, stop reading.  There’s nothing we bloggers can do except stop blogging keep on keeping on pointing out the ridiculous aspects of the story arc, like the huge talking golf bags front and center in P3.

metapost: robmize, you wanna jump in and run with this ball?

Metapost: Hello gang – I guess Teenchy didnt get the memo about his enforced vacation this week but its ok– I cant get up at 5:35 if my life depends on it, much less to write this blog, regardless of my pre-conceived interest in it. I have more thoughts on this but have to run some errands this morning so I’ll be back this afternoon – hope your all enjoying your beverages — Rob

So I’m assuming Gil is talking to 2 different people in P2 and P3, based on their shirt colors. I dont know which guy has more authority, but after you plead your case with 1 guy, and he says ‘nothing we can do about it’ (damn yes there WAS something you could do about it but you chose not to) why press the issue with another guy? Why think you’ll get a different answer? I still hope these cheaters get their come-uppence but the strokes that were not counted are lost to the ages unless someones out there with a video camera.. oh yeah – Milford You Tube Channel! Where’s ParrotHead when we need him??

Yes its a streaky game. I once hit 10 greens in regulation in a row en route to an 80. Not 1 birdie in that run even though I didnt hit a bad shot for 2 hours. 2 hours hitting it on the screws every time! Imagine..  8 pars and 2 bogeys. I was so locked in I could’ve shut my eyes while I was swinging and put it on the green. Another time I made 3 birdies in a row and rimmed out the 4th try. My score for the round? 91. My hole-in-one round was otherwise uneventful as I shot 98 on a day so hot my mom thought it was too hot for us to go out. We said we’re riding carts. Good thing I didnt listen to mom that day. Another time I made my first 6 putts of the round. I also went 98 straight holes without going into a sand trap. (5 1/2 rounds, but 2 of the courses had no bunkers).  I started keeping track after 2 rounds in a row trap-less; its not something I normally keep track of, if you were wondering. :)

All that stuff above is very hard to do– and it was all a small sample size of the whole round. So you can get hot for a while and still shoot what you normally shoot almost every time.  But again, Gil is shutting the barn door after the horse got away. This is files under ‘lessons learned’ for sure.

 

 

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