I’m Coming Out, So You Better Get The Perky Started

Hey y’all, it’s your old pal teenchy, subbing for Rob tonight. Have we ever had a dedicated volleyball arc? The closest we’ve come during my tenure here was last spring when one of Mimi’s softball players, Linda Carr, got burnt out on playing for the Valley Elites while not being TCFS so she quit the Valley Elites but went off to college to play volleyball anyway. Valerie Okumbe was a player (and rejector of infamous locker denizen Jamar Gaddis) for Milford (not the Valley Elites) in 2009, but she was never actually shown playing volleyball. I defer to our TWIM statisticians for additional background.

So we may finally get a bit of a fall girls’ sports angle, if only to showcase new resident jerkface Corina Karenna. Frizzy-haired girl Becca (who gets a Pantheon of Hair tag from me) asks an innocent question and gets called “perky” for it. Dark-haired girl Susan drops a hint that she won’t let Corina off quite so easily, even as Corina flips her a comeback (and the bird) as she strides off down the hall. Here’s hoping some of Mimi’s “bigs” tape Corina to a locker, Jamar Gaddis-style.

It’s Different for Girls

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.

It Helps If You Chant “MEAN MACHINE” While You Read This

Once again Neal Rubin has driven the Milford High Activity Bus off the road and into the ditch. What was being set up as some kind of indictment of school zero-tolerance policies has morphed into some weird-ass pickup game challenge that’s equal parts The Sandlot and The Longest Yard. As farfetched as it is I have a hunch it will come to pass, since Gil’s Mudlarks will probably miss the playdowns as per usual.

This comes off as more ego gratification for the walking ego that is Mike Knappe, but I’m picking up broad hints that there’s a bigger message being sent here: don’t fight the system, accept the hand you’re dealt, and when life gives you lemons, suck on them. Not the best of timing there.

I’m sure Rubin’s got his reasons for going down this path but unlike the Caretaker, I ain’t got eight years to hear them.

The ‘Arder They Come

Late in the day before I realized that robmize was taking the weekend off and left Friday to our devices. So I don’t have much to say here except that the first kid we meet in juvie Valley Modified is Ardis Carhee. Googling “Ardis Carhee” gave me exactly one result:

That ain’t Michigan, but maybe it’s near Luckey, or Haskins. Whatever.

What’s Ardis in for? Obsessive-compulsive desk polishing? Nah, just messing with you. He’s probably in for some violation of a Tilden zero-tolerance policy, like bringing a church key to class to open a can of Johnson’s Wax to polish a desktop. Tune in tomorrow to find out what’s up with Ardis and what plans these rude boys have in store.

 

 

Breakfast in Milford

Random thoughts today:

It appears Rubin is doubling down on making one of the plot lines this spring “What is The Mayor eating for breakfast, and what kind of container is he eating it from?” How he plans to make this relevant is beyond me this morning. Are Knappe’s chronic lateness and need to talk to everybody in the halls symptoms of ADHD? If so, did B/Robby Howry leave some Adderalls stashed in the Mudlarks’ equipment room that could help?

What’s going on with the Milford baseball jerseys? Baseball uniform numbers aren’t usually centered below the team name. Maybe these are leftovers from Milford’s aborted lacrosse program. And what’s with dude whose number ends in “2” behind gesturing speaker guy’s uni? Is he wearing his jersey tucked into a skirt like in A League of their Own or into shorts like the ’76 White Sox?

Finally, poor Hiawatha James, the Pete DeWindt of his class. ‘Watha looks like he wants to be anywhere but in the Milford locker room. Maybe it’s the prospect of catching only one pitcher all season (Gil didn’t mention any others besides Godleski). Maybe it’s the hairdo he’s been saddled with. Maybe he cares as much about The Mayor’s breakfast choices as the rest of us do.

A Good Samaritan Gone Bad.

WHAT???? We went through all through this investigation and even by-passed Alexa’s development as a scoring machine down low and Chris’ development in just any category, you name it, only to find out that Teddy Blue planted a whoopee cushion to this plot because Dagwood walked on the other side of the street when Elmo got wedgied by Wee Pals and headed onto Midnight Handicap Bowling Night at Milford Lanes? Say it ain’t so.

Lesson Number One in how never to conduct a treasure hunt. We went to the Milford Public Library and went to the microfiche of all the National Geographic’s (“Milford at a Crossroads: Perspectives and Possibilities”) and the Special Collections to skip over the newspaper articles that showed pictures of Gil actually coaching (Ansel Adams shot it and put it in a scrapbook next to his pictures of Yosemite Valley) then went through Dr. Pearl’s office to see if she was still on the oxygen machine like she’s been inhaling for the last 2 centuries (gettin’ up there in years) and when she could still file away School Lunch Menus for the Month of May, we figured she could maneuver manila folders and use her lungs at the same time, then went through the girls gym where Mimi taught about life and grade point averages and taught Alexa that if you don’t score, you’ll flunk out and life will suck and you’ll wind up in Skid Row where all the other Valedictorians went who got straight A’s but refused to shoot lay-ups go for Purgatory only to learn that Teddy has a severe dearth of furniture and a chip on his shoulder. Talk about going back to square one.

“Teddy, if you want, I can call The Salvation Army and the truck should have the divan delivered by this afternoon, my treat. No hard feelings?”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Donates 1.5 Million Dollars Worth Of Neo-Georgian Living Room Suite Collectibles To Local Neighbor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I was going to throw it out anyway. Judge Ito sat in the same love seat that Aaron Burr lounged on when we were going over case briefs. Comes with an ottoman.”

 

And as Teenchy mentioned, we’re leapfrogging several episodes, presumably due to baseball and softball suddenly springing on the horizon. Not that much justice will be done to those either but let’s get through this 1 scene, skip several scenes, backtrack a scene, come back to a scene among those several scenes, take a smoke break, another scene, insert a few “meanwhile”‘s along the way in case anybody’s awake (“Meanwhile in Dr. Pearl’s office where she’s spraying Raid on the Science Lab Delivery Invoices”) , divert to the Milford Barber Shop where Gil is investigating Chris’ Kindergarten transcript for any discrepancies in his Spelling Aptitude Test scores while getting a trim and a shave, endure a couple of leftover “meanwhile”‘s (“Meanwhile, at Milford General where Mimi is getting her leg amputated after dropping a bowling ball on her foot”) , watch the last scene ride off into the sunset with Gil riding Trigger and Teddy enjoying the coffee table that Chris recovered from the Wednesday Garbage Day bin and let’s FINALLY get to Spring sports. Don’t ask me to repeat that.

 

“Pop, I found the rake next to the pile of mimeographed sheets of the SAT Answer Code. We’ll nail Teddy for sure, isn’t that right, Birmingham?”

“That most certainly is. And Mr. Chan, I saw Teddy using that rake to filter the dandruff out of his Mohawk, sho’ nuff. We’ll get him for a misdemeanor anyway. Pilfered bookstore items, if nuthin’ else.”

“#2 Son and Birmingham, there’s an ancient Chinese proverb that says ‘When the plot has ended, go check if Gil’s babysitter is still watching the kids’. Now come, let’s let Teddy drown in his Vidal Sassoon Extra Moisturizer Formula and let us partake of a well-earned rest down at The Bucket. We could stand some Bucket Steamed Split Peas.”

 

If ya git a recliner delivered in a 4-wheel drive straight ta yore livin’ room after yore other recliner pooped out from all the butt-scratchin’ from you and yore bloodhounds while ya wuz watchin’ ESPN College Football Gameday ever’ Saturday and ya donate THAT piece uv furniture ta yore neighbor so that he has a place ta put his tool box on so that his tools don’t git greasy from all the dirt on the floor, ya might be a redneck.

 

Pebbles comes over to Bam Bam’s house a week after Bam Bam got due processed from Bedrock Elementary for sticking a dead pterodactyl in her desk while she was up front singing “God Bless America” in front of the class

“Bam Bam, I just want to let you no that I still like you and even though they had to fumigate my desk, the silver lining was they sent that dead pterodactyl to the Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage plant in the Sage Sausage Processing Department.”

“Pebbles, I have always resented you. When I was trying to turn the hose on Dino and that saber-toothed cat that dumps your dad outside at the end of the show, you sent the Mau Maus after me because you were protesting animal cruelty.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Bam Bam-”

“And when your dad used a handgun on my mom’s bird that got the wheels turning on the iron so that my mom could iron my tunic, that was a low blow. Just because that bird told Fred that Wilma got poached brontosaurus eggs at fire sale prices from the Bedrock milkman, well, your dad can dish it out but he can’t take it. It took 4 days of clubbin’ that pterodactyl but if it meant watching you sing “God Bless America” like Captain Beefheart, it was worth it.”

“And I want to make it up to you. My dad is coming over later to deliver that cot to your living room. He slept on it when he was in the Bedford Army National Guard. You will be home, won’t you?”

 

I think it’s important to be a good citizen and support my local neighborhood association. Still, I’m a little befuddled to read about some chickens that were running loose in the streets when I’m not really near any significant farm

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage Plant Fined $1.3 Million Dollars By EPA After Yorkshire Escapes!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Spokesperson at the plant noted that hog ran from Animal Testing Lab into Grease Monkey parking lot and contaminated the asphalt with multiple droppings.”

 

Birmingham Brown in front of the Milford High School Girls Gym, standing by the car, waiting for Charlie Chan and his son

“Boy, I sure hope Mr. Chan is okay. Man, ol’ Alexa was a walking time bomb. When his son told Mimi that instructing Alexa to pretend like she was shooting aTexas Instrument TI-89 calculator was an absurdity, I thought Gil was going to knock him on the floor for a 3-count. Thank God, I’m safe out here. Lord, I’d hate to see how dangerous he can be when he’s doing any coaching. I’ll turn in my resignation to Mr. Chan.”

Charlie Chan and his son come out of the gym

“You were right, Pop. There wasn’t any activity going on. I had a hunch that the Spalding semi with all the basketballs by the Milford Truck Stop was headed towards the Milford YMCA Campground. When he was downing a burrito, that sealed it.”

“Ya mean, I waited for you for 3 months shakin’ in my shoes only to find out THERE WAS NUTHIN’ GOIN’ ON?????”

“Birmingham, I learned from Confucius that man who sees another man with a catcher’s mitt and a volleyball in front of the pavilion should not assume that man is waiting for the 3-man officiating crew. Now, #2 son, I assume you have some Certs in your pocket. Your breath is beginning to smell like Gil’s locker at the Milford Athletic Club.”

 

I am a HUGE comic strip buff and one of my favorites is Gasoline Alley. They have been up and running for over a century and deservedly so. Frank King, the original artist, designed his backgrounds in his strips to resemble the rustic scenery of his native Wisconsin. Nice rolling hills and plenty of pastures graced the cityscape of Walter Wallet and his adopted son, Skeezix. With the seemingly ranch house conept in P3 in mind and pretending The Dells are behind the trees, Rufus and Joel show up

“Mornin’, Mr. Wallet.”

“Good morning, Joel. Good morning, Rufus.”

“Jus’ wanna le’ ya knows that if Betsy stepped inta yer ki’chen un’nvited, I’se sorry. Sumtimes ‘at mule’s gotta mind o’ its own.”

“Oh, that’s okay, Joel. We were able to save the pots and pans that were handed down from the 11th century. We had to throw out the crockery my ancestors took with them on The Mayflower. But we kept the butter churner.”

“Land sakes, tha’s good news. Rufus, you ‘n’ Melba git that box o’ ‘luminum plates off th’ wagon.”

“Yes’m”

“Rufus, I ain’t Melba. Tha’s wuss ‘n’ callin’ me Gil. Mr. Wallet, ’em plates we foun’ down by the crick. I understan’ Tiki ate off ’em when he wuz changin’ school distrikts. But I don’ think he’s returnin’ for dessert, so they’s all yorn.”

“Why, thank you, Joel. Looks like Rufus and Melba are experience trouble getting them off the wagon.”

“Rufus, you’s as worthless as this plot. Do I gotta util’ze Betsy ta tug ’em off?”

“I’s jest that the box is so he’vy, it’ll rip Melba’s skirt clean off. And we got kids ‘at read Gil an’ play bask’tball. Alexa didn’ shoo’ free t’rows ‘n’ her birt’day suit.”

“Rufus, don’ tell me th’ rules. Ya soun’ like Mimi when she’s eatin’ one o’ Melba’s possum biskits f’ breakfast. Han’ me th’ crowbar and git out o’ th’ way. Don’ worry, Mr. Wallet, we’ll git ’em dish’s off th’ wagon and ‘n’ yer livin’ room in a bit.”

“No problem, Joel. I have to go to town. I have to go pick up Skeezix from soccer practice. I’ll be back by the end of the baseball season. You’re welcome to the Lay’s Sour Cream Chips on the shag carpet in the living room. The Milford Steam-Vac guy  foamed the floor an hour ago so you should be good to go.”

“Much ‘bliged, Mr. Wallet. An’ me ‘n’ Rufus’ll git a coal shovel and git all th’ poop off the ki’chen tile. Sumtimes, Betsy’s also gotta butt o’ her own.”

 

“Birmingham!!!!!!!!!”

“Hey, Benjamin!!!!!!!!!!! Whatcha know?”

“Well, I heard that Gil-”

“You’re puttin’ me on. But didn’t Mimi-”

“Naw, the fire truck hosed it down. But-”

“You mean to tell me-”

“Yup, her kids tested negative at the clinic. They-”

“Wait a minute. I saw Gil with a shotgun-”

“Shootin’ mice in the gym-”

“Don’t blame him. Well, Ben, nice seeing you.”

“Same here, Birmingham.”

 

Today’s Women’s History Month entry is Amy Grant. I have always loved her music and I really give her props for ability to write her own songs. She started out in the early ’80’s with hits like “El Shaddai” and “Angels”, then hit her stride later in the decade with her first #1 single, a duet with Peter Cetera (formerly with Chicago) performing “The Next Time I Fall.” She scored her second #1 single, “Baby Baby”, off her blockbuster album, “Heart in Motion.” A six-time Grammy winner, I have always admired her solid Christian life, one of the few I can honestly say (unfortunately) lives the Christian faith along with telling it. Amy, you did the right thing divorcing your first husband. Just because he said he was a Christian did not a Christian necessarily make. You seem A LOT happier now. Please join me in saluting a woman who has created a serious dent in the music industry and still loves Jesus. God bless you, Amy.

 

“We’ll be back to see if Charlie Chan gets the gym open again after he proved to the Milford School Board that years of neglect didn’t prove lack of interest after these messages. This is WDIG-TV.”

 

“Man, I have always liked Charlie Chan movies. Sippin’ a Bud on the couch with Mimi snoozin’ on my shoulder and watching “Charlie Chan Goes to Milford to Stop the Rioting”, well, only  a member of the Swedish Bikini Team would make that better.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp, speaking on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse. And, sakes alive, this Coronavirus scare is affecting the nation and I can understand. And people are looking for answers.

Our Booze and Toilets promo has been enhanced with the generous cooperation of Milford Plumbing Solutions. Many toilets are contaminated and health recovery can be hindered with such a contraption stuck like one great big wart in the bathroom.

That’s why The Warehouse is here to save the day and the nation. Bring in your enfant terrible and your Milford Beverage Warehouse credit card and with a purchase of Gallo Family Moscato 1.5 Liter, you can put your problem child on the dump truck and exchange it for a Broyhill Sani-Flush Futur-ama, problem solved. Shoot, for an extra bottle, they’ll even install it. I’m glad I don’t have to use plastic gloves when Jose Cuervo runs through my system and I gotta pee me a river.

And with a purchase of a Bud Light Platinum the 24-Pak, 12 ounce cans for pennies on the dollar, The Warehouse will send the cavalry out to unclog your john. Sometimes, Grandma comes over for St. Patrick’s Day dinner and her constipation seems to be contagious. Over-consumption of green cupcakes will do that. But not all toilets are victims of The Plague. They just need a gentle push and flushing is as easy as falling off a log. And if Milford Plumbing Solutions doesn’t unclog the toilet, you still keep the booze. You’ll get something before it’s all over.

And for you hypochondriacs out there, your worries are over. With a purchase of Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whisky 750 ml for a price you potty-trained your dog with, Milford Plumbing Solutions and The Warehouse have financed free vaccinations through Milford Public Health Department to cope with the crisis. One shot in the arm and you’ll see Captain Morgan. Hope he’s got a shopping cart because the deals here at The Warehouse are no illusion. I’ll be lining up to go get my bottle.

Come down to The Warehouse and ditch that contaminated throne where it’ll be sent to Perdition, somewhere in the county. And walk out of The Warehouse with your grip on The Good Life. Tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

 

Gang, you mean the world to me. PLEASE, all kidding aside, follow the Center for Disease Control guidelines to the nth degree. Wash your hands. Cook THOROUGHLY. Maintain proper distance. Get fresh air and sunshine.  And the cleaner air, the better. Stay active but stay smart. AND if you suspect the symptoms of Coronavirus, DON’T HESITATE GET HELP IMMEDIATELY!!!!!!!!

We’re America, Gang. United we stand. Let’s stand together like we have in the past. It is how we got through in the past and how we’ll get through now. God bless you all.

 

“Well, Mr. Chan, looks we wrapped up another case. You stickin’ around for baseball?”

“I respectfully decline, Mr. Thorp. My grandfather once told me that ‘Man whose feet is stuck in the mud in the batter’s box will never get the benefit of the call from the umpires on a bang-bang play’. Come, Birmingham, take me home.”

 

At the Milford Beverage Warehouse in the vaccination line

“There you are. You’ll see your Maker before you know it, if not Evan Williams. Here, Dr. Pearl, don’t forget your coat and your bottle of Jack.”

 

 

Popeye Thorp

Well, here’s a novel idea: Find out how Chris Schuring did on the test. It turns out he aced it. Why Gil never bothered to ask Mr. Rollins how Chris did initially, we’ll never know.

The whole “investigation” is farcical. It’s also dizzying watching Gil bounce around the school, visiting and revisiting the same people, only finally concluding after a week that Teddy’s story stinks. This proves once and for all that Gil has no official responsibilities outside coaching at Milford High. I guess Dr. Pearl figures if he’s just wandering the hall chitchatting all day, she might as well give him something else to do…and take his time because nobody really cares and everyone in the school knows that Teddy is a douche.

Okay Teddy, the jig is up. What do you have to say for yourself? You ever been to Poughkeepsie? If need be, Gil is prepared to whack you upside the head with a phonebook.

The Tales Of Teddy Blue

Ooooooo, ooo, ooo, Teddy Blue

Telling tall tales that never come true

What’s reality but fresh coffee grinds

A comb in your staid mousse, you’ll more likely find

 

Spending academic life in detention hall

Never cracked a book nor shot a ball

Hooked the coaches who lend an ear

All the forlorn tripe that they care to hear

 

Oooooooo, ooo, ooo, Teddy Blue…

 

Hoo boy. We have gone farther than the Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. But that contraption had chances to resurface to get provisions and catch its breath. This travesty of justice is worse than Howdy Doody in dire need of Sweeny Todd. Evidently, Thorpiverse played Connect the Dots with Howdy’s face and never connected the dots. Just as well. Even if you did, the beard would never reach Chet Ballard’s rug and God help us if we were to find out the truth. That Chet and Teddy Blue were both not adept at telling the truth, beard or no beard. If you use shaving cream, your ethics still have to be cleaner than Dr. Pearl’s desktop. I’m not going to her office to see if there’s any clutter. Just keep the door closed and continue down the hallway.

And shame on Gil for listening to a teenage lout who figures mightily in a career in savings-and-loan scandals. The cad has already received detention and his props were confiscated. One of my favorite movies is “Punchline”. The premise centered around a NYC comedy club employing aspiring, promising comedians, the club managed by a no-nonsense, suffer-no-fools-gladly individual. Tom Hanks plays a medical school failure and Sally Fields, a New Jersey suburban homemaker, both of them VERY promising comedians. John Goodman, for the record, plays Fields’ husband who is solidly against her funnybone ambitions and does just about anything to undermine it.

Anyway, it’s like Teddy Blue getting bombed out of the same club, his props landing in a place where the NYC garbageman can take it away, then Teddy Blue returning to the manager for a second chance, begging the manager, who’s eating lunch at The Bucket, for a second chance and the manager, over Bucket Tex-Mex Bar-B-Q and Bucket Trafalgar Pudding, getting a soft heart and letting him back on stage. And digging his banjo and harmonica out of the city dump. Better make sure the chicken bones and other yucky trash didn’t de-string the banjo or clog up the harmonica. If he was telling lies to Coach Thorp in the faculty lounge with a Jew’s harp, I’d feel better.

 

Because I really don’t know what Trafalgar pudding is, though I otherwise enjoyed reading “Madame Bovary”

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Discovers That Trafalgar Pudding Was Hindering Schuring’s Development!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Cost The Mudlarks At Least 2 Games!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I have him on a strict diet. Just raw turnips and Bucket Veggie Burgers. No more carbs.”

 

And when the tree is about the only thing uglier than Teddy Blue’s scuzz and/or testimony, we are in deep Mudlark droppings. Be sure you have plenty of windshield fluid to wipe off the mess.

Gil, I have one question: Did it ever occur to you to check with Chris after the doo doo drops on the windshield? Or do you naturally assume that Chris is perched in a catalpa tree somewhere and couldn’t contain the runs and your car just happened to be nearby. Just askin’.

 

Ooooooo, ooo, ooo, Teddy Blue

What’s this game, Jerk, you don’t want to lose

Planting slander to spread and defame

Little wonder that slime mars your name

 

Lugs a partner around, reluctant to rave

You ought to fly right and get a shave

People listen but I don’t comprehend

Why they treat him like a long-lost friend

 

Ooooooo, ooo, ooo, Teddy Blue…

 

Oh boy, what a way to get to the bottom of this charade by having a conference in The Streaky Room. The Stinky Room was already taken, the Math Bowl Competition going at full fury there. I think Oakwood was leading the other schools at the last turn, apparently memorizing fractions, until the wee hours no less, paid dividends. Luhm will be in later to use Pine-Sol on the dog poop on the abacus.

Coach Thorp, it is bad enough that Luhm did a lousy job with the Windex but do we really have to see crooked rainbows before we FINALLY consult Chris Schuring on what happened? Gee, an Honor student who is about as squeaky-clean as those windows is being left out in the cold while the truth is being sought. And when you just show up in streaky faculty lounges to intimidate and brow-beat students after you’ve called in sick for the season, then allow equal weight to Teddy Blue’s word in proportion to Chris’ testimony, somebody ought to whop you on side yo’ hair with one of those Thor bolts in the window.

When I was taking education classes, Dr. Kenzie (God love the man, he’s in a better place) talked about the time when he entered the boys room to take a whiz, he caught a Summa Cum Laude smokin’ in the room. Dr. Kenzie had a dilemma on his hand. Do you suspend a Valedictorian and ruin his academic career or do you slap him on the wrist, knowing the student won’t be stupid next time but obviously sagging on School Policy?

The sad thing is, this is really not a dilemma. It’s open-and-shut. Gil, open your eyes and tell Teddy Blue to shut up. And clean his Heath Bar stains on the window.

 

Today’s Women’s History Month entry goes to a woman I admire and respect, Dr. Sherry B. Darrell. She was Professor of English at University of Southern Indiana for several years. People never gave USI much of a chance when it first started out, many calling it West Side High (USI is west of Evansville, Indiana) . She was a major reason for the school’s growth and prestige. I thought I learned everything about writing and composition until I took her class. She was VERY knowledgeable and on top of the latest developments. And I learned how to make my writing have some bite to it. Crutch Verbs (such as “put”, “have”, “is”, etc.) brought down your writing; words with punch e.g., “kick”, “cram”, “plunge”, etc. gave sentences more life. And made readers want to read. She has been a heavy influence in my life. Dr. Darrell, I salute you. Rest well in retirement.

 

“…what do I look like, John Goodman, Twin Towers in the background, yelling at Mimi and telling her she’s not funny and if she want’s a career at comedy clubs, she’s going to have to dump the Charlie’s Angels look?”

 

Silence

 

Later

 

“Don’t worry. There’s still tonight. And I understand the executives from ABC-TV will be in the crowd. Just tune the banjo and pry that old chewing gum out of the harmonica. You’ll knock ’em dead. I got faith in ya.”

 

If ya rat on yore buddy ta the Game Warden over trumped-up charges of huntin’ deer out of season and ya plant a dead deer in the guy’s trunk ta sub-stan-chee-ate yore claims, ya might be a redneck.

 

“Manager at the Milford Comedy Club, my name is not on the list.”

“Aw, Gil, you’re a coach in the past. We’re dealing with coaches in the future. Hell, you weren’t even in the picture IN the past, let alone the present. Now, c’mon, we need you to get out at a table and cheer on the other coaches. And the Mudlar-K-Cola’s on the house for you. I understand Hanks wants to coach Oakwood. Let’s help him land the position.”

“I brought my own Stella Artois.”

“Whatever, let’s help him along and help Fields be his assistant.”

 

Again, we are reading our weekly dose of dumbing-down journalism. OF COURSE Alexa would never do something as stupid as jeopardize her own academic future by accepting cheat sheets from Teddy Haskell. That’s as plain as that oak door that must have been created by Iron Butterfly when they weren’t crooning “In-a-goda-da-Vida” down at the Milford Lounge.

Then again, for that matter, neither would Chris. But leave it to Gil to make this a Rocket Science project. We gotta make this interesting the next few weeks until baseball which is still an eternity away, TST (Thorpiverse Standard Time) . That explains why Gil is buying Elmer’s Glue down at Milford Apothecary to construct the model rocket engine, panels, nose, exhaust system, astronauts’ lounge, joystick, etc. and stick all the piece together. He might have that damn thing up and running so that Keri and Jaime can watch it fly in the garage before the cat attacks it and takes it for a mouse.

And it’s all because he had coupons ready for the Elmer’s Glue and Jack Daniels when he was standing in line at Milford Apothecary. Not getting the facts first had its privileges.

 

“…and 2 of them didn’t even like him. They were offended at his coaching-”

“We’ll be back to see who gets the brass ring at the Milford Comedy Club between Mimi and Sally after these messages. This is WDIG-TV”

 

At the Milford Meijer at the kiddie riding horse

 

RIDE ‘EM COWBOY!!!!!!!!! GIT ALONG, LITTLE DOGIE, TAKE ME HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Mommy, Daddy’s been on that horsey for an hour and I wanna ride!!!!!!!!!!!”

“It’s OK, Keri. Gil, you’re causing a scene. Don’t you think you ought to get off and let the kids have some fun?”

“Oh, I’m gettin’ off all right. And I’ve never been harder. It took an hour but I’m as solid as a church. Thank God I brought plenty of pennies.”

“Mommy, what does he mean? I never knew horsey’s could make churches. I always thought they made ponies.”

“Honey, if he doesn’t get off that horse, he’ll be eating ponies at the Milford Moto-Lodge for their Continental Breakfast.”

“Mimi, I’m pretending like I’m at the Milford Rodeo and you’re a stallion that keeps trying to buck the issue. But if I hang on, you’ll take it and like it. This works better than Meta-Mucil. It’s got good roughage but my hose just hung on the clothesline.”

“Mommy, people are staring, wondering what he’s talking about. Is he trying to poop on the horse?”

“Better than pooping on me, I suppose. Gil, I just bought these Super-Power Erec-for-Fun 3400 medications. Milford Men’s Clinic sells them over-the-counter at stores like Meijer. You don’t have to get on to get up.”

“You mean, I can’t yell Hi-yo Silver to put the exclamation point on my Dysfunction?”

“Mommy, I’m hungry. Daddy said we’re going to Long John Silver’s.”

 

“Wow. The medication started me up and me and Mimi never stopped, never stopped, never stopped. This grown man had a great time and the kids had a great time on Trigger. Can I get a witness? Oh, and we ate at Long John Silver’s after all was said and done. Ummmm, ummm, Fish ‘n’ More Platters and gettin’ it on in bed, we only needed Bucket Tartar Sauce for one of them. I’ll leave it to your imagination. The Milford Men’s Clinic. Where ridin’ the Chisholm Trail can be Disneyland along the way.”

 

Gang, you mean the world to me. And if Gil will get the facts before walking in streaky rooms with Etch-a-Sketch doors, I think we’ll call it a deal.

 

THAT WOMAN CAN’T COACH!!!!!!!!! HER PLAYERS DON’T RESPECT HER!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND HER HUSBAND NEVER CLOCKS IN!!!!!!!!!!!

“Hey, Mimi. What are you doing in New Jersey?”