This Week in Milford

August 15, 2020

You Should Leave Your Hat On

August 14, 2020

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Alexa hasn’t had many opportunities to throw her weight around since graduation; pressing her line of questioning on Corina gives her one. Mama Karenna may not be behind bars after all, since she’s going to “appointments,” but that still doesn’t explain why Corina’s able to call her own shots when it comes to moving to Milford. Emancipated minor? Mom on parole? Wearing a chunky ankle bracelet? Corina’s not giving a straight answer, speaking in metaphors about depression until finally she makes up some story about a hat to break off the conversation.

August 15, 2020

gt08152020

co·mor·bid·i·ty /ˌkōmôrˈbidədē/, n. comorbidity; plural noun: comorbidities; noun: co-morbidity; plural noun: co-morbidities. the simultaneous presence of two chronic diseases or conditions in a patient.

Okay, so the hat wasn’t a red herring. Where did it come from then? We didn’t see it at any time since Wednesday, when first we saw these three at the diner. And where did Alexa go? The depression song and dance might’ve been enough to satisfy her curiosity. Maybe she had to go buy some more stuff for her dorm room. Corina’s not her problem anyway…

… and she sure as hell isn’t Maureen’s problem either. Mo better keep her trap shut else Corina comes back to the diner and lobotomizes her with that pencil.

June 24, 2020

Ladies and Gentlemen, Your Valley Modified Freakazoids!

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Somehow the worst kept secret in the Valley is out and everyone with nothing better to do has come come out in full force in anticipation of a pummeling. Gaze in wide wonder at the pantheon of headgear on display: a Kangol cap, a pith helmet, some kind of biker cap along with your usual flatbills. Imagine why pith helmet lady feels the need to record this event. Marvel at the number of baby bottles being held by grown-ass adults. Question about those sketchy figures in the background on the grassy knoll. Try your hardest not the meet the gaze of the child of the corn down in front, who is as incredulous that this has drawn a crowd as you are.

The ex-Mayor of Milford High, ever the attention whore, shows up with team t-shirts, clearly inspired by a cartoon that aired about five years before they were born. (Or not; there could be twentysomethings on that Valley Mod team.)

 

 

 

Who sprung for those shirts? Were they a Valley Mod graphic arts project? Did somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody call in a favor? Talk amongst yourselves.

We know the Mudlarks’ motivation for playing this game, but what was Gil and Kaz’s for letting them play it? Taking Hiawatha James’ “more baseball is better than less baseball” statement as a hint, it could be that the ‘Larks are either already done with their season or have already been eliminated from playdown contention. This really feels like a lose-lose for Milford, no matter whether the team follows the catcher with his H.R. Giger-inspired headgear’s advice or not. At this point, all we can do is sit back, watch the wackiness ensue, and hope for the best that we only have three more strips of this nonsense (my bet is on nine).

April 28, 2020

Green Eggs And Ham Got A Smackdown Tonight.

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Well, take a look at that girl who loathes the boy’s green eggs and ham

He must be a wandering fool

He doesn’t see, his food isn’t cool

All the girls hold their noses and let him walk on by

 

She wants to be somebody else

She’d rather be somebody else

She’d just as soon kiss somebody else

She’s not dumb

 

He’s probably somebody’s only choice

Eats his Trix so moist

Yeahhhhh, he’s probably somebody’s last resort

 

As a couple of readers have acutely noticed, why the guys are in full uniform is anybody’s guess but why The Mayor probably has green eggs and ham in his gym bag is one $64,000 question that REALLY isn’t worth answering. What’s the consolation prize if I don’t answer it and not obtain my $64,000 cashier’s check? MORE green eggs and ham????

And did you notice that the relationship between The Mayor and Phoebe has suddenly went south? Get a clue, Mayor. Believe me, I have a sister and the phone used to ring off the wall at my house when we were teenagers for dates with her. If some guy was at a movie with her and was eating small curd cottage cheese and Honey Nut Cheerios and he washed it down with Movie Time Buttered from Goat’s Milk popcorn, that’d be the last time my sister dated that gentleman. And I’d be hearing it ALL NIGHT LONG how she got grossed out by his culinary diversions.

So yeah, Mayor, you might want to alter the scenery and get REAL food out of your Lazy Susan at home or in the cafeteria line. Don’t be mixing Nestle’s Quik and Brussel sprouts in your chem lab in your basement then trying to make a move on Phoebe. Scope Mouth Wash isn’t going to cover a multitude of digestive sins.

 

Because I am really not sure, after looking at a graph on how many times a word like, for example, “prevaricate” or “soupcon” was mentioned in 1820 or 1847 or 1901 or 1975, how they could measure something such as word usage at, say, The Bucket or The Golden Gate Bridge or the ferry carrying tourists to the Statue of Liberty

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Has Been Declared Missing By The Milford Civil Defense Commission, Finally Found At The Archives Department Of The Milford Public Library!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Me and Cochran were amazed. They used ‘velocitous’ that many times in 1876 at the Grand Canyon????”

 

And Mayor, get with it. Your cuisine is crock to other people. Phoebe is making it painfully obvious that your green eggs and lox is putting the damper on what could be a great relationship. I’d tell you to wake up and smell the coffee but it looks like you’ve already done that, straight out of the Folger’s can. Boy, that’ll get a date with Phoebe at the prom, fer sure.

Couldn’t you see the police report?

“I caught him free-basing Maxwell House behind the alley. He’s a sure trip to the Milford Rehab Center if the judge has anything to do with it.”

And it’s nice that Thorpiverse printed the score this morning. But a picture of a player bunting, another taking a bad cut at the plate, the baseball team looking stupid behind the chain link fence and The Mayor foisting his Green Eggs and Lucky Charms Protein Mix are really not the same as what you do on the field. There’ll be no Lucky Charms between the lines, Thorpiverse. Remember that.

 

I saw him gorging on his Wheaties that was pan-fried in P B & J

He must be eating on edge

Topped off with a potato wedge

And when the Pop Tarts and the pasta and the pork chops light up his butt

 

She’d rather eat in some other room

She’d rather skip his fart-thumping booms

She’d rather kiss a mossy-draped tomb

She’s not dumb

 

He’s probably somebody’s burned-out light

Flicker out tonight

Yeaaahhhhh

He’s probably somebody’s doggie bag

 

I try to shut my eyes but I can’t shake S’mores out of my mind

I beg this to be over and leave his Alpo far behind

I’m gonna walk up to him and overlook his diet pork rinds

 

And are we at The Mayor’s HOUSE or at one of the faculty lounges at Milford High School? Nobody can design a house so that it doesn’t remind me of a pot-luck supper at Milford Interdenominational?

Boy, do we have a whole wheelbarrow full of paraphernalia that we could cart to the back door of the Pantheon of Mysterious Objects. Crow and Tom Servo would be livin’ large.

To be honest, I was kinda glad to see Gazoo drop in and park his vehicle so it wouldn’t interfere with dinner. Great call, Gazoo. Gotta park it so we have a place for the bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy. We dont want to put the yams on the high chair now, do we? And I understand the spacecraft doubles as a flower pot. Flying around Deneb and Lyra and a receptacle for impatiens, your ship is very busy in the Spring, Gazoo.

Then WHAT is that thing with the M on it? A portable heater from Mudlark Heating & Air Conditioning???? Does he drag that damn thing around the house with his Wheaties? I’m sure he leaves it out in the hallway when he has to go to the bathroom. DO NOT haul that to the back seat of Muench’s bag of bolts.

Remember that commercial for Hanes Underwear when the young women were taught by Melba in this indoctrinating room that the boxers aren’t Hanes until ol’ Melba says they’re Hanes?

Well,

“Gil, what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like? The dumbasses at Mudlark Heating & Air Conditioning forgot to laser tag the air conditioner again and I’m not turning it on to “fan” until the “M” is on the grill.”

“Gil, as long as you can cool off in your recliner smoking your cigar and drinking your Moet and Chandon while listening to Duke Jordan’s “Flight to Denmark”, what’s the fuss?”

“Woman, you don’t know jackshit about quality. Did Custer go into battle with an hammer and sickle decorated on his flag? Rest my case.”

 

Special headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Police Raid At Thorp Residence Nets Interesting Find!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Cars out in front were part of a party that was intent on inquiring about the multiple usage of the word “perspicacity” at Tombstone in the 1880’s. Clanton Brothers were disallowed.”

 

And WHAT is the cookie jar doing at the top of the cupboard? Does The Mayor truly need a stepladder to get Chips Ahoy? What other reason could there be for this particular Mysterious Object to be positioned in the Mystery Location? I guess we can’t have Grandma Mayor come over and munch on Oreos while the roast is in the oven. It’ll spoil her dinner. I don’t know why it’s OK for The Mayor to sip on egg nog and celery but I reckon we have to have protocol somewhere. Nobody would ever eat the roast. The oven would then be one more place for Gazoo to park his contraption.

Well, those look like apples anyway. Granny Smith or Golden Delicious, I can’t remember which. I don’t THINK Thorpiverse would try to sneak Red Delicious plums on us and stack ’em in the bowl.

 

At the Thorp household one fine afternoon

“Gil, what is a Martian doing in our oven? Goes by the name Yahoo, I thought I heard him say. I was going to bake rhubarb pie.”

“Mimi, I told you that you should have sprayed down the oven with Pam.”

 

And in P3, Phoebe keeps throwing them and The Mayor keeps eating them. Is The Mayor eating a record album? Don’t get me wrong, Focus, essentially the Led Zeppelin from Holland, has always put out killer music with Jan Akkerman being the Jimmy Page of the group but ain’t no way I’m putting “Moving Waves” on the griddle. Ever heard of a phonograph, Mayor? No, you don’t set the oven dial on 33 & 1/3. I give the readership permission to shoot me if I ever grill The Rolling Stones’ “Exile on Main Street” on the Smokemaster, let alone thicken it with Kraft Barbecue Sauce. Mayor, as the album commands, you better scrape that shit right off your shoes. And your Thermos and album sleeve. Phoebe is pretty much saying the same thing but she’s a Christian and has to watch her language to stay under the radar of the sensors.

 

I got some inspiration. I read an article that said that Erectile Dysfunction is caused by the wrong side of the brain controlling our impulses. So THAT’S why my sexual life has never been like “Fast Times at Ridgemont High”. I kept reading

 

 

“We’ll be back to see how Rachel Ray basted that Turkey Flambe Swimming in Nutrament Bars after these messages. This is WDIG-TV.”

 

At the Thorp household once again, after a dinner of fried quiche, cheese, and wine, with Nutrament Vanilla Bars for dessert with Gazoo as the honored guest

“I thought Gazoo would NEVER leave. Who wants to hear dirt about Fred Flintstone actually using X-Lax? Wilma can’t be that bad of a cook-”

“Mommy, why does Daddy have all these wires on his head?”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s watching Gunsmoke and he’s trying to shock himself. He says he wants to be as hard as Matt Dillon.”

In the living room, Gil’s head looking like a switchboard

“Gil, why are there Christmas tree lights on your head?”

“Dillon, don’t let Miss Kitty say you’re as limp as the pony in your barn!!!!!! Stand up and be counted!!!!!!!!! Oh, hey, Mimi, I went to Milford True Value and got some wires, lights, and a small fuse box. One flick of the switch and I shock the left side of my brain into action. That controls your sexual prowess. Man, I get harder than the saloon doors. It works better than Doc’s cough syrup.”

“Mommy, if I took Robitussin, would I get erect?”

“No, Jaime, of course not. Gil, you’re embarrassing me. Take those wires off and I will show you a better way.”

“When Matt Dillon is being tested by Wyatt Earp about his manhood? If I had to drop my pants and have nothing to show for it at Tombstone, I’d deserve to get my ass blown off by the Clanton Boys too. This wiring connection keeps me connected and ensures proper blood flow. I can set my wine glass on it while taking a drag from one of Stone’s cigars. Amazing what technology can do.”

“Mommy, does that mean I can get hot flashes from Flintstones chewables and the batteries in my Barbie car?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Keri!!!!! Daddy is just a little misled. The plot has gotten to him. Gil, with the power of Alka-Setzer, you can plop plop fizz fizz your limp garden hose and make it spray all over the yard with these EREC-3000 Medications.”

“Mommy, is that like turning on the hose-”

“Tune in to Part 2 next week, ‘Matt’s Masculinity on the run at The Santa Fe Trail’ on most of these stations.”

“I have to wait another week to see if Dillon can overcome his ED and wipe out the Dalton gang? I paid $20 for this switchbox and all I got was same Bat channel and an itchy jock strap.”

 

“Gil finally listened to me. He took those EREC-3000’s and threw the wires in the trash. And Gazoo finally got back to his home in the Milky Way so there’ll be no more surprises when I light the gas stove. What’s even better is that Gil and I are having the time of our lives. Nice to get those Good Vibrations without having to buy light bulbs. Come down to Milford Men’s Clinic and get your own vibrations. With proven plans and treatments, isn’t it time YOU shake ‘n’ bake? Gil certainly doesn’t have to pan-fry anymore.

 

Gang, thank you for your input. Let me get those Oreos off the roof and show you my appreciation. BTW, I think the M Mystery Object is The Mayor’s oxygen tank. I guess I’d need it too if I ran short of breath from Twinkies and Ultra Slim Fast Melange.

 

Tomorrow’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Gonzo Pearl Is Found In Abandoned Coal Mine Shaft After Being Missing For 2 Weeks!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I may need welder’s glasses for 2 months but I DID find out how many times ‘phantasmagorical’ was used from the caveman art on the wall.”

 

 

In Gil’s office where Coach Thorp is poring over the scouting reports for his next opponent

“Moving waves, the wind has left you and you are still in commotion

We are still repeating the word it has taught us, it moves our whole being to ecstasy

Waves, why do you all become excited and then all calm together…”

BBBUUUUURRRRRPPPPPP

BELCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“Gil, that’s the 7th Focus album you’ve consumed. And your doctor warned you to watch the sodium.”

“I know, Kaz. Gotta stop the binge-eating.”

 

I’d hate to have to see Kaz do the Heimlich Maneuver on Gil when “Round Goes The Gossip” is caught in his throat.

 

Anyway, God bless you, Gang.

 

 

 

 

March 4, 2020

Failing the Schuring Test

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I propose to consider the question, ‘Can comic strip writers think?’ This should begin with definitions of the meaning of the terms ‘comic strip writer’ and ‘think’. The definitions might be framed so as to reflect so far as possible the normal use of the words, but this attitude is dangerous. If the meaning of the words ‘comic strip writer’ and ‘think’ are to be found by examining how they are commonly used it is difficult to escape the conclusion that the meaning and the answer to the question, ‘Can comic strip writers think?’ is to be sought in a statistical survey such as a Gallup poll. But this is absurd.

One of the long-running tropes on the mothership of comics snark is that the strip Archie is written by the “Archie Joke Generating Laugh Unit 3000.” As for Gil Thorp: Artificial? Definitely. Intelligent? Well, uh, at least one of this season’s main characters has both her first and last names derived from well-known forms of artificial intelligence. (Ya think that’s where Rubin’s been leading us all along? Nah, gives him too much credit.)

Today I reckon we’re getting set up to find out if Chris Schuring is made of the same moral fiber as Alexa Watson. Teddy drove faster than the speed of light to get over to the library and reprise his Eddie Haskell schtick. Hoping against hope that we find out why mohawk boy has been holding a grudge toward Chris; otherwise this is just another red herring.

Instead of firing any more synapses to predict that outcome, I prefer to shift my focus to ponder the Milford Public Library and its parameters. How late does it stay open? Is it adequately heated? Did it get its start as a Carnegie Library? Is Aaron Aagard living there now? Talk amongst yourselves.

January 25, 2020

Hair’s-Eye View

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Hip dysplasia might be a thing in the Thorp family. Gil showed signs of it two weeks ago; today, it’s Coach Mimi’s turn. No need to use her lap to balance her AMOS laptop; Mimi can just pop that old hip out of its socket and turn her leg into a table. The Thorps might’ve passed that trait on to their kids, and that’s why the kids ended up going to that farm upstate.

What’s Mimi doing on that laptop that’s so piqued Gil’s interest? Poring over stats like their players? Maybe it’s not what’s on AMOS but that Faberge Organics shampoo robmize posted about yesterday. Gil’s leaned in so far for a sniff that the last panel is literally drawn from the perspective of Mimi’s hair. Don’t believe me? Check out the color version of the strip:

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I wonder if Mimi will let slip the psychological tactics she’s used on Alexa to Gil while they re-enact The Thing with Two Heads. Then we’ll find out who’s really had the offensive presence.

January 20, 2020

Bonking @ Central

Filed under: actual action, basketball, freak hands, Pantheon of Mysterious Objects — nedryerson @ 5:50 am

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Panel 1 is Chris Schuring having had a better game than he’ll admit to? Yeah, I guess I can see that, but instead I’m looking at what Chris has in his freak hand. Is it a roll of scotch tape?

The actual action today is the Lady Mudlarks with yet more of Alexa Watson’s development as a player. She’s tossing up bricks but her teammate/bestie is offering encouragement. Is it just me, or are both of these wannabe valedictorians (so, they’re seniors) not worth all the effort. Surely there are other players on the benches that actually have a head for the game.

Those legs in Panel 3 are not right. They belong on a rugby pitch.

December 26, 2019

His Head Is Cupcake City, Baby.

Filed under: actual action, basketball, Just plain sad, Pantheon of Mysterious Objects — tdrewhardin @ 8:43 am

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Old-timers like me will remember how popular Ann Landers and Abigail Van Buren(“Dear Abby”) were back in the ’60’s, ’70’s, and ’80’s. They were twin sisters who did separate advice columns for their respective newspapers which ran nationwide on the syndicate route, not sure which one ran in the morning and which one ran in the evening. At any rate, they had an understandably spirited rivalry which turned bitter from time to time which newspaper companies loved because it got the readership they wanted. Advice on topics that were many times controversial plus occasional finger-pointing at each other? Hell, yeah, the newspaper industry loved it because that package just SOLD.

That said, I remember as a kid in the ’70’s when my sister and I are reading Ann Landers (or Dear Abby, can’t remember which) and this one woman writes to say how she and her mom are engaged in furious combat because her mom is angry at her because this daughter-writer won’t wear a bra. Get off my case, Mom, I’m a liberated woman, was the gist of the letter. Her mom shoots back that she’ll get Cooper’s Droop and wind up in Hell.

Well, I don’t think she was at Judgment Day, bra-less, victimized by sagging gourds being told “Depart from me, for I never knew you”, but we learned from Ann Landers, after my sister and I are finished laughing our butts off,  that Cooper’s Droop is an actual term and that if you could lodge a pencil under your breast and it stayed there all day, you definitely were inflicted with the concept.

I can’t remember the advice Ann Landers gave but she and Dear Abby were popular because many times their advice was sound and Ann’s response to this letter was no exception.

With that in mind, if that net in P1 doesn’t have a serious case of Cooper’s Droop, I need to stop writing on this site and pick up where Dear Abby left off (“Dear T. Drew, my coach, Gil Thorp, coaches like his brain has Cooper’s Droop…”) . Marcell is dunking on what was once a waste can in Gil’s office. How Gil ever managed to rip the ring off the can and attach a mesh that was once Mimi’s dress is truly an engineering feat of the 21st century. I’ll have to keep those techniques in mind when I’m building a basketball goal in my backyard. Dunk away, Irby, you’re a part of history. Oh, and tie game, that’s a bonus.

 

Shout-out to Nikki Rand of Louisville who works as a driver at Pizza Hut on Lower Hunters Trace and Dixie Highway. Her go-getter attitude is contagious and her determination to succeed is truly a blessing and makes the company a better store. She also catches on quick so when orders and food items need to be invoiced, she does it efficiently and intelligently. I can see her as a leader in the future. She represents America because she is a smart cookie who wants to do the job right. Gang, next time you see her, salute her. She has my respect as to what America needs.

 

Then, Gang, we have another entry in Pantheon of Mysterious Objects. Thorpiverse would have you believe that that is a light on the ceiling, enlightening the scene, Cooper’s Droop-inflicted baskets with glass backboards included.

Thorpiverse has you fooled.

You’re not pulling one over my eyes, Thorpiverse. We know that it is either a gigantic cake pan that the Betty Crocker cement truck from time to time fills with tons of cake mix to make, for example, wedding cakes to accomodate the Wedding at Cana the constituents of which are watching the game when Mudlar-K-Cola isn’t being turned into wine or Lost in Space truly got lost and landed in Springfield by mistake. Oh, well, might as well watch a Springfield schmuck get Cooper’s Drooped on, courtesy of Marcell Irby. Gil’s waste basket won’t have a cigar stub in its container after Irby does some serious flushing on that Droopy of a goal.

“Hello, Toommm and Jeerrrryyy, my nammmeee is Drooopppyyy-”

DUUUUUUNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKK

And the guy pumping the fist is certainly displaying his seal of approval. I’d hate to know that he is not a member of the small contingent of Mudlark fans attending the game and is turncoating and Cooper’s Drooping the Springfield fan base. Be true to your school, the Beach Boys used to always say.

 

If yore bloodhound’s ears are infect-id with Cooper’s Droop and yuz can hide yore ammo in his ear flaps fer days until bow season fer coons cuz yore bloodhound’s ears contains more tics and tapeworms than the flea medicine frum Milford Veterinary Clinic kin handle, ya might be a redneck.

 

Gang, those of you who follow the NBA should be familiar with this rule called the “Mark Jackson Backdown Rule”. As a Pacer point guard during the ’90’s, Jackson would back his man down in the paint for up to 15 seconds per possession. Bearing in mind that the Pacers only had 9 seconds to shoot and hit iron (24-second shot clock, remember) and that it was generally boring basketball to watch a guy bulldoze his way to the bucket methodically, the NBA implemented the rule I mentioned above. The lowdown was a player could not play with his back to the basket while dribbling the ball when he was below the free throw line for more than 5 seconds. The rule essentially was a 5-second possession violation overall (i.e., mainly in high school and college, the bottom line was pass it or shoot it within 5 seconds or it was a turnover) and helped make the game a lot more exciting. It was annoying to watch a lot of players steamrolling the opposition with the ball and even MORE annoying when all this bull-in-a-china-shop ballhandling didn’t result in a score. Fans would stomach a bully with the roundball if it meant a dunk, otherwise…

But that’s what’s on the table today as Chris “Shaq in a china shop” Schuring is about to back down Herman “Apple Top” Munster IV in a key possession. And Shaq might have gotten away with several knockdowns in the 3-second area (though I highly respected his game) but no way did Shaq EVER grace the floor, either as a Magic or a Laker displaying those ugly socks Chris has on. Did he raid his mom’s lingerie drawer and drag out some L’Eggs from the ’70’s and dance with John Travolta under the disco ball in those things?

And surely Appleknocker Pate doesn’t have his hand on Chris’ derriere. We’re worrying profusely about the trapezoidal footwear without being concerned that if the refs don’t call hand-checking, the defense of the dribbler might get a little more personal. If ol’ Apple Knob’s Cooper’s Droop extends to his hands, Chris might be literally caught with his pants down while backing his man down in the paint. I’m gonna go groovin’ so ya better get movin’, indeed.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Cochran Rushed To Milford General After Head Caught In Trunk While Loading Case Briefs!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“O.J.: I told him one of these days that Fuji Apple would get him killed. A lotta times, he used to bang his head on my condo entrance.”

 

Now allow me to pick apart P3 because I know it’s a little confusing. Chris is wanting you to THINK that the Springfield player has the ball and he’s wanting the Springfield players to think the Springfield player has the ball but actually he is threading the needle for a DALE DAVIS DUNK (Boyle, you and Slick worked that to a frenzy) while Spike Lee is sitting with Mimi in the stands, right behind Joe Fan’s sit-down crotch shot, yelling SOMEONE GET ON MILLER, and Chris wants you and the Springfield defense to THINK that the Springfield player is going to steal the ball and go down the other end for a DALE DAVIS dunk while the nearest Mudlark has Cooper’s Droop in his jock strap but actually that pass will glance off of Spike Lee’s goatee and ricochet to the Milford center for a MARCELL IRBY DUNK and resulting in Cooper Drooping even more and that Gil’s waste basket will become a Nerfhoop for his kids to play with in the hallway of their home, the damn thing so bent out of shape and resembling Apple Top’s sneakers but that’s the way Coach Thorp drew it up in the playbook.

Would you like for me to repeat that?

 

Mark Boyle and Bobby “Slick” Leonard broadcasting the Mudlarks

“…there appears to be some consternation as the Springfield player got his hair caught in the rim while executing an 180. I’ve never seen anything like that, Slick.”

“Boy o boy, Mark, Artis Gilmore performed some nasty windmills when I was coaching the Pacers against him in the ABA but he never got his afro stuck in Gil’s waste basket.”

“This is REALLY Cooper’s Droop as the Springfield guy is hanging out in no-man’s land. Looks like the Knicks after Reggie drained a 3 on ’em. Slick, I think we better go to a commercial break, with the score after 3, Springfield, 49, Milford, 47. We’ll be for the 4th quarter in a moment.”

 

Because I’m still a little fuzzy on the concept of Direct Cremation that a local funeral home is advertising

“Nobody likes to think about dying. Lord knows after several centuries, it could be any day before My Lord and Savior calls me Home.

Hello, this is Dr. Pearl with Milford Funeral Solutions and I have some wonderful news for you. You may choke the chicken eventually but at Milford Funeral Solutions you will not be left high and dry when they burn your dead corpse at the stake.

Milford Funeral Solutions works with the latest advanced technology when you or a loved one wish to be cremated. The Puro-Fire Technique assures those in doubt that the Dearly Departed will dearly depart. No mess, no loose bones in the casket after emerging from the crematorium. Fires that would burn the country of Uganda on a rainy day laced with a chemical, phenyltetraheliomethanol, guarantee that nobody’s rear end will be singed while entering the Elysian Fields. According to an article in the current Milford Mortuary Science Monthly, one funeral home was compelled to use a Zippo lighter to finish the task at hand.  I’m not sure how you feel about this but if my second cousin-twice-removed-fifth-generation had to be soaked in Match-Lite to start the grill, his service as an armed guard in the Peasants’ Revolt came to naught. Leave Indirect Cremation for the grilled barbecue chicken at your family reunion.

And cost is no problem. Easy payment plans are available to sustain the distress you go through, knowing that your relative will literally be going up in smoke. Bring in 2 pay stubs from your job plus your latest tax returns and financing a funeral pyre is a snap. Your relative is a good as reduced to ashes in Gil’s waste basket.

Come see for yourself and see why Milford Funeral Solutions says “You earned ’em, we burned ’em.”

 

Gang, it’s all yours. I’m going to diagram that play in P3 and see if we can reverse the ball.

 

“That took a nasty cut. You might want to shave it off and let it grow back. Reggie will be out of town for 3 months, you oughta be good.”

 

“Mimi, if you’re not careful, you’re going to get Cooper’s Droop.”

“Gil, I have plenty of Playtex’s in the bureau. Quit your whining.”

“I was talking about your basketball season.”

July 30, 2019

Wow, I Could Have Had A V8 And Gone To Harvard Law School!!!!

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Mudlark Heaven is the place for me

Playin’ for Coach Thorp just relaxes me

That hair, combed and moussed so far and wide

Keep New Thayer, just gimme ol’ Milford High

 

Newwwwww Thayer is vere yoo need tooo stay

Veee get allergic vith zeeeee condo vayysssss

Veeee hate Hadley und her outhouse views

Dah-ling, veee love yoo but move to Park Avenue

 

So I’m a little mystified at who the Flemings might be so today’s theme will carry a Nick at Nite flavor to it. Just be patient, it will all come out in the wash. I’m not too sure about the story but I have no control over that. You’ll have to go down to the Home Office for Thorpiverse if you want to complain.

And the first item on the agenda right outta the gate HAS to be the choice of imbibing combinations we are observing in P1. Okay, okay, we are finally informed in P2 that it’s iced tea but that Folger’s heating up in the background is enough of a double-reverse to allow my imagination to run wild. I’ll run the gamut from Nestle’s Quik to Fresca out of the fridge to Minute Maid No-Squeeze Pulp-Free Deloused-Tangelos Orange Juice. Pouring out of a 1-gallon beaker is only intensifying the guessing game. We don’t see them but I’m bettin’ the deposition that Hadley Vitriolic possesses in her hand and in her purse under the Kleenex and crammed up her butt that Jaquan has a couple of Erlenmeyer flasks on the counter somewhere. Really no need to show that they’re filled to the brim with Hawaiian Punch and Kiwi Kool-aid. Thorpiverse was willing to let your imagination run wild but they’re there. Rest assured.

And if filling half the collection of plastic cups with Squoze Drink Mix wasn’t enough, Again, Jaquan has the Mr. Coffee contraption a-brewin’ for good measure. If he dies of thirst after all the trouble, he must have sewn his mouth shut. I know reading Law 333 can be intense and you need to do more listening and reading than talking but this is ridiculous.

“Missss-ter Case, why are you sit-ting in your seat with that my-ri-ad bun-dle of strings attached to your embouchment?”

“Well, you see, Kingsfield, he just feels that if you want to learn law, you should come with your ears open and your mouth sewn shut.”

“I see. Today’s lesson covers Property Law in relation to damages…”

Stating the obvious

After a teacher somewhere in England is prosecuted for having sex with 4 teenaged students

“I’m going to go to prison for this.”

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Ms. Risk Cleared Of Charges After Accusations Of Improper Behavior With Bobby Howry And Tiki Jansen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I’m in my room with my typewriter all day. Luhm brings me lunch at 9:00PM, but that’s it!!!!!!!!!!”

 

At Donna Stone’s residence

“Dr. Stone, I know you have Boy Scout Jamboree, Cancer Research Seminar, Jeff’s golf match at Hilldale Country Club against the Mudlarks, and Mrs. Stone’s Bake-Off at The Bucket all in one night but you are being subpoenaed to the Milford Superior Court.”

“Donna, can’t you slip out one the Bake-Off is over? You’re a cinch to win the Frosting portion of the competition anyway.”

“Well, I think I can beat Mimi at her own game and then head on to the School Board meeting. Mimi uses generic flour on all her Dutch chocolate and coconut cakes. I’m not worried. BTW, Alex, where is that smoke coming from?”

“It’s coming from next door!!!!!!!!!!! My goodness, did Jaquan forget to turn off the Mr. Coffee machine again?”

Is Jaquan borrowing the Thorps’ verandah even as I type? You know tyhe old saying, when Gil’s away, the mice will play. Leaving the possibilities for another time, I have finally deduced that those are Hi-liters, not bullet shells on the table there. Doubtin’ that Jaquan pursued an early morning fox hunt before he curled up with a tome on international law. He’s just trying to get smarter, Gang. Nothing like being prepared for Fall.

Gang, I apologize, Mom came to town and She’s done A LOT for me and sacrificed A LOT for me and I couldn’t turn her away. The material is coming, trust me. Thanks for your patience.

 

“Sittin’ in Gil’s chair reading parliamentary law

Waitin’ for Fall class to begin

Birds are dropping on page 1-0-3

Woe is me

Find another tree…”

 

The inspiration for “Venus & Mars Rock Show”. Who’da thunk it. And really, it all started when he poured a cartoon-duration (i.e., Fred Flintstone never spills over the table and hits the saber-tooth cat or Dino when he’s pouring brontosaurus milk on his Fruity Pebbles) length of Nestea in his ULINE cup. The man has talent. He’ll have tenure before the next election at that rate.
Now if he can find another catalpa tree without a bird’s nest, he’s in business.

 

At Sanford & Son’s junkyard

“Mr. Sanford, you’re going to have to go to court to state why Tiki must go back to Rockville when he already lives in Rockville.”

“Hush yo’ mouth. I ain’t gonna go to no judge an’ tel’ him that Tiki kin stay wher’ he’s at. There’s laws statin’ he’s just as good as his hometown. Tha’s final, I ain’t gonna put my John Henry on nuttin'”

“Aw, come on, Pop. Them kids beat him to a pulp and all he’s trying to do is make a better life for himself. Right, Hadley Virtueless?”

“I’m afraid so. If I have to get a court order, I will. I suggest you make this easy on yourself, Mr. Sanford.”

“Yeah, Fred, you miserable jackass. What’d dat kid evuh do to you? Steal one of yore hubcaps? It’s bad enough you lost yore shirt tryin’ to cut a deal wid Gil and Mimi haulin’ their trash away. Like wut were ya gonna do wid dat aquarium they wuz throwin’ out? Build a swimmin’ pool by da trash compactor in yore back yard?”

“Esther, if I did, I wouldn’t put a shark in there wid yore dentures. Charlie the Tuna would eat ol’ Jaws alive.”

“Fred, if you don’t sign dat dere paper, I is gonna knock you out wid my Bible. If I can belt 10 muggers on a subway cold dead, you KNOW what it’ll do wid YOU!!!!!!!”

“Plus you’ll have a bench warrant AND a black eye. Now sign this paper.”

“You hear dat, Elizabeth? Dis is da Big One!!!!!!!! I’m bein’ blackmailed!!!!!!!!”

“Awwww, shut up, Pop. Sign the document and let’s go. Coach Kaz is paying us nicely for towing his Volkswagen Jetta off his property. But we got a half an hour before he goes on vacation. We better get his check NOW or we’re cooked, Man. Here’s a pen.”

 

Today’s Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Cleared Of Molestation Charges At Milford High School!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I was just in the gym rehearsing ELO’s ‘All Over The World’!!!!!!!!!!”

“Look after Jaquan. See that some harm is done to him.”

I don’t think Hugo Drax will be successful if Jaws’ cousin in P2 (NOT the animal, you ninnies) continues to sport notebooks that for once look like notebooks, not the See Spot Run rudimentary loose-leaf cigarette packs we’re used to seeing.

“See Dick read Bel-Air. It says “Warning: Smoking has been found in the labs to be hazardous to the fetus-”

‘Dick, you dumbass’, says Jane, ‘That’s a notebook. Mom says so. Right now look at Spot. See Spot chew up notebook. He thinks it’s a Milk Bone.’

‘Then who’s ‘Marlboro Man”? asks Dick.

‘He’s a BAD man,’ says Jane. ‘His treachery is worth 100 loose-leafs. Or 50 Marty Moons if you’re counting in Eurodollars.’

‘Who’s Marty Moon?’, asks Dick.

‘Wait until we get to page 15 and see Spot attack a donkey’, says Jane.”

 

If ya gotta go to court after the lawyer went ta see the Brady Bunch and Ozzie and Harriet Nelson and Larry the Cable Guy and Eight is Enough becuz ya gotta testify against yore best friend after he got arrested for Drunk and Disorderly Conduct at a T-Ball game at Milford Sports Complex includin’ peein’ on home plate before the kiddies started infield practice, ya might be a redneck.

And what in the name of Ricky Nelson is up with the verandah design in P2? Is this an infinite convergent pattern that will reach the asymptote (or NOT reach it, really) somewhere by the Milford Water Tower? God, no wonder why Jaws’ one leg is shorter than the other. Make yourself at home, Jaquan. While your one leg is stuck in the sewer line, your other one should stretch TO New Thayer. Looks like a winning case to me. Gotta get there and back if ya wanna live to tell about it. Just stand up and do the 7th-inning stretch and things oughta go off without a hitch.

 

At the Cleaver residence

“Ward, do you think Beaver should go before a judge? It might be a little daunting.”

“Nonsense, June. It’ll teach him responsibility. He needs to learn to tell the truth under oath after witnessing Lumpy Rutherford and Eddie Haskell throwing eggs at Gil’s ranch house.”

“I agree, Mr. Cleaver. If Beaver will sign right here next to the Ballard Insurance policy, we’re good to go.”

“Gosh, Beaver, don’t be a dope and sign the wrong paper. Dad doesn’t need any coverage for his Harley. He already has one with Milford State Farm Insurance.”

 

And that is a pre-cursor into P3. God, this is just opening itself for abuse.

“Let me discuss the matter with my partner.”

“I don’t know, Chico. You might want to ask The Man first before the ink dries.”

No

Well, Hell, Hadley Verdure was the only female in the living room but still believe Thorpiverse keeps it heterosexual, although allowing for strong possibilities for same-sex marriage to thrive in Milford

Who in the world are all these people that Thorpiverse keeps throwing at us? It’s bad enough that I thought that the dude to the left was putting on his Ninja outfit but hard to imagine his doing that in front of ANYONE, much less Hadley Valley Tech. I now know that he is crossing his leg. getting your eyes adjusted will do that.

We STILL have the issue of going from Kenny Rogers to Nancy Kulp to today’s Chico & The Man  with the unfortunate sidenote that this reads more like an Anne Tyler novel than a sports plot. Really, when I read the sports scoreboard, I’m not expecting to see the entire story of “The Accidental Tourist” next to the bowling scores but that’s pretty much the long and tall of it. Maybe one day Thorpiverse will quit reading V. C. Andrews and publish REAL sports. Gil posing with his putter is a good start. It might be a long way from Putt-Putt to football scrimmage but remember, you only chew an elephant one bite at a time.

BTW, I’d like that lamp in Mr. Fleming’s living room. I’ve been wanting to revamp my household with a neo-Art Deco atmosphere. Name your price, Mr. Fleming.

 

All righty then, Gang. It’s your turn. I’m going to join in the conversation in P3. I thought it was awful nice for Mr. Fleming to treat everybody to pterodactyl eggs and show everybody his stick figure drawings that he’s got on the coffee table. That should lighten the mood. Just gotta watch the egg count. My doctor said watch the cholestrerol.

 

Da da, da BOM BOM

“Bull shit”

Da da, da BOM BOM

“Just qvit”

Da da, da BOM BOM

“Football”

Da da, da BOM BOM

“Don’t stall”

 

“I say he stays”

“It looks zat vay”

“In Fall he will be therrreeeeee”

As Eddie Albert stomps his pitchfork for extra emphasis on Ballard’s toe. Green Acres, Green Suit, life couldn’t be greener. Shouldn’t extend to Ballard’s teeth but Thorpiverse never told Ballard to say “Ah”, maybe because the face would collapse if he did. Darn, we’ll never know.

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