This Week in Milford

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.

June 5, 2019

Going Dutch at the Coffee Cantina?

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Here at TWIM we’ve pretty much concluded Milford is in Michigan. While it’s true Michigan has some Dutch influences, I totally did not expect the Coffee Cantina to turn into a full-blown Amsterdam coffeeshop overnight. Had to run with the color version to confirm that the brownie was indeed a brownie. You know it’s a great brownie when you haven’t even taken a bite out of it. Contact high much?

Everyone (including myself) who had written Linda off as a loser who was willing to turn down a volley scholly because she wasn’t yet Olympian material can just hold that thought, at least for today. Skipping practice doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve given up on your sport (remember Allen Iverson?).

The less said about Mimi’s heavy-handed Animal Farm assignment, the better. I’m also disappointed that Mimi didn’t run ’em till they puked before convening Book Club, but if it leads to Molly and Nancy giving Linda a TCFS button for skipping volleyball practice to eat a hash brownie at the Coffee Cantina, I can live with it.

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.

May 9, 2019

Rocki Works In Mysterious (And Quick!) Ways

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P1: Either we skipped a few days, or Graphic Goddess Rocki whipped up some original design in just a few minutes. Perhaps she used lots of copy and paste art.

P2: That word, you keep using it…

P3: Oooooh! Thursday cliffhanger! Could they have included the proper noun along with the pronoun? Sure looks like there’s space in for a larger dialogue balloon. Truly great pacing to use the last bit of dialogue to reestablish Molly’s name.

Bonus question: What is that thing that maybe could be the back of a CRT monitor in panel three?

Minus point: I am so committed to posting these things that I can confirm that the logo in panel three is likely not that of Skyborne Advertising, erstwhile enabler of B/Robby Howry’s mass media anti-Gil ad campaign.

January 26, 2019

Getting Ripped Every Day

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In typical Gil Thorp Saturday cliffhanger fashion, none of the Mudlark seniors come right out and give rando underclassman the straight dope on B/Robby.  Just some passive-aggressive reasons they didn’t like him.  Could it be that none of them actually know what went down?

I’m having a difficult time figuring out what’s on Andre’s locker shelf.  The rectangular object with the “12” on top I figure to be a shoebox with a genericized Nike logo, unless Andre’s gone super retro with a pair of Batas like Magic Johnson used to wear.  But what’s that next to the shoebox?  Pack of Luckies?  Some Gold Bond?

Also having a difficult time figuring out how B/Robby is sustaining himself such that he can go on Marty’s show every day.  I can’t imagine he’s on the WDIG payroll… yet… but as soon as station manager LBJ figures out Howry will cost him relative peanuts, Marty will be on the streets and dumpster diving behind Schultz’s Polynesian quicker than you can say “Clumsy Amy Lange.”

January 25, 2019

An Echo Chamber Does Not a Groundswell Make

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We’re being asked to fill in a lot of blanks here today.  Other than the one caller who called bullshit on their short-term memory loss yesterday, it’s just been Marty and B/Robby taking turns getting their digs in on Gil.  (You notice no one ever calls for Kaz’s head?  They know he’s liable to track them down and put his fist through theirs.)  Do those two take turns running out of the studio and calling in?  I suppose between calls Marty can get a bite to eat from the automat that has magically appeared behind his head.  Or do Wildcat Maris, Hobart, Barry Bader et al. just have WDIG on speed dial?

WDIG’s station manager seems vaguely aware that this whole kerfuffle is purely Marty’s and The Boy Who Would Be Coach’s doing, but as long as the ad revenue is coming in and he can keep shuffling those invoices, it’s all gravy.  Then again he may be waxing nostalgic about how he earned that trophy behind him for being the best Studebaker salesman in the Valley, or planning to order some Haggar slacks to go with that shawl-collared jacket of his while remembering how he used to hold meetings while he was on the can.

Meanwhile, in the Mudlark locker room, the real wheels get set in motion when rando underclassman asks rando seniors to dish the dirt on B/Robby.  Howry’s placebo-dealing, Bacon-manipulating backstory will be shared, rando underclassman will call Marty to expose B/Robby on air, WDIG’s engineer will again lose his mind, and Gil’s reputation will be saved without any action on his part.  This had better be good.

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