This Week in Milford

September 29, 2021

Sympathy for the Waning Moon

Time for the annual f-t-f pissing match between Gil and Marty. Marty asks a legit question of Gil and gets a pissy backhanded insult in return. Sure, Gil wins this one on paper, but come game time he might be singing a different tune.

Marty is absolutely not wrong in putting this question to Gil. Thorp started running his Delaware Wing-T again last season, and is still running it this season. He’s surprising exactly nobody with it. There are a plethora of YouTube videos on how to defend against the Wing-T, many of them quite lengthy. Here’s one of the briefest for your perusal.

A team that is regularly exposed to a Wing-T offense (as Kettering supposedly has been) will be better prepared to defend against it, even if it is “a little different,” as Gil claims. In this case “a little different” looks like it’ll translate into “a passing game where our receivers don’t look the ball into their hands.”

Kettering was a Detroit high school in a very tough neighborhood. It was closed about ten years ago due to declining attendance, a crumbling physical plant, low academic performance, and gang activity. The former Kettering site, first re-imagined as an urban farm, is now going to become a manufacturing plant for an auto parts supplier. As a shout-out to a Detroit long past, how will Rubin reimagine the Kettering team? Urban tough guys or something else?

In the grander scheme of things, we can see Marty becoming ever more irrelevant on the Mudlark sports reporting scene. Heather’s quick thumbs can spew out tweets as fast as he can call play-by-play, providing the analysis in real time that he might otherwise have to do between snaps. Having also been Gil’s protégé, Heather has the inside line to locker room scoops that Marty never will. Since he’s lost the journalistic high ground, Marty should have free reign to wallow deeper in the Milford mud. He can begin on Friday night into Saturday morning once Kettering has shut down Gil’s predictable old-school offense.

September 22, 2021

#blownoffthorp

So much for that breather! The Mudlarks slow things down so much that night turned into day. Milford scores 13 more points after switching from the vaunted Delaware Wing-T and hangs half a hundred on Oakwood. It’s a wonder Tod Andrews (that is Tod, innit?) isn’t giving Gil a piece of his mind for running up the score on his hapless Owls.

Up in his crate, Evil Spock Marty gleefully calls the game. No doubt he believes Marjie Ducey’s departure to warmer pastures has cemented Milford’s status as his town. Marty had better keep his head on a swivel, though, since Heather Burns is on the scene quicker than you can tweet #radioisadyingmedium.

Heather’s thumbs are quicker than Marty’s lungs, and her approach to sports reporting is fresher than Shane Beamer’s postgame presser after the Georgia-South Carolina game. She’s got no time for Gil’s old man football coachspeak; she’s off to track down the man of the hour, Chance “Don’t Call Me Blowtop” Macy, and give him a squeeze.

Careful where you grab Chance, Heather: five years’ age difference might not mean much to the cruisers at Barney’s Pub (speaking of Evil Spock Marty) but when it’s a recent high school graduate and a high school senior, well, let’s just say it’s not always looked upon kindly.

May 8, 2021

Color Me Inconsistent

Yesterday and Thursday it was Zane changing outfits from one panel to the next (not to mention Katy’s eyes changing from blue to brown). Before that, it was Mama Brito’s constantly color-changing hair. Today it’s the always-red Mudlarks in black and chartreuse. There’s a lack of institutional control in the Thorpiverse and it’s throwing everyone for a loop. Hell, even Marty’s so pissed that his notebook is bleeding out onto his shirt and he’s karate chopping his pencil. Then again, his sippy cup’s nowhere to be seen so he might just be having a case of the DTs.

The Mudlarks have apparently traveled to Austin, Texas, to face Crockett. (There are no doubt other Crockett Highs; as this one hasn’t been identified by nickname yet, I reserve the right to come back and edit this post.) After his shaky bullpen outing, Zane Clark has somehow earned a right to a start, and he almost immediately goes all Robin Roberts Max Scherzer and gives up a gopher ball. He’s not throwing strikeouts like Mad Max, unfortunately.

Gil and Kaz laugh this off Bull Durham style. Surprised Kaz didn’t make a crack about the ball having a stewardess.

They must figure if Zane digs a hole early, he can’t blow a lead.

Seriously, though. There has got to be someplace that still runs this strip in black and white, doesn’t there?

November 19, 2019

I heard Marjie Rapping, Rapping At My Door.

111919

Uh oh.

Whenever Marty casts that evil eye and leaves the Milford Recreational Sports 60th Annual Darts Tournament, you know something’s cooking between those ears of his. You just don’t execute a couple of bulls-eyes while you observe your overmatched opponent possess the aim of a welder when he has his gloves still on while still trying to solder the Anchor Pub sign back into place. The results are all over the dart board, literally, in back of Marty while he soaks in the Bud and the gossip. Sorta like walking and chewing gum at this point, when you think about it.

“Okay, Marty, you’re up.”

“I’ll skip this round. I have a great chance of winning the Masters 60 & Over Tournament later on anyway. Whose my opponent? Roy Gillen? In the bag. Anyway, Chet, so you say he mooned his kindergarten teacher and got due-processed? Before or after the teachers threw an Oreo in his chest at naptime?”

 

Once upon a plotline dreary, our interest weak and weary

I heard a tapping, tapping at my door

Coach Luhm came in to buffer like no tomorrow

We had no aegis with which to borrow

The buffer and the soap (opera) both caused great sorrow

But you could store one back in the closet

The other remained with us

Evermore

 

If ya gotta pursue the rent-a-trap route from Milford U-Haul after the crow done disturbed yore beauty sleep where yuz fantasizin’ about bein’ arm-and-arm with the 400-pound beauty queen in yore department on third shift at work and it takes forever ta set up the trap cuz the UPS driver forgot ta send the instruction manual, ya might be a redneck.

 

Unfortunately, our TWIMers may prove correct, i.e., Marty may rat out Chet rather than use the artillery Chet provides. I liked Teenchy’s omerta comparision because Marty may not only not recycle Chet’s lowdown on Chance’s truancy from Song Flute class but may use info like that to stultify Chet.

“So what if Chance couldn’t toot “On the Banks of the Wabash?. Hell, I had trouble accompanying the soloist on “MacArthur Park.” Did you ever try to keep up with Richard Harris on a song flute?”

 

Heard blasting on Gil’s speakers out of his Chevy Nova one day while he applies Turtle Wax Lime to the hood, the vocorder proudly proclaiming the message from Parsons’ “Tales of Mystery and Imagination”

While I was vacuuming

And emptying ash trays

I heard a knocking at my door

 

It wasn’t a Witness

No Girl Scout selling

Her fudgies evermore

 

In my amazement

She stood there intending

My assistance to implore

 

A School Board member

Must be dismembered

So we won’t hear

Forevermore

 

Thus quoth Gilberto

Nevermore

Thus quoth Gilberto

Nevermore

 

Nevermore Nevermore Nevermore

Never

Nevermore Nevermore Nevermore

Never

Nevermore Nevermore Nevermore

Never

 

NEVERMORE

 

Thank you to the Milford Chorale Society for the accompaniment to Ian Bairnson, Stuart Tosh, London Symphony Orchestra, etc.

Oh, and kudos to Milford Pawn ‘n’ Carry for the vocorder

 

I mean, Chet better watch his backside here. Which, if everything goes according to script, is really the idea. Chet’s about to get hoisted by his own petard because any time you unload confidential information to Loony Moony, well, you Hooligans know what the OTHER Loony Moony did with those cars. Wound up in Davy Jones Locker at some podunk Holiday Inn, last I recall. Chet, YOU might find yourself in the bottom of the swimming pool at the Oakwood Holiday Inn alomg with Chance’s parole records for the month of February if you continue this conversation at The Pub That Serves Anchors and Onion Rings and Darts That Are Really Dr. Pearl’s Knitting Needles.

Oh, pay no mind to Marty’s leer. He gets that way when he’s welcoming new members of the Wide Path of Destruction. Those Boys Town records of Chance you got FedExed from Father Flanagan ought to be secure at the safe deposit box at the Post Office while you’re attending Marty’s Day of Reckoning.

 

Because I’m really unsure why there’s a tanning clinic under the same roof as a laundromat like I saw recently

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Sent To Minor Emergency Clinic After Overexposure To UV Rays From Heat Lamp At Milford 24-Hour Coin Laundry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“The damn rinse cycle took FOREVER to complete. I had to insert an extra quarter or two just to kick-start it.”

 

And the silken and uncertain rustling of this plot

Killed me-filled me with needless terrors and ennui I have felt in baseball and golf before

So that now, to the stagnation of everyone concerned, I stood repeating

‘Tis some muckraker entreating entrance at my chamber door

Some Grantland Rice-wannabe entreating entrance at my chamber door

That it is and nothing more

 

We will return to this Masterpiece Theater Father Brown Mystery in a moment but first let me explore the meaning of the phrase “to chat up”.

Now I can understand Chet and Marty CHATTING at the Anchor Pub in the family room because ya gotta leave your attitude and your gossip at the entrance leading into the bar. No discussion of Chance’s molestation of Milford Head Start children accusations when he was in charge of leading recess (“Okay, kiddies, grab your private parts and go ‘I think I can, I think I can…”) or when he sent Grandma Macy to Milford General Hospital because she served the wrong Hamburger Helper (“I wanted PORK and pasta!!!!!!!!!!”) .

And I can understand General Lee and General Grant CHATTING at Appomattox when discussing terms of surrender (“Sure, everybody can keep their pistols. Just gotta drop your Winchesters in the bin. So how’s your boy doing? Did you have to hold him back another year?”) .

And I can understand Batman and Robin CHATTING before they break into that deserted warehouse that hasn’t been used since the old ladies moved to Lowell, Massachusetts to comtinue their 18-hour shift of looming and weaving to arrest The Joker (“You’re flunking Phys Ed, Robin?”) .

BUT HOW THE HELL DO YOU CHAT UP?

A better question is

WHO CHATS UP???????????????

 

When Franklin Delano Roosevelt sponsored his Fireside Chats, he never, ever CHATTED UP the Tennessee Valley Authority project. Didn’t CHAT UP the WPA. Hitler was never CHATTED UP like it was North Carolina CHATTING UP Duke or vice versa (FUCK HOLLAND) . I mean, if I want to CHAT UP my Muriel cigar, I’ll go get my Zippo, thank you very much.

Anybody want the rest of these Bucket Buffalo Wings, BTW? Otherwise, I’m going to CHAT THEM UP.

Marjie is CHATTING UP the door in P2. And looks like she got an answer. Those Avon techniques work every time.

 

Open here I flung through Marjie’s peruke, when,

After many a spit and sputter

In stepped Margaret Nutchall’s mom after

Giving Dennis the Menace a/ka Chet

A tongue-lashing

But, with mien or otherwise uninvited, perched at my chamber door

Settled on a bust of Gil when he just used Tegrin Medicated Shampoo on his hair

She settled and the plot did nothing more

 

“…still paying extra for your lodging accommodations? Well, at Milford Motel Econo-Stay, you get a nice quiet room for $27 less than Milford Courtyard by Marriott. When Mimi’s aunt stayed a couple of days while traveling the country, why did she need to pay an extra 27 simoleons for a Gideon’s Bible? She brought her own, there was none in the drawer…”

 

P3-“We had made passionate love at the Milford Motel Econo-Stay…”

Well, what else could it be at this point as people have been doing more investigating than Smiley’s People? I have always liked reading John Le Carre, his deliberate style to FINALLY nail a Doctor No or some Soviet flunky who has engineered a plan to take over West Berlin by slipping past Checkpoint Charlie with the conspiracy hidden in Gil’s hair but do we really honestly have to read about this in Mudlarkland? Before it’s all said and done, Chance will be executed by a firing squad for treason right before kickoff to Valley Tech.

And who’s Ms. Forsman? Is she related to The Joker, given her choice of slacks which runs in synchronization with that villain’s wardrobe? Is THIS the reason why we gotta keep it real in P3 because Chance was seen in the Jokermobile aiding and abetting in the cause when The Joker and his gang set out to rob The Bucket? Well, The Joker doesn’t wear chunky earrings. And Chance may still have to answer for his possible Boys Town record but we don’t think Father Flanagan taught him to be a Commie rat. There’s hope.

Now we have it reduced to “Editor, Reporter, Sailor, Spy” Ducey and her tea time and scones with Mrs. Joker. I can’t wait for this Le Carre novel to be released next month. Oughta be exciting. Definitely more than this plot anyway.

 

Because I’m intrgued when kids sing around the campfire while dad has finally conquered his ED problems as I saw in an ad

 

“…take one down, pass it around, 97 bottles of beer on the wall-”

“Honnnneeeyyyyyyy, I’m glad you brought the kids along for our Milford Marraige Enrichment Seminar but we slid the credit card for the that cabin here at Mudlark Lake for a reasonnnnnnnnn. And I’m hornnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

“Just when we’re getting to the best part? Heck, Mrs. Shaw, I still haven’t opened that other bag of Milford Kwik-ee Mart Munchy Marshmallows? Okay, kiddies, who needs a stick? I can always rip a branch off that sugar maple over yonder.”

“Darling, that’s what the baby-sitter is for. Now put that Beanie-Weenie down and let’s do our own roasting in that nice comfy feather bed, the one that comes with a Gideon’s Bible.”

“Okay, who knows the words to Camptown Races?

Camptown Races sing this song

Doo Dah

Doo Dah

Find Chance’s bio and don’t be long

Oh Doo Dah Day-”

“This Camptown Race is taking way too long. You can always air guitar at the Enrichment Seminar Jamboree.”

“Just when I was doing my best Joe Walsh? Okay, boys and girls, repeat after me

I HAVE ACCOUNTANTS PAY FOR IT ALL

THEY SAY I’M CRAZY BUT IT TAKES ALL MY TIME

“Honey, is your wim wim as lame as that Oscar Meyer Wiener you’re roasting?”

Coach Shaw, getting desperate

“Oh I wish were as hard as this Oscar Meyer Wienerrrrrrrrr

Then my wife would truly be in love with me”

 

The kids understandably befuddled.

“Those aren’t the words.”

 

“When the hot dogs were firing up faster than my Significant Other, it was time to ‘fess up and head to Milford Men’s Clinic. You don’t need a pin oak branch to roast this bad boy and with proven treatment plans that work, isn’t it time you sang “Happy Days Are Here Again” at your next wienie roast? And they left the light on when me and Mrs. Shaw entered the cabin for our own Marshmallow Enrichment Seminar. Come get your own silver maple branch and start roasting the Vienna sausages only at The Clinic. You’ll be glad you did.”

Thanks again for your patience, Gang. I owe you one.

 

As I pondered, pondered the question

Whether my beloved Lenore would outlast this plot

The Raven, fresh from flatulating from a Burger at The Bucket

Reflected upon my inquisitive nature

Insensitive and inured to my desperate plight and the buffoonery therewith

And uttered

“Nevermore”

 

I’M BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN

 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Get to The Clinic. You’ll have 15 minutes before it closes.”

Gil puts “Rocks” back in the saddle, er, album sleeve

October 16, 2019

To Assume Is To Make A Mudlark Out Of You And Me.

101619a

We’re back in the bottom of the Grand Canyon where Gil is doing his weekly interview with a man he’d just as soon observe get shot in the butt and hauled off to the Tombstone, Arizona cemetery where they are performing last rites for the Clanton boys.

And is it just me or do you all, particularly the Thorpiverse veterans, notice the change of appearance by Marty Moon? In the Berrill years, Marty had that shiny mop top you could wipe the dirty dishes with and Marty’s glean could still be seen over in Oakwood. There could be an earthquake in Milford, 8.4 on the Richter Scale, and the school might crumble to the ground, the girls gym might topple without anybody noticing, or caring the way the season went this past season or DIDN’T went, the Milford’s Men’s Clinic might have to reorder supplies after the Milford Mall went the way of Carrie White (“MMC burns in Hell!!!!!!!”) , but Marty’s hair, every follicle, would stay in place. He might be in the same place AS Carrie White but 1) Who’s gonna argue about his final destination? Thought so 2) See #1 3) His hair would still stay fresh after 60 years even if it would look kinda funny on a skeleton. Well, we can’t have everything. You learn to give and take in Thorpiverse.

In the present scheme of things, Marty decided to go for the ’60’s look, i.e., the bassist for The Move. No wonder why they never really hit their stride. Does anybody really think The Beatles-in-waiting could hit the heights with a snake undermining the show? He might look swell in that Ringo coif but Ringo’s ethics matched his drumming. Eventually, Jeff Lynne and Bev Bevan threw the snake in the gutter, or WDIG as it was later designated, and they went on to become Electric Light Orchestra (ELO). Marty went on to journalism and the rest is history. So is his hair.

So before Zeus and his Titans warm up in the Greek Stadion against the Amazons in Extreme Football, Marty and Gil are obliged to renew acquaintances and refuel a rivalry matched only by Michigan-Ohio State, Tennessee-Alabama or UCLA-USC. But those rivalries are interesting even if you’re not a fan of either school. Press the snooze button on this interchange today between Beatnik and Butthead.

 

Responding to a message I saw at a bank that stated “We do not have public restrooms”

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Milford EPA Shuts Down Milford Federal Credit Union After Hazardous Odors Permeate Building And Out Onto The Street!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Officials traced the smell to Coach Shaw’s residue from a Bucket 3-Cheese Pizza he had for lunch before he had cashed a Milford 7-11 money order.”

 

And P2 is just so full of baloney, it REEKS of a Bucket 3-Meat Pizza. Gil, answer the damn question. I know you have it in you to be professional and actually address what is being asked, even if I’d just as soon take my chances in a National Forest in Montana and hope no grizzly bear shows up to force  me to share  my Bucket o’ Buffalo Wings  than to interview with Ringo Moon. But, Coach, that was the understanding when you interviewed with the principal in ’58. Yeah, you’re going to have to talk to the press. and give logical answers. Not this Alice-in-Wonderland bullshit you’re spouting in today’s strip.

“Gil, so you think Chance’s injury cost Milford a shot at winning against Tilden?”

“Well. Marty, as the turtle said to the lobster while they were on the road to Mandalay to get their marriage license, ‘You can’t assume that you’re going to win just because the hippopotamus tore the goal post down. I had to explain to the whole lot of them hippos that it ain’t over ’til Chance’s bashing the hyena in the ground is over.'”

“Is Chance going to have to get rabies shots?”

“We’ll see. Depends on Dr. Doolittle has enough time after birthing a female Java rhino.”

And really, Coach, that is YOUR job to win. I never assumed ANYTHING as a coach, but Hell yeah, I EXPECTED victory. Or you’re taking early leave as a coach.

I remember a Big Ten coach who I’ll hold nameless whose team lost to some powderpuff, I mean the Milford Betting Line had them winning by 30 but that team LOST to that powderpuff, the team throwing a desperate 3-point heave that clanged off the rim, and a potential game-winner-that-would-have-bailed-them-out-and-taught-them-to-prepare-for-EVERY-opponent-from-now-on wound up on the half-court line, harmlessly sitting until somebody later put it on the ball rack.

And I remember the coach after the game making the comment that when you warm up casual before the game, you’re going to play casual and consequently get your ass beat. Okay, well and good, nobody’s going to argue with that.

EXCEPT, it is YOUR job, Coach, to ensure they DON’T warm up casual. By preparing for every opponent as if they could beat you even if some teams don’t stand a bat chance in Hades of beating you. Y’know, Coach, ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN???? Kentucky is a proud tradition in basketball because one day, when they lost to Auburn on their home floor, Rupp Arena, Auburn not having beaten the Wildcats many times, let alone AT Rupp Arena, Eddie Sutton, the coach at the times called the players in the locker room and asked 3 questions

  1. Do you know the name of the player who scored the game-winning shot?
  2. Do you know what the final score was?
  3. Do you know who our next 3 opponents are?

Coach Sutton made his point.

Gil, it’s not rocket science. No, it ain’t over ’til it’s over but you don’t quit coaching just cuz Jerry Lawler body-slammed Freezer Thompson because Freezer said Jerry’s mother uses Gil comics to scoop up the dog poop. You make those fans happy, y’know, the ones with the Vulcan placards at every game (“Gil coaches worse than Captain Kirk!!!!!!”) , because the same Vulcans expect nothing less than your best effort. What would happen to Spaceship Enterprise if it went at half-throttle? Might crash-land into Uranus.

 

“Do you know who Dagwood’s neighbor is?”

“Do you know where Coach Shaw ran off to?”

“Do you know what kind of insurance Grandpa Macy carries when Chance went berserk and suffered a contusion when he threw the Tilden jerk through the ropes after he slammed his head in the turnbuckle?”

“Uh, no, Marty. I’ll have to check back with you later. I think Shaw is working with inner city youth somewhere in Christchurch, New Zealand but I wouldn’t swear to it. And I’ll have to read the funnies today in the Milford Enquirer. For once, it might not get swiped when I take the paper out of the little coin stand.”

“You’re held to a higher standard, Gil, when you walk between them lines of the comic strip. Your hair is standing taller than you right now.”

If ya git interviewed by Milford Outdoors Today on WDIG-TV after ya had missed a turkey at Milford Fish and Wildlife Public Land and ya git asked

  1. Did ya remember the name of yore shotgun?
  2. Did ya remember what dumpster the turkey is headed to next?
  3. Did ya know turkey season ended yesterday?

And ya can bribe the game warden with a 20 ya found in yore glove box from the poker game ya won last year, ya can scope out the turkey at the Milford High School  maintenance building incinerator and ya not only know the name of yore shotgun, ya can actually spell it, ya might be a redneck

And what are Tom Petty and Clarence “Fat Boy” Clemmons doing together on the sidelines in P3? Didn’t Clarence solo on “Born to Run”? and aren’t they both d-, Oh, shazam, that’s Chance on his crutches once again. I thought this was not a career-ending injury. Ooops, I forgot, this is Thorpiverse. When the ratings decline and people are engineering a mass exodus out of Milford and flocking to Nancy and Sluggo, Thorpiverse has to use its Colt .45, the same one used to blast Gil’s horse in the head when it tripped on Mimi’s verandah, and shoot Chances ankle to smithereens. I understand Chance is out for the next decade.

WHO SHOT COACH SHAW???????????

“I swear, Grandpa, that dude was UGLY. After he shot at Coach, he took aim at my ankles.”

“And Milford is set to kick off against Central any day now. Hmmmmmm, sounds like a Joan Baez recording. Anyhoo, we’ll be back for opening kick after this. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

“Daddy, I gotta go to the BATHROOM!!!!!!”

“In a minute, Jaime. Daddy has to give himself a shot.”

“But I’m going to pee all over the cat if you don’t hurry!!!!!!!”

“Big Guy, I apologize. It’s a very difficult maneuver but once I get it in, I’ll be out before you can say ‘Mr. Green Jeans has erectile dysfunction.'”

“Daddy, I got to brush my teeth. Mommy wants me to wash my molars so I don’t get Klondike Bar stains. She says she doesn’t the teachers to think I chew Red Man.”

“I’m just about done. DAGGONE!!!!!!!! If I shoot this damn thing at a 45 degree angle, I should be able to hit my significant other at the point where the blood is flowing”

“Mommy, what is he talking about? Is Daddy shooting himself up with drugs?”

“Uhhhhh, no, Honey, well, yes and no. Yes, he’s shooting himself all right but no, it’s not drugs. And if he gets his butt out of the bathroom, i can not only put the curlers back on the stand, I can show him a much better way to relieve himself.”

“But, Mommy, he’s not sitting on the potty.”

“EUREKA!!!!!!!!! THAT’S IT!!!!!!!!!!! I’ll sit on the john and give myself an injection!!!!!!!!!”

The toilet lid slams

“Gil, why don’t you open the door? Jaime had to pee in the Le Seuer can just to ease the agony.”

“Mimi, I almost got it. Hold steady. Arch and a spin, go for the rim. Just have good follow-through. And don’t forget to box out.”

“Mommy, why is he talking that way? Is he shooting free throws in the toilet?”

“He might as well be.”

“SHIT!!!!!!!!!! And that’s the last needle!!!!!!!! And my insurance won’t cover a second dozen of these daggone things!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“Mimi showed me a much better way. With the Milford Men’s Clinic EREC-9000 Energy Boost Tablet, I am guaranteed to garner a blood flow through my significant other. In fact, if I don’t lay it on thick and it doesn’t widen to proportions you could use to roast marshmallows, the Milford Men’s Clinic will refund your money, no questions asked. I don’t know about you but I’ve been roasting Mimi pretty damn good. She’s been enjoying that quaking aspen branch lately. Come start your own campfire and taste the marshmallows at Milford Men’s Clinic today. You’ll be glad you did.”

 

All right, Gang, have at it. I’m waiting anytime here at Circus Maximus for the Milford Chariot Races to commence. I’m bettin’ on Mr. Ed.

 

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Disgusted After Losing To Underdog In Milford Adult Flag Football League!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I couldn’t answer who scored the winning TD. Somebody said it was some optometry student at Milford Community College.”

 

“So Coach, what happened tonight?”

“Come again?”

“Why’d you lose?”

“Well, when the rhododendron got horny when it saw the zebra…”

October 8, 2019

“…Charlie The Roh Down To The 15!!!!!! The 10!!!!! The 5!!!!! Touchdown…”

100819

You old-timers will remember the Happy Days episode, (I mean this one was OLD because the intro was “Rock Around The Clock” by Bill Haley & The Comets, not the “These days are ourrrrrrsssss, those Happy Days” opening”), where Richie Cunningham is working as an errand boy at this radio station and this hot shot DJ is in a dispute with the station manager over his pay. Eventually the DJ walks out, even after putting on a ridiculous showboating exhibition to prove he’s worth more money. The station manager, the same guy who played The Maytag Man in the Maytag commercials, yanks Richie from his sweeping job around the studio and puts him on the air. Of course, he’s stumbling at first, but then develops more confidence as he settles into the job. This eventually leads to his new identity, Richie the C. And, boy, he just goes to town with it. Had to have been there.
Therefore, as long as we’re going to get ridiculous and have Chance on crutches after snuffing out Godzilla when the Japanese film company should have sent Godzilla back in the ocean, cave, polar ice cap, the boys toilet at Milford Elementary, etc., we might as well introduce Charlie the Roh and display his bag of tricks. What have we got to lose? The plot’s stalling anyway.

“Oh nooooooooooo, Chance is defecting and heading over to Tod Andrews’ team!!!!!!!”
“Shit!!!!!!!!!!!! He’ll be stuck in that time warp like Tod was 30 years ago!!!!!!
Can you get the scriptwriter on the headset?”
“No, he took a personal day and is at The Bucket celebrating his grandkids’ birthday, Gil.”
“You don’t take a personal day on a coaching staff”
“Comic strip union rules, Coach.”
“DAMN. Where’s Charlie?????????”

In Gil’s personal water closet at his office
SHEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEE, What did Coach have for lunch at the cafeteria??????? No wonder why there’s no roaches. That stench works better than Raid!!!!!! Oh, well, this mop oughta get rid of some of the residue in the commode-”
ROH!!!!!!!!!!!!! GET YOUR HELMET AND BE READY TO CHECK IN!!!!!!!!!!!! ON THE DOUBLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Late one night, after Grandma Macy reads Chance a bedtime story (“Rumpelstiltsken”)

“Now go to sleep. It was just a nightmare yesterday. I don’t know why Marty would be walking the streets of Milford, carrying an open casket of Dr.Pearl’s great-grandmother. I’m sure the way you describe it, she looked like a California Raisin that had suntanned too long but let’s close ours eyes and think happpy thoughts. Like when you body-slammed #53 on USWA Wrestling Saturday morning and won the Southern Tag Title from him and Freezer Thompson. Your tag partner, Jerry Lawler, bear-hugging you should send you right back to La La Land…”

Grandma Macy turns off the light

Suddenly, by the poster of Dominique Wilkins flushing on Hank Finkel in the 1987 Playoffs

BOOOOYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Ok, so Charlie the Roh and Richie the C will not have to clean out Coach Shaw’s garage. Good thing, cuz there were a lot of National Geographic’s and Penthouse’s to sort through. Charlie the Roh can concentrate on nabbing Discovery One before it heads off to Jupiter. Richie the the C can call the game whenever Marty the Moon has to take a leak behind the booth. I just hope nobody’s down below.

And Chet will enter the discussion before too long. After all, when Richie the C was bombing out because he got Coach Thorp’s hair mixed up with Waylon Jennings’ pompadour, Richie the C needed reassuring

“Ladies and gentlemen, Gil is bombing out singing ‘Luekenback, Texas. That’s WAYLON??????? Oh my goodness, I better cut to a commercial break and slash my throat. Then have a heart-to-heart talk tonight with my dad like I have for 500 episodes. You’re listening to WDIG and this is Richie the C…”

Mr. C. will be there to console Richie in his room and make sure no razor-sharp spheres will fly out of the closet.

“Honey, he’s bombing out!!!!!!!! That’s the 3rd time they’ve cut him off at the line of scrimmage!!!!!!!”
“Oh, Chet. Not to worry. Gil has the situation well in hand. Gil’s the coach, you know.”
HOT DOGS PEANUTS CRAAAAAA-CKER JACK
“Oh, Mr.Vendor, gimme a foot-long!!!!!!!!! And he’s bombing out!!!!!!!!!!!!”

If ya shoot at Dis-kuv-eree One, thinkin’ it’s a Royal Canadian Snow Goose that got sidetracked on its way to Hudson Bay and it plops in your motorboat but ya still take ‘er to the taxee-dermist anyhoo cuz ya like how it looks on yore wall in the den, mountin’ the lite bulb of Hal 9400 next ta thet jaguar ya shot with only two shells in Bolivia, ya might be a redneck.

Now that the action is hot and heavy, will somebody tell Thorpiverse that Marty Moon is not Charlie Chan incarnate? Granted, this whole damn mystery wrapped inside of an enigma is getting to bea mystery but let’s let some sunlight in Marty’s eyes. Wouldn’t want him to ruin his retinas while Charlie the Roh is rippin’ long one.

Ah, but therein lies the problem and reveals Marty’s raison d’etre. A doubting Thomas wrapped in a bitchin’ booster who draws a paycheck because he embodies 5his persona in front of a microphone. Sorta like Pat Robertson railing against Satan while pretending to be Monty Hall. Let’s Make a Deal a hybrid with The 700 Club.

“Pat, I’ll give you $500 and what’s behind Door #3 if you’ll call off the deal and give me your soul.”

Ahhhhhhhhh, I went a little off the deep end but I think you grasp the concept.

One day in Gil’s office
“Tiki, it was just a bad dream. That cafeteria pepperoni pizza has been giving everybody weird dreams. No way was Tall Man toting a casket with my wife in it out of Hooverville. And Tall Man has a restraining order from the Milford Circuit while you’re staying at the Flemings. Relax.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

“Tall Man, how many times have I got to tell you to flush???? If you’re going to use my toilet, I’d appreciate it if you’d use Renuzit Raspberry. Tired of hearin’ it from Home Ec class down the hallway. And that’s the 5th roll you’ve used up!!!!!!! How many burritos did you eat at lunch??????”

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Richie The C Forced To Eat Bucket Fried Crow After Coach Kaz Gives Thumbs Down On Show!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I wouldn’t even dance to ‘Hot for Teacher and that’s my favorite song. Play it all the time during football scrimmage. Richie the C has gotten the big head.”

Okay, so you old-timers know what I’m talking about. Fonzie gave the thumbs down after Richie the C became Richie the Gil after his rising success was causing R the G to be a jerk.

But Charlie the Roh has to hit those holes if he’s ever giing to lead the Hit Parade on the dance floor at The Bucket. Nope, can’t spin “Boogie Wonderland” by Earth Wind & Fire if you can’t turn a 3-and-2 into a 70-yard sprint the way Chance does. Learn the moves of Barry Sanders, THEN be unable to fit through the janitor’s closet at The Bucket because of your enhanced ego and not even get your grandma to dance The Charleston while Eric Clapton’s “Tangled in Love” is on the turntable. First things first.

Remember when Potsie and Richie the C tried to get into this strip joint using fake ID’s? Weellllll

As Booby and Tiki step into the Milford Beverage Warehouse, nervous as Hell, the “Phantasm” theme playing mellifluosly after Hank Williams’ “Settin’ the Woods on Fire” got the Jose Cuervo buyers going in line in checkout lane #3

“You sure the Milford Printing Shoppe said they would go over with the clerk?”
“Like we just punched out of our shift at Milford Foundry.And they said the lamination was durable. They use recycled plastic from Mudlar-K-Cola 20 oz. plastic bottles.”
“Here we go. You got your Michelob Dark?”
” Yup. Got your Jack and Harley-Davidson Full-Flavored Menthols Crush-Proof 100 L-, damn, I know the Warehouse is getting desperate for new-hires and I know their Major Medical benefits package just isn’t enou-”
BOYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

And if this is isn’t a set-up for the obvious. Charlie Chan virtually saying that Clark Kent should have re-entered the battle at Gettysburg because he and Daniel Sickles would have torn through Pickett’s Charge with both legs blown off while George McClellan Roh would have rested his horses. No wonder why Lincoln asked the latter “Would you tell me what this plot has done lately that has fatigued the Mudlarks or horses of ANYTHING?” Lincoln was right. Thorpiverse is an admirable engineer but it has a special talent for the stationary engine.
Chance looks pretty inert in P3.

Which affords the opportunity for Charlie the Roh to pull a Richie the C on us. That’s right, again it’s pretty obvious. Charlie the Roh will run for 2000 yards, score 30 touchdowns, then sit at the teacher’s table at the cafeteria, eat Twinkies and hamburgers and tater tots with the teachers because he thinks he’s better than his peers. The students and parents, led by The Fonz, will refuse to come to the game, won’t even dignify his arrogance with those placards written in Cyrillic (“Beat Oakwood-They’re a buncha nuts” in the Serbo-Croat cheering section, oh my) .
These last 2 panels are just expressing themselves, aren’t they?

All right, Gang. It’s all yours. I apologize, I have been on the run all day for my dad. Now I know what Chance is running, er, going through.

“Oh, Howard, he’s bombing out. Somebody needs to hold his hand and tell he’ll do better in the future. That’s no way to tell him YOU SUCK. That fan needs to pull up his britches before the Milford Police arrives.”

“Marion, Richie’s holding his own. He has the Mudlarks eating out of his hand.”

“I was talking about Coach Thorp, Howard.”

“Okay, Jaime, time to go to bed. Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to address the ball. Turn off your tape player and go to bed.”
“Let me finish this song after I get in my Underoos, Daddy. It’s overtime.”
Gil, realizing touche when he hears it, goes to the fridge for another Schlitz

“…you be daffy and I’ll be dilly,
we’ll go have 2 bowls of chili-”

BOOOOOYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

March 6, 2019

Just Who Owes Who?

gt03062019

Hey kids, guess what? I stumbled across some rare footage of Gil and Marty commuting to and from work! Here ’tis:

That would seem to be the dynamic at work here, but I suspect Gil doesn’t see it as so two-sided.  Since he is clearly of the opinion that he singlehandedly pulled Marty’s frijoles from the fire last basketball season, he likely believes he doesn’t owe Marty squat. That said he does recognize the need for Marty in his world, and acknowledged as much to WDIG’s station manager in a previous Kaffeeklatsch.

Still I imagine we’ll soon be treated to some version of “no, you still owe me, and B/Robby would’ve found a way to hang himself by his own rope with or without you.” Then it’s time to see how Mike Fillion self-medicated came out of his depression enough in time for baseball season.

metapost: Since tdrew and I swapped Wednesday and Thursday posts a while back, I’ve missed out on Rock ‘n Roll Thursdays. I want to interject a bit and light a candle for Sara Romweber, who lost her battle with cancer a few days ago. Sara laid down the beats for Mitch Easter’s jangle-pop in Let’s Active, and later formed Snatches of Pink and teamed up with her brother Dexter, previously with Flat Duo Jets, as a duo of their own. The Romweber kids played a part in the formative years of my musical tastes, and Sara’s passing comes as a reminder of my own mortality. So here, then, a musical candle.

March 5, 2019

Will Milford And The NBA Be Contending For Basketball Ratings In June? Stay Tuned.

030519

HEY BOY. YOU’RE LOOKIN’ MIGHTY FINE IN THEM THERE GYM SHORTS. DON’T LOOK LIKE YA GOT ‘EM OUTTA THE LOST AND FOUND. NICE AND SOFT AND FLUFFY. USED PLENTY OF CLING-FREE, I CAN TELL. LIKE THE WAY THEY MOVE WHEN YOUSE ON A 3-ON-2 DRILL IN GYM. AND THAT JOCK STRAP BOUNCES UP AND DOWN LIKE MIMI’S BOOBS. BOY, GET YORE ASS OVER HERE AND F-

 

Nooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Filion, you okay?”

Filion wakes up. He’s been napping on his English Comp 203 book report, “Milford Horticulture at the Fin de Siecle”. He spots Gil at the desk up front, groggily remembering that Gil is supervising study hall.

“Uh, I’m fine.”

“Fair enough.”

Then Filion thinks twice.

“Coach, can I put my gym clothes in my hallway locker? I forgot I have to wash them this weekend.”

“We have washing machines.”

“I know, but my girlfriend got her toenail polish all over my gym shorts and my mom has some extra-strength Oxydol. It’ll help whiten my jock strap which got grass stains all over it.”

“How did you get grass stains on your jock strap?”

“I guess I got carried away during suicide drills.”

“Filion, we practice inside.”

Before Filion can answer, Gil stands up and bends over

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Filion, I was just picking up a paper airplane and throwing it in the garbage. Sure you’re OK?”

 

Gang, I’m going to the vaults again (bear with me while I’m on my soapbox) because Bobby is getting a royal smack-down and only a “Hit the road, Jack, and doncha come back no more, no more…” was necessary. Just hand him his luggage, give him a one-way ticket on the 2:30 ‘Hound out of the Milford Greyhound station and he’s a ghost of the past. Noooooooooo, we gotta drag this on 3 more panels with NO LIGHT at the end of the tunnel, let alone a basketball on the horizon. (Some flunky from the Nina “Cristafero, Cristafero, tierra!!!!!! tierra!!!!!!!!! Yo veo un basquetbol!!!!!!!!! Parace como un Spalding!!!!!!! Y los inhabitantes pueden Slam Dunk!!!!!!!”) While we’re admiring the crew of the Nina, Pinta, and the Santa Maria’s newly-found treasure (Wilson Basketballs are a premium in the Caribbean) , any of you old-timers remember the days of Berrill when some clown like Booby would get his justice in the 2nd panel then the 3rd panel was almost always an abrubt change of direction, more than likely baseball (“Think our pitching will hold, Gil?” “Depends, Tod” as beaucoup players are seen playing pitch-and-catch, pepper, make it, take it, square-dancing, playing Monopoly, Checkers, Twister, Charades, Uno, etc., all 402 players seen on the field at one time “If they don’t separate their shoulder from playing into July, we ougtha make the Playdowns. And I need Booby back to wash the uniforms or we’re gonna stink our way onto the Disabled List. Can he sneak through Rex Morgan over to Milford? Hell, me and Dr. Morgan look alike anyway, we both go to the same barber,  Booby can just say he’s studying to be a nurse under the doc’s tutelage until this thing blows over.”) . And it was just about ALWAYS headed with a “Meanwhile”.

Oh, not today. “Meanwhile” went the way of Booby’s billboards. You might see either back but the times, they are a-changin’. And I mean ta tell ya, Booby is getting the Jesus Christ Superstar treatment. Spit on, carrying his own cross while singing JUDAS’s song “Damned for All Time”, thank Heaven ‘Dig had the decency to let Judas hang from his own tree, otherwise

Soooooooooo long, Booby

Gooooooood ol’ Booby

 

So Booby was spared the eerie chorus singing Judas’ death knell even though in order to get his ‘Hound ticket, he still had to get 39 lashes AND permanent removal. THAT sucks. Of course, I wouldn’t be comin’ back in the studio with those kind of scars on me anyway. And still find out that Marty is still King of the Broadcasting Hill? Won’t go through Double Jeopardy with a 2nd crucifixion. Those Greyhound busses aren’t very comfy when your back looks like Chinese Checkers. And did you see Booby’s hands? DIE IF YOU WANT TO, YOU MISGUIDED PUPPET. That’s tellin’ ’em, Mr. Station Manager.

 

 

Big shout-out to Carol Kassady of New Albany, Indiana. She goes to work at Kroger with a vengeance because she loves her job. As a bagger, she is well-thought of as management and the customers like her courtesy domplete with a big smile on her face. Now that’s service. She also helps the store in other areas, keeping the grocery aisles well-stocked. No wonder why she’s busy. She just gets it done no matter where she’s at. Gang, the next time you’re inthe store on Chrlestown Road, treat her with respect. She’s earned mine.

 

 

 

 

 

HEY BOY. I LIKE THEM DOCKERS YOU GOT ON. THEY MATCH THE PRAIRIE-STYLE WINDOWS IN THE ROOM. AND YOU’RE A SMART COOKIE. YA BLOWED YORE ACT OUTTA THE WATER. YORE HARVARD, BOY. AND AFTER I GET DONE WITH YOUR FILE, I WANT YOU TO F-

Nooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

“Mike, are you Okay? Don’t you want to know what your SAT score was? Looks good from here. 672, verbal, and 602, math. And a couple of good schools have expressed interest based upon those scores. They’re down in this bottom drawer.”

Dr. Pearl bends down to the next-to-bottom drawer.

“Uh, if it’s okay, just call me later at home. My bus just pulled up.”

“Mike, the busses aren’t due for another hour. What’s wrong?”

“Who said anything about a school bus? There’s a Greyhound by the cafeteria entrance.”

 

How many faces does the Station Manager HAVE??????? He went from Chet Huntley the other day to an offbeat Dan Rather today. Does he always display a Chinese Mr. McGoo when he’s pretending to be Matt Dillon?

“Okay, Miss Kitty, that was a rotten thing you said about Jesse James, now it’s time you head out of Dodge by high noon tomorrow. Jesse can’t help it if he twitches when he’s holding up the Dodge City Bank. He gets a nervous tic every time someone reaches for his holster. Thank God the bank manager knew the combination to the safe.”

And as long as we’re going to endure another moratorium on basketball, oh, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, Thorpiverse, we get it, Mr. Station Manager a/k/a “Matt Dillon after he underwent a facelift at Milford Surgical Group” is talking about DON Rickles. I thought Gil Rickles was a bit out of place and Mimi is a female (Mimi Rickles?) and I could go through the Milford phone book and verify that we’re not discussing someone else but after viewing Jose Rickles, Vladimir Rickles, Ed Rickles, Mario de los Santos de nuestro Senor en El Cielo y Las Estrellas Rickles, I think I better stick with DON Rickles.

And anyone who knows or remembers him knows he gets his humor off of insulting people. He’s not my favorite comedian but I like his style nonetheless so I will therefore implement what I THINK Station Manager Dillon is getting at when he compares Booby with DON Rickles (ambitious though it may be)

“So, where do you see yourself a few years from now?”

“Look!!!!!!!! You hockey puck, can’t you shave any better than that? I have no idea where I might be but I won’t be lookin’ like a beatnik at 60!!!!!!!!!!! You? King in THIS town? What are you, MAYOR???? This town has more cows than basketballs, Mayor!!!!!!!! And who’s the schmuck that cuts Gil’s hair???? Does he always use a roller pin?????? And I saw the Play-Doh in the Station Managers office by his gin and tonic. The schmo mixes good stuff but he mixes his face too. Bad combo, you hockey puck!!!!!!!!!!! Does he date Mrs. Potato Head????? Are they going to enjoy Chili Fries at The Bucket?????? Boy, talk about eating with a cannibal. Tell Rubber Face not to put on after shave!!!!!!!!!!! How much time do I have left???? A minute!!!!!!!!!! Heck with it, I’m through with this town, there’s nothing to do, not even a basketball court to play on, you hockey puck…”

Just want to make sure Rubber Band Man a/k/a Station Manager is talking about the right guy. Elmer Fudd Rickles is the only other choice in the phone book.

 

 

HEY BOY!!!!!!!!! YOU’RE LOOKIN’ MIGHTY FINE IN THOSE LENSCRAFTERS, 4 EYES!!!!!!!!!! I LIKE THE WAY YA TRASH THE TOWN, CLOWN!!!!!!!!!! GIVES ME A BONER, BOZO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’M HORNIER THAN THE WOMEN AT BARNEY’S BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’M HOTTER THAN A PEPPERONI FRESH OUTTA THE OVEN AT THE BUCKET!!!!!!!!!!! YOUR WATER BOTTLE AIN’T GONNA PUT OUT THIS FLAME, BOY!!!!!!!!!! YOU’RE TRAPPED IN THE STUDIO, SO YA MIGHT AS WELL F-

MOON!!!!!!!!!! Pull up your pants and fix the problem or YOUR ass is mine for another 2 weeks!!!!!!!!!!! You’re on in 30 seconds!!!!!!!! That loser left 15 minutes ago!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Yes, Boss.”

 

 

A big shout-out goes to Missy Nall as she rolled a spare and a strike at the bowling alley today. it was COLD today, gang, so getting out and about was an accomplishment in itself, much less doing well in bowling to boot. She was great to talk to today and I could tell she loved talking about her game. I’d call that pride, folks. America needs more of that. When you want to succeed as badly as you want to breathe, you will succeed and Missy proves that. She’s got my respect, gang. America salutes you, Missy.

 

 

 

And what the Hell is worth making basketball a possible sacrificial lamb for another few panels that Gil has to put on his jacket and head to God-knows-where for discussion on the Booby thing? Round 2 at Barney’s? Or are we gonna get slushy here and cry about Booby’s departure over several Michelobs??????? I don’t think The Bucket is really a wise venue but it’s their cash they’re toting in their wallets. Just seems talking about Booby in relation to ANYTHING next to a booth with a zit-faced 16-year-old chowing down on his Bucket Double Decker Cheeseburger is asking for trouble. Talk about “Silence is seldom misquoted.”

And what’s the point? The dude shoehorned his foot in his mouth and Rockville is mad as hornets right now and who can blame them????? If they DO go to The Bucket, just don’t announce it on WDIG. Rockville will be waiting in the corner booth, if not in the parking lot. Face it, Booby is toast, finished, kaput, outta here. Can’t set bail on this one, if that’s the intention and I wouldn’t put it past them, given the travesty of lack of basketball. You’re on a roll, Thorpiverse, stay on a roll.

 

“Meet me behind the alley at The Bucket. I got some info on Booby’s whereabouts.”

“Great. What about basketball?”

“Might take a little longer. Depends on when the NBA schedules the Quarterfinals.”

 

Today’s Women’s History Month entry goes to Carol Burnett. I have long loved her comedy and my sister just dotes on her. I can see why. Told she was taking a chance to start up a comedy/variety show back in the ’60’s as only men at that point had been successful inthat field, Burnett just did nothing but make ’em laugh as her show for several years racked up the Emmys, among other awards. She would have a question-and-answer time before the show, a way to show she still had her feet on the ground and the fans everywhere enthusiastically applauded the move. She was also a very talented actress, acting in “Pete and Tillie”, “Friendly Fire, “Annie”, getting nominted for Best Actress by Golden Globe Awards. She would always twitch her ear at the end of the show to remember her grandmother who egged her on for years and died during the show’s run. Also a very talented singer, ppease join me in saluting a woman who showed you could break the mold and be funny at the same time. You keep me in stitches, Carol Burnett.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Do you live a non-stop, work off the set of your pants, sex-crazed, take the kids to soccer practice on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, turn those reports in tomorrow, Golf, hoping you beat Alice Cooper this one time, go-go lifestyle like I do? Is it sometimes hard to smell the roses so you just stick some incense in your car’s ash tray, light it with your Zippo, and just forget it? And what about that St. Patrick’s Day party comin’ up? Gonna skip shopping night cuz Jimmy Swaggart came into town for a one-night-only Holy Ghost, No Tiptoe Through The Tulips Religious Wimps Allowed, Talkin’-in-Tongues, Filled With The Holy Spirit, Baptism-by-Fire, Hell Fire ‘n’ Brimstone, Miracle Revival, Free Parking Included at the Milford Tabernacle?

Milford Beverage Warehouse is here to the rescue. Hi, this is Coach Thorp. Why do I need to go to the altar and have someone ram 10-15 hands on my head and I get a migraine when I can get truly blessed with my favorite brew? And I don’t need a Holy Joe tract for that one. What’s even nicer is that, through cooperation with Lyft and Uber, I can get up to a case of suds delivered right to my door step. Just call and have your order ready and be there at the time you specify and your order is there before you know it. Yeah, don’t take a quick leak or your kid might have to sign the papers. You might get stuck with a Jim Beam Coffee Tree Aged Premium Whiskey when you wanted a 24-pack of Drewery’s and 2 bags of Doritos Cool Ranch. Easier to share chips with the kids than a bottle of whiskey. My o My, a 15-pack of Miller Natural Light hits the spot when diagramming a matchup zone in the den, especially when the Domino’s driver comes at the same time with my 3 12″ Pineapple ‘n’ Pepperoni Pizzas and unleavened Breadsticks. Only bagels and lox go better with a Natural Lite. The Warehouse also accepts Visa and Mastercard. Good thing to know when you get cleaned out of finances because you got carried away grocery shopping at Wal-Mart. Believe me, Yours Truly is guilty of buying 10 Banquet Meat Loaf and Macaroni Dinners when he was only gonna buy 1, they were so damn cheap. And Mimi sometimes forgets to stay within the budget when she goes down the cereal aisle. We have more Life and Cocoa Puffs in the garage than booze, that’s for sure. And when Poker night extends until midnight, past the ante limit of $1000? Thank God my plastic is in the line of duty or in my wallet in my back pocket, whichever you prefer. Sorry, American Express is Booby right now, both totally unacceptable.

And they deliver everything under the warehouse. Yup, if you have a teetoteler at the party, they will deliver that gallon of Milford Dairies 2% Milk along with the 3 24 packs of Corona Extra, Seagram’s Escapes in the 12-pack mini-bottles, and 2 750 ml bottles of Old Kentucky Tavern, complete with chaser, compliments of Deer Park in the 2 liter bottles. Plenty of room in the trunk. And if you’re thinking of pulling off that annual bacchanalian orgy where everybody runs around the mansion butt naked with a bottle of booze in his or her hand, The Warehouse has gotcha covered. In cooperation with the Milford Transit Authority, busses will run non-stop to and from the mansion to your house. And they will deliver all the merchandise in one bus as desired. Grabbing a Smirnoff Vodka off the steps of the bus or opening the emergency door and plucking an Angry Orchard Hard Cider, man, a unique way to live The Good Life. And there’s a shuttle waiting for you after you’ve upchucked in the mansion courtyard after sipping Clos du Bois a bit too hasty.  Nice to know because once you’ve had your fill of some hog weighing 450 pounds and eating grapes and downing several ml of Korbel Summerville Park without a wine glass, you need someone to take you away from the madding crowd and home so you can punch into Milford Foundry at a respectable hour. By golly, sounds logical to me.

Folks, what are you waiting for? The friendly Lyft driver is ready to endow you with a slice of Paradise. Don’t hand the apple to your neighbor when you can take a bite yourself and not break the bank doing it. Call Milford Beverage Warehouse today. The Party is waiting to drive in your living room. Don’t be caught losing the remote.”

 

Gang, Have at it. If you see a guy hitchhiking at 3:00AM, I don’t think the Milk Man broke down in his truck. He doesn’t start deliveries for another hour.

 

HEY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU’RE LOOKIN’ MIGHTY FINE SLURPIN’ THAT SHAKE!!!!!!!!!!!! I LIKE THE WAY YOU WORK IT SLOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND THEM BUFFALO FRIES, YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’M LIKE FIDO IN HEAT EVERY TIME YOU ROLL YOUR MOUTH, ESPECIALLY WITH THAT KETCHUP ON YOUR CHIN!!!!!!!!!!!!! CAN’T WAIT FOR SOME BURGER ACTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SPEAKIN’ OF MEAT, GET YO’ ASS OVER HERE AND F-

Noooooooooooooooooooooo

“What’s Filion’s problem?”

“Dunno. I just took his order and I turned around to pick up a quartere somebody dropped from the juke box and he just freaked.”

Older Posts »

Blog at WordPress.com.