Take My Emissary, Please.

Huh huh huh HUH huh

Huh huh huh HUH huh

These Woody Woodpecker jokes

Huh huh huh HUH huh

Huh huh huh HUH huh

Belong in an ash tray, Folks

 

Don’t these ignorant churls

Ever flirt with the girls

Rather than utter inane humor

Huh huh huh HUH huh

Huh huh huh HUH huh

Teddy’s head is one great tumor

 

I lost track of how many panels we’ve been seeing in the name of (fingers crossed) establishing the plot and this ain’t pretty, Gang. We have already learned that Alexa the Computer who goes by the nickname HAL doesn’t like being called IBM (“You don’t like being called “Al”, Dave. You can understand), Chris lives in the Twilight Zone and is HAL’s competition on the academic front and that Teddy Demarco’s idol is Woody Woodpecker. It shows.

And instead of going to the Milford Comedy Club on Monda y(“Open Mike Night”) and doing his own act, he’s gotta send Mop Head to do his dirty work. Did you ever see Rodney Dangerfield’s step-brother shove Schroeder on stage, after the latter was in his Hanes practicing “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik” (Lucy: “Schroeder, put on some pants, I don’t care what Gilbert & Sullivan piece you’re playing”)? That’s the equivalent today.

But the possibilities

“Yeah, I stuck my head in the microwave and after 30 seconds, the kids start calling me Jiffy Pop Head. I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t get no respect.”

Come on, Monday.

 

It’s bad enough that a few panels ago, we were observing Mudlark Ladies in their uniforms gossiping in Lifetime Basketball Gym Class, but Woody, if you’re going to sacrifice a lamb to dig at somebody, don’t send Mop Head and his See Spot Run humor.

 

See Dick over there.

He’s playing basketball with Jane.

Dick’s going to do a Cake-Baking-Baby-Shaking-Rump-Roasting-Bun-Toasting-High-Flyin’-Robinzine-Cryin’-I’m-Gonna-Go-Groovin’-So-Ya-Better-Get-Movin’-Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma’am-Glass-Breaker-I-Am-Jam on Jane.

Dick blows the dunk.

And Chocolate Thunder is crying.

Poor Dick.

 

Now THAT’S humor, Mr. Woodpecker.

 

Big shout-out to Chloe Whitaker of Louisville, Kentucky. She represents America with her hard work and determination. As a manager of Pizza Hut, she is able to get the pizzas and drinks out, the delivery drivers on time, and greet the customer at the Carry-Out with the professionalism that keeps the customer coming back. She is doing this while raising a family. Gang, I think she needs to be treated with respect. Come see why next time you’re in the area at the Pizza Hut on Lower Hunters Trace and Dixie Highway. I salute you, Chloe. America needs you.

 

Hoo boy. What is THAT hiding behind the balloon in P1. As long as Johnny Carson is going to congratulate the up-and-coming comedian for making Ed McMahon puke in his martini by making references to the comedian’s Chef Boy-Ar-Dee head, when he’s not making fun of someone’s lack of activity on the basketball floor (That happens around HERE? Perish the thought), I’d like to surmise the latest entry into the Pantheon of Mysterious Objects.

Some of you might call it a window. I beg to differ. I think Frida Kahlo contracted with the Chet Ballard-less Milford School Board to paint one gigantic banana she found in her back yard. The gods blessed the Mayan civilization with their own version of manna and it crash-landed in Kahlo’s kiddie swimming pool. What better way to commemerate damages to the scenery and still stay true to character. Even if you can’t fit the Chiquita on the canvas, well, hey, this is artistic expression. Sometimes you gotta use your imagination. Might as well, we’re having to do that with basketball. I bet the Dagwood Bumstead background crowd would agree. Yeah, smile for the camera, John Doe the Teenager, as long as you’re breaking the Fourth Estate while munching on a Twinkie. Or is that Diego Rivera, Frida’s husband? He’ll show up more than the officials at Mimi’s basketball games.

 

If ya git on stage and start rattlin’ off Hee Haw humor that yore readin’ off the note cards ya made out of the toilet paper in the outhouse, requirin’  3 rolls ta fine-tune yore act, ya might be a redneck.

 

At the Milford Comedy Club on Open Mike Night

“…and so Woody Woodpecker says to Pogo, ‘ya wanna split the scene and see what Winnie the Pooh is doing? I heard he’s trying to get Tigger off the bottle.’ And Pogo says ‘What do I look like, Elmer Fudd?'”

Silence

“Gil, I understand Mimi needs an assistant. They’re actually going to play basketball this year.”

 

Huh huh huh HUH huh

Huh huh huh HUH huh

Greg Brady got dissed again

Huh huh huh HUH huh

Huh huh huh HUH huh

Peter is really pissed, My Friend

 

This comedy show

Really needs to go

We prefer a gutter soon

Huh huh huh HUH huh

Huh huh huh HUH huh

Basketball’s done began its swoon

 

Okay, okay, you swing-first-ask-questions later crowd aren’t satisfied so here’s what I’m gonna do to address the situation at hand

 

FRIDAY NIGHT, 8:00PM AT THE MILFORD GARDENS

 

CHRIS “THE ANIMAL” SCHURING

VS.

MR. T a/k/a TEDDY THE BEAR

NO TIME LIMIT, NO DISQUALIFICATION

MUDLARK CAGE MATCH

LOSER SPENDS THE REST OF THE SEMESTER TYPING MS. RIZK’S SYLLABI FOR INTRO JOURNALISM, ALL 4 CLASSES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DON’T MISS IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BE THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Doesn’t that just fill your cup for vengeance? I know I get a rush while I’m typing all this. And I understand Anonymous Calculus Dude will be the referee.

 

P3-“I ran into a guy once who said he hadn’t had a French fry in 3 days.”

“What’d you do, Groucho?”

“I fried him.”

 

 

“I gave my wife my hair. She said, ‘No thanks, Dear, I have enough stuffing in the pillows’.”

BA DA BOOM

You can see the rest of Henny Youngman this Thursday at the Milford Comedy Club.

 

Gang, anybody who knows me knows that I live for coffee. I’m sipping on a cappuccino even as I text. And Folger’s is the best in the business, in my view. And Virginia Christine, the lady who played Mrs. Olson in the Folger’s commercials is a great actress.

That said, I’m a little befuddled why a lady with a Swedish surname has a German accent

 

At the Thorp Hog Farm one sunny day

“Mommy, there’s a strange woman in the kitchen.”

“I wonder who that can be?”

Gil, trying to snarf a bite of sausage from his Gil Thorp Pure Pork Italian Sausage and Wheaties breakfast sees the light

THAT’S MRS. OLSON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“You are rrrrrright, Coach Torp-”

“Thorp, Mrs. Olson.”

“It’s OK, Mimi, she’s Latvian. They have trouble with their “TH’s”.

“Now vy don’t you bot seet down and I vill make you a cup uv Folger’s Hazelnut?”

“Ummmmmm, umm. Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage Links, some Eggo Blueberry Waffles, some Trix, and Folger’s hits the spot, Mrs. Olson. They DO have Trix on the shelf in Patagonia, right, Mrs. Olson?”

“Gil, I think she’s German trying to be Bjorn Borg.”

“Eeess OK, Mrs. Torp, some people tink I’m an Eskimo with my accent. But I tell tem vetter you arrrrrreee Chinese or frrrroommmm Haiti, Folgers hits de spot at ze Milford Fireman’s Ball.”

“Mrs. Olson, I don’t care if it’s against the religion to sell Mel Purnell or Tennessee Pride or Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage in Oman where you’re from, my sausage patties and your coffee are a winning combo anytime.”

“Gil, don’t I satisfy?”

“Mimi, sometimes I get tired of eatin’ my Gil Thorp Kosher-Prepared Pure Pork Sausage with your combo Eight o’Clock Decaf and Nestle’s Quik concoction. Sometimes a man’s gotta have good eatin’.”

“I’m not talking about the coffee.”

“Whatever, Mrs. Olson and the rest of her Lapplanders know how to deliver good coffee FedExed on the reindeer. Nice to know when I’m devouring my Gil Thorp This Ain’t Jimmy Dean Pure Pork Sausage.”

“Oh, Mr. Torp, you say ze nicest tings. I will lose my Bulgarian accent and join you for breakfast.”

“Sure, there’s plenty of Gil Thorp Flapjack-Size Sausages to go around. In fact, why don’t you finish that plate my kids were eating off of.

And Folks, get your package of Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage today. Tennessee Pride’s porkers couldn’t hold my jock. Come see why at your local grocer.”

 

Have at it, Gang. I’m sneakin’ in for the early show at Milford Comedy Club. I understand Gil will be funnier this time. The producer is making him use a teleprompter.

 

Huh huh huh HUH huh

Huh huh huh HUH huh

Time for this farce to end

Huh huh huh HUH huh

False comics may not extend

 

I’ve seen better acts

That’s a mighty fact, Jack

Slapstick that made you laugh

Huh huh huh HUH huh

Huh huh huh HUH huh

An overload of frickin’ gaffes

 

 

Speaking of Carson

“The last time I had hair like that, Ed was begging me to make string cheese out of it as a substitute to cure his drinking.”

“Stop it, Johnny, you’re killin’ me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

 

“Mr. Freeze, after you’ve freeze-dried Batman and Robin in that gigantic Thermos cup, have some Gil Thorp Pure Pork Fritters to celebrate your takeover of Gotham City.”

“Gil, that’s Mrs. Olson serving Folgers Breakfast Blend and scones.”

Watson, Come Here Into The Gym, We Need You To Play Basketball

A few years ago, Lester Holt was interviewing a lawyer involved in a controversial case somewhere in rural North Carolina. I can’t remember the exact details but if you’ll allow me to improvise, it was concerning some business or radio station that was defending its Constitutional rights when comments laced with profanity was published or said on the air.

When Holt asked the lawyer about the crux of the case, the lawyer proceeded to quote what he and his plaintiffs were complaining about, bearing in mind this was NOT the defendant’s lawyer

“…and we are objecting to ‘Up shit creek’ or ‘I want to fuck you blind’ or ‘Gil couldn’t coach out of a douchebag’…”

And FINALLY Holt mercifully interrupted the lawyer, since this was on an NBC News Magazine and therefore national news, by saying

ALL RIGHT WE GET THE POINT WE DON’T NEED THIS BARRAGE OF PROFANITY ON NATIONAL TV THERE ARE KIDS WATCHING THIS SHOW

Holt afterwards apologized profusely for what arguably wasn’t necessary to quote on TV, especially because again this was the same lawyer fighting AGAINST what he himself was guilty of and was fighting, i.e., the usage of inappropriate language to drive home the issue.

And Thorpiverse

WE GET THE JOKE. IT MIGHT HAVE TAKEN ANOTHER 3-PANEL SET TO CATCH IT BUT WE HAVE A FIRM GRASP ON THE HUMOR WE DON’T NEED TO SKIP OVER GIRLS BASKETBALL LIKE WE DID LAST YEAR AND PICK UP WHERE LEFT OFF AND TRY TO GET CREATIVE WITH WATSON COMEDY AT THE BUCKET

They don’t have homework? Richie and Ralph and Potsie and The Fonz sit around at Al’s and conjure up new ways to express themselves about Richie Cunningham’s dad?

The Foghorn Leghorn approach

“Oh, say, can you C, Mr. C.?”

“That’s a funny, Dad.”

 

 

“Oh, Howard, you spilled your fruit punch all over your pants. Let me get you a Bounty.”

“Marion, I’m fine. I’ll just throw them in the wash later…”

“Aaaaayyyyyyy, Mr. C., I wouldn’t let that Hi-C settle on you, Mr.C. You’ll have a sea full of Vitamin C Hi-C all over Mr.C., see?”

“Eat the rest of your peas, Arthur. Here, Howard, here’s a Kleenex.”

 

Gang, if we have to have several more panels of Hee Haw, we’re in trouble

“Man, Roy, I can’t find those county corn yield reports anywhere. Can you help me look?”

“They ain’t come out of Lulu the Supercomputer’s mouth yet, Buck.”

Archie Campebell steps in

“That’s all right. Heck, Lulu’s so fat, they have to perform a Lamaze procedure when she’s spitting printouts.”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

 

Alexa, is that you

I hope that football’s finally through

Basketball could be in view

I can pray

Hard to say

There’s only one thing that there’s left to play

Tip-off might be any day

 

We gotta get you a ballgame

It’s the only thing to show that this plot is alive

We gotta get you a ballgame

You better quit walkin’

They call that stuff Traveling

 

Because I’m amused because I saw a sign on a grocery store advising customers to

PLEASE DON’T PARK IN FRONT OF THE STORE

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Local Resident Fined Severely For Double-Parking At Milford IGA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Coach Shaw: ‘I was just getting eggs for my wife. And that Iams Beef a-Plenty 15-lb. bag for my huntin’ dog was hard on my back.'”

 

Let me get the obvious out of the way in P1. The girls are actually drawn pretty darn well and Phoebe is a cutie in that scene.

Then we get to her burger. Oh my.

Unless The Bucket is marketing Art Nouveau Leaning Towers of Pisa disguised as an overloaded Big Mac with one pickle and onion too many, I think I’ll order the Bucket Full o’ Pasta. C’mon, I’m still utilizing the Italian language.

I could go to a Milford Zoning Board meeting with that structure and make my case for a high-rise condo unit on a vacant lot in Downtown Milford. Drainage shouldn’t be a problem with that thing, just set that Tower of Babel at a perpendicular and the grease is as good as gone. I’ll get approved at next month’s meeting, unanimously.

Now I delve into the not-so-obvious. This one will have to be broken down if we’re to build the logic back up.

And what better way to dive into deductive reasoning than to transpose what’s being said in P1 to Pop’s Choklit Shoppe where Archie and Veronica are sitting in a booth.

“Oh, Archiekins, I am buying the Popsburger Combo with Extra Buffalo Fries and a side order of Onion Rings and Pop’s Veggie Lasagna because Daddy ran over Jughead in his Lamborghini.”

“Did they get Mr. Lodge for a DUI?”

“Now you know Daddy doesn’t drink and drive, Love.”

“That’s true. You still want to go to the drive-in movie. We can go right after Jughead’s funeral.”

“Oh, Archiekins, you say the sweetest things.”

 

If yore computer is nicknamed “Bubba” because it’s the only computer on the planet that gives ya printouts while its butt’s hangin’ out, sportin’ more pimples in its crack than a teenager, ya might be a redneck.

 

Talking ’bout Thorp, he’s so under the gun

This plot is stupid, not a lot of fun

Let’s hope that basketball won’t be shunned

And then we’ll take some time to get your stuff together

GET YOUR STUFF TOGETHER

Cuz, we gotta get you a ballgame…

 

But enjoy the generic School Cafeteria Burger, Alexa. All students get a free one everytime someone calls him or her HAL.

“Would you mind passing the mustard, Dave?”

 

 

“Will Archie Andrews and Moose Mason use hedge clippers to pare the rest of Mr. T.’s grandson’s head? Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion here on WDIG-TV.”

 

Because I’m in eternal wonder over these ED ads advising a person to throw away his old dick pills

 

At Mudlark Lake Resort one Autumn afternoon

 

THESE GODDAM PILLS AREN’T GETTING ME ANY HARDER THAN MARTY’S HEAD!!!!!!!!!!! THIS NAXIUM IS WORTHLESS. THE PHARMACIST SAID IT WOULD TAKE CARE OF MY HEARTBURN AND MY ED PROBLEMS. I’M FLUSHIN’ THESE SUCKERS-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

YEAH?

“Daddy, I gotta go #2 bad. My Underoos are stinky already.”

“Hold on, Jaime. Daddy has to unload some garbage and this can’t wait THAT’S THE LAST TIME I LISTEN TO THOSE ASSHOLES AT MILFORD APOTHECARY. THEY SAID MY WIENER WOULD TURN TO STONE AFTER I USED MIRALAX. I CAN SHIT LIKE A RHINO BUT MY WIENIE’S STILL A WIENIE-

Mimi approaches

“Gil, you OK? They can hear you from the other side of the lake. I could hear you cuss at the boat ramp over the Evinrude motor and that thing was louder than a Who concert.”

“I’m sorry, Honey, but I got to flush my troubles down the drain. The Pharmacy Grad Student at Milford Community College said the Children’s Mucinex Nightshift Relief would cause my thingamabob to be stiff enough to hang a flag on. Snot’s runnin’ out of it more than blood’s flowin’ into it. I’m flushin’ this across the Charon.”

“Gil, you’re in an outhouse.”

“Mimi, I couldn’t care less if I’m in the penthouse. When I use my Mudlark Visa Gold to buy Milford Apothecary Ibuprofen, I expect to dominate my women like Thor shootin’ one out of the sky.”

“Gil, I have a better idea. Why don’t you try one of the EREC-STYLE 9800 that I stuffed in your stuffing and consider it a pre-Christmas gift? It works better than Coricidin or Vick’s VapoRub.”

“HEY THAT’S IT. LET ME RUB SOME ON MY OSCAR MEYER WIENER AND YOU WILL TRULY BE IN LOVE WITH ME!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Maybe so, but in the meantime, you’ll have to clean the poopie off the jungle gym. Jaime just had an accident.”

 

“Why go through all that frustration when I could have used EREC-STYLE 9800, sold exclusively at Milford Men’s Clinic. No more throwing Aleve or Bayer in the dumpster for Milford Sanitary Solutions to pick up. I am not only having the time of my life, but the bathroom is free for my kids when they’ve eaten one chimichanga too many at Milford Taco Bell. Come get your fun at the Clinic and leave Garbage Day for your canteloupe rinds. You’ll be glad you did.”

 

Thanks to Cooper Stewart of Louisville, Kentucky for help with the above idea. Cooper works hard and his raw sense of humor keeps me going and gives me GREAT ideas. Cooper represents America with his dedication to his job and just by being himself. Don’t ever change, My Man. America needs you.

 

Go at it, Gang. I’m going to court to testify for Mr. Lodge. They say he was guilty of pulling a Gil with his car. I wonder how you get busted just by owning an idle car that plops its butt on the practice field but we do have Due Process, Thank God.

 

And when we’re done with youuuuu

We’ll do it with baseball, too.

 

Thanks for putting up with my love for Todd Rundgren. You’re #1 in my book, Gang.

Good Lord, I Can See the End from Here

 

Hey boys and girls! Let’s

Get into the holidays

With a few haiku!

 

Milford Star headline:

Ballard Resigns from School Board

by Marjie Ducey

 

Woodward and Bernstein

Got nothing on Marjie’s mad

Journalism skills

 

It didn’t hurt that

Chet Ballard was as subtle

As a heart attack

 

Wants to be called “Dad”

By his stepson Charlie, but

Tries a bit too hard

 

What was Chet thinking?

Charlie would play more if Chet

Outed the starter?

 

Chet thought he’d dish dirt

Forgot he left a keystroke trail

What a nincompoop

 

Better if he had

Taught Charlie not to fumble

The ball won’t drop itself

 

Guess what’s next, Chet? “It’s

Only going to get worse.”

Time for Divorce Court!

 

Hasn’t There Already Been an Investigation?

Excuse me but haven’t Marjie, the superintendent and Captain Man Bun already investigated Ballardgate?  What’s left to investigate?  How about some of the details in today’s strip?

P1: How much squirming must it take to get your forearm in front of you to facepalm at that angle?  Careful Chet, you’ll poke your eye out.

P2: We’re on to the third day in a row where people are just reading Marjie’s article aloud to other people.  I can see why Gil looks a little pissy, especially since Mimi’s leaning over him to point at what she’s reading.  (Bet she’s one of those people whose lips move when they read to themselves.)  It’s enough to distract him from his carbo loading. Must have a heavy day of lifting with Kaz on the agenda.

P3 triggered a lot of childhood memories for me, as I remember fondly the day my father bought me a Howard Elston catcher’s mitt. Superintendent Elston looks like a lot of recycled art pasted together: Lee Corso’s head with Paulie Walnuts’ hair spliced atop a  torso Walt “No Neck” Williams style, an odd suit jacket with contrasting lapels and a pocket square but no necktie, and topped off with Whigham’s signature gesticulating hand.  He gets the “immediate” part of the investigation; not so sure about the “thorough” though, as he sends his female charge off with no real direction.

That’s all I have to say about that.  Tip of the hat to Rubin for reminding me of the first black Yankee and the man who had the unfortunate task of having to fill Yogi Berra’s shoes.

 

If These Doors Could Speak.

If these doors

If these doors could speak

Superintendent lacking a name

Must have been a hell of a resume

Wondering if he’ll show some balls

For cads around us

If these doors could speak

 

They would tell us that they’re sorry

This plot is trash and dumb and weak

They would tell us that it’s really

On a losing streak

That’s if these doors could speak

 

Amy Grant is here with us to skewer this roast that’s long been in the oven too damn long and likely to taste like the worn-out shoe Hank Williams used to croon about. Y’know

Why do they treat us like refried stew

Why does this plot smell like a worn-out shoe

 

Another time with one of the greats. Right now, Amy is the bill of fare and God Almighty it’s time to pay up. Just days ago nobody wanted to go to the Superintendent because of an implied lack of iron rods in his back even with solid evidence.

Suddenly “The Buck Stops at this Cheap Rural King Mahogany Door” is ready to make a stand after Gil and Marjie and Carole King’s half sister comb the city of Milford for fodder they can use against Bluto. I’m sorry, Popeye wouldn’t be stockpiling the spinach wagon until the end of the episode to send Bluto into next week. Olive Oyl would have long since divorced him and ran off with Dick Tracy. Did you ever see Gravel Gertie flush evidence on Flattop down the toilet because Dick Tracy was a wussy? Please.

“You can come out from under Gil’s desk, Tracy. The Mole is gone from the Mudlark Girls Gym and only took the slaughter balls to sell on the black market.”

So maybe MAYBE John Doe Superintendent will have enough spinach in his file cabinet to confront the problem. Otherwise, those Popeye arms are really pillows caused by excessive Bucket Burger intake. When was the last time Popeye threw Bluto around the 3 panels on the strip getting drunk off some Bucket Banana Split(s)?

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Superintendent’s Name To Be Revealed Today After 60 Years Of Neglect!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I just thought it was time to come out of the closet. Gil’s had his name in neon lights on his vanity license plate. Two can play that game.”

Big shout-out to Karen of New Albany, Indiana. She works at the Kroger on Charlestown Road. Every time I see her, she is always bagging the groceries with a smile. You factor in her desire to help customers who may have a little trouble getting the groceries out to the car and you have a winning formula. She always comes to work on time and I am glad to take her there as part of my job. We need more like her. She represents America.

 

If these doors

If these doors could speak

I wonder what bull they’re exchanging now

Stuck on his Sudoku, 2 numbers down

Crucifying a man so dim

His diet’s Slim Jims

If these doors could speak

 

They would say that this plot owes us

More than cash, stocks, or CD’s

They would explain this plot only

Better go take a pee

That’s if these doors could speak

 

P1-Late one night at 1:30AM at the Thorp residence

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRINNNGGGGGGG

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRINNNGGGGGGG

“I’ll get it, Mimi”

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is your favorite anonymous School Board member calling to remind you of your appointment with me at The Bucket on-”

Lady with a drunken voice

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER TWENTY-FIRST

“at”

3:00PM

“If you cannot make this appointment, please give a 24 hour notice to avoid the $50 No-show fee. I have plenty of information that I hacked from the computer that will run Chance out of Dodge City and force him to continue his high school football career in Samoa while my own son will pull a Keith Smart and score the winning TD with only seconds to go. You don’t know me so don’t try to trace me. Several did down at the School Corporation building but they wound up in the corn field like that idiot in that Twilight Zone episode, y’know, where everybody is genuflecting to some kid because he’ll make someone a corn stalk otherwise. Don’t trash Charlie and wind up being a Corn Flake or Fruit Loop yourself.

I look forward to seeing you Thursday. I’ll be the one with the Harley Race gut and shag carpeting some call a beard.

Goodbye”

CLICK

Come to Jeff Smith Marathon in Edwardsville, Indiana. WOW THEY WERE BUSY YESTERDAY. Sounds like a good business to me. There were people pulling in and out to get gas and to get their cars fixed. Of course, there were several cars in the parking lot either fixed or waiting to be fixed. Busy.

The coup de grace was the attendant patiently helping a lady get her tire inflated. That is the kind of service you get at this place, the standard and NOT the exception. You’re doing great, Guys and Gals.

Come see Crystal who was lining things up like a pro and Bre who was doing that earlier in the shift. They are off Exit 118 on I-64 in Indiana. Soon as you get off, go Indiana 62 west and take the FIRST road on the left. Can’t miss these ladies.

Support Small Business, Gang. Keep America striong. You need a place where they know your name anyway. Crystal and Bre and the mechanics at Jeff Smith Marathon know mine.

 

Oh, so now the generic superintendent is going to take a stand and run Liberty Valance out of town.

“Damn straight I’m not going to let John Wayne steal all the thunder and ram Chet’s head into Liberty Valance’s trailer home. I got backbone, y’know.

Can you help me finish this crossword puzzle? 19 down ‘Wrote Gargantua and Pantagruel’.”

“How many letters?”

“Eight. It starts with an ‘R’.”

“Rotterdam?”

“That’s nine. Hey, Luhm, where’s that almanac?”

 

The Clanton Gang sent to an early grave because the one-size-fits-all knew the capital of North Dakota. Priceless.

“I knew it wasn’t Fargo. That’s what a lot of people answer.”

 

If ya call in a poacher ta th’ Milford Fish and Wildlife Ranger Office but ya wanna leave the tip anonymous cuz that’s yore teammate at Milford Lanes even tho he’s well past the bag limit of skunk, ya might be a redneck.

 

Do all the powers-that-be have trees that grew out of the planet Krypton and get transplanted for scenery behind the desk of said official?

The next time I see Honest Abe or Old Hickory posing in front of a set of Encyclopedia Brittanicas and a mutant poplar that’s accommodated one spider monkey too many will most DEFINITELY be the first time.

Lee and Grant signing the Appomattox papers with that thing in the living room? Who’s?going to take it home with their pistols?

 

“Roquefort?”

“That’s a salad dressing, dumbass.”

“Mr. Generic Superintendent, watch your language.”

 

Don’t get me started on P3. Evidently Charlie Chan IV couldn’t make it in the movies (“You don’t have the look”) so now he settles for a receptionist/hacker position at unknown company, presumably still in the same School Corporation building as Marjie and Mr. What’s-His-Name. And I don’t mind different, hey, the melting pot made America but no way will I ever freeze-dry my hair and use a cupcake mold to finish the shape. What is it about liquids we learned in 7th grade Science, they take the shape of their containers? We have an exception here. Papa John’s and Domino’s could design Pan Pizza concepts based on the top of his head.

Then there’s the conversation with Lurch’s brother. Is he the concierge of the School Corporation? Does he open the door for Mr. Generic Superintendent in the morning? Get his #2’s ready when the latter is about to do the USA Today crossword that Lurch Revisited obtained in the lobby? Light the man’s cigars?

“Yoouuuuuuuuuuuu rang?”

“Yeah, Lurch, we need as much dirt as you can scrounge together on Chet Ballard. The nastier, the better. And don’t leave out when he went streaking in that Chick Fil-A body of his when he was in Milford’s Streak to Cure Breast Cancer. Milford Enquirer will have a field day with that.”

“As you wish.”

 

Which only leads to WHAT THE HELL’S ON THE COMPUTER. Gang, Chet may be a scoundrel (trust me) but it’s hard for me to imagine John Walsh talking about him on America’s Most Wanted.”

“Chet likes to sell insurance when he’s not diving into peoples’ personal affairs. He has a?beer belly only the Milford Beverage Warehouse could love. He goes by several alias’s, including Chet Baker. He was last seen wearing a fake beard he bought out of Milford Novelty. If you’ve seen this man, your tip could save the season for the Milford Mudlarks. Call now at 1-888-GIL-HELP.”

 

They would tell you that he’s Rent-a-Supe

A man with no direction and no life

They would tell you that he really

Needs to have a wife

That’s if these doors could speak

 

“Ronco?”

“They make Julienne fries, Marjie.”

 

“Boy, all this action and I need to unwind and take a cold one. And what better way of relaxing after a tortuous 5-game season with the Mudlark Girls Basketball team than heading down to Milford Beverage Warehouse for all my chilling-out needs?

Hi, this is Mimi Thorp, taking my husband’s place who is on assignment and won’t be back for another 60 years. And man, when I see the selection of fine beers and wines, I’m tempted to add another game to the schedule. Lining up the referees to sign the contracts might require an extra Bud or two, but I’ll manage.

And look what I got lined up here. This is better than Correctable Error. Michelob Ultra in the 12-pack, a steal at $10.99. At that price, we’re trapping at the half-court line so WE CAN get the beer back.

And Maker’s Mark Whisky, sold for an arm and my husband’s hair at some liquor places, is a bargain at $24.99. Perfect for when I need to drown in my beer after my star player misses the go-ahead free throw when we should have blown out Goshen by 60 anyway.

And us ladies are in for a treat. For every 30-pack Busch Light we buy at the rock-bottom price of $17.99, The Warehouse will give you a voucher for free ammo and a shoot-out at Milford Conservation Club. Ladies, time to start working on your aim when those clay pigeons and Svedka Vodka bottles come out of the chute. Shoot, for Svedka, I’ll say “pull” anytime.

Come on down and taste The Good Life and have your Colt .45 ready in the trunk. With prices like these, I’ll get that Winchester Gil’s grandpa has stashed away in Gil’s Conestoga wagon in the back. With ridiculous prices and free chances to pretend I’m aiming at Marty’s head whenever the objet d’art flies in range, I know where I’m going after scrimmage. Join me, won’t you? Only at The Warehouse.”

 

Go at it, Gang. I’m going to look up all the dirt about the guy. I’m sure Rent-a-Supe has an interesting past.

 

“Rottweiler?”

“That’s Fred Flintstone’s dog!!!!!!!!!”

“Ruff?”

“That’s Dennis the Menace’s!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Still love your music after all these years, Amy. Your style never gets old. And you live your Faith.

May Jesus continue to bless you.

 

“WDIG-TV Interrupts This Football Game To Inform Our Viewing Audience That Chance Macy Is The AntiChrist. Sources Have Confirmed That…”

Gadzooks. It’s one thing for Charlie and his honey to be cha-cha-ing or whatever dance they’re doing with their morning cup of Maxwell House but as several people have mentioned, Chet Ballard is skirting the edge of disaster. He really is indeed crossing a line, obtaining information that is serving no other purpose than to advance his own end n his quest to live football through the eyes of his stepson. Chet could be facing serious legal consequences should people get a hold of this one.

NOBODY walks into a public building and just plows through somebody’s record, especially stuff that is more than likely confidential. He just steals keys from the janitor and opens the file cabinet? Then talks it through over Eggos and the new dance craze they learned at the Milford Dance Academy? Then the Milford School Board administers no worse than a potential slap on the wrist? After it gets its head out of Dennis the Menace’s butt and smells the coffee that Chet is slurping? Mon Dieu.

And we were getting good at this football thing.

From an article that informed me that there are 10 mistakes we make with our pets

#1-“Gil, I can’t believe that Alley Oop just hacked the computer without consulting the rest of the Milford School Board. Really, it’s common knowledge that Dr. Pearl has been using Dentu-Creme since the French and Indian War.”

Gil, teaching his giraffe how to fetch the Milford Enquirer when the paper boy throws the paper in the yard

“There ya go, good boy. No, don’t eat the damn thing. That’s what the apples in our neighbor’s yard is for. What’s that, Honey. Oh, yeah, well, sometimes you got to make it official. No sense in ugly rumors spreading out of control. And Alley Oop was authorized by the School Board to conduct a special investigation. Dr. Pearl was stuttering more than usual when she was reading annual test scores. Something had to be done. No, Fido, drop it on the doorstep, not in the azaleas!!!!!!”

#2-Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J.’s Elephant, ‘Ducky’, Stampedes Mudlark Football Stadium, Completely Destroys Dippin’ Dots Stand!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I gotta get a longer leash. I wonder if Milford True Value Hardware sells telephone wire.”

 

And then there’s the background. While Alley Oop and his mate are doing their Travolta thing in P1 while leaking illegal contraband (he is, anyway, she’s jettisoning his blatant lack of privacy ethics just as quick as he’s spewing it while she savors the Folgers in her cup, best part of waking up, I s’pose) , those are either the largest prairie-style windows east of the Mississippi or they are interrupting the proceedings on Wheel of Fortune.

“Is there an ‘R’?”

“YES!!!!!!! There is one ‘R’!!!!!!!! If Mr. Ballard will kindly move his cheap Haggar slacks that he bought at Milford St. Vincent dePaul on layaway out of the way, Vanna can turn the letter.”

“Sorry, me and Mrs. Ballard will move next door to Joker’s Wild.”

“I’d like to solve the puzzle.”

“Go right ahead, Grandma Macy.”

“Coach Kaz Forgot To Feed His Gazelle Alpo Once Again.”(#3)

“You are so correct!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That trip to Antarctica will come in handy when your grandson gets blowtop mad!!!!!!!!! Johnny, tell her what else she’s won…”

 

Come to Sycamore Island in New Albany, Indiana, just beyond the city limits. A great small business with all your hunting and fishinf needs and if you want to get ypur license for either one, Jim Thornton, the owner, will do that too. The place also has a well-stocked pay lake; I see people ALL THE TIME pulling in there, fishing rods in their possession. And if it’s closed, peoole are constantly asking when it’s going to open. I always stop in for the cokes and snacks, and Jim’s got that too. Sounds like the complete package to me. Just head down Main Street West in New Albany like you’re going towards the casino, turn right at the turn-off, Corydon Pike, where Thornton’s gas station is located, go 2 miles until you cross the railroad track, go 100 feet and Sycamore Island is on your left. Can’t miss the sign. Support Jim and Co., where they ALWAYS know your name. They know mine.

 

And having been a coach, you do run across the occasional kid who had to have some kind of institutional care. Unfortunately, kids like that exist and you do your best to ease the situation. Really, the best thing to do is treat ’em like the other players. Everybody wins then.

Just don’t go Via Ballard, an offshoot of the Appian Way, that leads to a Field of Thorns. When in Rome, don’t do what Chet does. To be unearthing that Caesar Augustus was at the Etruscan Boys School and later collected taxes throughout Judea to finance their School Lunch Program is not only unnecessary and illegal, it’s downright pointless. Bob Knight was a HUGE advocate of NOT passing the basketball to the center, say Todd Lindemann, at the half-court line, even on a press breaker. That’s what guards are for, in Knightspeak. What was Todd going to do with ball there?Pass the ball to Todd 2 feet away from the basket and he can better utilize his moves to the bucket, if not lay it in.

Therefore, what is Chet going to do with this illegal bit of news? Kick Chance off the team because he was a lifer at San Quentin and got paroled? Make Chance run steps because his file revealed that he did time at the Milford Minimum Correctional Facility for shoplifting at the Milford Community College bookstore? Huh?

#4-If ya give yore bloodhound a flea bath and ya use turpentine cuz that’s the fastest way ta nuke ’em fleas and ticks but ol’ Bubba winds up smellin’ like an oil change, so ya switch ta Ox-ee-dol cuz it’s soap and won’t make his nose Quaker State 10W40 when he goes sniffin’ fer rabbits when yore huntin’, ya might be a redneck.

 

P2-“…he was assigned to a coach who couldn’t coach his way out of a toilet area on a 747 and still have Charmin left on the rolls. Went by the name of Thorp. Kid’s been at this school for 60 years and is earmarked to graduate the year Coach Thorp retires. By then, that school is set to establish a satellite on the planet Uranus. It is indefinite when any of this will happen because NASA has still yet to receive the proper funding. Collecting Milford Property Taxes can only stretch so far. City officials think once a bond issue is enacted at the City Council, both can graduate. They say Thorp is in the Guinness Book of Records as the world’s oldest teenager and holder for the longest period of senility. Gets that way during football season.”

Name drop? Moi? Surely you jest.

P2(cont.)-“…judge ruled he had a violent temper. He was a lion tamer for the Ringling Brothers Circus and choked a lion(#5), fresh from Kenya, when it wouldn’t jump through the ring. Apparently flogging it only made the creature madder. Motivational techniques like feeding it raw Bucket Burgers, fresh from the Milford Slaughterhouse, Inc., just made it hungrier for Bucket Banana Splits. Chance was not responsible for his actions. But he had to spend a night in the Milford Halfway House until they could transfer him.”

What’s sad is that Mrs. Chet Ballard is serving as a counterweight to Chet’s pontificating about the implications involved. Why stage the equivalent of a Watergate break-in unless he has grandiose ambitions, misguided as they are, on his mind? This mole, unfortunately, may never get to the surface(#6). She is just rubber-stamping that notion.

“I am not a crook!!!!!!!!!!”

“Mr. Nixon, Sam Donaldson, ABC News. It’s well-documented that your grandson is on Milford’s reserve team. We know you’d like him to move up and Gil is only playing the varsity running back because his parents donated $1,000,000 to improve the Lego Blocks in the lighting system but…”

 

Come to Butt Drugs in Corydon, Indiana where you get affordable prices on your medicines and friendly service. I like the free parking in the back of the store so I don’t have to dodge the Indiana 62 traffic in the front. And who says old-fashioned soda fountain service is a thing of the past? Not at Butt Drugs. Good ice cream and good Cokes, there’s the ticket. Hey, and if you want a free pen, they have plenty of those too. Come to the place that has been shown on The Ellen Degeneres Show and has grown in stature as a result. Keep Small Business alive, Gang.

 

Oooooooooookkkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is back to bring sanity to this spaghetti bowl. Who better than to lead us to the exit? Or exodus, same difference? Take ‘er away, Gene

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought she could feed the anteater at the Milford Petting Zoo a bag of __________________(#7)

 

And now we come to…………………………………………………………………………………………….the rest of the story. Page 3, er, P3.

And Mrs. Chet, I agree that it’s really none of his goddamn business and as Vaganova mentioned, Chet could be facing serious consequences for just waltzing into Public Records and taking on the role of a Milford Enquirer announcer.

Then again, any of you old-timers remember when Carol Burnett tripped at a restaurant and the next thing you know, The National Toilet said she’d been drinking? And she sued as a result? Of course, the National Toilet got Toilet lawyers and, not remembering the decision, the point is she ran up against a wall.

Mrs. Ballard nee Roh, you walked down the aisle with this garden snake(#8) and said “I do”. Jog your memory in case you forgot the address of the Milford Overnite Chapel. If ethics wasn’t really his middle name when you and he cut the wedding cake, what makes you think he’s going to Do The Right Thing when his son is ridin’ the pine in deference to a kid who staked permanent residence at Boys Town? As Father Flanagan, the founder, once said, there’s no such thing as a bad snake. Just snakes that couldn’t cross the road fast enough to prevent the Roadway driver from running them over. Best to throw them in a cage with a heat lamp and plenty of mice and public records to feed on before they become roadkill.

 

“And that’s the end of the 3rd quarter with The Mean Machine leading the Milford Mudlarks, 39-31. Jim Crewe already has 341 passing yards and NO INTENTIONAL INTERCEPTIONS!!!!!!! Guess his point-spreading days are over. And Chance Macy has 189 rushing yards and 2 TD’s. We’ll be back to start the 4th quarter here at Milford Federal Prison Football Grounds after these messages. You’re listening to Marty Moon on WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

 

“Hooooonnnnnneeeeyyyyyy, I’d like a quickie, let’s have some funnnnnn, let’s-SAY WHAT?”

“Oh, hi, Dear. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Honey, what is a zebra doing in our garage?”

“Mrs. Shaw, I found that the best kind of fertilizer to feed our garden comes from the anus of a zebra (#9) . I read an article in Milford Outdoors Monthly where zebras have been imported and raised right on the farm to increase agricultural productivity. Shoot, them corn stalks were taller than Kareem after those zebras pooped in the furrows”

“Oh, I’d like to be fertile but I’d rather not go to bed with a hyena.”

“You ain’t gotta bring Mr. Ed’s cousin onto the Serta. Save the bed sheets for the kids to go as Charlie Brown’s ghost on Halloween. Just cut plenty of holes like good ol’ Charlie Brown did.”

“Actually, I’d rather get under the sheets for another purpose.”

“To go to bed with Charlie Brown?”

“Uh, well, let’s just say that if you’ll take these Erec-6500 pills, they will harden more than your heart. And I will have the time of my life.”

“Mrs. Shaw, I tried Pals to get my whim whim hard and it may work on kids but all I got out of the transaction was a #2 pencil. I also tried Robitussin, but the Cherry Bomb Flavor put me to sleep. I wet-dreamed at 4 AM. My erection came and went out of Dodge City like the Pony Express. And I ain’t eatin’ no zebra poop. I may like plump carrots and juicy radishes but I’m not that desperate to get it on. Zebras and “Love me, love me, say that you love me” just don’t jibe with me.”

If you’ll take these pills with this Jim Beam Straight From Mammoth Cave, I’ll let you keep the zebra.”

“Deal.”

 

 

“And boy, did we have the time of our lives. My significant other got harder than a zebra’s hoof and she was taken to another level. Only David Bowie and Major Tom have scaled such heights. And the celery stalks grew higher than Gil’s hair. I even kept the zebra. Stashed him in the equipment room in the offseason. Come to Milford Men’s Clinic today and see how you can grow your own watermelon patch. Shoot, you ain’t gotta let a camel poop to get fresh green beans or cure erectile dysfunction. Easy when you know the language. Only at The Clinic.”

 

It’s your turn, Gang. I’m going to investigate Chet’s background. I understand he got a ‘D’ in Spelling in 2nd Grade. Forgot there was an ‘E’ in the word ‘snake’.

 

At the Milford Germania Mannerchor Oktoberfest Dance Kontest

“And the winner of the Adult Division with an average score of 9.5 with their disco rendition of “Roll Out The Barrel” is Mr. and Mrs. Chet Ballard. Where’d you learn those moves?”

“To be honest, it all started by the Mr. Coffee in the kitchen…”

 

“Kaz, who the #%×?€@£ ate all the footballs?????????”

“Not sure, Gil. Wasn’t it locked?”

 

10 is a lonely number

 

 

 

I Never Get Blowtop Mad On The First Date.

Chet and Charlie discuss the game with Chet at full speed singing the praises of Charlie’s game. Charlie takes the high road, thinking of the TEAM first. Don’t that beat all.

Gang, let me first off announce that those of you with kids who play sports or are thinking of playing sports, your career, win, lose, or draw, will go a lot smoother and happier if you encourage your son or daughter to put the TEAM first. He or she will be on more teams that way. You’ve helped your chances anyway.

When I was encouraging my nephew, the Chet’s of this world were the loneliest creatures on the planet. They were in a lawn chair or in the bleachers all by themselves. They were the ones who talked about how their son scored 45 points and the coach sat him on the bench. What Chet WON’T tell you is the team lost, his son allowed his man to torch him for 47 points, and he blew the lay-up that would have won the game. Chet has selective memory.

THEREFORE, don’t do what Chet is doing in P1, in other words. Chet is myopic in relation to Milford Mudlark football. Did he bring his Texas Instrument TI-30 calculator when he computed the average? I don’t know if that one has a slide rule or a metric equivalent. I’m curious to see what his yards per carry efficiency on 3rd downs was in meters. And does it have a graphing function. Chet, you better double-check to see if his stock is rising, literally. If it stalls right about when the linear function crosses the y-graph, I’d worry. Coach might bench him. The first-stringers are always in the first quadrant.

Really, where DID Chet get that info? Okay, the calculator but did he slip a steno pad past the turnstiles and after he put all his coins and handgun in the tray so the metal detector wouldn’t play the Mudlark Fight Song? Chet, as long as you were going to write facts and figures on your pad, write down another figure, when you think of it, of course: The final score.

I understand steno pads at Office Supply sell briskly on that concept.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Leads Milford Parks & Recreation Adult Flag Football League In Yards Per Catch Clutch Efficiency On Second Down With A 5.4 Greatest Common Factor!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“It woulda been higher but some safety ripped my shorts off when he grabbed the flag so they called back my TD run.”

 

Ok, kiddies, we have a special nursery rhyme that beats “3 Blind Mice” and “Jack and Jill” the way Tilden beat Milford, sneak up on you then have a sense of urgency when the script forgot to print the score up until the last 30 seconds

Chet and Charlie

Rode on their Harley

To practice at the football field

 

Gil wasn’t coaching

Kaz went poaching

Chet’s beard had lost its appeal

 

So did his overbearing demeanor but I couldn’t fit that in the nursery rhyme and couldn’t find something that rhymes with “Step-parent needs to get a life.”

 

And don’t get me wrong. Your kid has to have fun and has to enjoy the sport and that has to be the #1 priority. If you win, that goes at the bottom of the list. Sure, losing sucks and winning IS a priority but a BOTTOM priority.

That said, avoid clubhouse lawyers like Chet. Believe me, if your kid is in involved in sports, you’ll run into them. One reason why I think “Ball Four” by Jim Bouton is a waste of time is that he spends a lot of time talking about his individual performance and not about the TEAM performance. Check out the appendix in the back. It is nothing but Jim statistics which is understandable but they’re slanted so that everything’s about Jim and NOT the team. I give every book a chance. This book blew its own because if you want the TEAM to win, you really can’t have the mindset of this book. And Pete Rose, BTW, was not always popular, being a fierce competitor will do that. And a fierce competitor wouldn’t be taking greenies as alleged in the book. I don’t blame ya, Pete, for being upset.

Anyway, encourage your kid to be a TEAM player along with having fun. You might be surprised how many teams he or she makes.

 

I was fascinated by a town in Greece I read about that has survived well before the BC era to the present. Knowing that Agrippina, a public speaker in the 5th century BC who edited Pindaric odes and Aeschylus’ memoirs, came from the same town as members of Buffalo Springfield (or the equivalent, I forgot which)

Yesterday’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Remains Of Thorpolos And His Playbook, Not To Mention His Exegesis On Plato’s Rough Draft Of ‘The Republic’, Discovered While Milford Toyota Plant Works On Prius Expansion!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Milford breaks record for differential between 4 B.C., the confirmed birth of Thorpolos, according to the Anthropology Department at Milford CC, and the birth of Gil at 1958. Previous record was Dr. Pearl’s great-aunt born during the Second Crusade.”

 

Nice to see Charlie Roh doing his best Lyle Lovett impersonation. And Lyle is really the one who is the voice of reason in the present discussion. I always admired (and still do) players who take responsibility for the loss because when you lose, you ALWAYS look inward. It doesn’t do any good to play the blame game at anyone else. In sports, GOOD drives out BAD (believe me) and if you’re winning, politics does not play an overriding factor. Sure, a player’s parent may hate your guts because you’re a Cub fan (couldn’t resist, Robmize) but if people want to win, the politics are normally kept to a minimum.

Okay, that out of the way, Lyle is, take your pick,  transmogrifying into the pupal stages of The Incredible Hulk, is beset with a bad case of zits from all those Snickers he snarfed before the game, or this is a continuation of the Night Gallery segment, “Caterpillar”, and the eggs have escaped the sufferer’s ear and are currently crawling all over his face. Now some of you faint-hearted wussies are steering the easy way out by saying that Charlie, or Lyle in disguise at the Grand Ole Opry, is sweating. C’mon, in THORPIVERSE??? When was the last time sweat actually looked like sweat or they drew those players in the background so we’re not engaged in another episode of “Creature from the Black Lagoon? I bet once those shadowy lizards remove their helmets, they’ll be afflicted with baby caterpillars on their faces too.

And you can’t cheat and say that that’s Minnie Pearl with Milford Cold Cream all over her face to remove the creeping warts that are engaged in a parasite-host relationship. Charlie’s a guy, remember?

 

Chet fed Charlie

A whole lotta barley

To boost his running game

 

Charlie met trouble

When he farted in bubbles

Now his bowels won’t be the same

 

Now we get to the clinical portion of the strip. Grandpa (we think) Macy is trying to imitate Dr. Phil by spouting out terms he learned the other day watching the show while dipping his Milford IGA Restaurant Chips into the IGA Tostitos Salsa Dip.

What the Hell does he mean by “situationally mad”? “Blowtop mad”? Like us readers are supposed to know the difference. Sure, Grandpa, if Chance racks the guy’s nuts, it was because he was situationally mad because the situation, as in baseball, called for the aforementioned action because the Tilden jerk called Chance’s mom all kinds of names, unprintable on this Christian website. If the Tilden jerk said something about Gil’s mom and said she raised him to be an incompetent coach who couldn’t find the end zone even with a AAA Travelogue, well, it’s probably true but THAT’S when you get blowtop mad and blow the Tilden player’s head off with a bazooka. Gotta stick together against the enemy.

Gang, aren’t you getting situationally mad at the one-size-fits-all artwork in relation to Grandma Macy (don’t hold your breath on that one) ? The other day she was Mary Tyler Moore who was married to Rob Petrie. He couldn’t trip over the ottoman because Gil was desperate and had to use it as a blocking dummy. School budget cutbacks, y’know. Anyway, MTM got her glasses courtesy of the Buy One Get The Second One 1/2 Price (Canadian dollars accepted) . Today, she’s the female member of Fairport Convention. Yeah, groovy,  man, #53 is way out, like in Mudlarkland. A real square. Don’t let him upset you, Chance. Instant karma will run his ass over. Just look what that semi did to Booby’s friend. Booby got his.

And I think it is the neatest trick in the book for Grandpa Jones/Walton/Macy to throw his voice and let his forehead to do all the talking. The Tilden Jerk couldn’t do that out of his butt and not use Charmin. Pity.

 

If ya git pig doo-doo all over yore face cuz ya won first prize at the Hog-Callin’ portion of the Milford County Fair Pig Exhibit Expo ’19 cuz yore voice proved ta be a little too irresistable ta Miz Piggy and the rest of her Yorkshire clan, ya might be a redneck.

 

“My God, Fred!!!!!!!!!!!! Aunt Ethyl’s got a spheroid lodged in her skull!!!!!!!!! And who’s that giant out there walking off with Uncle Morton in his casket?”

“Hell with Uncle Morton!!!!!!!!! He owed me money anyway!!!!!!!!! Call The Shark!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Folks, it was a Nightmare on Elm Street until I called The Shark. Then It Was a Wonderful Life. George Bailey had real money coming in and he didn’t have to rely on angels or the Milford Civitan Club to wheel it in. We could lower our aunt and uncle 6 feet under, knowing we had money in our pockets. Joe even paid for the funeral programs at Milford Funeral Solutions. What a swell guy.”

“You heard it from Fred Snerdley. When creepy people who should not be ordering Bucket Shish Kabob from the menu, let alone walking the streets of Milford toting Gil’s grandfather, it is time to act. Tall Man may have thrown one spheroid missile too many at the Tilden Jerk, but decent people like Fred Snerdley need to be justly compensated when the Tall Man barges in on the Nude Swimming Party. Granted, Aunt Ethyl looked unsightly in her birthday suit.  What 93-year-old doesn’t? She still should have been spared the weaponry and I proved that by fighting the insurance companies when Mr. Snerdley made a claim. And the Tall Man will have to loosen his checkbook to the tune of $4, 739, 023, 912. If he can afford to carry corpses around, he’s got the money.”

“I was able to fix the cracks in the pool and clean the blood stains on the diving board. And I can put away some for my grandkids to attend Milford Community College. My grandson wants to be a sanitation engineer. The rest I put in escrow. Thanks, Shark.”

“Sounds like a happy ending to me. Get your own Flintstones happy ending, where that tuba is really blaring, and call 1-FON-THE-JAWS today. Insurance companies are hard at work hauling caskets on the Santa Fe Trail. Don’t let them beat you to Oklahoma. Get the money you deserve so you can play “Home on the Range” on your tuba in the evening. You’ll be glad you did.

 

Time to go to work, Gang. If you need me, I’ll be at the Grand Ole Opry. I want to get there early so I can get a front row seat for the Lyle Lovett concert. I understand Gil is the opening act. I thought his comedy died the way Aunt Ethyl did. Guess not.

 

Chet lectured Charlie

His hair was Bob Marley

But, Chet, my running 4 TD’s settled all bets

 

Better stay humble

You coughed up 2 fumbles

And DAMMIT QUIT CALLING ME CHET

 

At The Bucket drive-in area

“May I (swoooooshhhh) take your (swiiiiiiiiiiishhhhhhh) order?”

CRACKLE

“Uh, yeah, I’ll have the Bucket Triple Cheeseburger, no onions or pickles, an order of fries, and-what do you want?-she’ll have the Bucket Pork Rib Sandwich, extra cayenne, and a Tub o’ Bucket Buffalo Fries-)

“(swwwwoooooooshhhh, crackle crackle) Ya want somethin’ ta drink (swiiiiiiiiiiiisssshhhhhh) ?

CRACKLE

“Yeah, give us-

SCREEEEEEEEAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMM

“What’s WRONG”

“What is Coach Thorp doing, climbing out of your trunk!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“No idea. Oh, hey, Coach. Sorry about that clipping. Coach Kaz will work on it tomorr-

BOOOOOOOOYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

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

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