This Week in Milford

April 6, 2019

In Which Linda Channels Her Inner Pete Seeger

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They say at Milford High School
There are no neutrals there.
You’ll either be a Mudlark girl
Or worn out and pull your hair.

Ya know what’s worse than robmize complaining about the Cubs’ bullpen turning into the Nationals’ bullpen? The Nationals’ bullpen still being the Nationals’ bullpen! But yeah, it’s been some rocky going for our respective teams a week into the season.

Speaking of rocky going, what’s the Vegas line on Linda and David’s relationship lasting through baseball and softball season? Something’s gotta give and odds are it’ll be the dating that goes first. Nobody likes being called a hypocrite even if they are being a hypocrite, so that’s a nail in this relationship’s coffin. I guess one thing Milford has going for it is that it’s not the Canadian universe of For Better or for Worse, in which everyone was doomed to marry their childhood sweethearts. Still, that might’ve given us some hockey action and made the synchronized skating thing a bit less contrived.

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April 4, 2019

The Dumbness Of It All

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Are we STILL in this powwow caterwauling about our personal reasons why we didn’t make scrimmage which I think Mimi scheduled about the time they elected the last Pope? Do we really honestly have to keep harping on our petty differences and keep wasting 3 panels per day and watch several Sysiphus’s keep pushing that boulder up the hill, only to find out we have 3 MORE panels to push the boulder on and then learn we could be thrown 3 panels at a time and the damn rock is still in the gym at the half court line? Thank God, Mimi didn’t schedule the end of the year Sports Banquet. Did Sisyphus ever try to push a humongous MVP trophy up a hill?

Gang, before I go any further, a HUGE apology to y’all because I have been trying like Hell all day to get this published and my phone kept erasing the work. As you can see, it took a while to get to where I could publish anything. I wouldn’t blame if you don’t want to read any further but if you do, I will ’til my dying days try to get this damn problem fixed. It is no fun having Eureka! moments, only to watch the phone wipe them away (fortunately I wrote it all down, something good comedians do, as my dad has taught       me) . Thank you for your patience. Your readership in a over a year of publishing means the world to me.

Isn’t Nancy beating a dead Mr. Horse in the ground????????

“Nope, she’s running the ticker tape out into center field. I’ll have to use the vacuum. I don’t think I like getting the extension cord and plugging it into the outlet in the scoreboard. I don’t like it one bit.”

OK, OK, Nancy, Diff’rent Strokes for Diff’rent Folks. We gotta live together. P2 is a good embodiment of that. I’ve listened to the same Sly & The Family Stone album you have. Now will you turn off your Close ‘n’ Play and Puh-LEEEASSSSEEEE get your ass out on the field and play ball???????????

By gum, we’re still in the Milford Mall after having danced to “All Over the World”. Are we waiting for an encore?????? No, Nancy, I don’t think Guy Lombardo and his Orchestra are going to appear to play the same song, I’m doubtin’ he has the same technology as Jeff Lynne, ditto, Lawrence Welk. Mitch Miller? And those acoustics that sounded like they were singing straight from the commode? Fuhgetaboutit.

I just mentioned Jacqueline Susann and her band of Merry Valley of the Dolls in a tongue-in-cheek manner, thinking,well, it IS a sports strip, Major League Baseball just started the season, and there was action at the beginning of the arc.

But Susann can go to Midas and read through several articles in National Geographic (“Milford at a Crossroads.”) in the waiting room  before all her calipers and brake pads are fixed and still have time to spare, maybe go to the Milford Majestic to catch “Mary Poppins for the Saturday Matinee (all seats, $4.00, free unbuttered popcorn) , before Valley of the Dolls concludes the Mini-Series. God, hope there’s not a sequel. And she might have just enough time to do a guest appearance on Holly wood Squares, assuming her agent gives the green light.

Linda and Nancy will surely kiss and make up and Linda will make the final cut for the Olympic Volleyball team and Nancy will have polished her act before performing Synchronized Kung Fu at Carnegie Hall (“Everybody was Kung Fu fighting HAAAAA!!!!!!!…”) .

EVERYBODY ALL AROUND THE WORLLLDDDDDD

LET ME TELL YOU WHAT I JUST HEARD—

“GIL!!!!!!!!!! Get those teenagers away from the pool and tell them to leave!!!!!!!!! And get your ass in bed!!!!!!!!!!”

“Honnneeeeeyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!! The doctor said this is good physical therapy on  my back.”

As we continue our tour of the Milford Museum of Fine Arts, we approach a painting recovered out of the property across the street from The Bucket, a lost entry from Picasso called “Diana Ross-One Day, We’ll Be Together”. No truer words could be uttered.  She simply never mentioned that she was forced to use Elmer’s Glue to prove her point.

Now the challenge is to figure out the rest of the anatomy and if you can match limbs to torso, apply at your nearest med school. They need you.

“…Catwoman at the rodeo with The Joker on a double date with The Riddler and Totie Fields??????”

“Gil, just because SHE got 30,000 hits, doesn’t mean YOU’D get the same result…”

All righty then, if you’re through playing Jenga, your mission, should you decide to accept it, is to figure out how Nancy rolls gutter balls publishing articles about Batgirl’s sex life. I’m sure it draws some interest but 30,000????? If there was an episode  about The Joker dumping alum in Batman’s Bucket Full o’ Cheerios while Robin is chowing down on a Bucket Sub, designed to give Batman the runs and Erectile Dysfunction so bad you’d  no longer see that bulge you used to see when Adam West donned the costume and there’d be no hope of little Batmans running around the Bat Cave, sporting bulges of their own, the episode would score big on the Nielsen ratings, I’m sure, but nowhere NEAR “Who Shot J.R.?” proportions. Nancy, it’d be in your best interests to adjust the numbers a tad.

So I don’t look like a wet blanket and rain on Nancy’s parade, so Batgirl calls the Green Lantern for a weekend retreat and because she’s lonely and she just has had a thing for phallic symbols painted green so she’s gotta have that Green Thang when they hit Mudlark Lake Resort. Sure, it makes a unique romance novel storyline but doubt any President of the United States really has any interest. Nope, don’t think Eisenhower would take the bait, much less use his influence to get 30,000 other people to read it.

Wonder Woman saving the Milford Gymnasium from Lex Luthor’s Gigantic X-Ray Machine is catchy but 30,000 sitting on the edge of their seats wondering if they’ll have open gym tomorrow is inflating the figures somewhat. You might squeeze another 5,000 if that same ray gun is aimed at The Bucket (“I’ll have the Bucket 3-Bean Salad and Apple Fries—GET DOWN!!!!!!!! LUTHOR’S POINTING HIS GUN RIGHT AT YOUR BUCKET PEACH COBBLER!!!!!!!!!!!”) but let’s not confuse Nancy’s “Let Me Roll Female Superheroes to You” with “Great Expectations”. One’s a classic and I’ll let you do the math on that one.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J.: ‘I Didn’t Use No Gloves This Time!!!!!!!!! Me And Batgirl Are Completely On The Level!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

STOP!!!!!!!!!!!! IN THE NAME OF LOVEEEEEE

BEFORE YOU BREAK MY HEAR——

“Girl, is there ANY way you can get your foot offa my spinal column???????? Hard to turn to the right at the bridge of the song.”

Kevin Wright of Louisville, Kentucky, you do a GREAT job of taking care of the customer at the Pizza Hut in St. Matthews, Kentucky. Your enthusiasm for your job is contagious and the Cookie Pizza that was made the other day was DELICIOUS. You hve over come a lot and it shows in the pizza you make. Giving up is not in your vocabulary. Gang, if you go to Kevin at The Hut, give him some love and respect, he’s earned plenty of both.

With “Fun, Fun, Fun” by The Beach Boys in the background

“Great balls o’ fire, we’re havin’ a great time down here at The Bucket!!!!!!!! Wish you were here.

Hi, this is Mr. Absentee Landowner, here to stop bad publicity in its tracks. Like bad plotlines, they put a damper on your business. Nobody buys Bucket Banana Splits when there’s no girls basketball as was the case this year. Had to send 2 tons of Chiquita to the Milford Recycling Center. Believe me, we’ve had more Bucket Slurpees dumped on our image and it’s time to answer the charges that Milford Beverage Warehouse has been leveling at us.

The Warehouse claims our last Zoning Commission meeting was cancelled because our case was hopeless. Allow me to set the record straight. One of the members of the Zoning Commission lost a grandmother when she put the car in reverse and got the surprise of her life. He had to attend the funeral. Out of respect, we sent a bouquet of daffodils that we ordered from Milford Floral to express our condolences. The meeting has been rescheduled a week from this coming Tuesday.  And our lawyers will be there, not down at The Warehouse buying Lance’s Sour Cream Crackers. Land o’ Goshen, the shit The Warehouse piles on.

And The Warehouse will have you believe that  our lawyer, Nick Vinicello, got concrete shoes fitted on from Payless Shoe Stores and dumped into Milford Reservoir, due to a rival family perturbed at his representing the Gambinos. But even as I speak, he is ordering Bucket Popcorn Shrimp and Caesar’s Salad, complete with 2 packets of Bucket Italian Dressing. The Bucket even let him wear his bullet-proof vest. He is confident we will get our license even if the whole damn Zoning Commission loses members of their families, explicable or inexplicable. Sometimes you can’t help it if a Milford businessman was a cousin of Jimmy Hoffa. I’ll bet an order of Bucket Rattlesnake Fries someone at The Warehouse was kin to Al Capone.

Now the good news. We are offering something unique. Right now through April, The Bucket is offering Children’s Drinks as a way of expressing our thanks for sticking with us while fighting The Dark Side. Darth Vader can fight this all he wants, but if The Force wants The Bucket to serve Buds and PBR right next to Bucket Grilled Chicken and Scallops Combo, The Empire can bomb The Bucket all it wants but Han Solo returned in the movie and will return to file an appeal should our initial efforts to serve The Good Life next to a Bucket Oreo Blizzard fall through The Galaxy.

And the kids are gonna love Creme de Menthe sprayed into their favorite drinks, from Coca-Cola to Choc-Ola to Hawaiian Punch. My personal favorite, Grape Kool-aid, has more zing with Peach Creme de Menthe squirted in the cup.

And don’t worry, we’ve arranged with the Milford Police not to make kids take a Breathylyzer test nor walk 10 feet in a straight line. As long as they’re not behind the wheel and they’re secure in the child’s seat, the Milford Police will call it even. You wouldn’t let your kids drive your Chevy Malibu when they’re sober. Why take a chance after a couple of brewskies? Buckle ’em up and forget it. Just wipe their mouths should they spit up all over the stereo speakers.

At The Bucket, we gotcha covered. We can cut into The Warehouse share of the market while still continuing to fatten Archie and Jughead on Bucket Burgers. Pop’s Choklit Shoppe will remain an institution even if they pull Moose over for a DUI. We can overcome the technical stuff. Come see how today.

We will always serve Milford no matter what affadavits The Waehouse tries to file.”

Gang, comment away. Thank you for your patience. May God truly bless you.

BABY, BABY, WHERE DID OUR LOVE GO

“Girl, it’s goin’ straight down your throat if you flash your butt in my corneas one more time.”

April 3, 2019

We Never Did See That Scrimmage

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“I was at a Comic Con last weekend – and I have this Wasp bobblehead to prove it!”

“I don’t think anybody asked – or cared – where you were, Nancy.”

Pretty tricky of Nancy to hold that bobblehead steady as the floor and the lockers slide away from beneath her feet.

Speaking of writing blogs… Tiny credit where credit is due, or acknowledgement that Whigrub must see this blog: Whigham is gradually moving away from putting huge earrings on his teenage girls to putting multiple small ones on them. Still has this thing for the ears poking out out of the hair elf style, though.

Alright then. All this hoohah about the scrimmage and who didn’t show up for it and why has been going on for two weeks now.  When does it advance the plot?

March 28, 2019

I Never Knew “Pictures at an Exhibition” Would Appear In Milford

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IT’S THE BLOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EVERYBODY RUN FOR IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Relax. It’s only the students at  one of the picnic tables,  gossiping about Andre Dawson when he was with the Cubs, pretty hot news among teenagers, then the conversation that’s been on the backburner after they got tired of talking about Mike Krukow’s career at Wrigley (“Gnarley, dude, he struggled with that wind blowing out”) has been taken out of the oven FINALLY that of what Molly Hatchet does in its spare time when they’re not touring New Thayer, Oakwood, Madison, Goshen, etc., with Lynyrd Skynyrd and The Charlie Daniels Band. I understand the Marshall Tucker Band practices pirouetting in water polo when they’re not on the road again.

They are so caught up in this fad we call (by their own definition, unfortunately) synchronized skating, they’re oblivious to the girl in the background that got ran over by the waffle iron.

 

Mr. Horse, trying to be a Mudlark Cafeteria Lady, having already passed the Cream Slaw Certification Test

“Nope, I don’t think these linens fit.”

 

 

I’m sorry, Gang, I’m TRYING to be nice but

“Gimme 3 steps, gimme 3 steps, Mister, and you’ll never see me no more…”

“Okay, that’s a rap. You can take your skates off.”

 

Eggo Head is just the start of a bad joke.

Gil catches Dr. Pearl in the hallway before her staff meeting

“DR. PEARL!!!!!!!!! DR. PEARL!!!!!!!!!! You know how Eggo Head burned her hair???????”

“No.”

“She forgot to use Pam while sticking her head on the pancake griddle.”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Boy, put some Aunt Jemima on them babies.

 

And the artwork coming directly from El Prado. Really, is this truly a comic strip??????? P1 is just classic Cezanne, the missing piece being “Still Life With Apples”, something not shown in P1 because Eggo Head is sitting on them while consuming a Bartlett pear and those same apples would be shown in P2 if The Blob wasn’t chowing down on them while washing it down with leftover Milford students. The Blob resembling The Everly Brothers???? Gil must have been mighty tasty.

Meanwhile, back at the NR Ranch (“non-Reality”) , I mentioned ‘Pictures at an Exhibition” the other day, a concept album based the Russian composer Modest Mussorgsky’s work of the same name, which my favorite group, Emerson, Lake, and Palmer recorded and put their personal stamp to and ran with. Getting mixed reviews because it was slightly controversial, it stood the test of time and came out a cult classic, loved by many critics. I just never thought we’d see a sample of it in today’s strip.

“The Gnome” is P1 and I think “The Great Gates of Kiev” is located somewhere where Eggo Head’s hair is parted.

The Gnome telling a joke to his baby sister, whose in the lower right hand corner. Does she need a high chair, BTW, if her caption is somewhere where Luhm could sweep it up with his janitorial-sized broom?

“Baby sister, do you know why Gil will never be Eggo Head?”

“No.”

“He’d have to find a different rake to comb his hair, plus VO5 and Pam are combustible when fried together in the skillet. Try explaining that one to the Milford Fire Marshal.”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

 

Then P2 definitely has to be “Promenade”.

I mean, The Blob executing a spaziergang (“pleaure walk” to you non-Deutscher whippersnappers) through the cafeteria after a hearty 3-course meal of Alpo, Twinkies, and students is worth the price of admission and going about as slow as this plot. Don’t get no better than that.

“Officer, The Plot’s at the Milford Bowling Alley!!!!!!!!!! It’s eating half the town!!!!!!!!!!! Strip Bowling was tonight!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“The Devil went down to Georgia, he was looking for a soul to steal-”

“NO NO NO That’s not how the tripel axel is done, you have to do this TOGETHER. All right, let’s do it again and SMILE. Let Butch Trucks see those pearly whites.”

 

P3 is interesting. I was tempted to say “The Sage” but what wise man in a lotus position at the peak of Mt. Fuji or Mt. Everest or Mount Washington or Mount Greylock (highest point in Massachusetts, BEAUTIFUL scenery, just threw it in to get a cheap laugh when the audience is getting bored-don’t want to wind up like Gil at the Milford Comedy Club) discusses synchronized bowling????? That one crashed and burned.

So I went with my gut and Ickity Ackity Ooh, uh uh, Ickity Ackity Ooh. ee ee, uh uh, slee, uh uh slut, POOF!!!!!!!!!!! “The Curse of Baba Yaga”. As long as teenagers are going to spend more time fretting over bullfighting and Sammy Sosa’s stats (C,mon, I’ll bet Ron Santo’s contract that the sign said “Bullfighting Ring”, geez Louise) than actual sports, reduced already to an exhibition, pardon the pun, at the Ringling Brothers Circus, we are in for a long Spring and Summer until Gil hitches up with another tag team. Really, I think Gil can teach Jerry Lawler and Jeff Jarrett how to golf. They’ll be sinkin’ those putts at the Mid-South Coliseum by the end of August. The Moon Dogs won’t know what hit’ em. An eagle is more effective than the Sleeper Hold any day.

 

Day 16

Marty is butt naked, confronted with a new challenge. Someone from the Milford Zoological Society, trained in Blobology, managed to direct The Blob towards the Nature Area. Street edges lined with ice, much of it from the ice freezer out front at the Milford 7-11 and the trainer invented a new way for The Blob to stay on the Straight and Narrow. Ingenious way to keep The Blob heading in a certain direction. Can’t eat Gil’s children if his driveway is spayed with permafrost.

Marty has enough problems with the elves from Crackerbox Palace and mosquitos. Now, he and Peaches must run for their lives, knowing The Blob could suck them up in 2 seconds. Can’t go up a redwood like a cat. The Blob can climb also. For the moment, The Blob will be content with a warthog it just steamrolled and call it a night. Marty and Peaches can sleep in their tents and only have to worry about shooing away the moths. And all they have to do is blow out the lantern.

Marty on his walkie-talkie

“It’s by the pond, Marty. It took some Sominex and crashed on a dead poplar.”

“Good. Where’s Peaches?”

“Marty, you know that’s the deal. We’re not allowed to tell. In fact, that’s the first warning AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, where’s the trainer????????? I didn’t know I was a midnight snaaaaaacccccckkkkkkkk-”

“Joe? Joe?”

 

“We’ll be back after these messages.”

 

Gil, accompanied by “Nut Rocker”

 

“Hi, this is Coach Thorp for Milford Beverage Warehouse. God almighty, wouldn’t want to be in Marty’s shoes right now, would you? Just hope The Blob stays away from the daiquiris.

But if Marty thinks he’s got problems, do I have some news for him.

Did your car get repossessed and now you have to go Milford Transit? Did you get cleaned out at the slot machines like I did because I didn’t know when to say when at the Milford Casino Lodge? How ’bout Milford Credit Union putting an estoppal on your account because you ran up a bill at Milford Plumbing Concepts and now they’re dunning you something fierce????? Shoot, I’d run up a bill too if they took 23 times to unclog that toilet in the pool room in the basement. They used that much Drano to flush out the turds, c’mon.

The point is, you shouldn’t let The Good Life get estopped because banks, credit unions, and the loan shark at the poker table isn’t bargaining in good faith. That’s why I’m proud to announce that The Warehouse and Milford Cash Advance have teamed up to help you get your favorite liquors without having to worry about Sonny Corleone knocking on your door about that overdue note.

Just give them your driver’s license, your Social, and 2 recent check stubs, yes, chain gang work release stubs are honored, and you can shop for Buds and Michs with peace of mind. Durn tootin’, Milford Cash Advance will hand you $250.00 cash with interest rates that’ll be as low as the packages of Slim Jims on the impulse-buying rack by the register. Doggone, I know I’ve got MY $250.00 in by wallet so I’m gonna go get a shopping cart by the Bud Man display up front and stock up on all the sinful stuff.

And I’ve got some Chauvignon Berry Surprise, something I’m going to keep a secret for my wife, I’ll just put in one of the gutters on my roof, to celebrate our 35th, 38th, Hell, I can’t remember, we’ve been married so long and spent a lot of time pretending to be coaches. Then I got some Sterling Classic Roast Fire Brand, guaranteed to satisfy your taste buds and burn a hole in your belly, a problem if you have ulcers, but if you’re drunk on the couch, you won’t feel a thing. And you might have to hit the bathroom stalls a lot but as long as Pee Wee Herman isn’t in there, it shouldn’t be a problem. And when the bank imposed a lien on my house after my Big Adventure at the Casinos, I snatched that 750 ml bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey right off the 3rd shelf. Ummm, ummmmm, I can drink my blues away tonight and puke in the bed if need be cuz Mimi went to her mom’s place with the kids over the weekend. They’ll be visiting Principal Ek’s boyhood home, a historical marker, “The Hut of Baba Yaga”, so I can splay on the Serta mattress like Foster Brooks.

And because The Bucket is bogged down in a legal battle with the Milford Beverage Commission over the liquor license, The Warehouse wants to kick ’em while they’re down by this great offer: Right now, until the end of the month, if you’ll buy 2 bottles of 1.75 Bacardi Superior Rum, The Warehouse will pay your March Milford Gas & Electric bill. No sense in having no lights just because Milford Interiors repossessed the divan. You shouldn’t have to use your neighbor’s water in a bucket just because there’s no electricity for the shower. Yup, they’ll help lighten the load on your bills when the deputy sheriff sends a bench warrant on your motorcycle, even if it’s your only mode of transportation to Milford Foundry. The Warehouse would rather you not pay late fees for the motorbike.

Yeah, Mr. Owner of The Bucket, when you come out of your chateau in Switzerland, wake up and smell the Apothic Red. Because your chances of selling Cook’s Brut Champagne along with a Bucket Double Cheeseburger and Fries as my recouping my losses at the roulette wheel at Milford Casino. At least I have better luck.

Come in and check out our specials and get a bill paid to boot. At Milford Beverage Warehouse, we take the load off, Fanny, and dump it on the car hops at The Bucket.”

 

 

Today’s Women’s History Month entry goes to Mary Ludwig Hays McCauley, affectionately known as Molly Piutcher. Originally a gofer, like several women in the battles during the Revolutionary War, especially for water, the nickname came about when soldiers would shout “Molly!!!!Pitcher!!!!!!”, a nickname that somewhat unfortunately carried a slightly negative tag.

But Mary stepped in during the Battle of Monmouth to stoke the cannon after her husband was hit by a bullet (but survived, thankfully) and immediately boosted soldier morale with her courage in the line of fire. Serving perhaps as a good luck charm, the British retreated and really weren’t a factor for quite soem time. George Washington was so impressed (and he didn’t impress easily) that he awarded her a non-commision and was thereafter addressed as “Sergeant Hays.” Still strongly holding to her femininity, she proved a worthy soldier that helped the Continental Army win a HUGE battle when they were at a crossroads. The momentum swung in the Continentals direction, Mary palying a big part. Please join me in saluting a woman who proved that a woman could more than hold her own on the battlefield.

 

 

 

Comment away, Gang. I’m going to sneak out the back door before Robmize reads all my Cub jokes. Can someone suggest a nice apartment to hide in on Waveland Avenue?

 

Mr. Horse watching “The Blob”.

“Nope, ‘Lawrence of Arabia was much better than this B movie. Doesn’t even have Ronald Reagan when he was 80 years old to rescue the kids. I don’t think I li-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, IT’S GOT ME, WHERE’S REN AND STIMPY???????? STIMPY’S GOT AN ICEBERG STUCK UP HIS BUTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

“I’m as free as a bird now, and this bird you’ll never changgggeeeee.”

I can see Peggy Fleming and her partner with the American flag draped around them in Sochi after that Gold Medal performance.

March 26, 2019

“The Sopranos? I Thought They Were The Chiffons.”

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Where are we GOING with this??????????

I’m tempted to do another chorus of Zappa’s “Valley Girl” but I didn’t want to pull a Gil and beat a dead Marty or Principal Ek, since the latter’s already dead and anyway I get a sneakin’ suspicion that that wouldn’t do justice to what’s going on at the present moment.

And to add insult injury, we are flip-flopping between Milford’s school cafeteria and Barney’s Pub and Morrison’s Cafeteria or Milford Bowling Lanes Bar ‘n’ Grill or some generic upscale eatery that Gil and Mimi have chosen to air out their grievances concerning High School Athletic Association protocol. It doesn’t do justice to work these issues of Scrimmaging Procedures within the convenience of their own offices, naw, we gotta talk about lining up the umpires and settling any contract dispute (“I can make more umpiring Dagwood’s company team and they suspend a guy 2 games plus he gets his pay docked an hour by Mr. Dithers if he gets ejected.”) while Freddy Mercury is serving them Steak Flambe Au Jus avec Mashed Potatoes ‘n’ Gravy (blanche, bien sur) and Collard Greens.

BTW, how can I tell it’s the cafeteria in P1? The cafeteria lady, should we broaden the scope and get a panoramic view would likely not be in her Jordache jeans based upon her upper wear. Looks like classic white linen only a Mudlark Cafetria Lady could appreciate and subsequently don. Our high school cafeteria ladies didn’t dare wear this haute cuisine of the school cafeteria world. Linens made by starving children in China in a sweatshop somewhere in the slums of Shanghai have heightened theimage that is the Mudlark Ccafeteria Lady. Dr. Pearl will not wear this at the Principal’s Convention in Seattle. Ms. Rizk doesn’t type sleazy stories about Marty and Peaches at Mudlark Lake in those linens. And it’s hard for me to imagine Miss Cafetreia Lady for the Gil Moment at Milford Natural Area hunting bison with Shaw and Gil. No way does she ladle Hormel Sauerbraten Hash that are in all the compartments in the cafeteria line (the 14,000 bowls of chipped Jello is probably one compartment over) while wearing Alice Kramden attire. And did you ever see Freddy Mercury in those linens shoulder a full tray of dinner plates ready to be laid down at a random table at Barney’s, the majority of the plates SPAM????????? (Hey, it’s hash in reverse) ????????????

“Enjoy your Kartoffelsalat mit Huhn Gebackt und Brotchen, ganz Vollstandig mit Mosellewein with a side order of Spam and Dorito’s Cool Ranch.”

As the horse on Ren and Stimpy would say “Nope, I don’t think I like Spam.”

 

Giving a shout-out to Bethany Bennett of Louisville, Kentucky. Though she uses a walker, you hardly notice because she’s a real go-getter. She gets up EARLY to go to work and always does so with a smile. She represents America by her her hard work and determination and her decision not to let setbacks get her down. Gang, we need more people like her. I always offer to help her get in her place of employment but she always refuses and gets in by herself, and then some. I salute you, Bethany. Give her respect, Gang. She’s earned it.

 

Then the word “family” intrigues me. Oh, brother. I really don’t want to go into Mammoth Cave but I’m bringing a flashlight if Gil is twisting my arm. Researching the word “family” while looking at cave drawings with a lantern filled with Matchlite fluid is as exciting as watching Luhm’s wax dry on the Mudlark basketball floor. Trying to sift through the plot like you were sifting through the channels of the cave with no light source being like trying to decipher Gilplots is bad enough but I’m packing plenty of Eveready batteries. And plenty of Bucket Fries. It’s a cave, the gas won’t escape, trust me.

Munching on my Bucket Livercheeseburger, I started asking myself (I’m in  a cave, remember?) , what ELSE could be going on? What would pique people’s interest while they’re plunging in the buffet table at Barney’s, discussing the Cubs’ chances for a repeat this year, or while the baseball team is spending another useless moment in the dugout, par for the course in the world of Thorpiverse in ANY sport,  before waiting their turn to practice hitting off the machine (after we’d seen Meadowlark twirl the baseball a couple of weeks ago) and then head to Rome where one of the Hardy Boys is sitting in the mezzanine level of the Colosseum, all 3 panels in different locations with one thing in common: The hot topic concerning the 3 girls whose reason for not being able to make scrimmage was non-athletic in scope. You want some more hash? Looks like the hippie lady in the background is ready to shovel it on her tray.

Then it hit me. It’s The Chiffons. Or The New Chiffons. Back for another Comeback Tour after 50+ years of singing and performing, they couldn’t make the scrimmage because they couldn’t back out of their contract. What happens when Mimi gets desperate and gives basketball the shaft, people drop out due to lack of activity. Then you start groping for players and going after the first one in the hallway. The Chiffons were stopping in Milford to ask Luhm for directions to the New Thayer Amphitheatre. Next thing you know, they’re shagging balls for Mimi. They might not get thrown to the lions, even if it is the Colosseum, but can’t blame ’em for avoiding a  nasty lawsuit over breach of contract. Mimi, you not only should plan ahead next time but you really shouldn’t impede nostalgia. They got a juke box at Barney’s don’t they? “He’s So Fine” one of the selections???? No Tchaikovsky’s “Symphony No. 5”? Case closed.

 

Now allow me a little backdrop. The record company for The Chiffons sued George Harrison of the Beatles because it argued that “My Sweet Lord” sounded too similar to “He’s So Fine”. Now, in fairness, Led Zeppelin were guilty in the first degree, “Whole Lotta Love” and “When The Levee Breaks” having been performed several decades in the past as Blues standards. Quite a few Blues musicians got a generous out-of-court settlement from the group.

But The Beatles were notorious for writing their own material. Even Ringo, not a songwriter by any stretch of the imagination, weighed in with some key contributions. And The Beatles sued ANYBODY for stealing their songs. BUT they were very generous in helping a group get started in their musical career by giving them a song. “A World Without Love” by Peter and Gordon and “Come and Get It” by Badfinger come to mind.

That in mind, they made an out-of-court settlement where George agreed to pay a certain amount and the record company representing The Chiffons agreed to let George keep playing “My Sweet Lord.” Personally opining that George or any other Beatle would NEVER plagiarize another group, I reluctantly would agree.

 

So with that in mind, Joe Friday and Bill Gannon have come to sort this out.

This is the city. Milford, USA. It has plenty of stores, schools, houses, and parks. Plenty to do in Milford. All legal. But when some truant runs afoul of the law, that’s where we come in. My name’s Friday. I carry a badge.

10:22AM. It was Tuesday in Milford. It was cold and crisp. The weatherman predicted warmer temperatures by the end of the week. We were working the International and Domestic Copyright Infringement detail. The boss is Captain Andrews.

We were transferred to Rome, Italy because there were unconfirmed reports of illegal recording and wiretapping of another man’s music, allegedly by a Milford connection. Captain Andrews handed us our flight tickets out of Milford International Airport and we were on our way across the pond.

1:45PM. We arrived in Rome and got to the Marriott di Roma ASAP. I had jet lag something fierce and Gannon ate too much airplane chicken and upchucked for 2 hours in the hotel room toilet. We didn’t call room service for 5 hours until the stench died.

7:48PM. We got in our rental car from Alamo and headed to The Colosseum. We had sent a SWAT team last week to bust an illegal lion trafficking operation, thinking the bad seed had left the building like Elvis. Elvis sounded horrible singing “Suspicious Minds” while the Christians were getting thrown to the carnivores and it had to stop. But while Elvis continued his tour in Baton Rouge, the bad seed was still in the ground.

We had to be careful. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. The New Chiffons were using The Colsseum to secretly record George Harrison’s records. Nothing was sacred. “All Things Must Pass.” “Cloud Nine.” “Somewhere in England.” You name it, they were putting it on platinum. We could have busted them right then and there for singing “Octupus’s Garden” but that was Ringo’s song. The tear gas would have to wait. We had to move fast, but slow.

9:12PM. We didn’t want the Romans and the rest of the Senate to suspect we were cops. Seneca and Cicero would tip off the 3 girls that Friday and Gannon were back in town, even if that town wasn’t built in a day. And they weren’t kidding. Just try asking a cabbie, using your Fodor’s Italian in 10 Days, Give or Take 24 Hours, for directions from Alamo to the Colosseum without having to pay toll across the Tiber.

So we scooted over to Burger King for a Whopper and Martini & Rossi. We weren’t supposed to drink on the job but you didn’t drink the water. Tasted like Lassie piss. Later, we’d sample the Thai Veggie Stir Fry Pan Pizza at Noble Roman’s which was located across the street from Vatican City. We didn’t want to blow our cover.

“Hey, Joe!!!!!!!!! Hey, Bill!!!!!!!!!”

Trouble was already in our rear-view mirror.

“Awright, punk, how’d you manage to swim across the ocean? Don’t you boys have homework?”

“My lab’s completed and not due ’til Friday and my 3-page essay on John Jay for American History has already been turned in.”

“And my Geometry class problems are completed and I got an ‘A’ for constructing the Bridge of Sighs without a compass and straightedge.”

“That’s in Venezia, you losers!!!!!!!!!! Now come clean or I’ll kick your ass straight over the Adriatic!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Those girls ARE recording Harrison’s music. We slipped security a 20 and got an earful. Man, the dude’s heavy with his religion. Should’ve heard “This is Love”. “When we use the power provided, free to everyone-”

“Cut the concert and get tot the point!!!!!!!!!!! You sound like Slim Whitman!!!!!!!!!!”

“Once they’re done cutting the record, they send it to a factory within St. Peter’s Basilica. While the Pope is holding Mass, “All Those Years Ago” and “Crackerbox Palace” are mass-produced, pardon the pun-”

Gannon steps in, keeping Friday from hitting one of the Hardy Boys with a wine bottle

“Okay, son, enough comedy. So what happened?”

“Then they ship them to places like Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore where there’s some catacombs. They wait until there’s rioting in the streets after another Papal decree, then they make their move to smuggle them to a United Airlines plane and stack ’em in the luggage portion of the plane.”

“How the Hell do they get past the Customs at the Aeroporto di Roma!!!!!!!!!! You’re gonna tell me they lug crates of records up a chute next to someone’s Samsonite of Hanes and sport coats!!!!!!!!!!”

“Simple. Some of the Customs officials are Chiffon and Beatles fans. Plenty of cash supplied from a Swiss bank account in Geneve and the crates are put on a C-130 next to arms Oliver North smuggled to Nicaragua. Just inventory to the Logistics lieutenant.”

“I vote Republican, jackass!!!!!!!!! Watch your mouth!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“The rest they store in the Papal Archbasilica di St. John Lateran. “When We Was Fab” next to a saint buried in a vault below the sanctuary is the last place la polizia would look.”

“I don’t want any advice on how a police officer, Italian or American, should conduct their investigation!!!!!!!! Now scram!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Oh, and you dropped your copy of the rental contract with Alamo. Better be careful, they might smuggle that and “From Behind That Locked Door”.

“GET A HAIRCUT AND GET OUT OF TOWN!!!!!!!!!!!” I’ll run you in on Milford Penal Code Article 364, Section 45, Clause 58 “Intent to Impede an Officer While Conducting International Affairs in the Line of Duty!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“You heard the man, boys. Smuggle your locks and at least get to Paris. You can miss a day of school before we nail you for truancy. BTW, how are you going to get back?”

“You never find out. Thorpiverse just zaps us there and we’re there. Kinda how Friday gets his own haircut at Milford Style Shop.”

Friday pulls out his Sig Sauer but the Hardy Boys are already zapped to Greenland.

 

A shout-out to Belinda Hawkins of Louisville, Kentucky for her courageous stance against bullying concerning her grandson, Jose. She is going to home-school him and do it her way. She worked several years in convenience stores, many of those years as an assistant manager. She KNOWS the meaning of work and can instill that into Jose. The reality is, schools are going through trying times but Belinda is leading the charge in doing something about it. Way to take the initiative, Belinda. You have my blessing to work with Jose. Never give up. You both are too smart for that. You represent America.

 

All righty then. Let’s get out of Rome and approach it from another angle. I’m thinking they indeed have a contract, but a much graver one, i.e., The Sopranos. I know Gil should step down as coach but do The Sopranos have to leave New Jersey, let alone involve 3 girls, to make their point? Why drag them into this, not to say they couldn’t flash a weapon (see “Prizzi’s Honor”) ? As macho as they were, it was hard for me to fathom  getting mixed up with the female Harlem Globetrotters.

Put in perspective. Anyone remember when Doonesbury went caustic on Frank Sinatra??? Don’t get me wrong, I love Frankie with my life but those comics of him at the gambling tables were a riot (“That’s DOCTOR Sinatra to you, Chiffons!!!!!!!!!”) . And his mob dealings were painfully obvious.

And remember Doonesbury showing Frankie posing with mafiosos in a photograph,  many of them part of a family??? The Gambinos, I’m thinkin’ but God knows. Anyway, let’s try squeezing those 3 girls  in the picture, in fact why not have them pose to the left and right of Frankie. What better way to show loyalty and respect (the mafia, remember) if P1 is going to harp on family matters? If it’s that clandestine, it’s hard for me to think they’re talking about The Brady Bunch

“Here’s the story

Of Lou Gambino

…the  lower left in curls.”

 

Besides, I don’t think the other mafiosos in the picture would mind 3 girls from Milford (family matters, right?) displaying their pearly whites along with these rough-hewns. As long as these 3 girls aren’t Corleones, of course.

For that matter, I wouldn’t be surprised if that photo got taken in the gym after practice. Perhaps Mimi doesn’t mind these thugs observing practice as long as the 3-point-circle doesn’t get dynamited.  Ehhhhhh, better not go that far. Especially when they didn’t play basketball. It was just IM’s But they still took the picture. And we got a credible explanation why there was no basketball. Priceless.

“Sonny, I thought I told you to dynamite the boys gym. I ain’t fightin’ the Gambinos in the bleachers. I’m too old for that.”

“Sorry, dad. We wired Gil’s office. The Gambinos won’t come around as long as there’s no leadership.”

“You do me honor, my son. Now order me some Bucket Linguini.”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Emerson, Lake, and Palmer Estate Sues The Chiffons Over Copyright Infringement To ‘Pictures at an Exhibition!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'”

sub headline

“Estate points out that ‘Sweet Talkin’ Guy’ sounds similar to ‘The Hut of Baba Yaga.'”

 

Today’s Women’s History Month entry is Marie Curie. Polish by birth, she eventually moved to Paris, partly to escape persecution, partly to encounter better opportunity. She became a professor while there and in the process discovered polonium and radium, 2 elements off the Periodic Table. Her brilliant mind and constant search for the truth through diligent research earned her the distinction of being the first person to earn a Nobel Prize in 2 different fields, Chemistry and Physics. She also fell in love with and married her lab partner, Pierre Curie, for which they enjoyed a health and productive relationship. Please join me in saluting a woman who coined the term ‘radioactivity’ and made great strides to this world by leaving iot a better place through her work.

 

Comment way, Gang. I think it’s safe that they’re not The Chiffons or that they’re not at The Colosseum in P3 with a contract out on Gil. But I’ve been wrong before.

 

11:23PM. We made our move.

“…forgetting all we have, isn’t it a pity…”

SSSSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Cough, cough,

“Don’t shoot!!!!!!!!!!!! Don’t shoot!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“All right, Gannon, read them their rights!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Can we include the Dragnet theme on ‘Living in the Material World?'”

“You can make all the records you want where you’re going!!!!!!!!!!! Papa Bader makes plenty of ‘Abbey Road!!!!!!!!!!”

 

The Horse at The Bucket eating Bucket Fries.

“Nope, too salty. Gil sprayed ‘Afro-Sheen’ all over them. Don’t think I like ’em.”

March 23, 2019

Back Off Boogaloo

gt03232019

“More volleyball? Hell yeah! I know which sport butters my bread – and it sure ain’t softball! Also, with volleyball at least I know what my schedule is gonna look like. No scrimmages on two days’ notice, that’s for sure! Now back off, Jamila. Okay?” – first draft of Linda’s lines in P1

“How dare those girls have lives outside Milford sports!” – first draft of Mimi’s lines in P4

I think it’s fair to say that most of us at TWIM are glad to see a story line in which Mimi and one of her girls’ teams are at the forefront.  It’s also fair to say that Mimi’s not winning any friends here with her attitude.  She shouldn’t be expected to keep track of all her players’ lives, but she should also consider that changing up her team’s schedule on such short notice may have a definite impact on her players. Good thing she’s got a sympathetic ear in her old man there, as they pound down adult beverages at whichever Milford watering hole they’re at. (Barney’s Pub again? Not sure.)

Speaking of adult beverages: When they’re not jogging or at Milford High, are Gil and Mimi ever in each other’s presence without a drink in their hands? A marriage counselor would have a field day with that factoid.

 

March 5, 2019

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

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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.”

February 19, 2019

“Gil, Don’t you think ‘Vocational Guidance Counselor’ belongs in the shed?”

021919

Ya gotta be kidding me. I’m presuming that’s Booby on the other end of the line unless he is following up with a prank phone call (outside chance) .

“Do you sell Mudlar-K-Cola in cans in the cafeteria?”

“Yes, we do.”

“You better let the Mudlar-K out.”

Yeah, if I wanted to see my nephew’s baseball coach fired (and I DIDN’T. He was an excellent coach-RIP, Coach Sparrow) , I’d go to the office secretaries at the school. The buck’ll stop there, fer sure. I’m confident the office temp from Milford-Rent-A-Sec will be on the same page with me when I complain that Gil doesn’t know how to flash the bunt sign. And she’ll cheerfully respond how She feels my pain, that Gil didn’t execute the hit-and-run in the 3rd inning last year against Madison because he didn’t know how to overcome the stench when the base umpire passed gas. Get an oxygen mask next time, Thorp, when waving a guy home. HEY!!!!!!!!!!! Whattya know, we have a connection!!!!!!!!!!! Before I put my Marlboro out in the ash tray by the seats where 2 new enrollees are sitting, me and the secretaries will be talkin’ like Casey Stengal.

Dr. Pearl, coming out of the office with her Night School Attendance Report-2017,

“Can anyone around here coach this game?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Only in Thorpiverse do we have Dirty Harry practically being asked to run the vermin out of San Francisco and Milford (Quite a bit of ground to cover-aaaaa, he’s Harry, the scriptwriters will think of something) but not before he asks “Mother, may I?”. And the fact that we are dealing with 2-3 other inchoate plots that will more than likely remain inchoate just makes for a nightmare of a season. I pity ESPN. It’s like Mike Patrick and Dickie V. doing the North Carolina-Duke game, then switching over to the History Channel for the rest of the season, basketball swept up in the Dust Bowl. “Yeah, they’re rockin’ and rollin’ here in the Colosseum!!!!!!!!! Gaius Maximus Atrivius is one of my Diaper Dandies. I’ve seen him dunk on a lion with such strength and agility!!!!!!!!!!!” I think you get the point.

Anyone dumb enough to believe  Gil will finish what he starts need only check out the golf plot where a bunch of rag-tag assholes run our heroes in the ground, then disappear while Gil tells his heroes that it’s always important to use Scout’s Honor when figuring the scorecard. The Perry Mason episode that never was.

“Raise your right hand and repeat after me. Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

“I do.’

“You may be seated.”

“Now, Mr. Palmer, I understand there was a discrepancy between what you wrote down for Mr. Nicklaus and The Golden Bear’s own version. He’s saying his one shot didn’t count because he was doing an instructional video during The Masters.”

“That’s correct.”

“And yet you say all shots count whether you swing your club to fend off the flies, disseminate an odor when your grandmother farted, or, in this case, when you’re showing the kids how to putt around a tree.”

“That’s correct.”

“Don’t you think you should allow leeway when putting around a redwood? Line up the shot? Shoo the squirrels away so they don’t ruin the eagle you’re about to sink? In fact, didn’t that happen when you were at Mount Kilimanjaro Country Club, an elephant herd  interfered with your hole-in-one?”

“The male was horny and had been to the Milford Men’s Clinic for ED and got cured in 2 hours and was chasing a reluctant female and the whole band of females turned on him and ran him out of the savannah…”

“Just answer the question. No need for National Geographic.”

“Yes, it happened.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I’m here to assert that Mr. Palmer should implement honor and dignity, as well as mercy when playing a Gentlemen’s Game. The Machiavellian way of thinking that Mr. Palmer is employing-”

“WILLLLLLMMMMAAAAAAA, where’s my Fruit of the Looms? I’m late for work. Mr. Slate will kill me!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“In the clothes basket in the den, dear.”

“Gee, Fred, I wouldn’t get too worried. Mr. Slate said you could use another tardy and you’ve saved up a bunch of ’em. You won’t get fired anytime soon. In fact, you might want to use a few on your bowling game, a hee hee hee, a hee hee hee hee…”

“Har dee har har, Rubble. I bought that new Brunswick at the Bedrock Sporting Goods store. The pins won’t know what hit ’em…”

 

And we still have Robby “2 Billboards” Howry to deal with. Well, gang, you know I’m not going to leave you empty-handed. Without further ado, Monty Python has returned, handcuffed to Arthur “2 Sheds” Jackson. Oh, you Python junkies know who I’m talking about. A composer who was thinking of buying a 2nd shed, hence got plastered with the moniker, occasionally bristling at this moniker.

But wait, there’s more. If you read my post NOW, you’ll get not one but TWO Monty Python sketches, a second one, “Vocational Guidance Counselor.” If that isn’t enough to make you get off the Laz-ee-Boy and get to the phone and dial the 800 number, I’ll throw in a free Gil Thorp coif, Special Everly Brothers Edition, 1959, but you must act now. Operators are standing by and you’re running out of Rogaine.

Anyway, without giving away the rest of the sketch, “2 Billboards” Howry was kind enough to take time away from muckraking Gil on his Outdoor Advertising and interview with Marty “2 Weeks” Moon on WDIG. Let’s eavesdrop.

“So why are you called ‘2 Billboards’?”

“The same reason why you’re called ‘2 Weeks’. It wasn’t planned that way but in the end, the nickname stuck like brown-stained underwear. At least I didn’t use profanity.”

“Look, ‘Equipment-Manager-cum-2-Billboards’, I’m doing the interviewing round here. And why waste time with billboards? Plenty of other advertising mediums. Like us at WDIG, for example. We have an advertising slot for “Gil eats worms, Spaghetti O’s, and the Big One, not necessarily in that order” between Milford Muffler & More and Mudlark Denture Repair.”

“Thanks for the offer. Right now, billboards seem to be working and the most cost-efficient I can find at this point.”

“Pshaw. Where else are you going to gouge Gil at $50 per slot? We can undercut the competition because we’re WDIG. Ethics belong in a Gideon’s Bible, not here in my studio. And we even supply the writing team. Free!!!! Gratis!!!!!! BTW, I understand you conjure up a lot of YOUR ideas in the equipment shed.”

“This is a false rumor based upon Pee Wee Herman being caught jacking off a shoulder pad. I am nowhere near the shed when I’m writing billboard slogans.”

“In spite of the reports that you were seen with Pee Wee at the basketball games, carping on Gil’s strategy.”

“Look, I’ll admit Pee Wee said that Gil should have done a triangle-and-two on Jefferson and I agreed. Their guards were lighting it up all not long. But that’s all there is to that.”

“Right . Now I understand your billboards got a Triple A Rating from the Better Business Bureau-”

“What is THAT????”

“What is what?”

A wide-screen photograph of Pee Wee in the boy’s bathroom at The Bucket reading a Gideon’s Bible, among other things, in stall #2 appears in back of them.

“It’s Pee Wee!!!!!!!!!!! Get it off!!!!!!!”

“He is.”

“Remove the damn photo on the screen!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Marty nods to someone offstage. A picture of “2 Billboards” Howry standing with Sir Edmund Hilary on Mt. Everest with “2 Billboards”‘s billboard shows up in its stead.

“Now as I was saying, the Chamber of Commerce nominated a couple of candidates last week for President of the C of C Board. They both liked your billboards. They endorsed “Come to Milford, where the only bad part of town is the coaching”. In fact, Dr. Pearl and Pee Wee called me personally and wanted you to be their campaign manager. Billboards are a great inside track for running for office plus it’s great sex therapy and will solve Pee Wee’s ED prob-”

THERE IS NOTHING BETWEEN ME AND PEE WEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“You don’t have to shout. It’s OK to admit that you saw Pee Wee have an affair with Dr. Pearl behind the stack of football helmets, sharing a Bucket Chocolate Shake, feeding each other burgers-”

“What’s that got to do with BILLBOARDS????????”

“Is he giving you any trouble?”

Bacon appears after The Mamas And The Papas, Second Edition just finished an album at Milford Recording Studios.

“Yes, a little.”

Grabs “2 Billboards” by the collar

“All right, ‘2 Billboards’, we’ve had our belly full of your trysts with Pee Wee and dragging down the team as a result. How Gil can design a Statue of Liberty with you 2 love birds in the equipment shed is left for Mary Worth to figure out. Or even Roscoe Sweeney.”

Throws “2 Billboards” into the WMFD station wagon which just stopped at the light

“Get your own comic strip, punk.”

“Yeah, WDIG Studios isn’t big enough for the 3 of us. We can thrash Gil without your help, ‘2 Billboards.'”

 

If yore posin’ in the 20 degree weather in front of the Polaroid One-Step by the billboard advertisin’ Gil takin’ up drag racin, Midget Division, at Milford International Speedway cuz ya admire Gil takin’ up somethin’ he can actually perform without a hitch, ya might be a redneck.

 

I think we can leave P1, comforted that Bozo the Clown is not expressing his concerns about Thorp’s X’s and O’s. He may be a clown but he’s not an idiot. Bozo knows all about going to school board meetings (“Okay, boys and girls, today we’re going to learn about Parliamentary Procedure after I pass out these Archway Cookies. Ummmmmm, isn’t strawberry delicious?”) for questioning-of-coaching-methods procedures. I think it’s also safe to say that that isn’t Mr. Moose, Mr. Green Jeans, Grandfather Clock, or Mr. Burns, Homer’s boss (which doesn’t belong on the list?-I can see the brain teaser) .

And really, as long as “2 Billboards” is short on reality, why not cut reality even shorter by walking into the station manager’s office at WDIG and asking him what your purpose should be in life? Y’know, “2 Billboards”, I will remember that the next time I’m having a mid-life crisis, suffering from a career change. Simple. Call Murray the K. Skip the employment agency, they only steer you to Whopper-maker at Burger King (“Come dress to impress. Must be able to work at least 32 hours and know how to run the Whopper press…”) , Howry. Let’s hit the Mother Lode and ask Wolfman Jack if Janitorial Science is the right career for you.

Clap for the Wolfman

“Awooooooooooooo, do ya like toilet plungers, My Friend?”

“Sure. I always use ’em, especially when the gas won’t pump in my gas tank hose. Just one plunge and the octane hits bottom.”

“My Man, awooooooooooooo, I think yuz on the right career path. Milford Community College has an 8-week night class beginning in March. And they’ll waive the enrollment fee. The last 2 weeks of the class is on-the job-training. By then, you’ll know what sanitizer to use when filling the soap dispenser and toilet brush to use when cleaning the vomit out of the toilet. Awoooooooooooooo, Wolfman can get carried away with the Jack when doin’ the night show. They’ll start you off on the 3rd floor latrines. The Wolfman’ll feel safe takin’ a #2, knowin’ I’m in competent hands.

But hurry, classes are fillin’ fast. Ya got me as a reference. That ought get ya in if ya enroll late. Awooooooooooooooooo.”

 

Today’s Black History Month entry goes to John Marshall Alexander, Jr., or Johnny Ace. A man with an excellent even voice, the dude strung together several hits like “Cross My Heart”, “Please Forgive Me”, “The Clock”, “Saving My Love For You”, “Never Let Me Go”, and his #1 hit, “Pledging My Love”. He is embraced by musicians such as Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, David Allen Coe, Elvis Presley, and Paul Simon, who, like me, enjoy his irresistable crooning. He toured heavily with B.B. king and Big Mama Thornton. In fact, tragically enough, while touring with the latter on December 25th, 1954, while carelessly messing with a gun, he accidentally shot himself and instantly died. A VERY promising career was needlessly cut short. Please join me in reviving his career by spreading the word about a VERY talented and outstanding career who only saw good times ahead, had he lived.

 

 

So introducing P2 orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

vocational guidance counselor

Vocational Guidance Counselor

VOCATIONAL GUIDANCE COUNSELORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

 

“…and Mr. Thorp, based upon your test results, I think I can say, without fer of contradiction, that the best vocation suited for you is chartered accounting.”

Gil “Several Plots” Thorp is stupified

“But I already AM a chartered accountant.”

“Well, we can always dig into the files again. Have you tried banking? Or perhaps international finance? You can work with Bhutan on all their bankrupt ledgers-”

“No, no, I’m fed up with 60+ years of figuring people’s taxes, revenues, debits, credits, that sort of thing. I want something ADVENTUROUS.”

“Adventurous? You dare want to be a lion tamer???”

“Nah, too easy. I kicked one in the nuts at the Milford Petting Zoo. I had him lickin’ like Dino when kids would feed him  Milk Bones.”

“Or underwater shark hunting?”

“Shoot, you checked out Red Lobster’s menu? There’s so much shark meat, they sold the excess to Hardee’s because they had a Thickburger shortage.”

“What about the Green Berets??”

“We’re the ones who assassinated Hussain. It was a cinch. Caught him air-guitaring “Rocky Mountain Way” in a minaret. Dead duck.”

“Then what Is it that you want with your life?”

“I’d like to coach.”

COACH???????????

“Sure. It looks easy. Boss around some players, they win the State and you get all the credit. Don’t have to worry about plots or plays, they just work themselves out while you live large on the golf course. After the players win the 10th State Championship, they’ll build a mansion for you where you can retire and vacation in Florida in the winter. Player’s’ll go south to visit you. They have been for the last 60+ years. Except for Pulver but he’s an asshole.”

“Coach, it’s not Easy Street as you envision. Long hours, irate parents, players always wanting PT, bad officials. Then you have Marty Moon.”

Gil is cringing

“Have you ever ween him without his goatee???? ARRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH”

“NO!!!!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!! He’s a Bohemian who LOOKS like a Bohemian!!!!!!!!!!! Take that picture away. I didn’t know he had that many teeth!!!!!!!!!! Or pimples!!!!!!!!!! He has more than on Mimi’s butt. Just don’t let him broadcast. They’ll think Beetlejuice took over the mike at the Milford games!!!!!!!!!! And that overbite…”

“Folks, you can help Mr. Thorp realize his true calling in life by writing to this address

The League For Milford’s Chartered Accountants

P.O. Box 7777

Milford, USA

 

Must be sent as Registered Mail. It’s a serious problem, folks.”

 

Gang, comment away. I’m going to see the station manager later on. I hear there’s a career in oil-well drilling in North Dakota. I can pay off my Meijer card.

 

 

 

 

“Awwwwwwww, SLAM BAM JAM, MIKE. What a dunkeroo by Hieronimus Adolphus Caesar, they got him groomed for the next Head Caesar job when he graduates. That was a manhood-stripper. He made that lion eat his lunch!!!!!!! He’s on my all-Chocolate Thunder team, along with Julius Flavius Vextus. Too bad Vextus got eaten cuz he couldn’t out run the lions on the fast break. But that’s college basketball in the Colosseum.”

 

“Awoooooooooooooo, Werewolves of London, Awooooooooooooooo….”

Mick Fleetwood just shakes his head as he throws the drumsticks in the corner and looks mournfully at John McVie. Mac is packing up his bass.

“Booby, hate ta tell ya, mate, yore no Zevon. Stick ta billboard-scrawlin’.”

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