The rage Mama Roh has been bottling up all fall watching Chet act like a righteous asshole is finally coming out. Having to sit still and listen clearly doesn’t agree with Chet. Look at how his hand is twisting into something a five year old would make out of Play Doh.
I think there are some issues with communication in this relationship. I wonder how these two came together and decided to marry their fortunes together. I also wonder if Chet thought his new wife (does she have a name?) would just naturally assume a subservient role and go along with whatever stupid shit Chet wanted to do. I guess things have changed. However, Chet seems like a dyed in the wool a-hole so I assume it won’t be long before this thing collapses.
For Thanksgiving, I wish nothing but the finest for all of you. May God have you prosper at work, at home, and with your family.
I am VERY thankful for the TWIMers who keep this thing going. You amaze me, people. What started out with one person has branched out into a pitch-in campaign and that’s what makes the humor that much more effective. In the nearly two years on the staff, I humbly sit back and watch you people write your stuff and I am never disappointed.
I am nothing without Jesus Christ. He makes it possible to write this nonsense and I praise Him several times over. He has blessed me on the site and off the site, i.e., my family, home, work, everyday living, and that makes Thanksgiving truly a holiday for me.
You may worship a different God. If so, give Him your best if you don’t worship mine, is all I ask. Either way, a HUGE thank you for all that you do, Gang. Again, Thanksgiving is not the same without you. You all mean the world to me.
Is Chet Ballard in trouble. How else could you explain the extra Magic Marker stains on his forehead, hair, apparel, beard, well, I wouldn’t go that far on the last one. Maybe lice but not Magic Markers. The lack of trimming of his beard or ethics is enough of a smudge mark(s).
Black Bart, Snidely Whiplash, The Joker, Jerry Pulver have all challenged Gilberto the last 60 years. As you can see, in spite of lack of coaching or styling mousse (dips his hair in the same vat where Crayolas are allowed to cool and settle) , Gilberto is always Last Man Standing. What makes Chet think he’d be an exception? When you have a weasel for a School Superintendent suddenly coming across like Wyatt Earp, Chet should have seen the signs. Wrist snapped back into place after Howard Elston nee Elston Howard finally got his Tinkertoy parts FedExed, conversations with Filet Mignon Head the Receptionist, Mrs. Roh appearing on Divorce Court. You didn’t notice, Chet? You might have a fine six-shooter but if Gil’s been lugging around a cannon for six decades…
“I’m Doug Llewellyn, reminding you that if you’re husband hasn’t pared his beard since FDR implemented the TVA program and is a stiff-necked lout with more teeth than moral behavior, and try as you might to tell him not to pick the lock on the door leading into the students’ records, let alone hot-wire the Macys’ station wagon when the Die Hard battery failed in his own vehicle, don’t call Don Corleone and have him dumped in Mudlark Lake. Take him to court.”
Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer
“Judge Wapner Orders Chet Ballard To Hand Over Stolen Records Of O.J.’s College Transcript!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“A lot of good that did. We still wound up in second place in the Milford Parks & Recreation Adult Flag Football League.”
And to think, Marjie and Janis Ian thought that Mr. Flex-Name, er, School Superintendent couldn’t bring Chet to his knees. Amazing what happens when you actually exercise your authority, especially when the crime was painfully obvious. Guess he got his head out of his butt and saw daylight and the truth, whichever came first. This Bud’s for you, Flex.
Now I’m helpless, it’s a killing spree
This travesty and farce will drive me to the sea
It took some time to plan where I’m coerced to flee
The Mudlark team is all coming after me
I had no thought about my own reward
I cheated without Chance or Charlie’s firm accord
Just don’t say I’m
DAMNED FOR ALL TIME
Andrew Lloyd Webber couldn’t have said it any better.
Now, come on, Chet. Extenuating circumstances? We’ve been reading the Milford National Toilet for 3-4 months and have observed Gil not doing his job because he was riding in the back seat with Friday and Gannon and have watched Marjie conduct what amounted to an audit when she wasn’t puking with Sam Finn over Manwiches and Canada Dry during the same length of time and you can’t lie any better than THAT????? You better upgrade your prevarications to “I was bitten by a zombie and therefore was not in my right mind when I walked in with the combination to the records vault at Milford High School Complex that I stole from Dr. Pearl’s purse under her Pond’s Cold Cream and walked away with Chance’s time at Devil’s Island when Chance was rooming in the same stockade with Papillon” if you want to earn your 30 pieces of silver is all I can say.
If ya turn in a poacher and the Con-ser-va-shun Officer tries ta reward ya with 30 pieces of silver but ya turn it down and insist on a 6-month supply of ammo instead cuz ya cain’t shoot an 8-pointer with 30 pieces of silver, especially during bow season, ya might be a redneck.
P2-now that we’re in the High Horse section of today’s strip NO WAY do any censures or castigations of a general nature occur WITH A HALO SURROUNDING HIM OR HER. I know we’re going for the inspiration angle here but Gil cussing out Kaz because the laundry lady forgot to wash all the jock straps before kickoff with Gil environed with St. Elmo’s Fire just doesn’t cut it.
But let’s examine a few more examples for all you stubborn mules who don’t know when to say “uncle”.
“Gil, get out of the trash can!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Milford Sanitary Disposal, Inc. picked up the trash this morning. The Totino’s Supreme is long gone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“Peaches, I’m pumping as fast as I can!!!!!!!!!!!! Why don’t you go brush your teeth? I should be good to go by the time you come to bed.”
“Darling, quit sneaking out with my dentures!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nobody respects a principal of the school if she metes out In-School Suspension displaying her gums!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There’s an ample supply under the sink!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“Oh wow, Beaver, when Dad comes home and finds out that Ms. Rizk caught you jacking off her typewriter, you’re gonna get clobbered!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“Somebody’s been dumping rabbit meat in the Spaghetti O’s again and I will fire the next cafeteria lady caught dragging in Bugs Bunny!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“Catwoman, I perform oral sex when I’m off the clock!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now it’s time to send you up the river to the Milford Women’s Correctional Facility!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“Always after me Lucky Charms!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
The last one was on the house.
I did it cuz I had to, I’m the one who saw.
That Chance never polished all his silly flaws
Moreover there’s an issue that I hate to broach
He lacerated the jaws of his clueless coach
I had not thought about my own reward
Though I wouldn’t mind driving home with Gil’s Accord
Just don’t say I’m
DAMNED FOR ALL TIME
And I know that Thorpiverse is trying to create the right mood given the situation at hand but does anyone think Il Barbiere di Siviglia as a Moor is a bit much, especially when it’s mixed in with the clown paint before he lets ‘er rip with Vesti La Giubba? I know Thorpiverse and Pagliacci were collaborating in order to ensure proper effect but putting on clown paint when you’re already a clown, let alone that life goes on even if Mrs. Roh runs off with Steve Luhm is throwing one too many irons in the bonfire at the Milford Pep Rally. And Il Barbiere’s nightmare has just begun, not sidetracked looking like The Joker after Catwoman split on you without signing the divorce papers. Looking like Bozo whwn you’re already Bozo anyway isn’t going to stop Pontius Pilate and his Ring of Fire he borrowed from Johhnny Cash from pointing a finger at you. It’s never too late for Il Barbiere to get his A license and drive semi’s.
On a recent episode of Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw
Racing his butt off in his Range Rover, Texas Ranger Studman Machomaniac Kent Walker Shaw, after leaving the iceberg in the background that had more parallel lines, eyes his target.
“All right, Goofy, take off your mask and let me see your driver’s license and registration.”
“But I’m not wearing a mask. I just tanned a little too long on the tanning bed at Milford 24-hour Laundromat.
“That;s what they all say. But I noticed you didn’t bring any Mudlark Cling-Free sheets. Dead giveaway. They always wind up with static on their Breeze towels when the sun lamp goes haywire and they don’t have an updated registration.”
“They’re holding up my face.”
And I remember from my school days when I attended a Model UN Conference. I represented Austria so I was mainly a minor player since Austria never mixed it up with, say, the U.S. and the USSR in negotiations. Anyway, we had an issue on the table that involved Israel and the PLO. Naturally, true to the real world model of the UN, the one representing Israel and the one representing the PLO are slugging it out, the rest of us trying to mediate the conflict, again as in the actual UN proceedings.
And somewhere in the middle of the presentations, Israel is flailing of course at the PLO but then, while discussing a potential agreement, the Israel representative yielded the rest of his time to the PLO, something Israel would NEVER do in the UN proceedings.
That’s why I had to adjust my set on WDIG-TV. I could have sworn I saw Marty Moon tell the truth about Gil. Sometimes the antenna outside gets chewed on by the raccoon in the neighborhood. Santa has been known to have had one Mudlar-K-Cola Non-Alcoholic too many and trip over the antenna while trying to get to the chimney with his bag of toys. And sometimes Donner and Blitzen dump their poop around the area.
If Santa curbed his reindeer, Chet’s in a lot of trouble. Chet’s running out of friends and if Marty yields the rest of his time to Gil, it’s time to head to Antarctica. Hope he doesn’t mind living with penguins.
Thank you for trashing his personal file
We’re grateful for info that’s meant to hurt
You’ll be richly rewarded with coins by the mile
It’s a pleasure to deal with a man of your worth
I DON’T WANT YOUR BLOOD MONEY
Oh, why don’t you take it, our wages are good
I DON’T NEED YOUR BLOOD MONEY
You’ve hurt Chance’s chances, we think that you should
Think of the many ways you can spend it
The Bucket, a steak house, The Milford Lounge
Just look at it as payment for setting things straight
30 pieces of silver is the least we can
Least we can
Least we can
Scrounge
“Don’t go away. We will return for Chance’s crucifixion on Jesus Christ Superstar after these messages. This is WDIG-TV.”
At the Milford Soup Kitchen on Thanksgiving
“Good Lord, I just swallowed an army boot!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage claimed they used no fillers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“Anybody know the number of The Shark?”
“It’s bad enough that one person got nailed to a tree and another soon to follow but while you’re keeping track of the 39 floggings out there, you can wash YOUR hands of your own affairs by calling 1-FON-THE-JAWS. Thanksgiving handouts shouldn’t have to be hazardous dump roped off by the EPA.”
“I got a check for $4,754,968,256 from Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage after The Shark took out his 20%. I was able to buy the ladles at the Soup Kitchen and shave my scraggly beard. I got tired of looking like Chet Ballard with hand-me-downs he got from Milford Thrift Store. People were always asking me about insurance while I was in line getting mulligan stew dumped on my tray. Now I can scrape my succotash with day-old Wonder Bread in peace. Thanks, Shark.”
“Insurance companies are hard at work covering their own end. Don’t let Gil drop a fly in your soup. Thanksgiving is a time to be thankful, not sorting out elephant turds in sausage that Mr. Thorp calls fillers. If your own Thanksgiving celebration is wet from all the pee that one of your hobo friends at The Kitchen let loose on the Cool Whip, that shouldn’t stop you from enjoying the pumpkin pie. Get the money you deserve to replace the Cool Whip and enjoy your own rhubarb pie.”
“I got 39,576 tubs of Cool Whip stuffed in my locker at the Milford Shelter. I can eat real pumpkin pie and turkey plus Jimmy Dean Pure Pork Sausage as an appetizer. The rest of the money I’ll invest in long-term bonds. Thanks, Shark.”
“You heard the man. come reap the rewards of your own handout. One call, that’s all.”
Thanks for your patience, Gang. Thanksgiving was truly good to me today. Working with my great nephew in basketball, playing games with the rest of the kids, being with my mom and dad and several nieces and nephews, while enjoying my sister’s cooking and watching Thanksgiving football just gave me several more reasons to be thankful. I hope you can say the same.
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.
Drinking my Maxwell House one day, puttin’ the vinyl “Double Fantasy” on the turntable
People say it’s silly
Lost and confused
TWIMers think it’s messy
Blowing my fuse
When Chet exclaims with a straight beard
That Dumbo’s not around
I flip a coin between Gil and Chet
For who’s the bigger clown
I’m just sittin’ here watchin’ this plot spin ’round ‘n’ ’round
I really loathe this cruddy show
May we depart this hopeless merry-go-round
We just got to let it go
Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer
“Bruce Wayne Is Removed As A Suspect In Batman Case!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“Milford Transportation Board spokesman said that Batmobile required a B License Endorsement, something not presently in Mr. Wayne’s possession.”
Okay, let me first throw my hat in the ring on the legitimate comments by our TWIMers in relation to education and the newspapers.
It has been my experience that the bigger cities (100,000 or more) are able to sustain a newspaper with its own education reporter. My own city I grew up in, which was in the category I mentioned above, has had for several years and currently has a beat writer covering the news pertaining to schools in the area.
The problem I personally am encountering here is, based on my experiences with reading Gil Thorp (“More fun than a barrel of monkeys”) , Milford is about the size of, say, Vincennes, Indiana or Henderson, Kentucky, 2 cities able to sustain a Wal-Mart and possibly a Kohl’s or Home Depot but still only capable of supporting one public high school and occasionally, as in Vincennes’ case, a private high school, Rivet (Rih-VAY), a Catholic High School.
Therefore, it’s dicey whether the Small Town Gazette is going to carry it’s own education section or have the financial resources to support a reporter in a specialized field like education. Anything’s possible but again too dicey for me.
But this is Thorpiverse and anytime you can get a beat writer like Niah Peters in this case to sit on the upper left-hand drawer when it’s locked shut and discuss with “We’re unclear whether she’s the de facto editor” Ducey about the rhino that escaped Milford Petting Zoo, the logic I mentioned above might as well get thrown in the big pot at Milford High School cafeteria along with the other ingredients in the 12 cans of Campbell’s Chunky Vegetable. Use a spoon, you’ll want to get every drop.
And WHO ELSE do you go to if you suspect a problem? I always thought that’s what School Board meetings are for. If there’s a strong suspicion (and this one’s arm pits are smellin’ PRETTY STRONG) that someone’s not on the up-and-up, what else CAN YOU DO? If the rhino is not in the petting area with the rest of the lambs and goats to feed a bottle of formula, do you go to Bozo the Pope and tell him a rhino is NOT in the room with the elephant? I always thought that’s what a zoo director is for. But let me cross-reference my sources. I’ll get back with you on that one.
Then there’s Janis Ian talking to someone with a neo-Jefferson Airplane hairdo-OH THAT’S MARJIE “SCOOP” DUCEY-about the possible repercussions should they challenge Chet to a toro fight at Milford Municipal Bull Ring. I think the gist of the conversation is that el toreador would be flattened by Big Butt Ballard, beard and all, should they go the procedural route. Okay, okay, I know some of you hoity-toitys out there think they shouldn’t ignore protocol and you might have a point.
But I gotta be fair about this and I am therefore enlisting the aid of Dragnet once again to see if we can resolve this one.
1:29PM. It was cool in Milford. The city had just been hit with snow flurries that tapered off right in line with our investigation. Bill and I were transferered over to the Recreational and Athletic Suspicious and Unwarranted Activity Division of the Juvenile Delinquent Department. The boss is Captain Peters.
We were advised to be on the alert for occurences at the Milford football games in relation to a one Chet Ballard. He was believed to be harboring dirty laundry and illegal records pertaining to one of his stepson’s teammates, Chance Macy. Witnesses said they saw him loading that stuff with a spade shovel in his trunk. We could nail him on Milford Penal Code Section 34 Article 9 Clause 103 “Illegal and Unlawful Work-Related Incidents with Intent to Self-Promote Family and Self, Including Domesticated Animals in Household” but without a search warrant, the only other way we could get him to open his trunk and display the spare records and spare tire was if he lost his key and asked me and Bill for a crowbar. The investigation was running colder than a Bucket Slushee.
Captain Peters suggested I talk to the School Superintendent. A fair proposition. One problem. While conversing with him and Gil down at the Milford Lounge, he informed me (the superintendent, not Gil) that this was out of his bailiwick. His job was to make sure the cafeteria ladies at Milford High had plenty of Handi-Wipes when handling the cheeseburgers so kids wouldn’t contract E. Coli or procure slaughterballs for gym class at Milford Elementary out of the catalogue of Classroom Paraphenalia. Fighting a guy whose razor had seen better days and was now shaving cow hairs for better milk production was not his cup of tea or the flask of Jack he was imbibing. The superintendent wasn’t going to get his retirement doing the right thing even if a sleazeball knew how to work the system the way he maneuvered his Trac II.
“Bill, let’s go get something to eat.”
“What about the case?”
“Hopeless. I could run him out of town on a Section 97 “Unwarranted and Illegal Entry into Public Building” but he could say he was in the Milford School Corporation Annex because his diarrhea medicine was kicking in and the Milford Park Public Unisex House was shut down for the season.”
“Back to square one, aren’t we?”
“Looks that way.”
“I heard the Superintendent tips pretty good at Milford Lounge, I’ll say that for him.”
“We could use some tips from him, all right”
Obligatory somber Dragnet music pipes in
Yesterday’s headline in the Milford Enquirer
“O.J. Cleared In Batman Case!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“I asked the judge if he could see me in my blue Fruit of the Loom’s fightin’ The Riddler. I think that was the turning point.”
People say it’s stupid
Lacking a clue
TWIMers call it tepid
Ridiculous too
When the hippo dances with the crocs
And crush the furniture
Because nobody bothers to duly note
Chet’s self-imprimatur
We’re just sittin’ here watchin’ this plot drag ’round ‘n’ ’round
We’re gettin’ dizzy from all the snow
No need to further prod this merry-go-round
Why don’t we let it go.
THE HAND IS BACK
You Dark Shadows junkies like yours truly know exactly what I’m talking about.
And what a bad time for it to return, participating in a meaningless and pointless discussion that really shouldn’t be on the agenda in the first place. Heck, send The Hand to scare the living daylights out of Chet like it did us Shadows junkies, otherwise, it might as well be doing Karaoke in P2
At 2:34 A.M. in Chet’s bedroom
“You were always on my minddddddddd-”
AAAAAAAAAAAAAA, GIL, I KNOW IT’S LATE BUT I CONFESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I POCKMARKED CHANCE MACY’S TRANSCRIPTS SO CHARLIE COULD START AT RUNNING BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE REALLY DIDN’T FLUNK ‘METALS FOR LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENTS’ OR ‘ADVANCE LATIN’!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUST GET IT AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Who was that?”
Gil half-asleep
“I think it was Chet. Something about Chance not getting a D- in Geometry 2 because some hand was grabbing his butt and giving him a wedgie.”
Well, if anybody has a better suggestion…
Otherwise, we can always call The Orkin Man as long as we’re going to eliminate valid options. The School Board room is going to look silly because it has personnel either on the School Board or in the Administration Building not willing to observe proper practices because it’s overthinking and overlooking the obvious, along with our cub reporters, but the room will be roach-free. I think that’s an even trade-off.
And as for P3, Mr. Lennon proves a song is worth a thousand words
People say it’s cheesy
Got bad reviews
TWIMers hate the premise
Yesterday’s news
When we fear a gutless myrmidon
With scruples in his beard
School Board regulations
Go the way of a rabic steer
We’re just sittin’ here watchin’ this tripe fling ’round ‘n’ ’round
We really hate the rigamarole
Why don’t we cease and switch to basketball
We just have to let it roll
WE JUST HAVE TOOOOOOOOOOO LET IT ROLL
Got message?
Because I’m a Classic Rock fan who saw Hard Rock in an ad but learned that they were referring to a man’s Erectile Dysfunction and the healing powers thereof
In the basement den late one night, the door double-locked, Coach Shaw blasting The Who
“Honnneeeeyyyyyyy, My ears are scorched and so are my flashes. It’s time to come to beddy bye and have some funnnnnnnnnnn.”
“Honey, What are you breaking? I hope it’s not the Chippendale chair that belonged to my grandfather.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Shaw, I have a vise grip that’s holding all these light bulbs I bought at McShane’s Hardware. I’m pretendin’ I’m Pete Townshend and I’m doing a killer windmill with this ukulele, when I’m not smashing it to bits…
LONG LIVE ROCK, I NEED IT EVERY NIGHT
LONG LIVE ROCK
BE DEAD OR ALIVE
“Darling, we can do ‘Live at Leeds’ another time. Why don’t you Rock ‘n’ Roll with me?”
“Just when Won’t Get Fooled Again’ s on the turntable? How can you profane a classic like Who’s Next? Heck, I’m doing the part where Keith’s taking a leak at Stonehenge or wherever they hauled that rock from.”
I’LL TIP MY HAT TO THE NEW CONSTITUTION
TAKE A BOW FOR THE NEW REVOLUTION
SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Them GE 100-Watt Heat Lamp bulbs will never know what hit ’em with me and Pete smashin’ ’em like overripe pumpkins. Ain’t that the name of a group?”
“Overripe Pumpkins?”
“I thought it was Smashing Cantaloupes”
“Dear, at any rate, at least Loony Moonie dropped his pants on the album cover.”
SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Excusez-moi, Mrs. Shaw, but Roger and me just conked out a lava lamp while twirling our mikes. We’ll clean up the mess later.”
WHY SHOULD I CARE IF I HAVE TO
CUT MY HAIR
I’VE GOT TO MOVE WITH THE FASHION
OR BE OUTCAST
I KNOW I SHOULD FIGHT BUT MY OLD MAN
IS REALLY ALL RIGHT
AND I’M STILL LIVING AT HOME EVEN THO
IT WON’T LAST
“Honey, you won’t be living at home much longer either if you don’t perform a windmill on me.”
SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Just when Quadrophenia is heating up!!!!!!!!!!! And I got some Gorilla-Gro that I applied on my chest so I can have a sexy front like Roger. King Kong twirling a mike to The Punk and The Godfather will drive even the teeny-boppers for Frankie wild. And damn, I thought the Overture would never end. Kinda like the game the other day.”
IF YOU COMPLAIN, YOU DISAPPEAR
JUST LIKE THE LESBIANS AND QUEERS
Coach Shaw blowing on song flute in a well-intentioned attempt to imitate Entwistle’s French horn interlude
YOU’LL START DANCING
SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Shit!!!!!!!!!!!!! I smashed my trophy case!!!!!!! Hope the antlers are OK!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“I had to learn the meaning of Hard Rock the hard way. And when my Significant Other was lamer than a dead snake in our back yard, no matter how many windmills I did, I knew it was time to come clean and get my butt down to Milford Men’s Clinic. With proven traetments and proper medication, I can now whip myself in a frenzy from Baba O’Riley and my wife is caught up in the whirlwind and lovin’ it. Isn’t it time you and Pete laid down your guitar and checked in? Your concerts will truly be hard as Rock. Only at The Clinic.”
Gang, thank you SO MUCH for your patience. Trying to work this blog in while juggling my new job is a challenge but as Coach Stuard taught me, you learn to get around it. I am thankful for loyal and patient readers like you TWIMers. God bless you all.
“IbelieveinMIRACLES
Where you from
You sexy thing-”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
“Gil, did you forget to go to The Clinic again???”
Turns off Hitachi Sound System in his office
“They were closed for the holiday.”
Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer
“Coach Shaw Banned For Life From Milford Holiday Inn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“Local resident drove the family station wagon into the swimming pool.”
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!!!!!!”
“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?????????”
Well, I’m glad that’s settled. Ed is neither the express nor implied racist we suspected him to be (or, at least, he’s not gonna cop to that). Neither is he really that concerned about Jaquan’s post-NBA career. He just wanted baby girl to come home and join/take over his practice. I mean, why should the Foley Law Group beat him to the punch? With that, Ed V. Baxendale joins the pantheon of Milford parents living vicariously through the lives of their children (if not outright preordaining their career paths via their names).
Kinda funny we haven’t seen Gil in the strip for a couple of weeks. Hope he’s watching more of Joe Bolek’s game film. He’d better keep Hadley on speed dial for the next time he needs to intimidate the lawyerless school board, or game the system to recruit outside talent.
“We’ll have none of that fancy Latin talk around here. Leave that for those St. Fabian’s kids. Besides, I heard enough of that in law school. I said ‘no charge’ and I meant ‘no charge.’ I’ll even throw in my mom’s face to sweeten the deal.”
“Now let’s get to tweakin’.”
“Uh, Ms. Baxendale? You’ve got the wrong strip. Tweaking is more of a Santa Royale thing.”
“I don’t think so. We’re trying to get you to stay in Milford, right? In an apartment?”
“Uh, yeah, but you might have us confused with the Aagards.”
“Hmmm. Jaquan, dear, don’t we have some weight training to do?”
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