Today, Marty “Scoop” Moon. Tomorrow, Rush Limbaugh And Allen Colmes!!!!!!!!!!!

Marty, I wouldn’t be showing my face ANYWHERE, let alone on your radio show. Anything you’re doing now is licking the table scraps of meat loaf and mashed potatoes off your Broyhill King Louis XIV collection, a table you more than likely hocked from Versailles Palace when the French Revolution was taking a potty break. Of course, you do that anyway but at least in times past you used plastic silverware. Don’t forget to send your table cloth to the dry cleaners when you’re done licking.

Honestly, Patton was right: “I never admired a man who lost and laughed.”

So why are we digging for more roaches when there’s plenty scurrying around in Moon’s booth and beyond but then roaches and Marty are pretty synonymous with each other. Yeah, I guess that’s only logical. Roaches of a feather flock together. Who better than roaches to dig up more garbage out of the roaches garbage can and broadcast that garbage on the GBN (Garbage Broadcasting Network-I don’t think one of their sponsors is Raid) ? Go ahead, King of the Roaches, keep scooping after you’ve been scooped. That’ll make up for lost time for sure. By the time you’re done, the EPA ought to be in on this cesspool. Scoop, you are King in your court. BTW, you might want to spray your throne with D-Con again, I saw a couple scurrying on the arm rest.

I mean, really, what more do we need to know NOW since the cat is pretty much out of the bag? We know that The Man Who Billboarded Too Much is a malcontent who never heard of School Board meetings and would rather go the Your Ad Here route, able to finance it from his World’s Finest Chocolate sales (Lord, the number of doors he must have knocked on) , changes his name once again to Robb, like we really like keeping track of all his sobriquets or even have the time in that regard (God, which one does he use to endorse checks he’s going to cash?) , trying to get Gil fired. Take a number, Robberto.

Scoop, we’ve done read about the Watergate break-in. No sense in interviewing Ehrlichman and Haldeman on WDIG  to see if they’re going to wiretap Dr. Pearl’s teleconferences with the New Thayer and Oakwood principals. But I wouldn’t put it past you to try. Roaches are like that. Cut your losses, Archy, and I don’t mean the one whose friends with Jughead.

Okay, you whippersnappers, the group is Procol Harum and the tune is “Conquistador”. Gil had him over for dinner to relive old times. Marty, don’t try to scoop this. Call Orkin and do some extra spraying in your booth.

 

Conquistador, your team is bad

In need of some recruits

The situation’s all bogged down

Better wipe those muddy boots

 

A forward is a name you use

On your mail, not basketball

And a center just plays catch

After gulping Adderall

 

And though we hope for

Action to find

We can see no

Movement in kind

 

Though we hope for

Plays to unwind

We can see noooooo

Motion in mind

 

The Milford Symphony Orchestra and Procol Harum making a great team on the interlude. Is there a message here, Gil and Kaz?

 

Conquistador, a vulture sits

On your bench with the subs

Waiting for this plot to rot

Grind it to little nubs

 

Peyton Place is wearing thin

Basketball scurried out of town

Practice now is all that’s left

Waiting for the ref to count

 

And though we hope for

Action to find

We can see no

Rebounds to time

 

Though we hope for

Dunks through the twine

We can see nooooooo

Dishin’ the dimes

 

Coach Shaw and his jazz guitar trying to keep up with Robin Trower on the guitar solo. I think the hare will beat the tortoise this time.

 

Conquistador, there is no tale

We’d love to give respect

Though we entered the gym so proud

We leave now with regret

 

I see your armor-plated hair

Has long since lost its sheen

And though you came with whistle held high

You did not sizzle

Only fry

 

And though we hoped for

Action to find

We just saw no

Movement in kind

 

Though we hoped for

Any ghost of a sign

We just saw nooooooooo

Basketball Times

Robb ending with the trumpet flourish, only getting pelted with tomatoes for his squeegie on Gil while Procol Harum get a well-deserved round of applause along with the Milford Symphony Orchestra. Actions have consequences, Howry.

 

And this Conquistador, to no one’s surprise, isn’t doing a great job of convincing Los Guerreros that the 10 million Francescos on the other side of Les Montaignes Pyrennes are wussies who get dropped off at the day-care center by their mothers, Mama’s boys to the nth degree. Mis hombres, you’ll just need your BB guns this time. We oughta be able to clean house and kick some tail within the time McDonald’s stops serving breakfast. Pack Lightly. Not to worry, Gunnery Sergeant Highway took the Alps while Rambo and his gumbahs routed Neuschwanstein. We’re covered.

While we’re still agape observing Seneca struggling to persuade the plebians that Augustus Caesar’s centurions are not going to raid your fridges and will leave 10% of foodstuffs you stored for the winter as compensation for all the virgins that are no longer virgins, isn’t it time Thorpiverse refreshes our memory on what a basketball court looks like? Stopping short at the locker room, out of apparent efforts to appease our preference of basketball games actually being played vs. Falcon Crest, really isn’t cutting it. When I find myself wishing for Dickie V’s glossary of Diaper Dandies, Dunkeroos, Slam-Bam-Jam, Cupcake City because Dark Shadows has run its course, you know eventually the basketball-starved are going to revolt. For they march out to Bastille Day, like the group Rush used to sing.

It’s like the used car salesman talking about the Rolls Royce (Sorry, Dickie V, i forgot to add in Rolls Royce Programs) with 200,000 miles on it by showing his son’s Tonka Truck collection.

“Now if you’ll ignore the crane, the emergency brakes are on the left. We replaced the brake shoes so the toy truck and the Royce shouldn’t roll down the mountain again. And these brake pads are not cheap K-Mart Blue Light specials. We went to Pep Boys this time (“People like us, Tonkas LOVE us”) .

And it’s bad enough that we’re in the locker room. Players getting dejected, especially after a winnable game is understandable (Trust me, being a high school booster and coach forever, I UNDERSTAND) but is it too much to ask Thorpiverse to sow WHY they’re dejected? For all we know, they kicked the shit out of Jefferson but just got informed by their traveling (only in Thorpiverse is previous word used as a non-basketball word) academic counselor that they have to write a 1000-word essay on “How I enjoyed basketball over Christmas Break”, double-spaced, 4 inches from the left margin, due tomorrow. I’d be bummed too if I did a poster job on somebody, then just discovered that they moved my SAT exam up to midnight tonight. Are those #2 pencils still in my locker, next to my soap dish?

I repeat, Thorpiverse, a funeral advertisement in the middle of the strip to sponsor “Another World” is just kidding yourself. We’re not seeing rebounds but burial expenses, we’re not seeing free throws made but the organ playing “Funeral March” by Chopin, we’re not seeing assists nor steals but the preacher saying the basketball plot did not die in vain but is in a better place. Yeah, stick the fouls and turnovers into the jar of ashes and dump it all out into Mudlark Lake from Kaz’s Evinrude.

One final rendering on this topic. Remember when Deacon Jones sold the Dairy Queen “More Burger than Bun” concept?

“When I want a burger, I’ll go to Dairy Queen. And when I want bread, I’ll go TO A BAKERY.”

So here we go, Deacon Jones kind enough to do another promo with some alterations

“When I want basketball, I’ll turn the remote on my Magnavox to ESPN for North-Carolina-Duke, Kentucky-Louisville, UCLA-Arizona, Indiana-Purdue and so on. And when I want soap, I’ll go BUY SOME LIFEBUOY!!!!!!!!!”

I’ll put some Irish Spring in your stocking, Deacon, no problem.

 

“We’ll take a commercial break. I’m talking with H.R. Haldeman about how he broke into Gil’s office and planted Milford DeLuxe Smut under his playbook so that people might take him for Pee Wee Herman and get Gil fired. We’ll have more after this. Don’t go away.”

“Hi, I’m Marty Moon. Y’know, battling to not get outscooped by the Milford Elementary 8th grade newspaper can sap your energy. That’s why Kellogg’s Raisin Bran uses 2 scoops in every box. That and a tall boy of Michelob Dark and I get my second wind, interviewing the School Bully before the punk kid reporter gets out of gym class. Don’t get outscooped by Lucky Charms. Plenty of green clovers and yellow hearts but no raisins. Start your day off right with Kellogg’s Raisin Bran.”

 

Then there’s that painting in P1 where it appears Patrick Henry is orating his “Give me Basketball or give me Death!!!!!!!’ speech while our forefathers are sitting on the bench, gettin’ pumped for the game. Is that Benjamin Franklin with the cane in his Nikes? Aw, shucks, I forgot, he’s injured. Too much carousing in France might get the Northwest Territory but it’s Hell on the ACL. And I swear, Charles Pinckney displays the ugliest-looking jock strap. Put your shorts back on, Pinckney, there are ladies present. Plus the delegation from Belgium is due to show in the 3rd quarter. After the game, couldn’t you imagine Elbridge Gerry coming out of the shower with just a towel and a blow dryer? Ids that where we get Gerrymandering from, i.e., a path leading from the shower head to your locker, hoping Daffy Duck isn’t snooping for a story? Talk about rewriting history.

 

At Independence Hall in Philadelphia, Joe Tourist scoping the art

“Who’s that man that looks like Engelbert Humperdinck and why is he shaking hands with Thomas Jefferson? Was he the one who did the Louisiana Purchase?”

 

Last, but CERTAINLY not least, is P3. Marty, it’s bad enough that Peter Brady outscooped your ass on Mr. Price’s sexual advances towards Alice the maid but when you’re interviewing some kid barely out of high school, attempting to extract a tell-all tabloid in the name of getting Gil fired, that’s plain sad. I’ve already lectured y’all on the School Board route so let me cut through the Bucket Crunchy Frog Shake and say you could pull John Q. Public off the streets of Milford, stow him in a communist debriefing room next to Ms. Rizk’s room on the second floor, and in 3 weeks get him to say Gil should be fired because he hasn’t changed his Jockey Brand underwear in 6 months. Boy, I’d like to see the contingent rally ’round the flagpole on that one wouldn’t you?

Why don’t we just go to the Milford Correctional Facility and give Otis the Drunk a police escort to your studio, splash him with Old Spice Beer Breath Fighting After Shave so he doesn’t stink up your studio, literally and figuratively, and let him slosh for 2 hours how Gil couldn’t walk the straight line when the Milford Police pull him over when designing a matchup zone? He really isn’t  qualified to speak on Gil’s coaching any more than The Great Schnozzola we’re seeing now in the studio and that’s the point. Don’t have them in the same booth at The Bucket. As Jimmy Durante a/k/a The Original Great Schnozzola Who’s Too Busy Entertaining To Launch Billboard Campaigns would say “Dat’s moral turpentine!!!!!!!!”

 

“We’ll be right back after these messages. I’m talking with  Count Chocula about his feelings towards Gil. I agree, Count, Gil’s coaching is worse than Boo-Berry swirling in sour 2% milk. This is WDIG. Don’t go away.”

 

“Hi, this Coach Thorp for Milford Beverage Warehouse. Has post-Christmas party blues got you down? Stuck with that bowl of Stove Top Stuffing in your fridge in your office and nothing to imbibe? Well, shoot, I have the answer. If you’ll return any of the leftover office party grub to Milford Beverage Warehouse, we’ll give you a voucher good on your next purchase of Drewry’s Lite or Budweiser 1893 Original Formula, both in 12-packs. No sense in leaving that Papa John’s Pepperoni Pizza that’s been in your purse for 10 days when you can sanitize the damn thing and purchase a slice of The Good Life. Goodness, makes me want to return that 1/4 block of Cracker Barrel Provolone Cheese I left in the den. Come on, admit it, you stole that 24-pack of Mudlar-K-Cola Root Beer & Horse Radish right from under your boss’s nose but if you return it to the Warehouse, no warrants will be issued and, shoot, The Warehouse will throw in a free can of Milford Vending Beer Nuts. That and a Bud to wash it down? Time to come clean on that pound of Amish potato salad you’re letting vegetate out in your garage.

But hurry, this deal won’t last long. The deal ends by the end of January and if you want your resume clear of any trivial wrongdoing, ya gotta act now. Come on, Grandma, bring in that fruit cake you shoplifted from Milford Bakery back in ’63 because you were hungry at Yuletide and the Bud Man will call it even. Sounds like a winner. Milford Beverage Warehouse. We’re changing Milford’s perception on exchanging gifts, one customer at a time.”

 

Gang, comment away. Some of you have already and I really appreciate it. You make Democracy work. in the interim, I’m going to Milford Beverage Warehouse to see if I can exchange my Pay-Day collection for some Bourbon. Doesn’t hurt to ask.

 

“And we’ll be back after this. I’m interviewing The Invisible Man and you’re right, Gil’s coaching is invisible. This is WDIG. Don’t go away.

 

“Hi, I’m Marty Moon. Even if I got outscooped by Pogo Possum from the Okefenokee Daily Swamp over Gil’s getting attacked by Albert Alligator while he was fly-fishing, there’s a scoop ready for me at Milford Ice Cream & Dream Shoppe. A double-dip scoop of Rocky Road will help erase the memory of Churchy Lafemme getting that exclusive on Kaz’s catfish battles. And a single scoop of Neopolitan hits the spot when you’re competing with Howland Owl for that story on Beauregard Bugleboy’s sex change. Then there’s the banana splits. You don’t need scoops for that one, thank God, or my boss would give me a permanent suspension. Wouldn’t have to worry about using profanity on the air anymore, dammit. Oops, darnit, sorry, read the script wrong. Anyway, come to Milford Ice Cream and Dream Shoppe, where getting scooped is tasty and won’t lose your job.”

 

From a story about a police officer who’s a mother and pulled over her son who was speeding, gave him a ticket and kissed him

 

Joe Friday and Bill Gannon catch Joe Friday Jr. trying to steal Gil’s stuff out of his house. Joe Jr. is in Gil’s driveway, trying to close the trunk  of his Vega on the wide screen TV he is hocking, plus miscellaneous trophies in the back seat

“Police!!!!!!!!! Freeze!!!!!!!!!!”

Joe Sr. approaches Joe Jr., the latter with his hands to the sky, and kisses him square on the cheek.

“Awwwwwwwwrriggghtttt, Gannon, read him his rights, then book him on a Section 56, Article 12 of the Milford Police Code, ‘Attempt To Steal Merchandise From a Public Official During Half Time’.”

 

 

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We’re Sorry, Marty Is On Assignment At K-Mart During The Frost/Nixon Proceedings

Gee whillikers, Archie Andrews, MARTY RETURNS!!!!!!!!!! Gang, speaking of Archie, how long do you think Archie & the Gang would last as a Double Issue if Jughead Jones went to Milford Rehab Center for his hamburger addiction and was sentenced by the Rehab Center Commission to their retreat house out somewhere in the boonies whose property  borders the property line of the Milford Nature Area? I’m not expecting Jughead back anytime soon if he’s ordered a strict diet of milkweed salad and soy milk.

Or if Moose Mason got sent to the pen because he found out Reggie went all the way with Midge this time, in the back seat of Reggie’s T-Bird no less and got pummeled to death, let me repeat that, LITERALLY got pummeled to death. Yup, Reggie had fun, fun, fun ’til Moose took his one life away. Okay, Beach boys had better lyrics but I’m trying to make a point, c’mon.

Speaking of lyrics, if you’re wondering where Jimi Hendrix got some of his own tunesmithing

“Heeeeeeyyyyyyy, Moose

Where you goin’ with that gun in your hand

Heyyyyyyyyyyyy, Moose

Where you goin’ with that gun in your hand

 

I’m goin’ down to shoot Midge, my old lady

Y’know I caught her messin’ ’round with Reg again

etc. etc. etc.

 

And we might NEVER see Jughead or Moose again and, if so, the Archie Comix Collection is going to cause the Dow to plunge, not to mention severely cripple sales at these Comic Conventions.

BUT MARTY???????? Welcome him and The Prodigal Son back to the fold. Kill the fatted calf and reopen the Milford Lounge, doesn’t matter which one you do first, one will be a snake who becames a lamb while the other will be also be a snake but turn into a lizard. I’ll let you decide who is who but I’ve never known lizards to have a taste for ground round steaks.

And what a way for Marty to make his grandiose return to the fellowship BY BEING OUTSCOOPED by The Daily Planet!!!!!!!! Marty, how in the world could you have not known that Superman had to call an ambulance because he had a severe case of the runs due to an overdose of kryptonite? You didn’t notice the wagon flying by your house? Welcome back, Kotter, even if Jimmy Olson done bunked your ass.

And for that matter, aren’t you all at least a little shocked that the station manager at WDIG isn’t tearing a new butthole into Moon? (Smacks head) Shit, I forgot, Thorpiverse is trying to keep things on the level and maintain a Christian Family Atmosphere that is Gil Thorp. C’mon, gang, you remember when you were kids and you went to the Milford Lounge, they had a FAMILY ROOM. Well, they didn’t want you on a bar stool sitting next to Otis the Drunk slobbering all over himself. Foster Brooks not covering his mouth after downing a Heineken? Where’s your manners, Foster? THEREFORE punishing profanity trumps the nature of the beast of Journalism. Share that greasy cheeseburger with your kid sister while there’s an orgy next door. It doesn’t matter if Linda Lovelace and Raquel Welch are bare-chested and performing questionable acts with members of the opposite sex, as long as it’s on the other side of the Mason-Dixon Line, we’ll keep coming to Milford Lounge for supper.

Can’t you see the station manager in a Father Knows Best heart-to-heart talk with Marty?

“If cub reporter, Peter Brady, writes an expose on WW III, well, Marty (slap on the wrist) , do better next time and fight to get to Omar Bradley’s office sooner even if it means slipping a 20, 5 times his allowance, or stuffing firecrackers down his pants

but GODDAMMIT, Moon, watch your language when broadcasting the Mudlarks!!!!!!!!!!”

“Yes, Father.”

 

“General Custer, were you aware that 1,000,000 Indians are lying in ambush behind that hill?”

SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Hey, watch your language!!!!!!!!!! You’re on the air!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

There’s a rumor that Marty got outscooped by the Milford Star at Little Big Horn because he was interviewing Mimi Thorp on the possible rule change allowing 5 seconds in the lane.  Just a rumor, I understand.

 

 

Shout-out to Rebecca Arnold of Louisville, Kentucky, for her courage to overcome many obstacles while in a wheelchair. Gang, she gets out and about and today she was enrolling in a class to make her a better person. Good for her. Gang, she is proving that she is always learning. That is what life is all about. She has a firm grasp on that. Keep plugging away, Rebecca. You have my admiration and respect.

 

Wait a minute, don’t tell me. Richard Milhouse Nixon has a great-great-great grandson who is carrying the torch for his great-great-great-papaw. Robbin’ Robert is taking a cue from Tricky Dick on how to sabotage Gil and still stay above board. Why not? Nixon almost pulled it off.

So in the next few days, or weeks (oh God) , we  will experience a tell-all story on a scale measuring up to but perhaps not quite Watergate.

Go ahead, Robbin’ Robert, tell I’m-just-here-because-Marty’s-covering-after-Holiday-returns-at-Wal-Mart all about your break-ins in all the sections of town.Why stop at billboards? Confess that you broke into Gil’s office and stole his recorded conversations on Dial-a-Slut and you were going to blackmail him later on. Better yet, HANG ON to those tapes and build up the drama, citing Equipment Manager’s privilege the way Nixon cited Executive privilege when he refused to hand in his own tapes. For all we know, those tapes may be something other than Gil’s lewd comments to some grad student on the other end trying to pay the bills for her Masters in Psychology by feeding Gil’s ego.

“Woman, I’d really love to sink my wim wim into your Grand Canyon and climb onto your boobs and-YOUR CHEATIN’ HEEEEARRRRRRRRTTTT, WILL MAKE YOU WEARYYYYYYYYYYYY, YOUR CHEATIN’ HEARRRRRRRRRRTTTTT, WILL TELL ON YOUUUUUUUUUUUUU”

Why be satisfied with Gil’s office? Bust into Dr. Pearl’s office and find out what she said on the Astrology Line. One can imagine (“I’m a Capricorn. Are they up for Administrator of the Year? I can retire early and not have to put up with Gil calling me at 1:30 AM, talking about my boobs. Doesn’t Gil get enough from Mimi’s water balloons? Tell me, O Great Gazoo”) .

Hell, bust into The Bucket after hours. Just grab a sizeable stone and chip away at the lock on the door, then break in and get all the recipes and trade secrets. A typical reaction might include

“They obtain banana split ice cream from goats in the Kashmir region?”

“Bucket Cheeseburgers are made from exported kangaroo meat out of Northern Territory, Australia? Straight from Darwin to Milford via Easter Island?”

“Bell hops are supposed to be virgins and are docked an hour’s pay for every child out of wedlock?”

“Mimi rejected The Bucket owner’s advances when she was a teenager working as a bell hop and got transferred to the Large Pots and Corningware Department where her duties were scrubbing the large pots and pans with Beetle Bailey and Zero, out of retaliation from the owner? Couldn’t have been all bad, Mimi bought some plastic teeth from Milford Novelty and affectionately posed with Zero in a group photo along with Beetle before she went on to College.”

“The French fries are really llama’s entrails from the Atacama region of South America?”

“Crunchy chocolate frogs are made from real frog bones?” Whoopsy daisy, Robbin’
Robert, you’ve stepped into Monty Python territory. Better get out of the labyrinth before the Minotaur comes to call.

 

With help from an anonymous friend who supplied the ideas and kept eggin’ it on, the one about people hocking merchandise at Christmas parties, a taste of which I gave you last week,

A more realistic scenario would go like this

‘MOON!!!!!!!!!!! You get outscooped by the Daily Blab one more time over Little Lotta failing her urine test for heroin at school again and it’ll be the last time cuz you’ll be out of a job. And where’s that divorce report over Richie Rich and Little Dot? I understand she wanted Rich’s gold-plated swimming pool in the shape of a dot. Says she has a hunkering for anything round. Eats hamburgers with Jughead because hamburgers are not shaped like trapezoids or rhombuses or ovids but DOTS!!!!!!!! Even her toilet paper is dot-shaped. Wipes her ass all the time with it. Charmin is comin’ out with a new product line as a result.”

“Crap, I left it in the trunk.”

“Your job will be in the trunk if that happens again!!!!!!!!!!! Now here’s your chance to make me happy. Seems that Howry is amassing a chemical dump behind Milford Foundry and trying to put the finger on Gil. A source was in a tree watching Howry finger-paint with toxic chemicals ‘Gil was here’. C’mon, less chatter, more matter!!!!!!!!!!”

“On it, Chief.”

“And don’t call me Chief!!!!!!!!!!!”

Marty looks through his desk drawers for his steno pad, opening his big drawer first which is crammed with 3-Liter Diet Mudlar-K-Cola bottles from the ‘DIG Christmas party. Ditto the cotto salami block, half-eaten, slightly moldy. He searches the smaller drawer above the biggie. Nothing but a Tupperware flat bowl of cole slaw, some mac and cheese in a paper cereal bowl, and a few Slim Jims, Jalapeno and Sea Salt, bent to accommodate the shape of the drawer. Oh, and 1,354,578 Smarties. Marty prays some kid will never come snooping and open the drawer and get deluged with Smarties and drown or the Slim Jim snake springs up out of nowhere and attacks the kid. Wouldn’t that be a lawsuit for The Shark to handle.

He then turns to his middle drawer. What a smorgasbord. Between erasers and paper clips and his yearbook photo he clipped out of the Milford HS yearbook, held for posterity at the Milford Library Archives section because he lost his own, are 2-for-1 Lays Potato Chip mini-bags, ranging from Bar-B-Q to Sour Cream to Poplar-Tree-Behind-Gil’s-Office-Smoked, 124 10-packs of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, 3-day-old pasta salad with turnips and Amish potato salad, reduced fat. Marty is about to indulge in one of the Snickers Fire-Roasted Peanuts Candy Bar when he feels a wedgie in his butt.

He yanks out his steno pad while eating Kellogg’s Special K Prune Formula that fell out of Fibber McGee’s closet and they both consequently share, using separate bowls of course. BTW, Fibber pours 2% while Marty has a hunkering for Milford Dairies White Chocolate Reduced Flavor. Different strokes for different folks.

A shout-out goes to Lakena (la-KEEN-a) Kraft of Louisville, Kentucky. Lakena, you have an infectious smile and I can tell you have the joy of the Lord. I thank you for encouraging my warped sense of humor. You helped set the stage today with your enthusiasm and that’s the way you approach life and SHOULD approach life. Geting up early to face the day tells me you are taking the tiger by the tail. It’s how things get done. They need ya in Heaven.

 

And does ANYBODY notice the pile Gil is throwing the today’s Milford Star on? It could be scouting reports OR it could be MORE newspapers? What if I’m right? The Milford Star and the Milford Enquirer has been getting the lowdown on Gil’s coaching career, or for that matter, HIS LIFE, once a week or EVERY DAY?????? I’m curious what the headlines would read that he’s been so nonchalantly tossing to the wind.

“Thorp Cleared In Sexual Harassment Suit With Dr. Pearl!!!!!!!!!”

“Gil Spots A UFO While Taking A Potty Break In Outhouse At Mudlark Lake!!!!!!!!!”

“Gil Said He Bitch-Slapped Chitwood Only Once!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Gil And Basketball Referee Break It Off After Suspicions Are Aroused!!!!!!!!!!!!”\

“The Bucket Denies Half A Roach Was Found In Gil’s Bucket PB & J!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Then there’s the medical term Gil and the rest of Thorpiverse is trying to throw at us, hoping we’ll genuflect in awe. Having a medical doctor in the family, this writer is not easily swayed.

“So Gil, do you think Howry has dopamin stored in his garage?”

“No, he sold that at a yard sale last Saturday. I heard he was trying to get Filion high on epiniphrine. You snort it like a cocaine pipe. You need a week’s supply of Scope to wash out your mouth.”

“Yeah, but I heard he swallowed a bottle of Triavil so he could float and finish his Robby Report on the billboard.”

“If he did, his side effects were nasty. You wind up farting nitroglycerine all over the road.”

“I heard differently. Moon told me he was OD’ing from Underoos.”

“No way. That’s what he was wearing.”

 

Gang, comment away. I’m going to try to get Howry down. Maybe if I can harpoon his Underoos…

 

Dr. Pearl in a Parent-Teacher Conference

“I can proudly say that your Calvin is Harvard material. Why, here’s his board scores right here” as she hands the parents the Tupperware of celery and carrots w/ spinach dip to pore over that she retrieved out of the file cabinet.

 

At The Bucket, The Inspector and the owner have a war of words

“You’re going to have to take the bones out of your Bucket Crunchy Frog Shake.”

“If we took out the bones, it wouldn’t be crunchy now, would it?”

 

Long live Monty Python

Meet The Press

I doubt we’ll ever know who the member of the press is, this bearded reporter covering the billboard beat. He served his purpose by writing up the Robby Howry story and his editor printed it. So his work is done and Gil and Kaz have seen Robby’s delusions in black and white. See ya later, Bearded Reporter. Say hi to Marjie for us.

Kaz is angry! He wants Gil to fire back against this fractured media accounting of RobbyBobby’s split with Milford athletics. But Gil must remind hotheaded Kaz with the FREAK POINTY FINGER that, no, Gil can’t just fire back and set the record straight. Because….

We’ll hear more for Gil maybe, but where is Marty? The media of Milford is buzzing with something juicy which could chip away at Gil’s standing. C’mon Marty, you need to track down Robby and get him on your show. We know you’ll do a face plant eventually but you’ve got to strike now. We know there’s no way that happens because we need to talk about kettlehead.

You Can’t Travel, Joe. Oops, My Bad, I Thought We Were Talking Basketball.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, that’s a real knee-slapper, Filion. Way to get things on the right foot with the oldest prank in the book. Not even Dennis the Menace would stoop that low.

“OWWWWWWWWWWWWW, MY EYE HAS POPPED OUT OF ITS SOCKET, MR. WILSON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“George, you big bully, you had to use a rake on him? C’mon, Dennis, let’s have some milk and cookies and I’ll see if I can find an adjustable crescent wrench to screw it back in.”

“Martha, I was just raking leaves!!!!!!!!!! Next thing you know, he and Ruff are on the ground in an epileptic seizure. That’s gotta be one of those gumballs he got out of the Milford Kiwanis gumball machine at the Milford Laundromat.”

“They just don’t want to admit they need a Band-aid. Here, I’ve got some peroxide in the Lazy Susan in the kitchen next to the Cheerios and the Arm & Hammer Baking Soda. And we’ll put Ruff to sleep after I feed you some Wheat Chex.”

“Ruff’s just constipated, Martha. I’ll get some Ex-Lax in my glove box and stick it in his Alpo.”

 

And you old timers remember the Gomer Pyle episode about Sergeant Carter’s eye? If you whippersnappers will bear with me too, an artist came on Camp Pendleton to survey who she thought might be a perfect person to represent the Marines in their advertising posters. Well. she’s making a few sketches throughout the show and it looks like she is sketching Sergeant Carter when in reality she is sketching Gomer. Sergeant Carter is performing all these manly poses from standing on Gomer in triumph during a war games drill to pointing the troops to victory as if he was at Iwo Jima. Naturally, Colonel Gray is shocked at the artist’s decision and eventually so is, naturally, Sergeant Carter. Gomer, of course, is the Man of the Hour on the posters, standing tall and proud in his dressed blues, representing everything you want in a Marine and what a grunt aspires to after boot camp and beyond. Still, as you could understand, it’s an awkward situation as Sergeant Carter is left out in the cold after he had high hopes. The artist senses that and so draws Sergeant Carter’s eye which lays in the background(“Behind every Marine is a Sergeant ready to mold him” or something to that effect which the artist uses to explain her rationale)  like the road-narrowing-to-a-point-in-the-distance perspective which lifts Sergeant Carter’s spirits considerably. In fact, at the end of the show, some passer-by sees the poster on a display on a street somewhere and sees Gomer and understandably says “Hey, that’s you!!!!!!” And as fate would have it, Sergeant Carter cuts in and says “Yes, but that’s my eye there behind him”. Of course, the passer-by has no clue what Sergeant Carter is talking about and the show ends with Sergeant Carter desperately clinging to his sliver of fame with the passer-by.

 

So as long as the football plot lost all the wheels on the car and we never knew the denouement of the season thanks to Thorpiverse evidently having trouble budgeting its time, I might as well tie up some loose ends with

“For every great Mudlark, there’s a coach who inspires him to perspire if he wants to win the brass ring” with Tiki running with the football to the end zone with the Sharks from New Thayer in hot pursuit while this toupee of Gil’s floats proudly and arrogantly in the sky, topped by a halo and surrounded by the Cherubim. Marty Moon is in the other corner being dragged down in Hell by Carrie White and the rest of the demons. Mimi and her basketball team are at the Pearly Gates cheering on Tiki to greater heights, heck, they have the time, they only play 5 basketball games.

On the bulletin board at The Bucket

“Wow!!!!!!!!!!!!! Tiki, CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!! You’re a real winner in that poster!!!!!!!!! You kicked some major Shark ass and you pulled a Doug Flutie to help win the game Thorpiverse forgot to print in this overextended season!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What’s your secret?”

“No secret, really. Just hard work, plenty of Kellogg’s Sugar Corn Pops-”

YES, BUT THAT’S MY HAIR BEHIND HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Everybody looks befuddled.

MY HAIR!!!!!!!!!! MY HAIR!!!!!!!!!! THE BAD DON EVERLY REPRINT WITH THE GRECIAN FORMULA SMEARED ALL OVER IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Can you say FILLER SPACE? What else could this be when we avoided the Jets and Sharks rumbling in the streets when one of the Jets had a camera and shot hog-wild with it and escaped by the hair of his chinny-chin-chin(as did the other Jets) and NOW we are about to begin basketball(and that ain’t gettin’ off on the right foot given a Mudlark showing off his Air Jordan moves in his negligee) which evidently required some kind of transition and I guess Joe at the Movies a/k/a Joe at the Travel Agency footed the bill.

I guess it’s better than the alternatives

At the Milford Lounge

“Gil, that’s the 13th Bud Lite you’ve had. The plot wasn’t THAT bad.”

“Oh, yeah(burp)? We had more action in ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark: Indiana Jones Excavates Principal Ek’s Class Ring’, which Joe showed in one of the  game film sessions than on the football field. Man(belch), I feel like a fifth wheel. I hope Mimi doesn’t see me this way.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. She just downed her 12th Bud Lite watching ‘Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman’ in the Family Room.”

Orrrrrrrrrrrrrr,

“We’re gonna film ’em TONIIGGGHHHHHTTTTTT

Their hood caps better fit tiiiiigggghhhhhhtttttt”

“Leonard, you get a good camera angle on the short guy’s crack; he’s not wearing Fruit of the Looms

And Andy, catch that bruiser with the tattoo when he’s smiling. That Mammy Yokum profile will drive him and the rest of the losers out of Milford, no question”

“Riiiiiggggghhhhhhtttttttttt”

“We’re gonna film ’em tonnnniiiiggghhhhttttttttt

The turd faces better take fllllliiiiggghhhhttttttt”

“Tonight, tonight, won’t be just any night…”

Ahhhhhhh, better save Tony and Maria for a rainy day

Orrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

“DAMN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What a time to lose my Off! spray. I can outrun that elephant if I get to that footbridge. I never knew Milford Nature Area could be so gargantuous. Maybe Peaches’ll be there for a quickie.”

Really, any of these could have been the pinch hitter and we could sashay into Aardvark on a breakaway slam under the influence of one of his mother’s medications before you know it. Trust me on that one.

 

Shout out to Wayne and Steve Kuchenbrod of Lyndon, Kentucky. They are fraternal twins and when I saw them they were going to the public gym on a workout program. Good for them. It was COLD when I saw them and they could have stayed home and nobody would have blamed them but they chose to get out of the house. I’m proud of them for choosing to get busy living and work on improving their bodies as we all get older. I salute both of you and think you represent America. Treat ’em with respect, gang.

 

“In a moment, we’ll see if Marty can escape the pack of lions that Gil let loose in the Milford Nature Area from the Barnum & Bailey Circus.”

 

“Hi, this is Colonel Harland Sanders for Kentucky Fried Chicken. I’ll bet many of you think that because I now have the Andy Warhol profile on all my signage right down to the coffee cup and I have the voice of Boss Hogg when the record’s running at ’78 that it was all mashed potatoes and gravy. Boy, have you been eating one Liver Cheese Burger too many.

I actually started in Milford when it was the Milford Chicken Pits Company. We would shoot chickens out in the woods and even hock a few from Gil’s Grandfather’s farm next door. Shheeeeet, the dude possessed 1,275,898 of them, he wasn’t going to miss ’em any time soon. His abacus couldn’t count that high.

We would pluck the chicken one feather at a time, then use an Uzi on their head. Couldn’t be too careful. No sense in using a toy gun on them babies if ya wanted things finger lickin’ good. We just needed below the neck. Then we’d dip it into a battere that’s a secret recipe but I’ll throw a hint at ya, we had to dodge the revenoors when we drove in the woods. We opened our first restaurant right here in Milford, right down the street from The Bucket. Gil worked as a teenager, driving the unused chicken parts out by where the varmints smashed the still. Carry Nation wasn’t about to dig up nasty chicken breast bones and burn ’em nor raid Gil’s Chevy.

Over the years, we’ve grown to several restaurants, fightin’ The Bucket every step of the way over property settlements, advertising, and softball bragging rights, oh, SHIT, and the food too.

That’s why I’m here to plug our new 5 Dollar Fill-Up that’ll put any Bucket Chicken Sandwich or Bucket Burger to shame. For 5 dollars, you can load down with 150 wings, 353 thighs, 241 breasts, 15 gizzards, 2 tons of jowl bacon and 75 potato wedges and a chocolate ship cookie. And at no extra charge, the Bucket, not the Pop’s Cholit Shoppe wannabe, you dummies, comes with a side of cole slaw and mashed potatoes. We’ll even throw plastic silverware. Just be careful not to let the spork get submerged in all the thighs.

And wouldn’t you know it, our Bucket beats The Bucket’s Bucket. They only offer one ton of a Bucket o’ Jowl Bacon, 352 thighs and, hoooeyyyy, they include 100 Bucket Cheese Burgers which are manufactured from grain-fed beef, an EPA bête-noire.  To add insult to injury, their cole slaw and mashed potatoes come in thimbles. I don’t know about you but I don’t want to be sewing  my Milford letter on my sweater with gravy all over me.

Come to KFC, where we do chicken right and let The Bucket burn their burgers on a cross of gold. A 5 Dollar Fill-Up Bucket is better than a Bucket o’ Anything at The Bucket, commode included.”

 

 

 

Gang, I’m STILL trying to figure out the freak hands in P2. You know those optical illusions where it’s an old lady in one perspective but a young woman in another? Yes, but that’s TWO SEPERATE ENTITIES!!!!!!!!!!! Here, the thumb and the forefinger is on the same hand. I’ve seen papier-mache artwork that my niece (great artist, BTW) concocted int he 3rd grade better than this guessing game of an appendage. I THINK that’s a thumbnail. Oh, what the hay, the thumb just got stapled on to the hand. Plus, nobody uses the thumb to emphasize a point. Try imagining Lincoln attempting the maneuver while giving the Gettysburg Address.

FDR at the mike

“Today will be a Day of Infamy”

Okay, one more last-ditch attempt,

Lou Gehrig giving his Farewell Speech

“I am the luckiest man alive.

Nahhhhhhhhhhhh, keep your thumb for safekeeping.

 

 

Oooooooooooooooookkkkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is back in the studio to sabotage things and he is chompin’ at the bit to do so, thusly, take ‘er away, Gene

“Dumb dora was SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought basketball started now because of ______________________”

 

If ya refuse ta turn the telly and watch the NBA or anything else for that matter even though ya have 151 channels ‘cuz youse callin’ the Cable officials about who won the tractor pull after they yanked the show fer “Heidi”, ya might be a redneck.

 

Big shout-out to Donna Bouquet(boo-KAY) of Fern Creek, Kentucky. Donna gets up EARLY to go to work at the Fern Creek Kroger and she keeps the store running with her hard work and determination. She is great to talk to and I have learned a ton from her. She is also very close to her family and they look out for each other, especially in times of need. She contributes mightily to America’s welfare and represents what America is all about. She just flat-out gets it done either at work or at home as typified by her beautiful house and well-manicured lawn. Keep on going, Donna. America needs you. You’ve earned my respect.

 

“Will Marty escape the mongoose??????? Will the mongoose grab a hold of Marty’s family jewels?????? Find out in a moment for the exciting conclusion!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“Are you planning a big Christmas Eve celebration where everybody will be exchanging presents with everybody right down to the Tonka Train Set and ugly ties but you lost your job because the new guy could figure the stats quicker and cheaper? Hi, I’m Coach Thorp on behalf of the Milford Beverage Warehouse. No, Milford Beverage Warehouse can’t refer you to that 24-hour truck stop for a job as a dishwasher nor give you any references in that regard but, boy o boy, they have a great deal for you. The $100 Fill-up Deal will get you a cover letter in record time. You will get a steel drum filled with all kinds of wines of your choice for that discriminating alcoholic in your family plus Lowenbrau and Michelob 24-packs for the slushees watching the NBA at Christmas; they may not know the score at the end of the game or even care, but with golden elixirs such as these and even a free case of Bud when you tell ’em that you heard Uncle Gil on the radio talking about the Warehouse, you won’t go wrong. And don’t forget the party snacks, that’s right, the Warehouse made sure to cram them suckers and wedge the Milford Vending Beer Nuts and Milford Vending Cashews, not to mention Charles Chips, between the 28 Pink Truck Wines and pina coladas. And what’s chips and peanuts plus Bolthouse Farms Baby Carrots and Milford Farms Celery Pieces without some dip? C’mon, admit it, you dip plenty of Charles Chips Barbecue Chips in the Milford Dairy Spinach Dip and Milford Dairy Cinnamon Cream Cheese. And how could I forget the bagels? The Warehouse put the star on the Christmas tree in short order. Silly me. Hey, sounds like you’re gonna have a party without Milford Finance sending a tow truck in your driveway to repossess your car. By the way, you can return your steel drum to The Warehouse and get a rebate good for a purchase of Drewry’s Dark. With all these incentives, why go anywhere else? C’mon what does the Milford Wal-Mart liquor department have to offer besides Sam’s Choice Malt Liquor? I’ll bet they don’t even need a crowbar to cram  Great Value Cheese Puffs into their shopping cart. Nope, the Warehouse Fill-Up Deal is non-pareil. Why, I saw Rob Walton sneak in the emergency door to check out the haps. you’re not fooling me, Bud and Sam.

Come to Milford Beverage Warehouse, your headquarters for Christmas party shopping. Yes, at The Warehouse, just because you have to tighten your belt doesn’t mean ya gotta put a leash on The Good Life. Heck, the only time you’ll say you can’t load the drum in the bed of the truck is when you’ll tell the loading crew at The Warehouse you’ll hoist it yourself. Hey, at The Warehouse, have it your way.

 

Gang, have it your way. I think affairs are already getting staid if there are no nets, backboards, basketball racks, scoreboard, popcorn machine. Hell, at least draw a free throw line so I know this isn’t a hockey rink. Yup, just some friends in their basketball uniforms that are sneaky resemblances to gym clothes gathering around to talk about the New York Rangers. Happens all the time.

 

JODYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!! JODY DAVIS!!!!!!!!!!!!! CATCHER WITHOUT A FEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Harry, I think the Senility Meter broke the mercury out of the tube. The baseball plot was two sports ago.”

Sorry, Robmize, one last Cubbie joke before next year(ha).

Tiki Can’t Really Dust for Vomit

Well this backfired

Subtlety’s not Joe’s forte

But is self-defense?

 

Bolek’s a dumbass

Use phone camera for this

It’s not Rick Soto

 

Whaddaya expect

From a guy who paints crosswalks

With tiny brushes?

 

Can film buff buddies

Jump in, make this a fair fight?

Outlook not so good

 

Now Mudlarks will need

Another new punter

Like Spinal Tap drummers

 

Where’s Punter B.?

I’d like to tell you

Love to tell you

That we’ve got one in the bag

 

But cannot tell you

May not tell you

That Kaz tried but caught a dirty rag

 

And so this storyline drags and drags

Our hopes are dashed and flags and flags

I grab a spitoon and gag and gag

 

Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhh Ah

Would be nice if he’d kick before basketball

Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhh Ah

Maybe Kaz gets lucky ‘fore end of Fall

Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhh Ah

Margin for error now runs rather small

 

(Ben Folds booming on piano)

Here, Boy,  Hey, Punter

HEY PUNTER, WHERE YOU BEEN?

 

Are we EVER going to talk football or is P3 a tribute to Siskel and Ebert?

“Coach Kaz gives ‘Invasion of Milford on The Planet of the Apes’ a thumbs up while Joe Bolek gives it a thumbs down.”

“I thought Roddy McDowall’s return as Caesar was unconvincing.His conversations with Gil a bit far-fetched.”

“Yes, but Joe, you have to explore the depths of the tete-a-tete that is transpiring. Nobody is saying, certainly I’m not, that an ape talking to a man is an everyday occurrence. But the camaraderie that develops, especially when Coach Thorp treats all the apes to a Bucket Brat ‘n’ Sauerkraut Combo, including a Mudlar-K-Cola of your choice, convinced me that this movie is worth the time, climaxing in Aldo becoming the special teams coach which is pivotal as the Mudlarks sail one through the uprights thanks to a key adjustment by Aldo (“Don’t use your heel to kick, horses do that!!!!!!!!!”) which helps Milford go on to win the game and ease the transition into basketball.”

“I don’t know, Coach Kaz, watching Caesar’s son try to stuff a mouth guard in his embouchure, not to mention how to maneuver the cup properly to protect the family jewels and create more apes to invade Milford left me wanting something more. Much more.”

 

If ya is got yore camouflage all over yore face, shoulders, thorax, abdoman, arms, elbows, wrists, fingers, fingernails, toenails (cuz yore wife took the nail polish when she left to go back to her mother the last time) , thighs, shins, hamstrings, feet, ankles, insteps, and, last but certainly not least, yore gluteus maximus, cuz ya is ready with yore high-powered shotgun that could shoot the ears off an elephant and carry it from the Milford Fish & Wildlife Area to Africa in record time to find a punter ta nail down, ya might be a redneck.

 

And Gene Rayburn is chompin’ at the bit to aid and abet in the cause to crucify Gil on Match Game 2018. Go to it, Gene.

Dumb Dora was SOOOOOOOOOOOOO dumb (HOW   DUMB   WAS  SHE???????) , she thought a punter used his ________________ to kick a field goal.

 

Things are getting pretty serious in Mudlarkland when the Topic of the Day, in this case the need for a punter to keep the strip from facing extinction, its status “Critical” at this point, when Kaz and Gil are in an intimate conversation over Maxwell House and fingers. Guessin’ Milford Donut Solutions was catering at the Fraternal Order of Police Convention at the Milford Expo Center.

And, gang, okay, shoot me (aaaaaaa, better not, I’m a coward) but I’m dippin’ into the good ol’ days when Berrill, sure Gil looked like the third member of the Everly Brothers but liked coaching more than singing (and wasn’t about to stack up against Elvis), at least created Gil with a sense of surefootedness as a result. Berrill made him a beacon in the storm.

NOW he looks like a young Marcus Welby just about to finish up his residency. Heck, his apparel is LOUDLY sending that message. He looks like Eddie Haskell going to Indiana University Medical School. “Nah, Beaver, you dope, don’t grip the forceps on his wiener so TIGHT!!!” Unclear whether he is going to talk about punters or navel hernia surgical procedures. Insert them in your article for the Milford Medical Journal, Dr. Welby, er, Gil, nobody’ll notice. Nobody’s reading about either one at this juncture anyway.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Ben Folds Denies Rumors Alice Childress Interested In Punting Job!!!!”

sub headline

“She just kicked someone in the nuts one time when a jerk tried to come on too strong and grab her upper body. That doesn’t make her a punter!!!!!!!”

 

Shout-out to Daisy’s in New Albany, Indiana. Great food, great service (always quick to pick up your plate when finished) , plus a dinner buffet and a salad buffet and an ice cream fountain (self serve!!!!) AND a drink of your choice for way less than $20, I’d say I’m gettin’ a good deal. Factor in all the good meals from meat loaf to fish to chicken and LOTS of sides at reasonable prices, man, you gotta come on down if you’re in the area.

Gang, you need a place where everybody knows your name, Support small business. They make America great.

 

Interlude

Maybe they will talk about the movie “Bambi”

or something along the lines of “Tora! Tora! Tora!”

 

Sorry, Ben, mighta added an extra syllable on that interlude. Don’t hold it against me, LOVE your music, Big Guy, always have.

 

Tried to warn you

Tried to tell you

That Coach Kaz was out of luck

 

Now they’re talking

And still stalking

For any one who gives a F—

 

They’re plowing this one dead in the mud

They still can’t grasp this one’s a dud

They may as well choose Elmer Fudd

 

Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhh Ah

Gil and Kaz really should check in the files

Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhh Ah

Eons with Sanka, might be a while

Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhh Ah

Swift solution, that’s not their style

Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhh Ah

Last punter missed by a mile

(Ben Folds REALLY booms the pointlessness of this plot, had to throw in an extra $100 just to get him to perform this at this decibel, or at all)

Yo Elmer, Hey, Punter

HEY PUNTER WHERE YOU BEEN?

 

Oh, Leatherdick, you’ve had a hard day at the office. It’s time to have another hard time, this one in bed.”

“That’s LEATHERSTOCKING, Honeye. Just cuz I have been out 2200 miles don’t mean it was all that bad. The Ponye Express ridere gave me a lift along the waye, from KC to Columbus, Ohio.”

“Leatherdick, isn’t that the OTHER waye? I thought they went out weste.”

Understanding what Pepperminte Pattye goes through when Marcie calls PP “Sir”

“The name’s ‘Leatherstocking’!!!!!!!! And the Ponye Express expanded a few routes and a couple of decades.”

“Oh, Leatherdick, the important thing is you are home. Why don’t we make ourselves comfy by the old oaken couch in the living room and cuddle up to a nice warm fire?”

“Ay, forsooth, I still must fix the plumbing in the bathroom. The toilete’s stopped up again.”

“Dear, we have an outhouse.”

Not missing a beat as why Leatherstocking was popularized by Fenimore Cooper

“Yes, but crickets and roaches run rampant around the toilete and it’s hard to flush with all that vermin. And it’s too late in the night to buy any Sani-Flushe at the Milfordshire General Store.”

“It’s also the dead of winter. Not too many mole cricket’s running around the toilet paper dispenser.”

Leatherstocking forgot to bring his Benjamin Rush’s Field Guide to Nature, having left it on the bar stoole at the Milfordshire Lounge so he is at a loss to name any more critters

“C’mon, let’s play some funkye music, White Boye. I’ve already thrown a couple of logs  in to keep the fire going. Now all’s I need is ANOTHER log to light a fire and THIS ONE doesn’t come from a sugar maple tree.”

“Did you cut down the pin oak tree by the horse stable? I know it could crush our log cabin in 2 seconds, Cayuga Standard Time, but it’s stood the test of time for 500 years, since right before The Plague.”

“Noooooo, this log is not made of wood even though it’s in dire need of warming up before it dies in the snow and becomes humus.”

Well, Honey, I don’t know  of too many logs not made out of wood unless Fenimore owns a Plex-Glass nurserye near the Iroquois village. But that won’t arrive until the DuPonts found the State of Delaware.”

Smacks foreheade

“There’s the petrified forest!!!”

“Well, um, yeah, I’d like to get stoned, especially by the fireplace. Wouldn’t that just be SEXY???”

“Darlin’, ain’t no way I’m goin’ down to Arizona and pick a coupla stones to satisfy your horniness. The Milford Adulte Shoppe will open 8:00 sharp in the morning. Arizona ain’t until 1912 and the Navajos told me the other day when I was in Houston on an Outdoor Seminar at the Astrodome that they were using all stones of any kind to construct Route 66.”

She loses patience and cuts to the chase

“Dear, I want to have sexe with you by the fireplace. I’ll even go out with you in the outhouse if it’ll  just get me that romantic moment.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so? I think a FedEx landau can get some aphrodisiac cheap in New Brunswick and get it absolutely, positively by noon tomorrow. Is it too late to call?”

 

“Even tough guys who befriend the Indians and live the rugged life to the point where they char-broil raccoons need to ‘fess up to their problems. Mine was harder than a rock but when I took my Conestoga wagon down to Milfordshire Men’s Clinicke, I got the answers I needed to restore my intimacy with my wife. Now we Rocke and Rolle so much, she never notices the praying mantises chewing on her butte when we get it on in the outhouse. And sexe by the fireplace ain’t bad either and there’s no cobwebs in the blankets like there is in the corners of the outhouse. Man, that’s some good screwin’. Oops, Better watch it, the Quaker Society is listening and is one of our sponsors. Anyway, check ’em today and let ‘er rip. What have you got to lose but your virginity and your scalp?”

 

Gang, it’s your turn. Get you some freshly-brewed Maxwell House Decaf Special Blend Colombian Roasted Freshly Produced From The Slaves Of Some Third World Country That’ll Induce Dylan And Baez To Stage A Concert To Promote Awareness Of Aforementioned Problem. Me, I like Hills Brothers but will grab what I can. Jump into the Masterpiece Theater and put your 2 bits worth with Gil and Kaz on the Punter Question.

 

“Ohhhhhhh, Marty, you are just having your way with me!!! I’ve never had it like this before!!!!”

“Peaches, I’m still DRIVING!!!!!!! You’re on Bus #7757, the Teddy Roosevelt Model, a real rough-riding son of a bitch!!!!!”

“Does that mean you forgot to go to the Clinic this week after I sent you on a honeydew to get some milk?”

Thanks to Jack McDonald of Clarksville, Indiana, for his contribution to the last story. He gets a shout-out because at 90, he still gets out and lives, making him look much younger. He was also a race car driver and a damn good one in his day, with SEVERAL trophies to up his game. I salute you, Jack.

 

I can’t stand this

Hardly bear this

Seeking signs for better days

 

Sink my head low

For this sideshow

Can’t Kaz grasp there’s other ways

 

Now cram this farce into a crate

Get with the program, don’t be late

And ship this crap on a yacht to Kuwait

 

Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhh Ah

How much more must we endure

Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhh Ah

Not sailing from A to Z, fer sure

Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhh Ah

I’ve learned more form museum tours

Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhh Ahhhh Ah

The fruit needs more time to mature.

 

Where’s the want ads

Hey Punter

HEY PUNTER WHERE THE HELL YOU BEEN

 

As Ben Folds leaves Gil and Kaz in the (I assume) office…but at least the last line and the song in general was a catharsis.

 

MUDLARK HAS KILLED MUDLARK, MUDLARK HAS KILLED MUDLARK…

Oops, that was in “Battle for Milford on The Planet of the Apes”. My bad.

In Search Of The Lost Punter

Timothy Leary’s dead

We need a punnnnn-terrrrr

For the team

 

We’re flat broke and busted

Our name’s dragged in the mud

We need a talented tooeeeee

Timothy Leary

 

Sorry, gang, sue me. I’m feelin’ cocky after the Moody Blues FINALLY got inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame and the Murder, She Wrote questioning that Coach Kaz is implementing with Son of Mr. T. (“YA NEED RAY GUY, FOOL!!!!!!!!!!!!) was the spark that got the fire lit. Talk about being On The Threshold of a Dream.

And what high school coach IN ANY SPORT goes to the school cafeteria and skips from student to student to track down a talented player, especially at a skill position? You ever heard of TRYOUTS, Gil and Kaz? That’s what you do BEFORE the season gets underway, not 1 or 2 games into the swing of things. (Perhaps you might have been better off skipping Frick and Frack and their golf game and let them slug it out with They’re Actually Bullies?)  They DO gotta turn in a physical, more than likely in this case PAST DUE, even if you succeed in turning up that special someone who can fill the void. I’m assuming Kaz is not going to ask the cafeteria lady stocking the Twinkies and Ho Ho’s in the slots at the cafeteria line if she can sail one at least 30 yards. She’s too late and too old. Not that would stop hi,m, you understand.

“Jughead, you know of any good punters?”

Munching on his 276,843rd hamburger

“Hmmmmmmmm, you might wanna try Moose. I heard his kicking distance matches his IQ.”

Reggie Mantle chimes in

“How ’bout Mr. Weatherbee?”

Archie Andrews weighs in

“Reggie, you know the ‘Bee pulled a hamstring. He did it last month in the Riverdale Croquet Tournament.”

 

THE CASE OF THE TRAIL OF THE PURPORTED PUNTER

The new Hardy Boys Mystery now available at Milford Book & Music Exchange!!!!!!!!!!,

Gang, you ougtha see the cover. Coach Kaz, the Hardy Boys, Encylopedia Brown, Sally Kimball, Bugs Meany and his gang are on some country road somehere at night with their flashlights and magnifying glasses, searching for clues.

“Look!!!!! Over there in that cornfield!!!!!!!!! There’s somebody’s foot!!!!!! Some crow is picking at it!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“And WHO SHOT COACH SHAW?”

“FOOL. ANYBODY KNOWS THE ANSWER TO THAT. IT WAS PROFESSOR PLUM WITH THE KNIFE IN THE CONSERVATORY”

“The Milford Enquirer said the library.”

“SHOWS YOU HOW MUCH THEY KNOW. THEY SHUT IT DOWN FOR A WEEK CUZ THERE WAS A GAS LEAK IN THE CHILDREN’S NON-FICTION SECTION, FOOL”

 

I fell into a burnin’ ring of fire

Which reminds me, this is burning and burning and burning ad nauseum. Of course, how stupid of me. Joe Skilled Athelete was a World-Class Explorer, having discovered Mount Everest, the Alps, Pike’s Peak, Mt. McKinley, Mt. Fuji, and the highest point in Delaware. Boy, I’ll bet he aces your final in World Geography, Coach. Anyhoo, he’s climbing Kilimanjaro right now but I can get a Bantu to meet him at the base of the mountain in 3 days. His cell phone should be in functional order by then.

 

We need a man, the best around

He’ll kick it high right off the ground

His Field Goal range so very sound

A bonus at this point

Timothy Leary

 

If ya agree ta punt for the high school football team only if the coaches elect unanimously ta pay for yore bow tag this fall, ya might be a redneck.

 

Gang, doncha just love that Chinese girl in P1 with that Funky Winkerbean nose? She’s as happy as Coach Kaz winning the lottery and/or finding a kicker under a Welcome mat. Then, in P3, if that supposed Exit sign doesn’t qualify for the Pantheon of Mysterious Objects, nothing will. Some teacher evidently pasted a student’s lost notebook and no doubt had to have been the most obvious place to find it. Sure, but there is a Lost & Found Department somewhere in the building, we hope anyway.

 

On p.7 of the Milford Enquirer

“The Milford Mudlark Football Team is seeking a qualified applicant to fill in as a kicker. The Mudlarks offer competitive wages, Major Medical Insurance, dental insurance, vision benefits through Milford Eye World, profit sharing, 401(k) with 10% company match, 2 weeks paid vacation after only 1 year, wage increases after 90 days and 180 days thereafter, liberal attendance policy, FMLA benefits, and 7 paid holidays. If this sounds exciting, send resume to

Milford High School

PO Box 6517

Milford, USA

Or email at http://www.milfordandgilaredesperate.com”

 

Timothy Leary’s dead

Lost in the lunchroom

Without luck

 

Coach Kaz is on his knees

Asking all, oh, pretty please

Let’s end this misery

Timothy Leary

 

If James Fenimore Cooper took over the reins at Thorpiverse (James, you have the combination to wordpress?)

It is Winter in the 1.23 trillion acres of elms, poplars, maples, oaks, hackberrys, ponderosa pines, black locusts, (the pods are buried deep within the snow, the few surviving being munched on by Bugs Bunny, a quick snacke before Elmer Fudde arrives on cue) , and chestnuts.

Bumppo “Leatherstocking” Shaw is out in the middle of nowhere, oblivious to the camera perched on the walnut tree, “Milfordshire Outdoor Magazine” doing a live show. Coache Gamaliel Wendell Thorp and his entourage are on the hunt themselves. His entourage consists of Baron Steuben von Kaz, Viscount Tiki of Glastonbury, Earl Jaquan of Stanhope, and some flunkies (or the football team, same difference) .

Roadkill is discovered in the middle of the path. It is fresh roadkill. Coache Thorp is compelled to restrain the contraption (‘slam on the brakes”) and swerve his sleigh to the emergency lane of the trail to avert a 10-sleigh pile-up. He turns on his flashers, the flunkies set out triangles 10. 50, and 200 feet apart so  magnanimous vehicles (‘semi’s”) can alertly pursue other channels (“get in the passing lane”) .

“Coache Thorp, greetings and salutations!!!!!!!!!!”

“Leatherstocking!!!!!!!!!!!” Always a pleasure!!!!!!!!!!! And it looks like you outclassed me (“beat me to the punche”) againe.”

“Naw, Coache, this 10-point piece of virile venison (“buck”) has got BB bullets in its carotid; I didn’t kill it with this bow and arrow I obtained in goode faithe (“on loan in exchange for some cheap tobacco”) from the Cayugas. you got first dibs on the eatin’.”

As Gamaliel blows the smoke off his BB gunne in triumph

“I am honored by your honesty, my goode manne. Goodness knows, the village of milfordshire could use more gentrys such as in your person (“you”) .”

Baron Steuben von Kaz surveys the landscape, which in roughly 2 centuries will become Max Yasgur’s farm and subsequently a mudbowl named Woodstock, the rest of the 1.23 trillion acres comprising New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, and a couple of counties in Vermont and finally states

“Coache, I don’t see how you manage to align your apercu with the quarry (“smoke ’em down”). Your eye is keener than an eagle’s arse (“retina”, close enough) .”

“I thank you, Baron Steuben von Kaz. It takes years of repititive solicitation (“practice”) which I did in my posterior portion of my property (“backyard”) . I shot severale rounds into The Wilderness and found matters to be quite commodious (“shitload of acreage”) . Hardly a chance (“no bat chance in Hell”) of intersecting a Noble Savage or Red Man or passing ‘Go’ or collecting $200 since the Confederations are on the other end pf the 1.23 trillion acres, give or take a hectare, near the reste area, you know, the one with salubrious accomodations (“clean restrooms”) .”

“My Lord, Coache (“same difference”) , it is noble of you to be of great concern for the noble savages, even Tecumseh, bilious (“mad as Hell and not gonna take anymore”) and choleric as he is reputed to be, spoke highly of your character (“reputation”, closest translation) ,” Viscount Tiki chimes in, “He says you always are circumspect with the flora (“watch the daisies”) and take only as many elephantes (“elephants”) as you’ll eat on your cutlery (“dishes and silverware bought at Target”) .”

Leatherstocking, weary of the Nathaniel Hawthorne exchange

“Gentlemen, it is well to trade courtesies (“shoot the shit”) but I personally am freezin’ my asse off (“self-explanatory”). And the Erie Nation is a bit sore after I almost hit a child when I was shootin’ a bighorn sheep. Think we best be parlaying our efforts (“headin’ back”) to town before the rooster obtains hot flashes for the hen (“sundown”) . The Injuns could be poppin’ out anytime.”

Coache Thorp is in mental disarray (“confused”).

“Leatherstocking, aren’t you getting a century ahead of yourself? I believe Philip Sheridan will utter that particular bon mot (“wind up in an almanac with said expression”) in a Doris Kearns Goodwin Bestseller on Red Cloud.”

“Coache, if you believe I am traversing the unexpected (“going Back to the Future”) , so be it  but I’m in no moode to confront the Injuns. Some’ll attack. Some’ll demand 10% of the fresh triumphal return (“kill”) . By Hades (“Hell”), I’ll give ’em the ovoid particles (“testicles”) and gristle and settle up thereafter, otherwise, I’m in no moode to negotiate.”

“We can always augment things with a renal structure (“throw in a kidney”) if it’ll preclude inflammatory measures (‘being burned at the stake”) by the Mohawks, Leatherstocking. And perhaps bargain for a couple of blankets in return. My carpete in the 3rd floore hallwaye is getting worn from 10 centuries of usage (“use”) . It is my understanding (“there were rumors”) that Boethius used it as a summer house.”

“Coache, I’m not budging beyond its balls, that’s the difference between you and me, I’ll pluck arrows first, ask questions latere. I’m like Harold Southwick Callahan, perform your majestic undertaking, Savages (“go ahead, make my day”) . And do you see McFly’s racer anywhere in these woods?”

Leatherstocking has him there. Baron Steuben von Kaz sneaks a peak into a sugar maple and observes no fluxe capacitator.

“Very well. Gentlemen, load the provisions of coffee, Earl Grey tea, chickens, buffalo meat, fruits, vegetables, Oreos, and Chips Ahoye onto the sleigh, Baron Steuben von Kaz, see that the rifles, ammuntion, gunpowder, cannons, tasers, pistols, and explosive tinderboxes (“grenades”) are stored in the brougham, boys (“flunkies”), put the kille in the vomitory (“trunk”) of Tiki’s jalopye, careful not to puncture the rubber device (“spare tire”) with one of its antlers, you boy (soon to be John Hay, one of Lincoln’s secretaries) , load the legal documents, hunting licenses, telescopes, surveye equipment, books, journals, New York Times, including the crossworde onto the troika”

“Coach”, Earl Jaquon of Stanhope points out, “aren’t troikas Russian? Won’t  they be utilized in the Napoleonic Wars? I construed (“heard”) that McFly’s vehicle will be the linchpin  that turns away Buonaparte at Leningrad (“St. Petersburg”) .”

“This is my medicine show presentation (“History Channel”), Earl Jaquon of Stanhope, and Injuns, er, Red Men could be coming anytime. Now lead the troops (points to several flukies, one who will be William Herndon, Lincoln’s law partner) and ride on the lead chariot to scout for any trouble.

The engines are started, the chariots perform a couple of wheelies and depart from said premises (“head out of Dodge”) .

“We’ll have plenty of venison to feed the 3,458 populace (“people”) of Milfordshire at the ball tonight.”

Leatherstocking shouts at Gamaliel

“I thought there were 3,459.”

“No, Leatherstocking, Mortimus Moon was ambushed on his way to the Publicke Forum (“broadcast booth”) by the Mohawks. They sent smoke signals that they didn’t appreciate what he said about their play-calling.”

“Were there inflammatory measures (“was he burned at the stake) ?”

“Worse. They cut him up and sent the entrails back to the village in a leatherstocking, Leatherstocking.”

“Well, it appears he forged his appendage into oblivion (“stuck his foot in his mouth”) permanently. They just confirmed what we already knew.”

The snow is picking up the pace.

“Be that as it may (“no skin off my nose, he’s an asshole, anyway, has been for 60 years”), we have to observe celluloid material (“watch game film”) before the ball.”

“Coache, as longe as I can stick my bowe and arrowe by the filme projectore,  I’m all right with your methodes (“good to go”) .”

“Very well, Leatherstocking. We can still break down the Iroquois Nation defense as long as your bowe and arrowe doesn’t ruin the projectore. Baron Steuben von Kaz, did you remember light bulbes?”

“Light bulbes aren’t until the Golden Era of Sluts (“Gilded Age”) . Edison is just a gleame in his great-great-great-grandfather’s eyes.”

 

Gang, comment away. AND BE QUICK ABOUT IT FOOL

 

I’m sick of things so upside down

A silly smile become a frown

I’d rather read of Charlie Brown

it’s best to just leave town

 

Timothy Leary

Bench Warmers

You’re the adult — and who are you Gil? A child? Guess we had you pegged wrong all these years.. Hey Gil– again.. the whole reason this all happened is because you (and your kids) didnt see to it that this qualifier was properly supervised to begin with. And now you’re stuck with the results that were obviously tainted, but they will stand because nobody has any real proof that anything happenned . Except us the readers.

Looks like they Milford team is out of gas– Gil goes back to the boys sitting on a bench that I’ve NEVER seen on a golf course. Looks like its right in the middle of a fairway too.

More later — heading to the beach.