This Week in Milford

June 17, 2020

This Plot Finally Gets Its Much-Needed Crutch


P1: Don’t look so surprised, Mimi. You knew her ankle looked sketchy. Where was Trainer Rick Scott when you needed him? Does he only train for the football team?

P2: Having once again failed to develop any pitching depth (see Radley, Boo and Hobson, Carrie), Mimi resorts to strategically planting land mines along the basepaths. Unfortunately the mines aren’t very powerful and the Madison runner still scores. An eye for an eye and an ankle for an ankle won’t cut it in the Valley, Mimi. As if you care.

P3: Ah yes, back to the perspective we’re used to in this strip: Girls watching boys. At least I think that’s a girl. Maybe it’s Phoebe and she’ll help Mike and the Misfits hone their skills to beat the Mudlarks. After it’s all done she’ll say it was her way of protesting the draconian zero-tolerance policy that went unchallenged and sent Mike down this path of pathos.

June 4, 2020

Daddy Played First, Mama Played Second, Needed A Third Baseman To Join Right In There.

Filed under: big arms, Just plain sad, Pointy Fingers, Valley Modified — tdrewhardin @ 12:44 pm

060420bI would like to remember George Floyd and Breonna Taylor. For whatever charges were levied against them, they did have a right to expect the police to take the high road. Any public official who stoops to the level of its constituents deserves to be terminated. As Father Brown said once in the Father Brown Mysteries, equal law or equal lawlessness.

To the looters out there, shame on you. You are using controversy to promote your own ends in the name of Breonna and George. Now I can’t shop at the Walgreen’s down the street. YOU can’t either. Perhaps something you should think about when you take matters in your own hands.


Daddy played first

Mama played second

Needed a third baseman to join right in there


I remember when I was a ‘Lark

When I played good and things weren’t stark

That there’s a silver linin’ behind this plot

Just a Nutrament-chuggin’ teen

Tryin’ to grow strong with soy protein

Now I’m assemblin’ ragtag team at the weedy sandlot


Daddy played first

Mama played second

Needed a third baseman to join right in there

One of these days and it won’t be long

I’ll stick Dr. Pearl for all these wrongs

I’m gonna join that Mudlark team at The Throne


And the infield

Won’t be broken

By and by, Gil, by and by

Daddy played first

Mama played second

We got a third baseman

To join right in there

In the sky, Lord, in the sky


Hey, I have an idea. Let’s start our own team. Based on Ardis’ exploding eyeball, he seems to buy into the concept.

And why shouldn’t he? All you have to do is go to Milford Sporting Goods and order, say, 40 uniforms, 40 gloves (make sure some can fit those Valley Rejects that are left-handed) , 2 catcher’s mitts (in case Gil forgot to bring his and you need to loan one to your former teammates) , 15 bats at $100 a bat (I’m sure Valley Rejects have parents that can write a check and never miss it) , bag to PUT the bats in, 40 batting helmets, equipment bags, storage shed FOR the equipment bags (you just gonna leave them in The Mayor’s garage?) , 40 pairs of cleats and 40 pairs of non-steel cleats (in case some overly picky groundskeeper disallows steel cleats on his carpet) , 40 cups so that no Valley Reject loses his family jewels off of a Mudlark batter’s vicious line drive, and some mouth guards. Oh, that might be extra. You can always get those at Milford Apothecary since they are at a discount because they’re sold in bulk.

And then you got to find a field, A GOOD ONE, not those we used to play at that had 2 × 4’s with nails sticking out of them strewn all over the ground, get umpires lined up, get one of the Valley Rejects to hand them a pen to sign the contract, get a grounds crew to line the field, I’m sure Luhm will work cheap if he can slide it by the Teamsters Union.

The only thing left is the insurance. Surely one of the Valley Rejects has a dad who’s an agent. Or we can get Chet Ballard to work pro bono to make up for his horse’s ass performance many months ago.

Looks like we have all our ducks in a row. Piece of cake.


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“The Bucket Gets Looted To Protest Coach Thorp Not Getting Read His Rights On DUI Charges!!!!!!!!!!!! Millions Expected In Damages, According To Insurance Claims Agent Chet Ballard!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Owner: They left the banana split mixer alone, thank God. Did you ever try to handle the Sunday evening crowd when they leave the church services?”


And that is either a sweet potato that’s been greased in Crisco growing out of The Mayor’s hand, straight from an Idaho tuber farm or he is giving the thumbs up to this precarious venture. Personally, I would get on with my life and learn from the injustice flung at him (speaking from experience) but if he’s going to be beating the bushes of Valley Second Hand Shoppe, he really needs to get BASEBALL players. I thought Ardis Carhee played basketball. Not that he can’t play baseball but let’s not throw assumptions around the hallway like table knives. Just because Dr. Pearl looks like Granny Clampett doesn’t mean she suffers from rotted-out teeth nor eats possum gizzards simmered in chicken broth. No jumping to conclusions that she eats her Wheaties and chitlins straight out of the cereal bowl with no spoon. Not that it would surprise me but let’s give it the old college try before answering in the affirmative.


Heard at The Bucket last week

“This Bucket Crab Gizzard and Jowl Bacon Plate could use a little more salt.”


If ya go recruitin’ round the fact’ry fer some guys ta be on yore fishin’ team after the Game Warden disqualified yore teammates at the Mudlark Lake Fishing Tournament Shoot-out cuz they used thar rod ‘n’ reel ta git more beer outta somebody’s cooler, ya might be a redneck.


Now I remember after the game

Gil would cuss us out by name

And you could hear all of bitchin’ for a country mile

Phoebe and Alexa have done gone on

Muench’s car is repo’d and pawned

But I’m getting together a new team by the break of dawn


Daddy played first

Mama played second

Needed a third baseman to jump right in there


One of these games and it won’t be long

We’ll lace our cleats and be 9-man strong

I’m gonna join the Rejects at Home Plate in the Skyyyyyyyy


And team unity

Won’t be broken

By and by, Gil, by and by

Daddy played first

Mama played second

We got a third baseman to join us there in the sky, Lord, in the sky


And this recruiting campaign is getting off to a roaring start. Some guy whose waistline indicates he has not missed lunch when the Valley Alternative cafeteria unlocks its doors and displaying the railroad spikes he hocked off the Milford & Oakwood rail and hammered in his hair and Mr. Ponytail (assume for argument’s sake it isn’t Mrs. Ponytail) . Now several players have played Major League Baseball and have worn long hair. Randy Johnson and Mitch “Wild Thing” Williams come to mind.

But why do I have a strong suspicion that The Mayor is simply grabbing at bodies at Valley Consignment just to pontificate to his ex-teammates that he can field a team. I remember a friend of mine who was a part of the Vietnam era who pointed out that if you could crawl, you were drafted. That about seems the case here. That’ll help when you slide into second where Mama is ready to apply the tag.

Really, Mayor, don’t just get guys on your team just because they have two arms, two legs, and sport a significant other between their legs. That’s not fair to amputees or bisexuals. I’d be put out if I was a quadriplegic and I was not recruited to play catcher. Whoops, I’m sorry, Railroad Iron Head already has that position. Anybody who eats Twinkies for appetizers ought to be able to block the plate, no question.

And as long as you’re talking to Ginger Baker in P2, would you tell him that Jack Bruce called again? Says that Clapton wants to do a remake on “White Room”.


Ooooooooookkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn to the rescue once again to bring sanity to insanity. Take ‘er away, Gene.

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought The Mayor was recruiting her to ____________________.”


Is that inside the lampshade or is the lampshade turned inside out to get rid of all the lint?

Well, we have more on our plate than to prove that inverted lampshades in Schuring’s living room with sides that are congruent to the corresponding sides of the inverted lampshades in the den are congruent to each other. The Mayor is talking smack and the only thing missing from this Public Service Announcement/”Let’s Get Ready to Rumble” background music is the expected poster that’ll get nailed on every utility pole in Milford


This Saturday at the Milford Gardens

The Mayor of Second Chances


Tom “The Gil-Slayer” Muench

Mudlark Cage Match

w/Texas Tornado Rules

One fall, no time limit, no DQ

Loser leaves Milford High School

7:30PM Bell Time

Tickets available at all Milford Apothecary outlets and Ticketmaster locations

Don’t miss it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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


The Mayor might not need Railroad Iron Head for a tag partner even though the latter has a Dusty Rhoads “The American Dream” beer gut and might prove useful in the “Iowa Death Match” next month. We’ll see what happens.


And what in the name of railroad irons is that thing in that bunch of Chiquita bananas that Chris designates as his right hand? I ruled out abacus because I assume he has a calculator on the coffee table upon which lies the M.C. Escher lamp. It’s too small to be that mechanism that makes all those farm animal noises when you pull the string and I’m confident that if Chris is up to the challenge vis-a-vis The Mayor’s trash talk, that he is too old to be listening to “The cow goes MOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”. It COULD be some kind of CD player albeit I really can’t imagine “Rewind” being across the panel and at a slight acute angle with “Pause”. Folks, I think we have a dead ringer for Pantheon of Mysterious Objects. Wait, it’s part of the Close ‘n’ Play apparatus he bought at Milford Toys ‘R’ Us. I’m not giving up on this one.


“And we’ll be back with the starting line-ups between the Milford Mudlarks and the Valley Alternative Recyclables after these messages. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG Radio, a division of Learfield Sports.”


“Golly, gee, that ought to be an exciting game between my boys and those troublemakers in “Ernest Goes to Camp”, I mean, Valley Alternative. That’s about the only good news around here.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp and when Milford Beverage Warehouse got looted because some cowards thought that the judge laid the hammer on yours truly with 100 hours of community service after being convicted of failing the sobriety test, it really turned my stomach. Raking the leaves at the Milford Elementary School front lawn isn’t such a stiff sentence. Shoot, I have plenty of fishing nets in my garage to get all the dead bugs out of Milford Public Swimming Pool before they dump a gallon of chlorine an hour before they open. The only time success comes before work is in the dictionary. And The Warehouse has been forced to close their doors because some morons didn’t register to vote.

But if you think The Warehouse is going to take their boarded-up doors and like it, guess again. They will re-open on July 1st with some door-busters and I don’t mean the ones that are against the law. How about some Heineken? Shoot, I’d go to jail for this deal, $14.49 in the 12oz. 12-Pack but I ain’t going to leave another party with Evan Williams Bourbon on my breath and risk getting pulled over again from that speed trap in the Milford Lounge parking lot.  You’ll just have to take my word for it.

And how about some Maker’s Mark Whiskey? By some miracle, that and the Oreos didn’t get damaged. The Warehouse wants to express their praises to God with an eye-opening $22.99 in the 750ml bottle. And if they run out of Oreos, if the Chips Ahoy! isn’t too badly damaged, I can always dip that in my whiskey glass.

And if you buy a 30-Pack of Busch Light at the ridiculous $19.99, The Warehouse will give you a voucher for a discount at Renewal by Andersen to replace your broken window. I don’t know why morons would loot a guy’s living room and raid the Popular Mechanics magazine rack but buy the booze first and ask questions later. Isn’t it nice that you can once again look out your window and sip The Good Life all in the same day. Watching the birdies in the birdbath in our backyard with a Busch just brings a tear a tear to my eye.

Get your affairs in order and prepare for the Grand Reopening of Milford Beverage Warehouse. And the 1st 50 people waiting in line will get a free canister of Pringle’s Regular or Sour Cream. The thugs didn’t touch those either although they had a Hell of a time ransacking the Milford Vending Soft Pretzels bags. The Warehouse will take a loss selling the rest.

Come in and get a new lease on life and a new window and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”


Gang, you’re still the one. I don’t have to recruit you to make a successful blog. You make it successful all by yourself. God bless you.


At the Milford Outdoor Amphitheater Free Summer Concert Series shindig one breezy night

“…Gil sang bass

Mimi sang tenor

Keri and Jaime would join right in there…”


At a scrimmage at Milford Sports Complex

“So they’ll let me keep my seeing-eye dog as long as he’s in the dugout?”

“I still need to talk to the crew chief but I don’t think the umpires will say anything.”

May 28, 2020

Settin’ This Plot On Fire

Filed under: hands in the air, Pointy Fingers, The Bucket — tdrewhardin @ 3:58 am


Dump your cleats and uniform

We’ll talk and hug where the Coke is warm

Lack of progress is the norm

Tonight we’re settin’ this plot on fire


You’re my gal and I’m your feller

Clean up so that you’ll look sweller

Gil’s a coward who turned yellar

Settin’ this plot on fire


We’re takin’ all the corner booths

We’re hoggin’ all the fun

We’ll show the kids that we don’t care

And gittin’ nuthin’ done


You be daffy and I’ll be dilly

This plot’s so goofy and plain damn silly

It’s worse than The Bucket Bowl of Chili

Settin’ this plot on fire


And what can I say? Phoebe returns as if we might squeeze in a love story or a couple more softball games before reality hits and we realize that golf is right around the corner. No, Phoebe, I wouldn’t be switching gears and be The Mayor’s object of affection while pulling a Kirk Gibson on us in the same week. Too much juggling before Gil hits the links. It’s a great idea, Bill Mazeroski circling the bases to beat the Yankees in 1960 with that improbable home run only to greet his wife at home plate. Hold the roast, honey, until the home plate umpire makes my home run official. You’d be surpised how many marriages were created by attending The Mayor’s graduation at Boys Town after Phoebe parked one in the concession stand behind left field to win the Valley Conference Regular Season Title.

But the timing’s horrible. You’d better park one before you can say “Gil still has time to qualify for The Masters and just needs some more practice with his getting on the green to shore up his game”.

And where’s Gonzalo Aceves? Is “Don’t call me ‘Gonzo’ or I’ll dump Bucket Chili on your head” going to be part of the festivities tonight or did he go back to the suitcase for the ventriloquist to pull up later during football? He couldn’t catch anybody’s attention during baseball season even if he slammed the door and saved a couple of games when the baseball plot finally turned in its physical. Maybe he’ll have better luck with Charlie Roh in the backfield. They can both share running back duties without Rudderless Rooney showing up at halftime and sentencing them to reform school because they didn’t turn in their essay on “Animal Farm”. Or maybe we can throw in Aceves and Alexa getting engaged after Milford trounces Oakwood, 73-0. Oops, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s worry about cramming details and characters for football until Fall. We have enough loose ends and expendable characters to cram into Spring without trying to fit Charlie Roh in the scheme of things. Oh, I got it, he can be Gil’s caddy. Gil has enough on his mind trying to beat Tiger for the final spot at Augusta without some clown not having Gil’s putter ready. Strike while the iron is hot.


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“WDIG To Cancel Hank Williams 4-Hour Special This Sunday!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Spokesperson says that Louisiana Hayride performance, the penultimate show before ending tour at Milford High School Gym, got erased by sound engineer. WDIG Station Manager issues public apology.”


And what better to continue this Plot-for-the-Day than to embrace a Spicoli Moment on Fast Times at Milford High? We’ve already seen Charlie Roh blindside his step-dad because he did the equivalent of smashing Charlie’s Trans Am into the Milford Water Tower but continuing from yesterday, Spicoli and The Mayor ordered several pizzas from Milford Pizza Parlor and distributed them among the Softball Mudlarks. Hey, Mr. Hand isn’t around and there’s no hard feelings even though I had to go to Shawshank and Spicoli didn’t. Rooney didn’t smell the reefer in his shorts? It may not be a butter knife or a weapon but it’s still illegal. On school grounds, both are grounds for due processing. Don’t walk into Gil’s office with a doobie and test the theory unless you are Spicoli. He may share reliever duties with Gonzo the Z.

Anyway, pizza is a perfect good-will gesture, as well as hugging the life out of the one person who was less than enthusiastic when The Mayor sprinkled Chem-Lawn on his pepperoni. And pizza is a good way to bribe Mimi for more PT. If she didn’t run off The Mayor because, as the readership pointed out, he could be technically illegal because  his expulsion in all likelihood extended to Mudlark school activities, then she can likely be bought. Here, Coach, want a slice? We know you like Canadian bacon. You’re pencilled in the starting lineup fer sure.



“Dammit, Muench, if you’re going to violate team rules, would you please make sure the 3-meat special has no anchovies? That stuff makes me fart in the middle of the night!!!!! Mimi has to sleep on the sofa in our living room. And next time YOU tip the Domino’s driver.”

“Sorry, Coach.”



Hugging her like he would his mother

Up one storyline and down the other

This is too confused, oh brother

Tonight we’re settin’ this plot on fire


Ordering a stale cheeseburger

Gulping those French fries can be murder

Slurping shakes that taste like Gerber

We’re settin’ our butts on fire


We’ll put aside a little time

Softball’s almost through

Baseball team was playin’ fine

But the gaps were showin’ through


Just sit on the bleachers and I’ll start howlin’

How Andy did all the law’s allowin’

Tomorrow I’m at Valley in my books a-plowin’

Settin’ this plot on fire


Wondering what a Circle K locator is and assuming you consult the matter on a computer to find out online


“Dr. Pearl, why are you under your desk? The students can see your slip.”

“I’m looking for my GAF Viewmaster. I dropped it when my elbow hit it when I was writing my District Board End Of Year Party Concession Purchases Report-2013. I need it to locate that new Milford 7-11 they built by Milford Federal.”


And it most definitely looks like we’re picking up where we left off in P2 when Alexa was in the hallway with Phoebe and suggested that he was in love with The Mayor. The ensuing  playful tap that was administered didn’t reach proportions of Mimi swatting Alexa’s ass with Mimi’s spare catcher’s mitt but it delivered the message. We could have a love story and One Shining Moment. Sharing a bicarbonate protein-enriched egg-induced chocalate drink out of The Mayor’s Thermos after some vigorous kissing and petting after Phoebe speared one to end the game, boy, you knew you were alive. I can hear the song now out of the Muzak system when I take the elevator at Milford Medical Arts Facility.

It’s a pity that all these Shining Moments got interrupted by Instagram photos of Dr. Pearl and Gil and Andy trivializing sports and rendering them useless by their inexplicable actions. Get your ass to The Bucket tonight and let’s set the record straight. If Andy Rooney shuns the truth, he can have my stale cheeseburger. Both got thrown out eventually. You can’t add pickles to the truth, however. My story and I’m stickin’ to it. BTW, doesn’t Andy look sexy in that one Instagram offering? The way he moves his beard munching on Bucket Buffalo Fries while due processing The Mayor, we might have to stave off Mimi when her hot flashes flare up.


I’ll gas up my hot rod stoker

Sticking you like a fire poker

You’ll be broke but I’ll be broker

Tonight we’re settin’ the woods on fire…


Milford Girls-a-Go-Go Club emcee steps to the mike

“How many want an encore for Coach Shaw!!!!!!!!! Don’t he play a mean jazz guitar!!!!!!!!!”


As The Mayor approaches the Boulevard of Broken Dreams side of The Bucket, he has 2 questions

1) Is it really worth going in to engineer a comeback that might prove futile? Sisyphus pushed rocks up and down the heights of Milford forever attempting to fight an unfair-but-seemingly-uncontestable situation. At least Sisyphus could rest in the summer by the time Gil teed off.

2) Is that Humphrey Bogart in there flirting with Alexa? I thought O.J. had the inside track.


And then it’s hard not to notice that The Mayor has borrowed a few light bulbs as a tail for his own thought balloon. I believe Funky Winkerbean and Buzz Sawyer employed this technique. Just leave some light while you’re trying to think through and solve the latest crime, Buzz.

And you old-timers will remember, speaking of Funky, when that classroom chair in a random classroom would execute its own though balloons, bitching from about how students misused them by leaning back in them too far  to carving initials about students’ latest heartthrobs. Those chairs had to utilize the whole Bucket marquee.


“Damn!!!!! Doesn’t that woman ever go home? She’s been sitting on me and filling out that report for 15 straight hours without a lunch.”


If yore girlfriend with the one molar in her mouth and breasts ya could go bowling down at Milford Lanes with wins the skeet compe-tish-shun at the Milford Con-sur-vay-shun Club All-Comers Tournament and ya celebrate at the Milford Pool Hall by gittin’ loud ‘n’ rowdy and drunker ‘n’ Foster Brooks, ya might be a redneck.


“And we’ll be back to see if Archie goes into Pop’s Choklit Shoppe and gets readmitted to Riverdale High School and is forgiven for smashing his jalopy into Mr. Weatherbee’s garage after these messages. This is WDIG-TV.”


“Folks, I wouldn’t know what to do if I was standing outside Milford Lounge and invited to Clams and Coors Happy Hour after I’d been blackballed by Milford Country Club for brandishing a 9-iron at #10 dog-leg left as a weapon. I’m grateful I can look in the Milford Directory under ‘Lawyers’. Thankfully, there’s another impossible situation that has been worked out and if you have cash or credit, you’re in luck.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse. Boy, have I got some great news for you. Even if Hadley V. is out of town, you can stop worrying about getting cussed out by the Magistrate in the Milford Superior Court system every time you don’t have an answer when you couldn’t walk a straight line after being pulled over. Sometimes you can’t help it if the beer was free.

Milford Beverage Warehouse is now selling Impossible Booze. That’s right, Otis the Drunk will no longer have to spend a night in the Mayberry Jail because he can get drunk off of Bud Impossible Light. The engineers at Milford Chemical have partnered with several alcohol distributors in a unique consortium. They have managed to harness one of the abundant elements in nature, nitrogen, and combine them with barley and malt. Skipping the fermentation process couldn’t be easier and Otis the Drunk can live up to his reputation and still be sober. Amazing how potent nitrogen can be when creating non-alcoholic products. And for $14.99 a case, I’ll get non-drunk all I want with Otis the Clean down at some park bench on the grounds of Milford Sand Volleyball Plaza.

These same scientists were able to extract certain proteins from Colorado snake root and the amino acids from lab mice to create Crown Royal Impossible Canadian Whisky. That’s right, if you have to take a breath-a-lyzer test, isn’t it nice to know you’re covered? You could be 3 times over the legal limit but if you got enough air in your lungs to blow up a zeppelin, you can enjoy The Good Life and still drive legally. The officer will have to hand you back your registration. For $24.99 a bottle, he can stick the damn thing in my glove compartment himself.

The wine and cheese crowd have jumped in on the act. They have mixed grapes stomped on by Texas longhorns and DNA molecules from animal fats to create Impossible Wine. The bums at Milford Skid Row will have a field day. They can down the chicken salad sandwiches they eat every Friday at the Milford Soup Kitchen with a bottle of Impossible Nirvana. And the volunteers at the Kitchen can’t call him a wino. And you can obtain non-wino status too for $13.99 a bottle. If you lose your job and have to resort to the Wednesday All-You-Can-Eat-Ravioli Smorgasbord at the Soup Kitchen, your credit card and an empty stomach is all you’ll need at The Warehouse. Ain’t it nice when you have packaged  Impossible Liquor and the Kitchen still has to fill your plate with unlimited Chef Boy-ar-Dee????? Just hope it ain’t Impossible Ravioli.

Come on down and see how possible the impossible can be. The Milford Beverage Warehouse made it possible by always taking care of its customers, impossible or otherwise. The Warehouse always has security if they get too impossible. Check out the impossiblities and get your slice of the pie in the bargain and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”


Gang, you mean so much to me. My humor is nothing without you. God has truly blessed me with a faithful readership. God bless you all.


“Honeyyyyyyy, I’m hornyyyyyyyyyy. It’s time for you to fire poke meeeeeeeeee.”

“Blubba, blubba, I still gotta practice this song. I want to get every note perfect on ‘The Bucket’s Got a Hole In It’ and make ol’ Hank and the rest of Arkansas proud.”

“Darling, isn’t he from Alabama? And Johnny Cash is from Arkansas. And I believe it’s ‘My Bucket’s Got a Hole In It’.”

“Blubba, blubba, well, you see I gotta work on that and ‘Rose Garden’. The Go Go Club expects no less than a Sinatra performance.”

“Except Lynn Anderson sang ‘Rose Garden’.”

“I beg your pardon, I never promised Gil a rose garden, I’ll be ready after I perfect the last few chords of ‘Your Cheatin’ Heart’.”

“Your Significant Other will tell on you if you don’t take these EREC-3500 pills and a glass of water. Now dwinkkeeeeee uuuppppppp.”

Later that night Coach Shaw melted his Cold Cold Heart


Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Thought Dead In The Back Seat Of A Cadillac!!!!!!!!!!! Reportedly Okay And Cleared By Officials At Milford Minor Emergency Clinic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I was taking a nap and suddenly I was surrounded by the police. They thought I OD’d on Smirnoff’s Impossible Vodka.”






May 26, 2020

Students Who Butter Their Bread With Table Knives Attract The Wrong Elements Of Society.


Many, many moons ago, James Watt, then-Secretary of the Interior under the Ronald Reagan administration, made the most ignorant comment known to Mankind when he stated that The Beach Boys should not perform at National Mall for the 4th of July celebration in the early ’80’s in Washington D.C. because they attracted the wrong elements of society.

Boy, did the doggie-doo hit the fan.

Groups like Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin have always had their share of controversy along with a very strong fan base but anyone linking The Beach Boys and controversy had been smoking one too many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of The Mayor’s backpack. Adding insult to injury was having Wayne Newton as a replacement. Much as I like Wayne Newton, his own mafia ties was not exactly attracting the Ozzie and Harriet Nelson crowd.

True, Brian Wilson, their main songwriter and essential leader of the band had experienced drug problems but Mike Love, the band’s lead singer, threatened to throw him out of the group if he didn’t get help for his addiction. Problems were satisfactorily resolved by the time they hit the stage.

It was bad enough that putting Watt in charge of a department involving National Parks and the environment in general was like putting John Dillinger in charge of the FSLIC but when he made those baseless comments, several people, led by then-Vice President George Bush, came to the defense of The Beach Boys. Love ’em or Hate ’em, their image has always been Mom and apple pie.

So when I see Andy Rooney futilely try to defend his actions today, I stand amazed. It was like expelling The Beach Boys and sending them to Valley Alternative. Sure, Andy, we know you can’t read minds. If they are singing “409”, that’s a sure-fire sign that they’re going to pull out a switchblade. Nothing like singing “All Summer Long” by the Jets and the Sharks before they rip each other up in the classroom before Mid-Term Exams. You don’t know if that #2 pencil is used to fill in the blank or poke an eye out. Many lawsuits have occurred because they gouged out “None of the above.” Can’t be too careful. I know you have to cover your ass, Andy, or your ass might get buttered along with The Mayor’s Wonder Bread.

And what better way to justify the in-the-end unjustifiable than for Gil to enter the scene? Man, that’ll put the Seal of Approval on this thing. You talk about Fallacy of Argument from Authority. Why, if Gil thinks The Beach Boys attract the wrong elements of society, then we ought to switch our allegiance to the Percy Faith Singers. I was going to the Milford Outdoor Amphitheater to watch The Beach Boys perform “I Get Around”, but now that I think of it, Gil has made me rethink the way the Ray Coniff Singers perform their washing-machine twirling when singing “What I Did For Love”. I’m sure that rinse-cycle technique won’t bring the bums from skid row out of the pits of Hell. Gil listens to Henry Mancini, WHY DON’T YOU? Burning The Beach Boys “Kokomo” even as I am texting.


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Dr. Pearl Refuses To Endorse Concert By Ferrante & Teicher At Milford High School Auditorium!!!!!!!!! Says They ‘Attract The Scourge Of The Town’!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“After the rioting at the New Thayer concert, it was my duty to impose the necessary precautions. Matters got out of hand after the ‘Midnight Cowboy’ encore.”


When some loud braggart starts to flap his jaws

And says Oakwood is great

I tell him right away

Now listen here buddy

I love Alternative School

It’s number one in the State


So be true to your School now

Just like you would to Gil or your mom

Be true to your School now

Flash that Alternative Pom Pom

Be true to your School


If ya have to go to Gil for symp’thy and support after eatin’ an 8-pointer ya ran over with yore pickup and not during bow season and you’ll give Gil some deer meat ta stick in his freezer as a token of appre-she-ay-shun for his support, ya might be a redneck.


And P1 is so full of baloney, even by absurd Thorpiverse standards. If Andy Rooney would piece together what happened as I am doing now and I’m sure the readership is doing, The Mayor’s culinary tastes were oddball, to make an understatement, and his stances on the bases were nothing any T-Ball League coach would teach his or her players but he would never threaten anybody. And that really wasn’t the issue.

Let me reiterate by saying that zero-tolerance is controversial because it does solve some problems but it creates others. Yes, anybody who threatens your life deserves to be fired and needs professional help. But I’ve seen too many people shown the door because the supervisor or co-worker didn’t like that other person and contrived as close to a case as possible even if the charges were flimsy. As long as it got the result, flimsiness was not a concern.

That said, we were subjected to The Mayor sitting in the back seat of somebody’s bag of bolts chowing down on a breakfast Charles Atlas used to advertise in the back flap of a Richie Rich comic book. And that’s okay until we gotta see you eat that stuff in Chem Lab. Heck, we’re creating off the Bunsen burner what’s in your lunch box.

And I’m sure if you’re trying to get to the depths of a Steinback novel, reading about this Okie family trying to engineer a new start in California while some kid in the front row is using a table knife to spread Underwood Deviled Ham on his Star-Kist Tuna sandwich can get nauseating, not to mention DISTRACTING but that was the offense at hand. At no time did The Mayor become an Outsider and demand Andy’s money so that the Mayor could pay gang dues. The Mayor wasn’t getting initiated into The Pharoahs, as in American Graffiti, by hooking  Andy’s pickup with Gil’s desk using a chain and Andy, while leaving the faculty parking lot, goes flying along with the body of the truck into the practice field even while Dr. Pearl was frantically signalling him to stop because she didn’t want her Lexus damaged by a teacher and Chevy Silverado frame in flight.

If The Mayor was being disruptive AND HE WAS you had the option of calling his parents and talking to him and his parents and Dr. Pearl in a conference room to address the situation, an option that was wiser to use. If he still insisted on having his BLT and eat it too, then stronger measures were in order and necessary. Knowing how flighty but cooperative The Mayor has shown us to be, I really don’t think it would have gone that far.

But Gil coming in as Acting Principal because Dr. Pearl never met a form in triplicate she never liked is not a solution. You didn’t take charge when The Mayor was a bad advertisement for The Chopping Block and now you’re moralizing all over the high school. I guess that’s the job description for a non-Acting Coach who’s seeking a new career. Dr. Pearl could certainly use the help.


We play baseball at a sandlot field

The umps are teacher’s aides

The scoreboard’s barely lit

And football’s a team

Of former can’t-miss castoffs

Caught in police panty raids


So be true to your school now

Just like you would to Gil or a gal

Be true to your school now

Valley Rejects teams are your pals

Be true to your school


At the Surfer Girl album shoot at WDIG-TV Foto Studio

“Hell, stick Gil between Dennis and Carl, nobody’ll know the difference. I assume he knows how to hold a surfboard.”]


And, Gang, don’t you love how P2 nails this one in the coffin by having Gil pose for Hungry Man ad straight out of Good Housekeeping? Yup, the Hungry Man stepped into Rooney’s turf and told Rooney he not only is glad Rose of Sharon (or Roshashawrn, depending on which side of the Steinbeck coin you’re flipping) got a job in California scrubbing T-Birds driving out of the car wash until Daddy took it away and thereby The Grapes of Wrath having a Flintstones happy ending (although you had to overlook the Okie banging on the door yelling for Wilma after the saber-tooth cat dumped him outside) , but that both could eat their pile of oversalted, overjuiced Salisbury steaks and mashed potatoes in peace. They might have to use their own table knife to pry the brownie out of the tray now that they sent someone up the river who used a table knife to pry the lid off the pimento spread container and used the same knife to apply Cool Whip to humble pie but they can always borrow utensils at the cafeteria.

Enjoy your macaroni and cheese, Hungry Man. You don’t need Alternative Dude nor his knife for that one.


At the Valley Alternative Baseball Tournament one evening.

“Damn, the other umpire didn’t show up. You’ll have to go to the stands.”

“Dr. Pearl, here’s an indicator. You know how to ump on the bases?”


Oh, we’re back to baseball… or is that softball? Well, if a gun is put to my head, I have never seen too many Thorpiverse baseball games with players with shoulder-length hair, let alone one with a ponytail and I NEVER saw a Berrill-sponsored contest with a player with hair sporting a Beatles mop top or longer unless he also had one tooth in his mouth and bore a rhino horn out of his crotch to  emphasize his uniqueness, oh wait, we already have a weirdo who drinks his Minute Maid out of an elephant tusk and they suspended him.

And guessing softball (or baseball as Plan B) , what could we possibly be trying to accomplish just a few days before June now that Jamila Moses kicked ass as a pitcher but got kicked out of the plot because the focus was on some cowardly teacher who should pursue a new line of work, like garbage collecting, if he can’t handle a class clown whose bark is worse than his sandwiches? Nope, better dump the Phoebe Keener-will-hit-the game-winning-RBI-concept at the College World Series because you really couldn’t cram the developing story by the time Gil hits the links/moralizes that a Junior PGA Golfer deserved to be banished because he used a butter knife when calculating 2-in-the-water-3-out-of-the-water. Unless she can do that in maybe 3 panels. Y’know, have Alexa who’s behind the fence tell Phoebe that The Mayor has a crush on her and his White Castle burgers, Phoebe smack the winner over the 3rd baseman’s head in P2 and then in P3 ride home in Muench’s car in the back seat being high-fived by The Mayor while he also talks about his game-winning catch for Valley Alternative. We ought to be done by June and Gil do all the high-horsing he can handle at Milford Country Club.

Now in P3, is that the lady or the tiger?


Dr. Pearl one day obtaining her District Board Paper Clip Purchases Report-2018 out of the file cabinet, as the shelf slides out








“Who left their walkman in here? Gil? It’s got your name on it.”


Take that, James Watt.


Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Marty Moon In A Fight For His Life After Gaffe At Milford Quarterback Club Luncheon!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“May be suspended again after remarking that Gil’s sex life attracts the wrong elements of Milford.”


WHAP!!!!!!!!!!!! BAM!!!!!!!!!!!!! KAPOWIE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Andy Rooney presses the intercom button


“Some teachers are better off shining someone’s shoes on a street corner in Milford because they put you to sleep reading the cantos from Ezra Pound. And did you ever try to decipher an e.e. cummings poem? I thought Civil Law and The Public Perspective at Milford Community College Law School was a mouthful. ‘anyone who lived in a pretty how town’? No wonder why someone used his knife for more than peanut butter. STILL the law is the law and if you are injured on the job you deserve just compensation.”

“I wound up in the ICU at Milford General after receiving several stitches on the head from the Unabridged Edition of the Random House Dictionary. I was barely able to walk after the punk threw ‘The Love Songs of J. Alfred Prufrock-Leatherbound Edition’ at my kneecap. The doctor said it be at least 8 weeks for things to heal. I had to be back on the job or Gil would be Acting Classic Literature Teacher. No way was he prepared to interpret Francis Flute the Bellows-Mender out of ‘Midsummer’s Night Dream’. I needed help and I needed it fast.”

“We fought the District Board and Milford High School for Mr. Rooney’s loss. They had a slush fund that was financed from students’ sales of World’s Finest Chocolate and I was going to raid the loot. I found out it was going towards more paper clips anyway.”

“I got $564,785,429,074 and some loose change. I was able to buy another dictionary and put the rest in escrow. You never know when my lineage might want a career in education and they need a Guide to Shakespeare or Cliff’s Notes on Paradise Lost. I am living large and at the height of my profession again. I only sent one student to the office this week for falling asleep during ‘The Emperor of Ice Cream’. Thanks, Shark.”

“You heard the man. I may think Wallace Stevens or William Carlos Williams should be a carhop at The Bucket but when somebody’s amiss in their responsibilities, you need to call The Shark at 1-FON-THE-JAWS to write your own novel and get paid for it. One call, that’s all.”


Gang, you mean the world to me. And you don’t make stupid comments like Mr. Watt. I think I’ll stick around. God bless you, Gang.


next to of course gil america i

“Just read the damn poem and write your essay. I have no clue if it’s a misprint. Mr. Rooney will be back next week.”


Hazard a guess about which sport that’s played

My school is standing firm

It always knows the score

We win all the trophies

From handball to forensics

Graduate once more


So be true to your school now

Just like you would to Gil or your wife

Be true to your school now

You’re in school for life

Be true to your school


Rah rah rah

Be true to your school

Rah rah rah

Be true to your school

Rah rah rah…





May 21, 2020

“No, I’m Doing Time For Stealing Keri’s Lunch Money.”



Well, we have no choice

Be with girls and boys

That stirred some noise

Cuz they stole Gil’s toys


Well, we can’t salute Gil

He’s not around

If that don’t suit ya

Get outta town


School’s in for summer

School’s in forever

School’s been changed to prison


Okay, you whippersnappers, I love your music and always have but doncha dare touch Alice Cooper. Vintage, Baby. “Billion Dollar Babies”, “Love it to Death”, “Killer”, I’m tellin’ ya, I could go on. His Christian beliefs are a bonus and I mean the man LIVES the faith. Great musician and he is a testimony to all around, I’m in Heaven.


So now The Mayor gets dropped off and I’m sure he’s a little uneasy and who can blame him? Would you want YOUR mom going to the administration wing of Milford Reformatory and tell the lady at the desk she wants to get you enrolled? Oh, sure, here’s his birth certificate and his test scores from Milford Elementary. He might have to take Algebra again, he was having trouble with direct proportion. Yes, I can fax you his physical from our doctor. And he has to be passing in 4 solid subjects to be on the team? I’ll make a note of it. I’ll get a tutor for him in Modern Vocab. And call me if his grades are slipping.


While “Moanin'” is blasting from Charles Mingus off of “Blues and Roots” out of Dr. Pearl’s 8-track player




Coach Kaz opens the door

“Uh, Dr. Pearl, could you have the Pest Control guy do some extra spraying under the map of Slovakia? I saw a hornet’s nest.”


And conceding that moping wasn’t getting him anywhere, who wants to go to a school that supposedly calls itself Valley Alternative when the sign up front appears to read Goshen? As in Goshen Institute for Wayward Children? Goshen Treatment Center for Problem Students? By gum, if we can’t break him of his habit of bringing Chinet Plastic Knives to school, he deserves to share the lavatory with Papa Bader.

And coming from an engineering family (grandpa worked for Chrysler and G.E.) , I love math. And math involves fallacies in certain arguments. Like “post hoc ergo propter hoc”. This literally (everything is Latin henceforth) means “after this, therefore because of this” or loosely translated “I ain’t got no goddam business at a school that can’t even label its marquee board correctly”. This argument suffers from saying that B occurs whenever A occurs, therefore A causes B.

That won’t wash because B could occur for a number of reasons having nothing to do with A. B could be caused by Z or M or omega or Dr. Pearl’s Dentu-Cream. Proper research is in order.

The Mayor getting sent to Gil’s Reformatorium is a classic case of “post hoc ergo propter hoc.” Just because a common table knife was discovered in The Mayor’s locker does not necessarily mean it belongs to The Mayor, a point I’m sure Hadley Varnish will hit home at the District Board meeting. It could have been used by Coach Shaw to rob the Milford 7-11 to get some cash and condoms. The need for some chump change and no more children from his horny wife got to be too much, evidently. But he had to stash the evidence or it would blow his cover as a cameo coach.

The Bucket could have used his locker for table knives because the dispenser had to be sterilized and stacking them next to his street clothes and his table d’hote was about as sanitary an alternative as anyone could get. They just forgot to get all the knives when Milford Sanitary Enterprises returned the machine after a thorough dousing of suds.

And really, you could extend “post hoc ergo propter hoc” to The ‘Mudlark Whiffleball’  bumper sticker on Mama Knappe’s minivan was not necessarily a direct result of Gil’s coaching.” For all we know, Gil could have been trying to golf one out of the sand trap at Milford Public Golf Course when The Mayor parked one in the stands and won MVP as a result. Making Mama proud and getting on the green to save par don’t always correlate.


No more baseball

No more knives

No more living

A Mudlark’s life


Gil is past due

Out to pasture

Gone to Hole 9

Plot’s much faster


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Gil’s Reformatorium For Discarded Plotline Characters To Construct An Extension Onto The Student Life Section!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Studies indicate a growing need for a building concentrating on meeting needs of ex-petty larceny contingent.”


And many of you simply fail to understand Fallacy of Division. This is totally different from Fallacy of Composition. Don’t get them confused. Fallacy of Composition states that if one’s a bum, they’re all bums.

Let’s bring it close to home. Say I throw out “Marty Moon wears a goatee and is a snake in the grass, therefore all men who wear goatees are cowardly, yellow-bellied vipers and only foot odor smell worse than their ethics. You can’t spray Dr. Scholl on Marty’s broadcasting techniques or the persona of other men who broadcast or perform white-collar duties or otherwise punch a time clock to earn a paycheck.”

This is faulty reasoning. If that were true, Magic Johnson would have been spraying liberally when he wasn’t executing the 3-on-2 against the Celtics at the LA Forum. Charles Mingus would be slithering around the studio while trying to play bass on “Better Git It In Your Soul”. Gil would be banging Mimi 24/7 in the closet when the kids were away at summer camp. Gil’s ethics, work or otherwise, may be shaky but for now just assume there’s nothing but coats and hangers in the closet. And that Gil displayed a goatee at one time just to aid and abet in this argument. You’ll just have to use your imagination.

Fallacy of Division IS JUST THE OPPOSITE. PLEASE keep that in mind so that when you’re taking the exam, you don’t miss the question and flunk the course and wind up sitting behind The Mayor in Intro to Sociology at Goshen Alternative Life Skills Academy.

Fallacy of Division says that if the whole group is one way, then the individual members are too. If that were true, Band of Gypsies, the classic by Jimi Hendrix, would have relegated him, Buddy Miles on drums, and Billy Cox on bass to nomadic status. They played music, not wandered the Mojave Desert with a caravan of Joe Tourists and Joe Gypsies.

Therefore, when Gil called The Mayor an idiot, he committed a most grievous error. Yes, Gil, I’ll concede that you’ve assembled a whole baseball team of idiots because, as Coach Stuard taught me, the coach is the tree and the players are the branches and if the coach is an idiot, well, Gil, do you expect the team to subsequently play smart and hard? Well?

STILL, with that said, if the team is composed of many garbage men, does that make The Mayor an employee for Milford Sanitary Engineering Solutions, Inc.? Well, you don’t see a garbage can lid in P2, do you? He didn’t ride to work in a garbage truck with “Milford Baseball Mom” bumper sticker on the back of the vehicle.

Therefore, assume that if The Mayor ever asks the lady at the desk where the dumpster is, he is

A) Throwing away a Twinkie wrapper and a Diet Coke can

B) Attempting to ditch this inane plot

C) Has to take a leak BEHIND the dumpster because the toilets in the boy’s room at Gil’s Reformatorium are out of order

D) All of the above


If ya got ta go ta reform school cuz ya could only repeat 5th grade so many times and the Milford District Board ruled ya ran past the Statute uv Limitations, ya might be a redneck.



Alice Cooper, accompanied by the Milford Elementary School 4th Grade Choir and Tonette Band


Now we’re stuck in class

There isn’t any teachers

And there isn’t any principal

No coach with bouncy skunk-black hairrrrr


School’s in for summer

School’s in forever

School will bore me to pieces


What? Dr. Pearl’s daughter is involved in a career in education TOO? She has that beehive right down to the yarmulke. But it looks like Dr. Pearl Junior applied some Grecian Formula for Women. Dr. Pearl evidently is allergic to it. No worries, Dr. Pearl. Polar bear hair is sexy, according to this article in National Geographic.

That said, Dr. Pearl Jr. couldn’t cut it in real estate? The career in cosmetology at Milford Beauty School fell through? The earrings weren’t chunky enough, I reckon, although they probably didn’t grade on a curve on her Show-and-Tell portion of the final exam if P2 is any indication. Because she didn’t apply enough Afro-Sheen to Mimi’s hair, Mimi looked like Billie Holiday as a Milford Cafeteria Lady, so Dr. Pearl Jr.’s kismet became the lead woman at the Information Desk at Goshen Valley School for Mudlark Retreads. I’ll bet there’s plenty of room for advancement.


Another fallacy is the Ad Populum Argument. This commits the fallacy of believing something because many or all of the people endorse that particular concept (“according to the people”) . This is a dangerous line of reasoning as we could be swayed to certain actions against our better judgment. Just because the Gallup Polls reported that 83% of the population read Gil Thorp and opine that he is 10 times better than Barney Google even if in the end they use the comic section to scoop up the dog poop/droppings in the hamster cage doesn’t mean we should go down to PetSmart and buy a beagle. Don’t base your decision to buy a litter box because the Milford Enquirer said that Gil was better than reading the Horoscope. An appeal to sound rhetoric is the higher road to pursue.


Gang, remember the Night Gallery episode “The Academy” where Pat Boone plays a slightly cold-hearted parent who is seriously considering sending his problem child to a military school run by a general, played by Leif Erickson (Larry Linville, who played Major Burns on M*A*S*H* for years, plays one of the cadets) ? The chiller is that this is no ordinary military school. Pat Boone recognizes some of the cadets who are well in their 30’s and 40’s after they got in trouble at school or with the law when they were teenagers and were eventually sentenced to this school. The fact they’re still doing drill is the overriding concern but the clincher is this statue of Erickson’s character with his arm around a boy. The general is pointing TOWARDS the school, not out towards the world with a “Go West, Young Man” flavor to it. Juvenile delinquents sent to a correctional facility are trapped when they become adults.

So when The Mayor gets dumped onto Boys Town-Goshen Valley Extension, it’s bad enough, as Teenchy mentioned, that chemical symbols are written in Aramaic somewhere across the Tigris-Euphrates but you hope to God there isn’t this statue of Gil with his arm around The Mayor out by the entrance. You pray Gil is pointing towards the Milford High School Baseball Facility, if nothing else.

And what the Hell could this kid be thinking when he asks a question like that in P3? Does he think The Mayor cruised around town with Al Capone? Sure, Al had a machine gun, The Mayor had a table knife when confronting The Sopranos.

“No, but I drove the getaway car when they held up Milford Federal Credit Union last week.”

Keep pointing towards the school, Gil. The Mayor might graduate by the time he’s eligible for Social Security.


Booby Howry uncovers his latest billboard

“Clarabelle the Clown uses a Poulan Weed Trimmer when manicuring his lawn. Shouldn’t you?”


I don’t think Booby’s latest offering will get him in trouble with Gil but definitely Booby is most definitely committing the Fallacy of Argument from Authority. Now if Clarabelle the Clown squirts his tears all over the Mudlark gym, Clarabelle the C is on Gil’s shit list but the billboard, though flawed, won’t draw Gil’s ire.


“And we’ll be back to see if The Mayor jumps the wall at The Academy or is forced to clean 500 rifles if he’s caught after these messages. This is WDIG-TV.”


“I hated to expel Mike from Milford High School. Lord knows he was like a son to me. I hadn’t been this close to someone like him since The Flapper Days.

And then there’s all the restaurants closing due to the pandemic. People just aren’t going to jump in the station wagon and overindulge at the buffet table at Milford Ponderosa.

And Milford Funeral Solutions recognizes that. They know they can’t stop death but they can help a brother in need. That’s why Milford Funeral Solutions is more than happy to announce that they are teaming up with Popeyes Louisiana Kitchen Inc. to aid a restaurant beaten and robbed on its way to Jericho. Lord knows that Milford Funeral Solutions may need Popeyes cooler section should there be an oversupply of caskets.

And to prove that death is always in demand, if your loved one dies and you hold the viewing and the service by the end of May, Popeyes will throw in a 10-Piece Mixed Chicken Special, complete with 10 Hand-Dipped Chicken Tenders and 5 Biscuits. If you can perform the cremation by the same date, Popeyes will add 2 sides. Throwing ashes in Mudlark Lake and Macaroni and Cheese, a winning combination. My husband partook of Hush Puppies when they scattered his grandfather.

Some of you encountered multiple deaths in the family. When grandmothers from both sides of the family give up their spirits at the Milford Convalescent Center, you don’t want to be malnourished after the priest reads the Last Rites. That’s why a White Meat to Celebrate Life Special is such a welcome relief. And Popeyes will spice up the festivities with Buffalo Wings if they donated their bodies to science. You can be assured that while you’re devouring your White Breast Meat and Cole Slaw that your loved one donated his or her kidney or heart so that that person’s own Celebration of Life gets postponed until their Meaning of Life is fulfilled.

Can’t afford funeral expenses? Not a problem. Milford Funeral Solutions and Popeyes will hold a raffle for 10 lucky contestants. The winner of the drawing will hear “Shall We Gather at the River” for the dearly departed while enjoying a 4-Pack Chicken Sandwich and Potato Fries Combo. We ask that you don’t slurp your Orange Crush during the proceedings out of respect for the dead.

Come to Milford Funeral Solutions and experience Christian charity at its finest. As Paul said in 1st Corinthians, there’s 3 things we need to abide by, Faith, Hope, and Charity. But the greatest of them all is a Popeyes Bucket Fill-Up. Heaven will never be the same.”


Gang, you mean the world to me. God bless you all.


At the District Board hearing, a concerned parent comes to the podium to voice his concerns

“…and furthermore, anybody who dips her beehive in a tub of Grecian Formula-Phosphate Free and Prell and Quaker State is not fit to be an administrator of Milford High School…”

Hey, best case of committing the Ad Hominem (“To the man”) Fallacy I’ve seen so far. He’ll probably have to restructure his argument should there be an appeal.


School’s in for the summer

School’s in forever



“…where the students don’t matriculate but rather, are marooned. We call this painting ‘Milford High School’. And this is…The Night Gallery.”







May 18, 2020

Grow Up To Be A Barista

Filed under: Chunky Bracelets, Gil Thorp, Pointy Fingers, Prairie Style Windows — nedryerson @ 11:46 am

The Mayor, Mike Knappe, is starting to grasp the gravity of the situation. His parents are trying to show support and help show him a way through, but Mike is wallowing in despair. He’s also acting like a turd. That’s a pretty low blow at Mother Knappe. Jeez, kid, do you think your mother wants to home school a schmuck-o like you??

I don’t know how home schooling would work for a kid who just needs to finish out a year. (Maybe he has more than a year left. I should know these things.) Perhaps the burden wouldn’t be that much on parents. I think being pressed into service against your will would sour things. On the bright side, The Mayor would have more time to eat a sensible breakfast and he wouldn’t have an audience for his lame culinary shtick.

Hold on, there’s a knock at the door. Who could it be? Why, it’s Coach Gil Thorp. Is he selling the ThorpCo Comprehensive Home Schooling Kit For Screwups?


March 28, 2020



Four months’ setup for this. One of the lamest intros since “Oprah, Uma. Uma, Oprah.” Alexa is left with a deer-in-the-headlights look the likes of which we haven’t seen since Boo Radley had an unfortunate run-in with Del Bader and a pickup truck.

Although some sources say it’s legit, I have never heard anyone named Serena given the nickname “Siri.” In all the years I’ve followed tennis I’ve never heard it used on the greatest female player in recent times. I never heard called Samantha Stevens’ evil cousin called “Siri.” I never heard Sifl and Olly’s fantasy girl referred to as “Siri” either, but supposedly it’s of Scandinavian origin and that’s her mother’s given name. Okay, fine.

There are still a couple months left in most school years. Many of them will be completed via distance learning, which starts on Monday where I live. Another plot should be starting on Monday in the Thorpiverse as well. Newspaper syndicate lead times being what they are, it will probably not involve distance learning. Some elements of this plot may continue over into the spring. Chris and Alexa may still duke it out for valedictorian.  We may find out Siri’s parents are named Cortana and Mercedes.

Siri and Alexa have nice boots on. Maybe they’ll go ride horses together at the afterparty.

Chris gives this plot the finger. So do I.

March 26, 2020

She Wipes Her Face Of This Whole Affair.

Filed under: big arms, freak hands, hands in the air, Pointy Fingers — tdrewhardin @ 8:55 am


We TWIMers are anticipating the onset of baseball/softball so that we can get jerked around like a rag doll for another 4 months replete with inchoate mini-plots and directions leading us to No-Man’s Land and we’re left holding the bag how to get OUT of No-Man’s Land. Do you take A-1-A? Yeah, Jimmy Buffett would have better success getting out of Florida than we would escaping from March. Remember that Saturday Night Live sketch where Frank Zappa gets broken down and he has to go to this house where these hippies are like zombies? “Night on Drug Mountain”? And anybody who knew Zappa knew, bizarre as his music was, he never touched a drug in his life. He was VERY politically active and many of his albums are imbued with political messages.

Well, you can imagine the scene.

“Fraaaaaannnnkkkk, so good to see yoouuuu. I got some of this weed fresh in the bowl,  maaaannnnnn.”

“No, thank you, I don’t do drugs. Do you have any jumper cables?”

“Heyyyyyyy, evvverrrrryyyybodyyyy, it’s Frank Zapppppppaaaa!!!!!! Here, Frank, tryyyy some of this LSDDDDDDDDD. It’ll take your minddddd off this plot. Gil will be a thinngggg of the passsssttttttttt.”

“Look, I don’t do drugs. Do you have a phone? I can call AAA and get my car towed. I have a credit card.”


And with Dan Akroyd in that ponytail, that confirmed the hilarity of the situation.

“Night on Mudlark Mountain.”

Kaz in a ponytail

“Here, Gillllllllll, I got some coke straight out of the ovvvvveeennnnnn. You ought to try sommmmmmeeeeee. You aren’t going anywhheeeerrreee in this ploootttttt, anyway.”

“Kaz, you know I don’t do drugs. Did you get that Geography Final grade for Chris? I have to have it on Dr. Pearl’s desk by Monday.”

“Oh, Gil, don’t be such a party poopperrrrrr. I have a nice toke under my typewriiiittterrrrrrr. I smoke it when the studentttssssss aren’t loookkkinnngggggg. Open your mind and smelllllllll the cofffffeeeeee, mannnnnnnnn.”

“No thank you, Ms. Rizk. I have a reputation to uphold. Did you get Chris’ AAA record? I understand he’s in arrears and I want to pay the balance before that goes to print in The Trumpet.”

“Heyyyyyyy, no harmmmmmmm, no foullllll. He may have landed on the practice fiiiiieeeelllllddddd but it’s ancient historyyyyyyy to meeeeeeee. And I’llllllll give it a decentttttttt burialllll if you’ll broaden your minnnnnnnddddddd, Gil. And I’ll go half on the towinnnngggggggg.”


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Mudlark Girls Basketball Ends With 21-Gun Salute!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Mimi Thorp: ‘Scriptwriter told me he didn’t have any room in April for the Playdowns and my sermonizing on the softball diamond. I had to flip a coin.”


Okay, Mudlark Ladies, it’s time to get up and stretch. Yeah, I’m also gettin’ antsy for this thing to end. What the Academic Rat Race That Ended In Detente had to do with basketball is a free throw do-over because someone entered the lane too soon. Mimi needs to drill her players on proper footwork, maybe stick an anvil in their butts so they don’t lean over, um, er, EUREKA!!!!!!!!! THEY’RE STRETCHING BECAUSE THEY WON!!!!!!!!!!!! Sometimes it doesn’t always register. Like the Vegas gambling house that has no clocks because they want people to keep gambling by losing sense of time, the Mudlark gym has no scoreboard because Thorpiverse wants to keep dragging this along to fill up space until Spring sports and let us draw our own conclusions. Make us think this is a Ban Roll-On commercial.



“Yup, we sure did. Have you checked your pits lately? I have some Sure in my locker.”

Raise your arms if you’re Surrrreeeeee


What a commercial. Team celebrations in Milford will never be the same.


If ya conk out yore bloodhound and all the ticks and fleas on yore bloodhound as a result of lack of usage of Mennen Speed Stick Spe-shull Formula Apple Cider Supreme for longer than this plot, ya might be a redneck.


And we won’t have to worry about the Mudlark gym getting COVID-19 thanks to the mosquito netting hanging from the basketball rim in the background. Mudlark girls can flash their B.O. knowing that protection comes in the niftiiest places. Shoot the winning shot at the buzzer and keep the flies away, now there’s a concept you can tell your grandkids. Yup, we won and trounced malaria. Works for me.

Too bad it didn’t get all the fire ants off of Alexa. Poor girl is still concerned about developing her game and now she has another problem to contend with. I’ll go get another towel. It might not help get you a starting spot on UConn’s team next year but you won’t have fire ants eating your corneas. We’ll get something out of the deal.

Better not get too close, Chris. Fire ants and Fake SAT exams don’t mix.


And it appears that Chris went to Mudlark Mountain and back, judging by P2. Better watch out, Alexa. No telling WHAT’S going to be at his party. If you’re expecting Lay’s Wavy Chips or Grippo’s Reduced Fat Bar-B-Chips or Diet Coke in 20 oz. bottles or Mudlar-K-Cola Watermelon Wonder in the same size, you might be disappointed.

“Here, Alexaaaaaaaaa, try some of this acid, mannnnnnnnnnn. You won’t have to practice being aggresivvvvvveeeee by knockinggggggg Dr. Pearlllllllll into her file cabinet. This tripppppppp willlllll send your opponent into the cheap seatttttttttsssssss. You’ll be Moses Malonnneeeeee, mannnnnnnn.”

“No thanks, I don’t do drugs. Where’s the Star-Kist tuna sandwiches? Chris said there’d be enough to feed the Valley Conference.”


Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Milford Evangelical Camp Meeting Results In 15 Converts, 32 Rededications, and 10 Baptisms At Milford High Girls Gym!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Mimi Thorp: ‘And we won the game!!!!!! Can you Lady Mudlarks say HALLELUJAH!!!!!!!!!!'”


And it’s bad enough that this plot had to go to Mudlark Mountain and end things at a pot party but WE’RE STILL WAITING ON SPRING SPORTS!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don’t get me wrong, to each their own and I’ve always liked Clapton’s Slowhand album that includes the signature tune, Cocaine, but I’d understandably prefer to listen to it as good music, not be the ending to Hoosiers. Jimmy Chitwood ending the plot laced on LSD really wasn’t the fate of the gods. Bobby Plump in the Sky with Diamonds? 15-footer in Marmalade Skies? Try sticking that one on the Milan Water Tower next to “1954 Champs.”


“How many fingers am I holding up, Alexa?”


“That’s how many bags of pretzels will be at my party. And that midget standing next to me that hit the winning lay-up? That’s how many bowls of quiche will be on the table.”


OH GOD NO Puh-llllleewaaaseee tell us we’re not opening up another can of worms with the possible intro of Chris’ girlfriend. We’ve already been through enough ethics-challenging without finding out what SHE’S all about. Or, judging by Alexa’s reaction in P3, there might be a possible thing for Chris. Folks, there are only 12 months in the year. Don’t cram plot development into a glass of Nestle’s Quik. Using a spoon to stir won’t help.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. That McCartney Moment didn’t mean anything? I had a fun time under the sheets at The Lake House.”

“I’m really sorry, Alexa. It was wonderful. Well, gotta go. I gotta pick her up before the Milford Zoo closes.”

Times like these I usually switch over to Buzz Sawyer. There’s no sports in that one either but he usually catches the crook by April. And there’s no mosquito nets on the basketball backboard in his driveway.

But as long as Chris has Fritos and Con Queso dip, I might have some room on my schedule.


“Here, Alexa, I got some weed, mannnnnnnn. Freshly grown on some farm in New Mexicooooooooo. So good, they smuggled some across the borderrrrrrrrrrrr.”

“No, thanks. Hey, Chris, don’t put away that Amish potato salad in the fridge just yet.”


Today’s Women’s History Month entry is Nancy Kassebaum. She was a very powerful Senator from Kansas for 18 years, able to enact legislation that made a difference from improving affordable health care to removing Apartheid in South Africa. Her father, Alf Landon, a man who lived to 100, was a famous presidential candidate in 1936, so she was no stranger to politics. In fact, she became the 2nd woman to win a Senate seat without her husband first occupying that seat. She has always displayed good judgment and has voted middle of the road on several issues, despite coming from a heavily Republican state (her own party affiliation, BTW) such as her native Kansas. Please join me in saluting a person who has displayed quality leadership when it counted and made this nation that much stronger through her well-balanced style.


“We’ll return to The Olde Tyme Gospel Hour at the Milford Girls Gym after these messages. You’re watching WDIG-TV. Don’t go away.”


“Amen, Sister Mimi. That was a great homily about The Sermon on the Mount. Probably the key to the game. And we rallied from 14 points down in the 4th quarter. Uncle Mo was on our side. Blessed are the meek.

And what better way of celebrating The Prodigal Son returning home to get the key rebound than to have a clearance sale. The timing couldn’t be better.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse and with the COVID-19 epidemic keeping our customers from coming to El Dorado, that’s even more of a reason to clear ’em out and I don’t mean Alexa puttin’ a body on Ms. Rizk’s typewriter so that it can get an easy put-back.

Man o man, I couldn’t believe Knob Creek Straight Bourbon piled high to the ceiling because nobody wants to get drunk and do it with Rocky Raccoon. Gotta slash the prices if you want to bring ’em back in their gas masks. Best coaching advice I ever gave.

Boy, Jameson Irish Whiskey in 750 ml at a throat-cutting $14.99 and that’s not even counting the coupon that’ll knock off another 2 bucks. Shoot, the cashier we’ll even apply hand sanitizer to your coupon so that you don’t get sick off of Jameson and the virus too.

And the good people at The Warehouse got tired of using a bulldozer to plow through the cases of Miller Lite 30-Pak 12 oz. cans to get to the restroom so they slashed the price to a ridiculous $9.99 so that sanity could be restored on the way to the john. My goodness, for a dollar more, they’ll throw in Latex Sanitary Gloves you can use to help carry the booze to your vehicle. No sense in contracting The Plague while sippin’ The Good Life.


And when one of The Warehouse employees is practicing climbing Mt. Everest by punching a piton into a mountain of Bogle Vineyards Select cartons, I think it’s safe to say The Warehouse better reduce the backstock. For $7.79, you can be a Cheese and Wine whiner and if you brought your calculator you use to calculate your piece count at your factory, you can be an even cheaper whiner if you can figure the 10% off that price to the nearest tenth. Good deals, good booze, clean hands, and mold-free Roquefort, sounds like Whiner’s Paradise to me.

Keep yourself safe through these trying times and when you feel justifiably disinfected, come on down and partake of the clearance sale now happening at The Warehouse. Prescriptions don’t just get prescribed at Milford Apothecary. Come buy what the doctor ordered at prices that won’t make you regurgitate and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”


Gang, stay safe. Follow the Center for Disease Control guidelines to the best of your ability. Don’t underestimate this one. That and common sense and I like the odds. God bless you all.


CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!! SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!! SPLASH!!!!!!!!

“You know you could have used a step-ladder. There’s one in the closet. Now we have to mop up all this Captain Morgan Spiced Rum. We might have a few bottles before the store opens.”



In Dr. Pearl’s office one day

“Heeeerrreeee, Gil, I have some more crack in my fiilllllleeeee cabinetttttt. You oughta try someeeeee.”

“No way. I tried that in the Marines. Did push-ups with my ears buzzing all day. Did you ever get Chris’ girlfriend’s transcript FedEx’d here?”




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