This Week in Milford

March 28, 2019

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

032819

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

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

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

 

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

 

Eggo Head is just the start of a bad joke.

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

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

“No.”

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

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Boy, put some Aunt Jemima on them babies.

 

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

 

Then P2 definitely has to be “Promenade”.

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

 

Day 16

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

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

Marty on his walkie-talkie

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

“Good. Where’s Peaches?”

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

“Joe? Joe?”

 

“We’ll be back after these messages.”

 

Gil, accompanied by “Nut Rocker”

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

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

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

 

 

 

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

 

Mr. Horse watching “The Blob”.

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

 

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

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

Advertisements

March 27, 2019

“And we care because?” could be this blog’s motto

gt03272019

Well, that explains everything, doesn’t it?  The big “RIN” in the sign behind Andre’s head yesterday was short for “RINK,” which Milford has one of, apparently.  (Of course it does. How else could kids practice for skating at the Winter Blast in Central City? And why hasn’t ice hockey ever been a thing in Milford?)  Andre watched his little sister – odd hand gesture meant to signify “little” – skate and saw a group of synchronized skaters perform*. On his way home he got his cheek pierced and had that shark tooth he found at the beach on summer vacation mounted on a stud.

Oh, yeah, one of the synchronized skaters is also one of Mimi’s softball players.  Heaven forbid she prioritize something else over Milford High sportsball!  Prepare for multiple strips shaming poor Molly Hatchet off the ice and onto the diamond.

*I’m sorry, but every time I read “synchronized skating” I thought “synchronized swimming” and could only picture Harry Shearer and Martin Short in that old SNL skit.  Skate away, that’s all.

March 25, 2019

A Frolic Of (Her) Own

03252019

Where are we going with this softball scrimmage situation? What bearing could this possibly have on a season that is going to start no matter what, whether they can get enough players to participate or not? We’re not even really sure why Mimi suddenly decided a scrimmage was required. She had some impressive infielders and a catcher that was struggling to handle a gimmicky pitch. Big whoop. Tell the pitcher to stay away from the pitch in game action and work it out in practice. Next time Mimi, put the scrimmage on the schedule in advance. Your kids are over-scheduled and can’t be available on short notice when you cook up something on the couch during cocktail hour.

Surely the idea that many kids have something scheduled on a Saturday can’t be an actual plot point, right? A thought emerged while I was trying to recall who everybody is. Is this just an expository exercise to further introduce us to the team? We’re seeing Jocelynn Brown again (reminder, she’s our catcher) and now we know another infielder, Nancy Kaffer. It sure is a complicated way to do this. It reminded me reading novels by William Gaddis. It could make you crazy reading passages that detail conversations between multiple characters with no attributions or helpful exposition about who the hell they are talking about or to.

Sorry, for the highfalutin literary reference which may or may not even be apropos. The bottom line is Mimi’s last minute scrimmage was a bad idea and the scheduling conflicts that high school kids might have on a Saturday are pretty weak sauce as far as plot goes.

February 18, 2019

Badger Redux

Filed under: Gil Thorp, Prairie Style Windows — nedryerson @ 10:26 am

02182019

This strip starts off pretty cool with Gil dramatically framed by the doorway and Max Bacon stepping out of a shadow with heavy words: I want to tell everyone why they can’t trust Bobby Howry.

So yeah, Max was manipulated by Bobby as an experiment and then to impress a girl. (Those were Gil’s words.) You don’t want to trust a guy like that. But Max badgered Bobby for the fake adderall! He got dismissed from the team! Let’s relive the drama, we’ve got nothing else going on here.

I had forgotten about the Leisl aspect of the Bobby Howry story. Leisl thought Bobby was boring because he was so “mono-focused” on basketball. So Bobby thought he could impress Lesil by being able to predict how well Max was going to perform on the court. Well, Leisl was all ears! She even reported to her own basketball teammates that Bobby could predict how well Max was going to play. The word got around on the girls team and Mimi even caught wind of this new dimension to Bobby Howry. Bobby was a hot topic! Then Mimi clued Gil in on the happenings on his team. That’s classic Gil Thorp, friends.

So, Max is back. At first he didn’t seem to care and Gil told him to go check  out the Robby billboards, but don’t do anything! This installment shows Max coming in a little hotter in that moody opening panel. But ultimately, Gil’s wise counsel is to leave it alone. Everything works out here. It always does. Back to State U with you, Maxwell Bacon and get crackin’ on those résumés.

 

February 16, 2019

Don’t Ask Yourself What’s Gil Doing With His Hand In Panel One

021619

What a day to get back in the saddle of posting about what’s going on in Gil Thorp’s world… In lieu of any meaningful plot development let’s do a quick take panel by panel.

P1: Seriously, just ignore these two with their weird posturing. Did anyone else know that Gil has not one but two desks in his office? Say what you will about our pocket hockey playing hero, but you gotta tip your hat to the fact that he rates a huge office.

P2: It warms my heart to see Maxwell instantly disavow helping Gil as his motive for returning to this tanktown. That he does it while flashing a double inverted Vulcan salute and wearing a sailor’s turtleneck gilds the Lily.

P3: Maxwell is gonna be pissed when he goes from one end of town to the other only to see that the billboards both have the same message. Also, why would Gil encourage Maxwell to go check out the billboards but then discourage him from getting involved? Pretty mixed message there.

February 14, 2019

Lou Grant Anthology Series: Volume 7-“The Coaching Years”

Filed under: actual action, basketball, Gil Thorp, Just plain sad, Oakwood, Prairie Style Windows — tdrewhardin @ 5:43 pm

021419

I’m having this nightmare of giant snakes attacking me in the Gobi Desert while being trapped in that giant scorpion chair that Vulnavia pushed me into while Dr. Phibes goes to Gil’s house and kidnaps Mimi and sticks her in a mummy case in his hideout behind the Milford 24-Hour Coin Laundromat (what other laundromats are there?-I’ve yet to see one that had changers giving wooden nickels or Canadian quarters or 3-dollar bills or buffalo bones that the Kiowa used in transactions, any of those for your 20) , my being surrounded by scorpions and tarantulas, helpless to do anything because I’m confined to that seat, all the while observing Robby going door-to-door selling Electrolux Vacuum Cleaners to finance his billboard addiction.

KNOCK!!!!!!!!!!! KNOCK!!!!!!!!!!!! KNOCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Ah, Vic-TOR-ia, I shall return to your loving and amorous presence as soon as I dispose of this incompetent and foolish churl. Enjoy your Journey into Never Never Land in the interim. You’ll find treasure if you stay there. And me too, I hope.”

Using mental telepathy at high voltage

“Yesssss?”

Taken aback that Phibes doesn’t move his mouth when speaking, R/Bobby trudges on

“Hi, I represent the Electrolux Vaccum Cleaner Company. Here’s my card. Uh, Can I come in?”

Sure, Booby, just come on into the Pits of Hell where Phibes is shish-kabobing a victim who dared harm Vic-TOR-ia and make yourself at home. Sorry the place is a mess. I’ll have Vulnavia use a Swiffer on all the blood stains on the tile floor. And that skeleton on the Broyhill dining room table? Well, she was an anorexic. Vulnavia couldn’t coax her to eat a Pudding Pop.

“You’ll love these hose attachments, it’ll pick up all those dead locusts on your floor, Man, you got a ton of ’em, some on the China cabinet, and even in the vegetable compartment in your fridge, you might need an extra vacuum bag…”

I wake up, coming to my senses. I realize it was just a bad dream, that the vacuum noise was a street sweeper passing by.

But just in case my nightmares overlap into reality and I see my next-door neighbor cleaning out his Volvo and sucking all the cigarette butts and chewing gum and stale Chee-tos with an Electrolux, extension cord thrown in as an added bonus, you could run the gamut of choices, Tom Thumb, James K. Polk, Booby Doody (nice one, Teench) , Ethyl from “I Love Lucy”, Herb Woodley, Dagwood’s next-door neighbor, and Mother Theresa, and I believe you can narrow down the list of candidates very quickly. James K. Polk didn’t have the luxury of electricity and P.T. Barnum, Tom Thumb’s protege, sold circuses door-to-door, not vacuum cleaners. There might have been a sell after the elephant act, flunkies scoopin’ up the elephant poop while somebody is shouting from a megaphone “It slices, it dices, it sucks up popcorn and Julienne fries in a nanosecond…”, but aaaaaaaa, kinda sorta doubt it. So R/Booby is our culprit Electrolux salesman.

And now R/Bobby is living to tell about it on The Sleazy Hour w/ Marty Moon. Thank God Booby had an extra wide-scoop dustpan attachment to corral all the dead scorpions on the VCR in the den or Booby might have been victimized by Phibes’ Deluxe Head Decapitator in the Maytag dishwasher. And Booby is practically saying Gil should give up coaching and sell vacuum cleaners himself. And as long as we’re going to get RIDICULOUS about this, what with a guy who still hasn’t confirmed how he’s financing these billboard deals and really has no business on a radio show criticizing a coach and saying he needs to resign when he was only the equipment manager, I might as well go all the way with this.

“So you’re saying he never moved his mouth when he was calling time outs?”

“I am.”

“How could he communicate with his players? Did he use a cue card?”

“Nooooo, he kinda spoke as if he was using mental telepathy. Like somebody sewed his mouth shut so the only other way was to hold a can at one end and shout out the back door play through the hanger wire to the cup at the other end through his nostrils. Good thing he used Vic’s Nasal Spray or Luhm’d have some heavy poop to sweep up tonight. And don’t even talk about buffering.”

“What did he say?”

“He threatened to dunk their heads in an aquarium of piranhas and use their bodies for mannequins at the Milford House of Horrors if they coughed up another late lead and disappoint my dear Vic-TOR-ia who’s been waiting centuries to awaken and be part of the State Champ photo with the basketball team.”

“And I understand tarantulas were coming out of his scalp?”

“Right. Some heckler in Section B said he COACHES like Dr. Phibes and only Phibes’ organ-playing is worse than his play-calling. Vulnavia positioned a cement chute in the heckler’s direction and the tarantulas had a feast on the heckler and his 2 Baby Ruth bars.”

 

And wasn’t Tod Andrews in charge of the Oakwood team(s)? Billytheskink, correct me if I’m wrong and you do excellent work on the subject so if you know, by all means, clear the record. I admit I’m getting senile(ha).

RIGHT NOW, Lou Grant has come out of retirement and is pursuing a second career after taking night classes at Milford Community College. I reckon he skipped the infomercial on WDIG-TV at 3:00AM in the morning, the one where Bodies by Jake had a special promo “Yes, you too can be a coach.” And when you order now, you’ll get the 2-ton Nautilus equipment sent to your door plus a 2,354 page booklet “Kevin Loughery: ‘How I Coached Great Players On My Next Team After I Got Fired From My 3rd Team'” Classic reading. Is there a foreword by Bob Knight?

 

Hank Finkel (or Chuck Nevitt or Don Noort-last one, courtesy Indiana Basketball) : “Coach, I’m ready as a 12th man if you need me. I know you’ve blown some games because there was no one to send in when you were ahead by 61 with a minute to go, so I’m available.”

“SURE. We have an empty seat at the end of the bench. I put Chuck D’Alosio (ditto IU) on the DL.”

 

Isn’t “disappointing loss” a redundancy? What loss is ENCOURAGING? I’ve been a high school booster/coach and a college booster for ages and have never experienced  a loss that WASN’T disappointing.

Then when we’re subjected to giga-second photo shoots of basketball action on one end of the court and Gil-thrashing by Marty and Booby on the other end, no wonder why tip-offs are a bit tricky. Talk about lack of action and making no desire to penetrate in the frontcourt. Only the 4-corner stall implented by Dean Smith is less entertaining. But at least THAT won games. No wonder why we have to have a shot clock.

“…shot clock down to 7, Gil is rambling and rambling, Reggie wanting to shoot, shot clock down to 4, Booby is using a crane to erect another billboard that says “Gil has serious crack when he kneels to design a play”, shot clock down to 2, Reggie is begging for the ball and trying to get Kaz to quit trying to remove his earrings, ANNNNDDDDD the shot clock expires and the Pacers will turn it over, down 6 to the Bucks, 2:37 left in the 3rd Quarter…”

“There’s absolutely no reason for that, Mark, absolutely no reason.”

“I agree, Slick, you just don’t leave Reggie that wide open, especially with Robinson laying off…”

 

Going back to P1, the players, if you really want to liberally interpret the word, are displaying some interesting stances. Is the Oakwood player in the upper panel doing the River Dance? I knew it was a craze or at least the commercial during Bugs Bunny & Pals said so. Sure helped with his footwork on defense. Glory Thanks to Jesus he wasn’t doing the Funky Chicken or Milford Might have made it a cakewalk.

And that’s either a Smurf or The Hunchback of Notre Dame in the lower corner that missed his defensive assignment. Help defense does wonders, Hunch.

 

One day, a visitor drops into Gil’s office.

“Hey, Coach, I understand you’re short-handed, especially on the interior. Need me to suit up?”

“Pulver, you graduated in the ’70’s. How am I going to slip that one past the other coach, let alone the officials?”

“The same way you’d slip the Coach’s union card you’ve had since ’58. And I can douse my head in a bucket of Grecian Formula.

 

Today’s Black History entry is actually 2 people, Booker T. Washington and William Edgar Burgard DuBois. They were on two sides of a coin, Washington espousing learning a trade for the black man to better himself, especially through his school, the Tuskeegee Institute, and Dubois, the first black man to earn a Ph.D at Harvard, who felt that a black man should better himself through the Liberal Arts. I’m not prepared to delve into either side but both men were VERY INFLUENTIAL in the lives of blacks and therefore I ask that you join me in saluting them for their significant contributions.

 

 

 

 

And, OF COURSE, Lou, he’ll turn it around. You’ve been looking up Mary Tyler Moore’s butt one too many times, that’s your problem when you’re not running a newspaper when you’re not coaching the team. What do you think Gil’s going to do after 60+ years, RETIRE???????? Wash your mouth out with Irish Spring. And head to a Florida condo? Go sit in the corner. As incompetent as Gil is, Coach Kleats ain’t gonna take his place and take the baton and continue to run the team and/or plots in the ground. You and Ted Knight, sheesh.

And what would he do? Play shuffleboard? Strive to be the Bocce king? I’m sure he’s been practicing in his office for the appointed time. Equipment’s right behind the golf bag. Oops, that reminds me. Since he golfs, he’d be on thecourse 24/7.

The St. Lucie Police shining a floodlight on Hole #7, dog leg right, par 5 and speaking through the loudspeaker

“May I ask your business?”

“Not now. Gotta do a ball drop.”

 

Air Jordan walks through the hallways, signing 1,946,738 autographs, including posing with the cafeteria ladies and with Dr. Pearl, Doctorate proudly behind her, eventually winding up in Gil’s office.

“Coach, if you need me to come out of retirement, I’m available. And Pippen’s in the limo.”

 

P3-“Not now, I’m in the middle of Ultimate Chess. I’m workin’ on my endgame. My rook got sliced in pieces but I still got another one, plus my one and only pawn is 2 squares away from queening. Mate City.”

And only in Thorpiverse do the background mutated pine trees kibbutz the match. Move your bishop and protect your queen, Thorp. Shut up, fellow mutated pine tree, I’d move his knight. He’s got an easy fork. Rook’s a dead man.

 

“And there’s a time out on the floor as the towel boy is wiping up all the locust poop, with the score, Milford, 67, Oakwood, 62, with a minute to go. We’ll see if Phibes can pull this one out.”

Because I’m unclear on what a blood flow massage or stimulator is on these ED commercials

Gil, pulling down his Valentine’s Day boxers that Mimi had air-mailed this morning

“How does it feel?”

“Aaaaaaaaaaa, a bit snug. I need circulation but don’t lop the damn thing off. I need to piss, y’know.”

“Sorry, Gil. They do stretch in time. You might get a little woozy walking down the stairs but you’ll get comfortable in a day or two. Leather stretches that way.”

“Can I try something one size smaller? I usually wear a 12 but I’ll go 11 even if it’s a bit loose.”

“Absolutely, Gil. And I can put some pinch pads in them so it doesn’t keep slipping.”

“Go for it. Now you’re saying it’ll get me erect 1/2 hour before bed time?”

“Sure, but if it’s loose, it might take a little longer.”

“”I think I better go a little tighter. Mimi gets horny in a hurry and the quicker I can get the motorboat started, the less tempted Mimi is to use alternative means such as the bed post.”

“Sure thing. And I’ll give you a shoehorn in case you have trouble slipping it on before desperate times come about. Mimi won’t rub the parquetry again, that’sour money-back guarantee.”

 

“The Milford Men’s Clinic friendly staff is ready to assist you and treat you like a Coach. Don’t take my word for it, ask Mimi. And see for yourself down at the Clinic. Give your significant other a Dr. Scholl treatment.”

 

Gang, comment away. I’m staying on the other side of the gym. I saw people getting eaten by anacondas. Sometimes Phibes goes too far when he gets slapped with a T.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Gil: ‘I DID see Elvis.”

sub headline

“Presley seen as a 2 guard in Thorp’s offensive schemes.”

 

Bulletin board at St. Lucie Heights Luxury Condos

“Congratulations to Coach and Mimi Thorp for 1st Place in the 27th Annual Croquet Tournament, Handicap Division. Mimi won in a one-hole play-off. Thanks to ALL the participants.”

February 7, 2019

All The World’s At Milford’s Gym But There Are No Actors

020719

Gang, if you’re looking to start out the day on a cheery note, you might want to skip today’s strip. Filion is getting comfortably numb when he’s not reciting Hamlet’s soliloquy. And it, of course, is interfering with any basketball action, ay, there’s the rub. Thank God the National High School Athletic Board approved of the make-up schedule after all the snow days, rain days, soap opera distractions, Gil’s hunting trips to Nepal, Mimi’s appointment at the hairdresser,  Kaz’s unused sick days, Dr. Pearl’s annual Teacher Enrichment Seminar Retreat at Mudlark Lake, Dr. Pearl’s Annual Wig-Shedding event, WDIG’s pre-empting Mudlark basketball games to cover ESPN’s Big Monday (“Look at Gil’s hair bob up and down while a Mudlark sets a down screen on the weak side and there’s no help on defense or for  Gil’s hair-FREEZE IT”) , and Luhm’s calling the Orkin man to machine gun all the roaches in the gym. I don’t know, some guy dressed like Mr. Freeze with a long hose attached to a couple of air tanks on his back so he can stage a Holocaust  on all the bugs, couldn’t we slip in a game or two?

ANYWAY, until the end of February, all games, played at 3 per day, including girls’ basketball, should get things caught up, barring Valentine’s Day, nobody’s going to be in the mood to slam dunk a basketball after he or she ate the whole box of Russell Stover Cherry Cremes given by grandma or mom or a girlfriend. Gastronemic considerations and fancies of love flings were taken into consideration when discussing make-up dates. And the girls’ season would end tomorrow at that rate as a 5-game schedule enables us to say sayonara to a season that really never was. I hate to admit it, gang, but I missed not being able to watch Mimi high-five a girl after her Lady mudlarks dismantled a team in 2 panels. Missing those missed memories is killing me.

“Ah haaaaaa, Coach Torp. I FINALLY have you vere I vant you. You vill be mine forever and ever. I vill reign over Gotham City AND Milford.”

“That’s nice, Mr. Freeze. BTW, could you respray the girls stalls? I saw a couple of critters scoot by.”

 

And while I’m exploring all the wonderful possibilities of all the boys games being wrapped up before the Playdowns and/or The Bucket calling it a night, assuming Mr. Freeze nuked all the roaches with cybernetic bug spray (works better than Roach Motel, trust me) , take a look at P1. Geez, it is tearing my heart out to see Filion in Death Valley. At least U2 made an album, “The Joshua Tree”, when they returned to the surface.

But even Filion’s butt appears to be mired in the pits of Hell. It’s times like this I’d rather have Plumber’s Butt. All I need to do is get a longer shirt.

“Why the long Plumber’s Butt?”

“Oh, my dog just died and Santa got ran over by his reindeer. And The Bucket is going to shut down indefinitely after Mr. Freeze stunk out the bathroom when his icer broke down at the same time he devoured that Bucket o’ Tex-Mex Chili w/ Jalapeno Peppers. The EPA will have to give clearance after the Milford
City Department deodorizes everything.  They had to evacuate residents within 2 blocks of the place.”

 

It doesn’t help that Gil is failing as a mental health therapist. Gil, just because you’ve read all those Psychology Today magazines while you were waiting for Mimi in the gynecologist’s office. doesn’t entitle you to spit-shine that Ph.D in Clinical
Psychology with Windex so that it streaks diagonally. I know some of your certificates on the wall have streaked the Norman Cross, but sheesh. Then you press your luck by mounting that Ph.D  next to the railroad-crossing-streaked Real Estate License you earned from the corresponding course at Milford Real Estate Solutions on the computer. Next thing you know, you’ll be using Turtle Wax  on that suitable-for-streaking Dow-Jones-streaked Kentucky Colonel certificate. Buffer it nicely so the streak is spotless when you’re entertaining the guests in your office. We wouldn’t anybody to think you’re a slob.

 

Hello (Hello. Hello)

Is there anybody out there?

Can anybody hear me?

Are we close to tip-off time?

 

Sue me, you whippersnappers, I had to satisfy my Floyd fix. I’m just trying to figure out what the heck to do when I see a teenager dragging his Plumber’s Butt in Gil’s office and Gil makes a sorry-ass attempt at Handy Man. Talk about jack-of-all-trades, master of none. Gil, you can’t use a ball-peen hammer or an Allen wrench on a guy who’s comfortably numb. But leave it to Gil to ignore the advice.

What are the readers supposed to think when it takes a week for Gil to tell Filion to GO SEE A SHRINK????????? We’re almost to Friday and Gil is hem-hawing on this one? What was he thinking, go to the Snap-On Tool man for a 3/8 when the dude makes the rounds every week? That’s right, Gil, head towards the UPS-like truck and ask for a hacksaw when Filion is going schizo. And don’t forget to put a plumbline on his head. He might look funny with this blue streak running down his nose but if that’s the price we pay for psychoanalysis, I’m all for Holistic healing, by dingies. And you might need a Briggs &  Stratton cordless drill when Filion says he’s Napoleon. No need for a strait jacket when all ya gotta do is drill his forehead should he go too far.

Why not read him a bedtime story and let him suck his thumb. Steal Linus’ blanket and give him some security. I read this Dr. Seuss story the other day and it is perfect.

 

Makes no sense at all

There’s no basketball

Said the Cat in the Hat

In the hall

 

Gil Thorp and wife Mimi

Are getting progressively steamy

The rest of us hit The Bucket

For green eggs and fettucini

 

Boy, if that doesn’t put him to sleep in that cot you rolled out in your office and keep him from slashing his wrists in the bargain, Marty Moon didn’t make little green apples in the summertime.

 

 

Stand up (Stand up Stand up)

I think the PALS is working good

That should work for tomorrow’s game

Your shooting won’t be the same

 

There is no pain

You are a wussy

Coming in when

I break down the D

Don’t forget to drink it with tap

Your rebounding will be a snap

Youuuuuuu have become

Comfortably dumb

 

 

Dr. Pearl approaches Gil at the faculty table in the cafeteria

“Gil, I’m a little concerned for Mike. Did you loan him a gym towel? Because he’s over by the Hostess rack rubbing the towel on his head while sucking his thumb.”

Some things are better left in “Snoopy has Rabies, Charlie Brown”.

 

Then there’s P2. Oh my God, either that is a painting between “Death in the Family” and “A Question of Fear” on the Night Gallery or some idiot, while taking a drag from his Marlboro Menthol Lights 400’s and/or sipping his Diet Cherry Mountain Dew knocked over the jar of black paint and good reflexes kept P2 from Filion being afflicted with a blackhead the size of a slaughterball that Clearasil couldn’t dissolve down the garbage disposal. I’m opting for the former.

And you Rush fans (been a 2112 freak like you all) are in for a treat. This plot couldn’t get any more saturnine and since reading “Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs” hasn’t sent him to La La Land (“Gil, you read with such ENTHUSIASM”) and he is STILL in his present funk, it’s only right that I quote from 2112, “Soliloquy” the tune, a one a two,

 

The basketball is still in my eyes

Mouthguard still in my head

I hear you rambling and sadly smile

And lie a while in your bed

 

I wish your speech might come to pass

And fade like all my dreams

 

Thinking of what this team can be

Playing like the ’96 Bulls

But the ‘Larks can’t carry on

Pretend we’ll fight for the Championship

 

Why don’t we end this silly charade

And

Play

Basketballllllllllllll

 

Electric Alex Lifeson solo for several minutes, suddenly Steve Luhm breaks in on Dr. Pearl’s intercom after playing “3 Blind Mice” on the xylophone as an intro

“Attention all you Milford Mudlarks out there, this is the Dictator of the Confederation

We have assumed control

We have assumed control

We have assumed control”

 

Dr. Pearl approaches Gil at the faculty table in the cafeteria

“Gil, I’m a little concerned. I caught Filion with a blanket sucking his thumb with his head buried in the toilet.”

“Wait a minute, what were you doing in the boys’ room?”

“We were short-handed for hallway duty today, remember?”

Ah, well, nobody can’t say I didn’t give Filion the ol’ college try. Better than a trowel from Snap-On Tools.

 

BTW, is Gil wearing kilts in P1? Never mind.

 

P3 is scaring the daylights out of me. What is Gil going to do, give him a shot? Brother, I can see this. Go for it, Gil. Dig that needle the size of a putty gun out of your desk that you left under the spare umpire ball bag, indicator included, in case some dumbass umpire left his at home when doing your games in the Spring, and just plow that needle straight ahead in Filion’s Gluteus Maximus. You may fire when ready, Gridley.

 

Okay (Okay Okay)

You might feel a little prick

But there’ll be no more

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

But you might feel a little sick

 

At the doctor’s office

“How did his cheeks get glued together, Nurse Ratchet?”

“Gil, used the wrong injection again, Doctor.”

 

 

“They’re Rockin’ and Rollin’ here in Mudlarkland!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Filion’s a Diaper Dandy. Boy, he’s awesome, Baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I love Aardvark when he Slam Bam Jams!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And he cleans the glass so well, I’ve put him on my All-Windex Team!!!!!!!!!!!!! Better get a T.O., Coach Andrews, I’m smellin’ a run by Milford!!!!!!!!!!”

“Time out is called out on the floor. This is Mike Patrick along with Dick Vitale, with the score, Milford, 54, Oakwood, 44. We’ll be right back after these messages.”

 

“Do you want to spend a weekend with the kids but still enjoy the finer things that life has to offer? Hi, this is Coach Thorp. I’ve asked the same question myself, especially when I’m with the travel squad.

The Milford Beverage Warehouse has just completed tghe multi-million dollar Budweiser Multi-Purpose Family Playground & Generic Recreation Facility, or Budplex, as we call it around here.

Shoot, you don’t need to go driving around the neighborhood looking for a jungle gym when there’s 10 to hang from right here where you can get your favorite Message in a Bottle. Sipping from a Canadian Mist 750 ml while hanging upside down while kiddies go play hide-and-seek? Ma, plenty of room to hide in this bad boy. And we have Pinkertons to make sure they don’t hide in roped-off areas. Don’t want Jack and Jill clueless around the Boone’s Farm shelf, now, do we?

It’s a blast going down the slide with Keri and Jaime as I satisfy my taste buds with a long-neck bottle of Heineken from a 12-pak. And if you aren’t afraid of heights, you can teeter-totter with your kids guzzling any Smirnoff. Shoot, if you can walk and chew gum at the same time, going up and down with your daughter while keeping every drop in your shot glass oughta be a breeze. Trampolining with the munchkins with your tummy chilled with Michelob Ultra. Buddy, only doing the same thing with the Swedish Bikini Team is better.

Why go down to McDonald’s to their playground when all you’ll be running circles on the merry-go-round forever with just a Happy Meal? Man, that’s no fun. Who wants to get dizzy and puke up a small order of fries? Come on down to Milford Beverage Warehouse where you can get it on with the kids legally and they don’t even card you at the playground. Works for me. Come on down, Milford. Give your kids the thrill of their lives and enjoy a tall boy too. Only at Milford Beverage Warehouse.”

 

“Today’s Black History Month entry is another person dear to my heart, Phil Lynott (LINE-it) . You may not know his name but many of you know his group, Thin Lizzy. Phil is an Irish African-American who really got the ball rolling on the Double Lead Guitar sound which just ABSOLUTELY worked and worked well. It came in handy for his most well-known song, “The Boys Are Back in Town” which has just flat-out been a standard for a lot of scenarios, in particular sports scenarios. Yeah, our Boys are gonna whoop some butt this season cuz they’re back in town.

Phil also sent “Whisky in the Jar” and “Jailbreak” to the charts for good measure and was also noted as a STRONG songwriter (trust me on that one) . Phil broke the mold that African-Americans were confined to R & B, Disco, and Jazz. His kick-ass Rock ‘n’ Roll style has an audience with me. Please join me in saluting a man who has long been overlooked for his talents and his contributions to Rock ‘n’ Roll. RIP, Phil. Ya done good, My Man.

 

Gang, if you’re not comfortably numb, take ‘er away. Give Gil the ride of his life since we’re being taken for one ourselves. Only right.

 

Dr. Pearl approaches Gil at the faculty table in the cafeteria

“Gil, I’m a little concerned. Mike is attached to that blanket while sucking his thumb.”

“Dr. Pearl, you interrupted my Boston Market Meat Loaf and Bucket Fries for THAT??? He’ll grow out of it. What’s the big whoop-de-da????”

“He’s using the other end to wipe.”

February 6, 2019

Does Gil Realize??

gt02062019

Do you realize that in the Valley we’re in last place?
Do you realize I stare into space?
Do you realize that Marty Moon makes me cry?
Do you realize that our entire team someday will die?
And instead of playing counselor to me, let me know
You realize this season’s passed
You cannot coach us out of last
You realize that Howry is a clown
He’s just getting off because we’re missing the playdowns
Do you realize?
Do you realize that even Marty Moon someday will die?
And instead of getting hung up on my play, let me know
You realize your time has passed
Resign and give your job to Kaz
With Mimi, get drunk as the sun goes down
And then you could stay away from the balls that are round
Do you realize that in the Valley we’re in last place?
Do you realize?
(apologies Wayne Coyne)

 

Older Posts »

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.