This Week in Milford

July 3, 2018

Yo Quiero Taco Bell And A Baseball Scholarship, Coach Colvin

070318

Gang, First off, let me get this crow-eating part of me out of the way. That was not, as I might have suspected, Coach Tod Andrews that Gil was genuflecting to on the telephone. I should have known that Berrill’s version of Coach Andrews wouldn’t translate mathematically into Raul Julia at the tanning salon. Hey, you have a hard day at the office and you’re trying to please rabid fans and alumni plus perhaps an athletic director who might pull the trigger at the next 3 23-38 seasons, and ya gotta go somewhere. They’d never think to look under a heat lamp sleeping on a Serta mattress (“Charlie Brown, who’s that funny-looking gentleman with the shades? They never allow adults on the strip. Schultz and Pig Pen are turning over in their graves.”).

Oooooooooookkkkkkkkk, time to get back on my soapbox. And I have one question. Weren’t Coach Colvin and The Chihuahua at the same family reunion? I’d laugh my ass off if Moose showed up at the Taco Bell drive-thru ordering Triple-Layer Nacho Supreme, Mexican Pizza, hold the mushrooms, with tartar sauce, Nacho Cheese Doritos Ranch Style Locos Tacos Supreme, Beefy 5-Layer Burrito, Colby Jack substituted for American, side order of Arthur Treacher Fish ‘n Chips (in one of those little styrofoam containers you can barely take a urine test in, let alone cram mac and cheese or green beans with a slice of bacon the size of Scotch tape), wait behind 5 cars, daydreaming about hitting the game-winning home run in the bottom of the 9th inning, a grand slam no less thanks to all those videos about launch angles (hosted by Mel Allen when he’s moonlighting from This Week in Baseball) for good ol’ State U. against their hated rival, University State, the line is finally moving after 25 minutes, Moose is ready with the correct change, right down to the wooden nickel (“They never say anything”), only to find out that Coach Colvin is opening up the window. “Coach, do you have any mild sauce?” “Nope, all we have is extra-hot.”

Looking at my bat a 3rd time

Waiting for the Coach to call my name

Cuz I’m tired of doing all my homework

I just want a chance to play the game

I know Coach Thorp has warned me strongly

But I just got to dump this town for fame

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

And waste another year

And let’s get the obvious out of the way. Thorpiverse has wasted our time with the obvious in P2. What did Gil think we were anticipating? Man, Kaz, if he lays on the beach on the Redneck Riviera (Alabama, for you non-rednecks), and takes pointers on how to pick up women from all the sailors who hail from all over the world, he oughta be able to pick up his bat speed by the time Fall Ball rolls around. I talked with Coach Colvin and he said that learning hand-eye coordination is like making a chimichanga. It just takes the right ingredients, i.e., eyes, hands, beans, sour cream, Hillerich & Bradsby bat, fresh ground beef, 80% fat-free with no hormones, 12″ tortilla. Yup, working the drive thru has taught Coach Colvin a lot about making Chimichanga Nuclear Cheese Buster that he’s carried out to the ball diamond when doing batting drills and knowing the count when you’re up at the plate. I think Kevin will do fine.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Daffy Duck Promoted to Editor!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Pulitzer Prize-Winning Story on Papa Bader Making “The Catch” At The DOC World Series Turned Many Heads. Warden Considering Early Release”

All you Brady Bunch groupies, remember when Don Drysdale came by the Brady manor because Mr. Brady (what’s his REAL name, Mendenhall Theophilus Randolph Brady III ?) was good friends with Don and the latter fattened Greg Brady’s head by saying that he could pitch in the World Series one day? I think Don fattened Moose’s head along the way. At least, I’m bettin’ that’s the gist of the conversation in P3. Sure Moose, you could start this weekend for the Yankees. Mickey Mantle is taking a personal day and they’re gonna be short-handed. Might as well start somewhere. If you can handle those assholes, Marty Moon and Ernie the P., surely you can handle the crowd at Yankee Stadium. No place like it.

Well, we all saw what happened to Greg.

It’s not as though I really need you

If you were here, I’d only leave you

But everybody else in town only wants to bring you down,

That’s not how it oughta be

Well, I know it might sound strange but I bel-

Gil, shouting in Moose’s ear “MOOSE, FOR THE 3RD TIME, YOU’RE ON DECK!!!!!!!”

“And Moose belts one over the Green Monster and the Yankees lead the Red Sox, 7-3. There’s a pitching change. Moose is obviously gotten to the pitcher, not to mention the Red Sox fans. We’ll be right back after these messages.”

 

At the Milford Wal-Mart Supercenter, Gil and family are about to check out.

“Mimi, I think we got ‘er done. We have everything for the Annual Baseball & Softball Picnic. 10 bags of Great Value Barbecue Chips? Check. 8 2-liter bottles of Fanta  Lime/Pomegranate? Check. Off! Bug Spray? Check. Oscar Meyer Reduced Fat Low Sodium Carb Free Kosher Prepared Light Garlic Thick-Sliced Bologna? Check. Is there anything else we forgot?

Mimi spots the family bathroom out of the corner of her eye. The diaper station was a dead giveaway.-

“Gil, let’s go to the family bathroom. Kids, you take the groceries to the station wagon. We’ll be right out.”

“Mimi, it’s been 30 years since we’ve changed anybody’s diaper. If you got to take a potty break, go now or forever hold your pants.”

“Gil, I need to talk to you about all the VanCamp’s Pork ‘n’ Beans you bought. Our check might bounce.”

“Mimi, we have Check-Bouncing Protection at Milford National Bank.”

“Yes, but they need our Social Security Number and you can’t say it out here. What if Marty’s around the corner, writes it down, then runs up a tab at Milford Lounge?”

Gil, trapped on that one, not wanting to see Marty stealing his SSN in the name of Gerst Beer, relents.

They enter the bathroom. She locks the door.

“Mimi, we don’t need to lock the door over Pork ‘n Beans.”

Mimi drops her pants. A perfect place for a quickie. And Gil is trapped.

He forgot to take his pill this morning because the Moen faucet sprung a leak and Milford Plumbing Inc. was on assignment over the weekend down in the sewer lines.

Gil had nothing to wash it down.

“Mimi, Is that helium balloon station by the Vision Center still there? Because I’m as limp as a 10-day-old plantain.”

“Gil, I can’t go out like this. That was THE IDEA, to stay in from the rain and get warm and cuddly.”

“Mimi, I don’t think that stall with all the street gang symbols on the walls would fit us anyway. I couldn’t go back and forth with that little room, let alone with the Twinkie I have in my possession.”

“Gil, surely the residue from the double dose you took the day before ought to carry over to this stall. I can wait until things start to inflate. In fact, I think I have a safety pin to prick the wienie in my purse.”

“I don’t know, Mimi. Now I know what Papa Bader goes through. He can barely poop, let alone pull a Pee-Wee Herman.”

BAM! BAM! BAM!

“IF YOU’RE DONE IN THERE, MY 3-YEAR-OLD HAS DIARRHEA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Wal-Mart Assistant Manager Don Granger has the last word.

“It wasn’t pretty. We had to evacuate the Frozen and the Bakery aisles. We managed to salvage the endcap on the Healthy Choice’s.

Unfortunately, we had to literally flush all the Great Value Low Sodium Butterscotch/Maraschino Cherry Ice Cream on the other endcap straight down the janitorial-sized toilets. We had to refresh our associates on hand-washing procedures at the morning meeting, making sure they washed up to their elbows. It just sucked when we couldn’t do the Wal-Mart cheer (“Gimme a SQUIGGLY!!!!!!” “SQUIGGLY!!!!!!!!”).

“All of this could have been avoided if Gil had gone to the Milford Men’s Clinic. There’s a branch right here at Wal-Mart. That’s right, right next to Milford State Bank by the Grocery entrance. When men fail in their sex lives, isn’t it nice to know there’s a convenient location where men can get a refill while the wife does the grocery shopping? A match made in heaven. And the cleanup jobs it’ll save our associates. It makes for one happy family. Sam would have wanted it that way.

 

“Joe, could you hit that spot in the corner with the mop? There’s still a bit of doo-doo by the Totino’s Supreme Pizza endcap.”

“Yup. You want it buffered?”

“Nah, We won’t have time. The Totino’s blitz is today and I don’t want anybody getting run over.”

 

Gang, while Moose is trying to get out of Rockville, fire away. I’ll leave you with this

 

At night I sleep in Milford’s dugout

Waiting patiently to board the bus

Cuz it’s so much easier to handle

All my problems and I don’t have to swear and cuss

I’ll lift some weights and run a lot

And get my scholarship without a fuss

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

DON’T GO BACK TO MILFORD

 

And waste another year.

Advertisements

April 11, 2018

Welp, It’s Long Past Time For Pitchers And Catchers To Report

041118

And the NBA playdowns are just around the corner so I guess it’s fortunate that we’re taking this week to wrap up all of the loose ends of a typically thoughtful treatment regarding the tragic plight of a serious, real life, on-going crisis.

Duncan with a fucking parrot on his shoulder indeed. At least panel three shows us why he needed to go for the pirate hat to round out his look.

Metapost: Apologies for the late post as I got pulled away from my desk before hitting ‘Publish’.  Boy, I wasn’t in too good of a mood to start the day, was I?

March 28, 2018

I Had No Idea It Was Sweeps Week In Milford

Filed under: freak hands, huge earrings, Marty Moon, Milford Idiots, premature baldness — timbuys @ 9:43 am

032818

I feel duty bound to remark on behalf of my esteemed colleague, Rob, that any strip that has two mentions of the Milford Star without a drawing of Marjie Ducey is bullshit. Full stop.

That said, it would seem that, as improbably as we’ve all noted that it would be, the Milford Pirate Network has gone ‘viral’. And, you know what? Props to Pocket Square Sporting Radio Station Manager for being on the ball! This guy sees the needle moving in the wrong direction in the coveted Madison 13-18 year old demographic and he is on top of it.

Minus points: I wrote those last two sentences and then realized that the only reason Pocket Square is vaguely aware of this shit is because he is literally reading about it in a print newspaper… What in the name of Andy Travis is going on around here?

 

December 19, 2017

So, Does That Make Uncle Gary An Internet Pirate?

121917

Oh boy is Panel One ever so helpful in bringing us all up to speed. Thanks for the refresher Whigrub. Little Ricky’s bald spot seems to have migrated to the side of his head so that will bear monitoring I suppose.

I would like to point out all of the things which astound me about Panel Two but there’s no time as one’s attention is immediately captured by the magnificent bricks of the Ioan Anderson Travel agency. Besides which I believe the quoted text is more hilarious than anything which I’m likely to conceive.

Bonus commenter challenge: Identify each spectacular vacation vista beckoning to the odd passerby who might, on the spur of the moment, step into the office and embark on the voyage of a lifetime far from dreary and dilapidated Milford.

Metapost: We don’t have a tag and I can’t recall Kelly’s last name but this post should be tagged for her.  (I almost slipped and created a tag with a former colleague’s last name which was alliterative with her first name. Gonna guess that person doesn’t read the blog but still…)

Update: Tag for Kelly Krystek added thanks to the always reliable Maintainer of the Milford .xlsx, billytheskink!

Inspiration for today’s post title.

December 13, 2017

As Vaganova Can Attest, There Is Basically No Risk Of Concussion From Skiing.

Filed under: Central City Cretins, lessons learned, premature baldness — timbuys @ 9:50 am

121317

Panel 1: “Signs of trouble” is going to become my new euphemism for impending disaster.

[boss with grating accent]: ‘Hey TimP, how’s going der Mega Proposal due Friday to GiantCo?’

TimP: ‘Gee boss, the lead architect is out sick with stage 4 cancer of the everything, his wife just died and his daughter’s wedding in Tahiti is Saturday so he’s got that going on too. Meanwhile, our offshore support team is celebrating a week long major national holiday and are legally forbidden from working*, and our key relationship manager at the account just left us to join our competitor. Also, too, one of their subsidiaries just announced they’re suing us for breach of contract at Tiny Project where the long gone sales guy over promised and we under delivered.  So, you could say there are some Signs of Trouble.’

* The government will occasionally send state security officers to the offices to check that they are closed. No joke!

Panel 2: “What we mostly know about [tobacco and cancer, leaded gasoline, asbestos, etc.] for now is that we need to know more.” (emphasis added)

Panel 3: So, I am a big believer in not letting my fears determine my decisions. Too often in my life, and as I’ve observed in many other’s lives, some element of fear constrained me from reaching further than I could have. Conversely, even when I’ve taken risks and failed, I’ve always made my greatest strides when I’ve managed my fears and charged ahead.

Inspiring or insipid as that might sound, after living in my home for eleven years without it, I bought flood insurance three months before Hurricane Harvey hit and didn’t flood. The point being, I guess I could’ve saved $450 (although I’m happy that money will help to pay out claims to other insureds), but I was a lot more comfortable the night of landfall and the days that followed.

Had I been fearful of flooding? Sure.

Did I mitigate the risks underlying that fear? Yes.

Did I make the right decision?

 

December 6, 2017

Game, Set and Match? Match Point? I Dunno; Help Me Out Here…

120617

A Match Made In Tanktown?

I’ll give Uncle Gary credit that it is an odd turn of phrase. And, really, would you trust a doctor with a cookie duster like that?

Bonus point: I am digging that lamp.

Minus point: As Rowdyman noted, Whigham could’ve saved himself a lot of grief just omitting the stethoscope…

December 5, 2017

With Or Without You (Rick Soto)

120517

So, is Rick Soto good enough that there should (not to give Rubin even more to juggle) be an element of him being recruited? All of a sudden, it seems that everything hinges on him so you would think that he must have some D1 interest…

Meanwhile, Connie Soto (nee Gary) and her brother, Uncle, are becoming one of the most annoying brother and sister combos since Wynn and Wendy Wiley.*

Metapost: Inspiration for today’s post title was released over thirty years ago! Please excuse me while I go take my hypertension medication and look into transitional bifocals…

* For those that don’t recall, Wendy wasn’t too bad in that she behaved relatively inoffensively even though, as is typically the case with this strip, she mostly had things happen to her. Meanwhile, Wynn was a paternalistic nut-job with serious anger issues… (Also, too, he was the protagonist.)

November 15, 2017

Sing Some Spanish

111517

Uncle Gary came so close to touching his face and springing me from having to write today’s post…

Panel 1: Great, so we’re adding in some racial condescension to Uncle Gary’s shtick. That’s just what we needed.

Panel 2: I’ll say it again, Ricky is being awfully tolerant of his uncle’s delusional maneuvering. As has been suggested by others, it seems we’re well past the point where he would’ve told UG to stuff it.

Panel 3: Worst episode of Entourage ever. (I dunno; I never saw the movie.)

Please note that posts from me next week will be delayed as, instead of rehashing this dreck, I will hopefully be taking in views from the Tortolita mountains.

Older Posts »

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.