This Week in Milford

November 28, 2018

Less Thinking, More Action!

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At Joe Bolek’s house –

“Okay guys, here comes the world

Premiere!” Almost haiku

 

Speaking of the world:

In Milford, five guys is not

A chain burger joint

 

Bolek’s screening room

Should rotate ninety degrees

Screen too close to seats

 

Shape shifting Bolek

Man of a thousand faces

Today looks like Biden

 

Give Joe some credit:

He knows YouTube watchers have

Short attention spans

 

But Tiki gets it

The footage needs to be raw

Like those punks’ knuckles

 

Clark kept shooting to

Erase pain of Milford life

Oh, wait, just video

 

Who else missing point?

Rubin. This is a sports strip

Not Scooby-Doo

 

It’s meddling you want?

Try to replace Karen Moy

Write for Mary Worth

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November 22, 2018

Looks like a flash mob is starting

Hey gang – happy Thanksgiving to all! Its not my day to post, but just like Chase Daniel showed us today, you have to be ready when you’re called upon, and my Bears showed the nation why they are serious Super Bowl contenders a year after being a disaster for 4 straight seasons. So I had plenty of Bears Kool-Aid with my turkey and stuffings, thank you.

Back to the strip– and what better way to spend your holiday then in sunny New Thayer? Wtf is Tiki  doing? Standing in front of an on-coming auto is not the best way to extend your life insurance tables lad. Of course no-one else is outside, except for some kid who recognizes him, and runs across oncoming traffic to accost him. Thats how I wait for word to spread that I’m IN TOWN— by just standing on some shit corner. Of course anyone else who tries this — and I mean the other 350 million humans on the planet– would get absolutely no result of their action, other then to be handed a Salvation Army kettle. So why the fuck would Tiki think he’s any different??

Oh yeah, its Milford. No its not. Its New Thayer. Now what?

 

 

 

October 23, 2018

This Plot Goes On And It Drives Us Mad

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Where do we go from here

Now that Tiki is camping in Gil’s place

And how does he spend his time

When the plot forges on at a snail’s pace

 

ANOTHER HARDY BOY’S MYSTERY???????????? CAN WE AT LEAST GET SOME FOOTBALL WHILE ENCYCLOPEDIA BROWN AND SALLY KIMBALL TRACK DOWN WHERE BUGS MEANY LIVES??????????????

My goodness, I’m sure they’ll discover, probably to no one’s surprise, that Bugs Meany and his family have their own private Hooverville house at Milford Skid Row. They followed Bugs’ (not Bugs Bunny, to avoid any resemblence which would be REALLY coincidental) trail of Jack Daniels bottles back to his house, or really loosely speaking, abode. It keeps the rain out, give him that. Anyway, the Hardy Boys will more than likely find a similar path starting with the sandwich Tiki is devouring in P2. Are we SURE his mom packed that in his lunch box this morning along with Sun Maid raisins, Lays Sun Chips, Hi-C cooler, and Hostess Twinkie or did Tiki hock that from the incinerator in the Maintenance Room? The Hardy Boys should have checked there first. After non-contact drills, of course. Anyway, if the janitors check all the garbage cans and dumpsters and detect that all the PB & J, Ham & Rye, Tuna Fish and Scrambled Egg, Brain, Bacon ‘n’ Pork Rind, and Reuben sandwiches were pilfered from designated repositories, then it’s hard for me to imagine, as desperate Gil is to resuscitate this plot, that he would stoop that low, literally and figuratively. There could be only one culprit and he’s eating the evidence even as I text.

But hey, the Hardy Boys could always sneak into Coach Thorp’s office and check his mini-fridge after blocking drills on Thursday just to be sure.

“WOW, look at all these Bacon ‘n’ Egg Croissants!!!!!!!!!!!”

Elmer Fudd follows the string of Michelob Lite beer cans from the edge of the Wal-Mart property deep into the Milford Wildlife Management Area until Mr. Fudd pinpoints a rabbit hole next to a camellia bush, half-eaten by the other Bugs (not Bugs Meany, do I have to keep reminding you???????) that he surely washed down with the Michelob Lite (Here’s to good friends, tonight is kinda special, a hollyhock and Lowenbrau among your fishing buddies after you caught a shark. Life is good) . Elmer points the blunderbuss into the hole. Hope Bugs Bunny isn’t hung over. “Aw wight, wabbit, say your pwayers.”

 

Shout-out goes to Vincent Natalie of Louisville, Kentucky, who was a housing inspector for years, and with his solid work ethic and great personality, would have kept going had God not told him to relax and enjoy life. Unlike many housing inspectors, Vincent learned you catch more flies with honey than you do vinegar and approached every landlord and tenant that way. they would gladly proceed and comply with his orders which were ALWAYS reasonable. If government was ALWAYS that way, we’d get more done. Vincent, you were great to talk to the other day and I hope to talk to you some more in the future. Enjoy your retirement. You’ve earned it.

 

BTW, While the Hardy Boys and Milkman are on a rampage,  I’ll be using “The Turn of a Friendly Card”, you whippersnappers, from the Alan Parsons Project, to aid them in their pursuit of justice. Need help somewhere.

 

I have been reading on one of my favorite subjects, math, and I read something interesting on probability.

It seems that Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades (assuming that Hercules and Atlas were busy with the kids) threw dice and Zeus wound up with the earth, Poseidon, the oceans, and Hades, well, I think you can put 2+2 on that one.

But my imagination is running wild

“I drew Milford AGAIN?????? Let me see those dice!!!!!!!!!

 

And by my calculations, it appears in P1 that the Spaceship Enterprise has landed in the Milford High School parking lot (Security ordered Captain Kirk to park the vehicle in the Student Section) for, I’m thinking, a seminar with the students. I’m ruling out a pep assembly. And, lo and behold, if it isn’t Samuel Llewellyn Spock, Dr. Spock’s grandson, shooting a stare at our victim, Tiki Time Bomb. Careful with that Vulcan Submission Hold that your granddaddy used on his enemies. We’re talking a prospective slum king here and it’s not necessary to implement desperate measures.

“OKAY!!!! OKAY!!!!! We live under the bridge and we eat out at Hardee’s every night!!!!!!!! At least it’s char-broiled!!!!!! And, OKAY, we sleep on the dead sassafras trees and lay our heads down on the foliage. Now will you let go of my shoulder?????

 

Where do go from here

Now that Tiki lacks toilets or floor space

And how will he go to class

If he’s blocked by the presence of Gil’s face

 

At a book sale, I ran across a book entitled “How to make a Tornado”.

This week’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O. J. Suing Milford High School Concerning Home-Made Tornado After His Mudlark Lake Beach House Was Razed To The Ground; Scuba Divers Recover His MVP Trophy In The Bottom Of The Lake!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub head line

“Trial will begin in February 2019 after his lawyer, Johnny Cochrane, gets his condominium appraised of damages.”

 

Nothing forward

Nothing gained

This plot wades on

And it bears much pain

I’d rather eat borscht in the rain

Topped with candy cane

Crap festers more and more profane

 

We’ve got common sense to lose (We’ve got common sense to lose)

We’ve got Alpo Beef for news (We oughta be belching out this news)

 

Shout-out to Beverly Tyler of Clarksville, Indiana. Two, count ’em, two broken ankles in the past, yet she has overcome and cheerfully goes to work every day as if nothing ever happened. She is truly an inspiration to me and has shown me how you can beat the odds just by making that first step. She gets up EARLY to boot. Wow. Gang, I think she loves her job and life too. Give her respect, gang. Lots of it.

 

And as long as The Hardy Boys are not going to learn their lesson AND STICK TO SPORTS (remember the stern lecture Gil gave them last year when they and Joe Friday and Bill Gannon were staking out Aardvark’s place?) , I have to admire their process of elimination in P3. No, if he’s eating Spam instead of Prime Rib, Ken’l Ration instead of Filet Mignon, Fried Tuna instead of Lobster, we can safely posit that Tiki’s family does not own a time-share cabin next to Marty’s beach house at Mudlark Lake Resort.

“Joe and Bill-”

“That’s Mr. Friday and Mr. Gannon, to you, punks.”

“Anyway, look at this trail of Tender Vittles. Smells like they eat a lot of the Shrimp variety. It’s leading to that chalet by that huge pin oak tree.”

 

Annnnnddddddd, I saw this at a Kroger in my hometown in the Frozen aisle on an endcap

Denali Extreme Maximum Fudge Moose Tracks (for those of you keeping score at home)

Sooooooooooooo at the Milford Clay Oven, The Taste of the Himalayas, now offering free delivery, brought to your doorstep in 30 minutes or less or the order’s free

“Waiter, there’s a roach in my wife’s Fish Curry Vindaloo Soup.”

“And the chefs didn’t sprinkle enough paprika in the Samosa Chat Moose Tracks. I’m usually fartin’ up a storm by the time me and Gil get to our Nissan Sentra.”

“Believe me, I have to roll down all the windows when we drive out of the parking lot. We have to give our kids Flintstones Chewables to flush themselves of the stench.”

“But this time, I haven’t even bothered to reach for my Rolaids.”

 

“Officer, how’d you know I was with Milford Clay Oven? The cherry top on the Domino’s, Papa John’s, and the Pizza Hut cars are all shaped the same.”

“Simple. Yours was the only one in Urdu. BTW, I’ll let you off with a warning if you’ll let me sample that Ultimate Vegetable Korma Moose Tracks.”

 

 

 

“Okay, here’s your Chicken Tikka Masala, your Tandoori Chicken Salad, your Chicken Pakora, your Denali Vegetable Karma Ghia Pakora ‘n’ Baked Beans Krishna Karamel Baghavad Vita Wienerschnitzel On The Rocks Tandoori Waldorf Salad Maximum Ne Plus Ultra Chocolate Vanilla Strawberries ‘n’ Cream Ghi Moose Tracks Ice Cream, and your Kiddie Whopper And Fries. Oh, I forgot your 6-pack of Bud Lite on your coupon special.”

“That’s correct. I receive a free 6-pack brewskie of my choice when I purchase $85.00 worth on the menu, am I right?”

“You are correct. Anything else?”

“I think that’ll do it.”

“Thank you. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks for coming out to Oakwood.”

“Anytime, Mr. Andrews.”

 

Nothing’s good and Gil’s been had

The tripe shoves on

And it drives me mad

The writing flubs

And the story’s bad

For the ending, I’ll be glad

Eliminate this passing fad

 

Gil’s got nothing left to lose (Gil’s got gray lint in his shoes)

He oughta admimister fresher news (He’s waxing increasingly obtuse)

 

Ian Bairnson’s guitar solo, brilliant virtuoso as he always is (never disappoints) , leads us intooooooooo

“And that’ll do it. Coach T finds another way to lose one. Who’s gonna be his next kicker,  Donald Duck? Well, while I’m scanning the Disney Channel, allow me to pause for a commercial. We’ll be back to wrap up this travesty of justice. Your final, Jefferson, Louisiana Ragin’ Cajuns, 23, Milford, 21, you’re listening to Marty Moon on WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

“Fans, while you’re listening to Marty’ bull, I have a question.

Is your sex life on the rocks? Is the only time you get erect is when you stand at attention and salute the flag? Is your wife spending more time dropping off the kids at soccer practice than in bed?

Hi, this is Gil Thorp, And I can certainly relate, having experienced my own Erectile Dysfunction nightmares. Talk about “Tales from the Darkside”.

My weenie could have passed as the host of the show, it was that frightful. Mimi was about to call a werewolf, she was desperate for something exciting, even if it meant her heart would be ripped out or whatever werewolves do, I never watched the show, I was busy incompetently coaching the team. If all she had to do was stick a silver Bic pen in his neck to get stuck herself, it was worth going all the way for them. Thank God the werewolf’s number was unlisted.

And, I know, the Milford Men’s Clinic at the Mall got leveled to the ground by that tornado, created by a Senior Project. I still think some people need to get a life. However, don’t let some careless asshole who misapplied Erlenmeyer flasks and pipettes on the 2nd floor of the chem lab at Milford High School derail you from the pleasure you seek. The good news is that the Downtown location wasn’t even touched. And you can get the same treatment programs there that work just as well. By Gum, all you gotta do is locate the Empire State Building and you’re gonna score, in bed and in finding the place cuz the Clinic is right next to it. I’m not good on geography, some say I’m not good on coaching, but I’ll bet Marty Moon’s retreat house at Mudlark Lake Resort that if I can find it, you can too. Plenty of free parking in the rear and they’ll even validate your parking stub if you park in the Milford Municipal Lot.

Improving my sexual arousal and picking up my bar tab, er, parking bill, now that’s a winning combo. Pippin and Jordan couldn’t park their pick-ups any better.

And while the idiots who were careless with Mother Nature will serve In-School Suspension for their malfeasance, the Mall location will rise from the ashes, a Phoenix mating with its female counterpart, ready to soar their sex life through the uprights, this time winning the game. No referee to throw a flag on this one.

 

Comment away, gang. And if you’re in the area, stop by Coffee Crossing in New Albany, Indiana (Grant Line Road exit) . I was impressed by their selection of lattes, cappucinos, coffees, and scones, among other goodies, lots of ’em, at reasonable prices. If you’re on your way to work or need a lunch break, stop by. Support Small Business, gang, You need a place where everybody knows your name.

 

“Hmmmmm. Bill, this tastes like Mudlar-K-Pineapple Plus Cola. They must be skimpy on the soft drinks.”

“Mr. Friday, it could be Donald Duck Orange Juice. I’ve seen Tiki snarf tons of the stuff.”

“You punks run along and go home!!!!!!!!! You’ve got calesthnics and conditioning at 0600 hours!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

No this plot never ends

When Gil’s World all depends

On the turn

Of a friendly

Foot

October 22, 2018

The Corner Of Noneya & Business

Filed under: big arms, freak hands, Gil Thorp, Milford Weirdos, premature baldness — nedryerson @ 7:11 am

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Tiki Jansen drives a crappy, old car and he’s chronically late. His sister Angela is in the fifth grade. Andre Ruffin’s sister, who’s also in the fifth grade,  has never heard of Angela. Andre is determined to unlock the mystery.

Maybe Angela goes to a different school than Andre’s sister, be it private, special needs or just another school. I guess Milford is supposed to be small enough that there’d be only one elementary school and all the fifth graders should know each other.

What are we doing here? Why do these kids have to investigate each other?

I wonder what a strip with real stories of what’s happening in the lives of real kids would look like. I really do. In the last couple years a few books came out with some interesting perspectives on public school classrooms and the kids in them. These are both personal takes from a long time teacher (Hall of Fools) and an established writer who taught as a substitute for a year (Substitute: Going to School with a Thousand Kids). Both of those were a little harrowing to read. Maybe it is better to live in the sanitized, “1950s with cellphones” Gil Thorp.

July 17, 2018

And They Call This Carnival, Progress

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I was trying to hold it in. I have tried to refrain from using one of my favorite lyrics, hoping things would get better and this plot would limp out of existence. Such is not the case. So from the song “Tristesse” by the Australian group, The Church, this particular lyric is here to save the plot from abject lunacy and give us all a bit of sanity,

First off the agenda, as I told Ned in his post, Daffy is a supernumerary in the Bader household. Until today, her contribution to the conversation was worth as much as the Chips Ahoy brownies on the coffee table. And it’s going downhill from there.

Reinvent himself? Into what? Bozo the Clown? “Okay, boys and girls, I was once a 3rd baseman in AAA for the Pawtucket Red Sox but when I couldn’t hit left-handers, I took up Clowning.”

And who made Daffy judge and jury over Bader’s future anyway? She writes an article about Barry’s dad that I wouldn’t be surprised is the slime of the earth where I can only envision that Pa Bader is Pretty Boy Floyd. Then Barry is left to be this byproduct of this bad seed and will never find his way out of that image at this point, especially if Barry attempts to go by Daffy’s definition of reinventing yourself. That could get interesting.

Daffy, wake up and smell the brownies. BARRY IS A BALLPLAYER!!!!!!!!!!!! Nobody within this galaxy is saying Barry’s a gentleman. The kid is stuck on himself. His image is walking flypaper and has drawn more flies than your sleazy comments. But the brat can play the damn game. That has never been an issue and really shouldn’t be here. Now is not the time to locate the nearest comic book in the room, go back to the inside flap of a Little Dot comic and point to the “You Too Can Be a Locksmith!!!!!!!”

“Barry, just send in $8.95 plus shipping and handling to ‘Locksmiths are God, P.O Box 189, New Thayer’. I think I have stamp in my purse.”

 

“…parting is such sweet sorrow.”

“No problemo, Juliet. I’ll call Barry tomorrow since he’s an apprentice at Milford Lock & Key Shoppe. You sure there’s a cot in the Journalism room?”

“Oh, Romeo, it is in the bathroom by the shower stall. Could you toss a wrench up here? The release switch is a bit rusty.”

 

In the middle ad section of a Richie Rich Deluxe Edition

 

“The Scummy Article That Made a Man Out Of Barry”

“JESUS, Bubba, that’s the worst piece of trash you ever wrote about me!!!!!!!!!!!!! I don’t scratch my crotch between innings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Listen, punk, I’d punch your face in but you might dry up and blow away.”

Later

Barry is kicking over the bat rack in the dugout

“GODDAMIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’ll show Bubba he can’t write dogshit like that and get away with it. OK, I’ll gamble a stamp and send away for Luke Bunkin’s Strength and Conditioning Program.”

6 months later while flexing in front of the mirror in the locker room

“WOW!!!!!!!!! I’ve got muscles rippling like Coach Thorp’s hairdo. I can’t wait to meet Bubba down at The Bucket and settle the score. He’s flexing his gluteus maximus while downing a tomato and wheat germ oil shake. Talk about rubbing it in. I’ll show him.”

While cramming wheat germ oil shake and a random Banana Bucket Split up Bubba’s gluteus maximus in front of a group of approving women including Mrs. Bader

“WHAT?????? Are you still around? I’ll teach you to take liberties with the 1st Amendment. And I bought some Cruex too!!!!!!!!”

Some girlie girl warms up to Barry. “OH BARRY, where did you get those muscles!!!!!!!!”

“Thanks to the Luke Bunkin Training Program, I have strong muscles and tireless legs. It took a while to lift that Polled Heifer and I failed the first few times outrunning that bull in the field but after getting tired of surgery on my abdomen, I decided enough was enough. And unsubstantiated articles are a THING OF THE PAST. And if I can eat 10-day old corn cobs in the pig sty with the rest of the porkers, SO CAN YOU.”

 

Mrs. Bader, WILL YOU PLEASE PUT YOUR GLASSES ON YOUR NOSE AND USE THEM UNLESS THEY’RE STAPLED TO YOUR HEAD??????? You look like a believable character for “Star Trek: The Next Generation After The Next Generation”

 

In the bathroom stall at Milford Gym girls bathroom stall

TOMMY LASORDA POOPED HERE

 

Do you think it’s alright

To leave Barry with Cousin Steven

Something ’bout him ain’t right

He works at night alone

He carries no phone

 

I think it’s alright

Yes, I think it’s alright

 

We’re all alone, cousin

All alone, cousin

Let’s go to the ball field and play

Now that Gil has stored all equipment away

You were always too much work

Being blind, deaf, and a jerk

But Ms. Rizk is on assignment today

 

How would you feel if I racked you with no cup

Turned on the sprinkler and drowned you 10 feet up

Maybe some lining chalk that’s crammed up your ass

Would cause your innards to fart out snowy gas

 

I’m the school custodian

I’m the perverted cheat

It’s what happens when I’m single

And work nights in the heat

 

I love Laffy Taffy stuck up your nose

And using the stem of second base to beat at your toes

What would you think if you swallowed Red Man chew

A veritable feast washed down with Elmer’s Glue

 

We’re all alone, cousin

All alone, cousin

We’re leaving the ball field, okay

Now that Gil is about to get up this day

You weren’t much fun being blind, deaf, and a jerk

But now I’ve got to go back to work.

 

“See the colors changin’

See the colors changin’

See th-SCCCRRRRRAAATTTCCCHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Peaches drastically ends Tori Amos’ “Beauty of Speed” on the table top

“Marty, what are you DOING?????”

“Let’s see, carry the one and that should make the last 2 digits end in ’00’, making that a factor of 4.”

“Marty, why don’t you come to bed with me? This is the second night and I’ve barely gotten a cold kiss out of you. We only have 3 days left.”

“Peaches, I’m on a roll!!!!!! I’m trying to solve Fermat’s Last Theorem. If I can win over the Milford Mathematical Society, I will no longer have to put up with those snarly kids at WDIG!!!!!”

“Marty, I know you. You will NEVER quit your job at the radio station even if you have $1 million at Milford State Bank and right now it’s this Furman guy or me.”

“Oh c’mon, Peaches!!!!!!!! I just need to work through a kink in the quadratic equation because I think I added 1 radical too many, plus I have still haven’t proven 2+2=4 through reductio ad absurdum. But I’m getting there. Hmmmmmmm, but this contradicts the fact that there are 3 mangoes instead of 5. That’s it!!!!!!!! Now it’s just a matter of time. Shit!!!!!!! If I can angle this TI-46 towards the lava lamp just right.”

“Marty, one theorem you haven’t proven is that I turn you on. Now let’s put aside that weetle itty-bitty cal-kee-late-or and come to bed.”

“AND JUST WHEN I’M ON THE VERGE OF QUOD ERAT DEMONSTRANDUM???????????”

 

Needless to say, the papers were never submitted to the MMS. And to add insult to injury, Marty never had sex. Peaches left. The proof on his theorem was as weak as his wim wim.

Fortunately, the Milford Men’s Clinic can cure Erectile Dysfunction so that Boolean Algebra takes a back seat to mathematical ecstasy. Sex will never be the same once the positive conjugate enters the negative conjugate. That’s one complex number Marty forgot to factor in that night. BUT, he will have his graphing calculator and his ED medicine this weekend or my name isn’t Georg Cantor. The Milford Men’s Clinic has satisfied Gauss and Newton and it can satisfy YOU. Check it out today. You have nothing to lose but unnecessary digits on a repeating decimal.

 

Gang, comment away. I’m going to use a tire jack to pry those glasses off Mrs. Bader.

 

“Daggone it!!!!!!! The solar batteries went dead!!!!!!!!! Peaches, do you have your calculator?????”

“The one I use to figure my piece count at Milford Foundry???? I left it in my other purse at home.”

July 3, 2018

Yo Quiero Taco Bell And A Baseball Scholarship, Coach Colvin

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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.

April 11, 2018

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

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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

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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?

 

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