This Week in Milford

December 3, 2019

Will Football Last Another 5 To 10 Months?

Filed under: Boredom in Milford, Just plain sad, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 11:09 am

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Ah, Bob Dylan

 

What time is it

Said The Hand

To Charlie when they met

 

5 to 10

Said Charlie

 

The Hand said

That’s what your step-dad’s gonna get

 

Damn, I hate to leave CLASSIC stuff but I’m still trying to figure out what Charlie is wearing under his other shirt.

Now because it appears to be a star, I can’t say that Chance has written

GIL THORP COULDN’T BARF OR COACH HIS WAY OUT OF HIS PERSONAL TOILET IN HIS OFFICE

Don’t you get In-School if that were spotted by some teacher? I think so. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the schools but that or

MS. RIZK NEEDS TO HOT-WIRE HER HEAD OUT OF HER TYPEWRITER

really wouldn’t do justice either.

Oh, okay, one more for you fuddy-duddies who don’t know when to give up

MARTY WASN’T JUDAS ISCARIOT THIS TIME?

Any or all of these inscriptions could grace Charlie’s shirt as long as he doesn’t walk past the principal’s office. And I’m bettin’

DR. PEARL BEGAN WEARING DENTURES DURING THE GILDED AGE

would probably get him in trouble too. Don’t go the way of your step-dad. Charlie. You wouldn’t want to be disgraced being sentenced to wearing a beard that was skinned from some skunk roadkill. Silence is seldom misquoted.

 

BIG shout-out to Iroquois Gardens Apartments of Louisville, Kentucky and their property manager, Melissa Frye. I was pleasantly surprised at the amenities and comfort of my new apartment. Microwave, dishwasher, refrigerator, an excellent atmosphere and space, important for all the books I have and use to get ideas for this site. And Melissa makes a good point, the apartments are run by a corporation but you wouldn’t know it coming into her office. She and everybody else know my name. Looks like personalized service to me. Factor in an affordable price and you got yourself a winner. Stop in and say Hello to Melissa and her friendly staff if you’re looking for a place to live and check it out. I think you’ll agree, this doesn’t compare with many of the apartments in the area. It really doesn’t.

Support Small Business, Gang. You need to go where everybody knows your name.

Now I’m going to take a stab at what is I THINK on his shirt, self-assured Charlie doesn’t want to go the way of his step-dad. I bet it’s Captain America and any time now, if Chet or anybody else continue to mess with Tommy Rich, er, Chance, Charlie will rip off that flannel shirt, fling his shield at these bete-noires and saw ’em in two and Democracy will be restored.

I COULD say that’s a pentagram but there’s no evidence of Charlie belonging to the Milford High School Satan Worshipers Club but I never saw an upside-down cross in the hallway in P1 or in Charlie’s room. I’m sticking with my original Captain America theory.

 

As Charlie approaches Chance, revealing what’s under the flannel shirt

“Smmmmiiiilllleeeee, you’re on Candid Camera”

As Allen Funt comes out of the locker

“Naw, it was one big-ass joke, Chance. Chet Ballard really likes you and never did any of that stuff. In fact, he’s underwriting your scholarship for one of the Power 5 football schools, isn’t that right, Charlie?”

“Yeah, in fact, Nick Saban is coming this afternoon, after he gets done signing autographs at The Bucket.”

 

Come on, you naysayers, Charlie doesn’t pray 5 times towards the Milford Church of Satan. Isn’t this more plausible?

 

We prefer to spend our time

On athletic news

Not wasting our time with some lout

 

And pretend we’ve flipped the lever

And fried his ass to Hell

Leaving no sign of his whereabouts

 

If we could change his mind

If we could alter brain and moral signs

If we could return the way it used to be

We would omit folks with itchy properties

Dig a grave and throw away the key

Focus all our eyes on sporting activities

Scrap his beard and insecurities, you see

 

If only we could change his mind

If only he would change

If we had a gun

We’d blast him again and again

 

And pretend that we’re not happy

Since he went away

Oh, if only we could change his mind

 

Then there’s P2 and this is the raison d’etre of Gil Thorp. Put another way, if The Joker were to rob Milford Federal Credit Union, Milford High School Federal Credit Union, Fort Milford Federal Credit Union, Milford Savings and Loan, Milford Cash Advance (“Just pay back the full amount you robbed by this Friday if you don’t want tbe interest to accrue.”) , Milford National Bank, Milford State Bank, and some kid’s lemonade stand (We’re talking about The Joker, you understand) , Robin is not going to meet Batman on the streets of Milford while Batman is zipping up his cape after a quickie with Catwoman at the Milford Best Western and say “Gosh, Batman, I knew you didn’t have anything to do with The Joker’s crime spree. I knew it all along.”

“Don’t sweat it, old chum. BTW, would you return the room key to the manager on duty? Just tell them somebody dropped it by the ice machine and you were doing your duty as a citizen of the law.”

 

Really, P2 is just a waste of a panel. Why would we suspect that Charlie had ANYTHING to do with all the computer hacking and illegal downloading and performing illegal investigations, executing unoffical business? Like this was a Bonnie and Clyde operation.

That’s right, Charlie steps inside building past security while Chet distracts them by taking a leak in the shrubbery. Chet will get a slap on the wrist and future directions to the restroom and walk away with information Dressed to Kill. Right.

Chance had a hard time calling Chet “Dad”.

 

If ya gotta use the garbage can lid while yuz a Superhero ta fight th’ scum and grime in tha city of Milford except on Tuesday when Milford Sanitary Solutions makes its rounds, ya might be a redneck.

 

Big shout-out to Ryan Roth and Roth’ Pizza of Elberfeld, Indiana. I drove by there the other day and it was a classy operation. I am not surprised as Ryan’s a top-notch individual who was great to work with at TJ Maxx. He sells great pizza and stroms at great prices in a small-town atmosphere. Customer is King with this gentleman. In fact, the only thing bad about him is he hates my favorite teams. Oh well, one can’t have everything. Take exit 29 south off of I-64 in Indiana and take the first exit off of I-164 and follow the signs to Elberfeld. Once you hit Elberfeld, he’s smack dab in the middle of town. Can’t miss him.

Support Small Business, Gang. You need to go where everybody knows your name. Ryan knows mine and has for years.

 

Y’know, I’d hate for those fists in P3 to be bumper cars. I wouldn’t want to call 1-FON-THE-JAWS after my pelvic area got Captain America’d. Nuff said.

 

“And that’s the end of the 3rd quarter here at Mudlark Stadium with the score in this Valley Conference Winter Extension contest, Milford, 27, Oakwood, 10. This is Marty Moon on WDIG-TV, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

On Coach Thorp’s 58,000 acre hog farm that abuts the city limits of Milford, at his homestead

“So you’re saying that if I stop accepting hog meat that was stowed away on The Mayflower that I’ll make more money?”

Robby Howry, fresh from his Accounting 212 class at Milford Community College

“Yes, you will. In fact, we’re studying Tax-credit Procedures that I aced on the exam and there’s a lien surcharge on every crate of pork smuggled out of the ship. But the Milford Town Hall will grant a tax reimbursement incentiv3 on every unused package that Milford High School cafeteria is prepared to dump in the Milford Sanitary Solutions truck.”

“Bull shit.”

“Bull shit?”

“Young man and WDIG-TV, I apologize for the profanity on the air, but you don’t know anything about sausage…”

“…just like you don’t know anything about bookkeeping or coaching?”

“Precisely. We import only the finest pork, some from far-away places, to ensure quality in every bite. Sausage, like Martini & Rossi, only gets better with time. And we use only the finest of spices and condiments to enrich flavor at its peak performance. Import duties are financed by the sausage distillation wing of the processing plant.”

“Wow!!!!!! Nice to know rosemary and sage sold under the table from Laos is honestly financed. And the savings is passed on to the consumer.”

“Gil, did you also tell him that Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage uses no fillers or cheap ungredients in its meat?”

“That’s right, Mimi. Robby, you need to stick to billboards when you’re not reviewing debentures for the quiz. We don’t need Crisco or Elsie the Borden Cow to fatten up our sausage. We use only the finest cuts of Polish Kielbasa so that breakfast and church picnics can experience manna from Heaven.”

“Let me assure you, Robby, I don’t need Crisco or Clabber Girl when I’m frying sausage burgers for Gil.”

“Mmmmmmm, mmmm, why go through the drive-thru at McDonald’s for a McChicken that’s on life-support in the microwave when I can indulge in one of Mimi’s Double Smoked Sausage & Cheese Patty Melts? Tennessee Pride couldn’t process a Junior Whopper with their sausage.”

“Gee, Coach, you’re right. It’s like telling Burger King to make Whoppers out of Veggie Burgers. I wouldn’t change a thing.

“Here, Robby, so there’s no hard feelings after you trashed my husband, here’s a Triple Decker with Onions. And I’ll pour you a Frosty Root Beer, no charge.”

“Oh boy!!!!!!!!!!! I’m in Heaven!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“No, Robby, you’re in Milford, home of the finest sausage in the land. Come get a package of Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage today at your local grocery outlet. Remember, sausage and coaching go together like pork fritters and fries.”

Comment away. I’m headin’ to Milford IGA because I understand that Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage is tastier than George Jones’ Sausage. Except George was adept in his profession but I’ll try anything once.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Vandals Caught While Trying To Excavate Plymouth Rock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Spokesperson from Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage denies any connection with the crime. ‘Our meats come from above the ground.”

Edited to add: Long time readers may have noticed a delay in posting of the images for the strip last week. This was due to an extended sojourn in the Tortolita mountains of the Sonoran Desert, a few photos from which appear below with T. Drew’s permission and encouragement. – TimP

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November 21, 2019

If These Doors Could Speak.

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If these doors

If these doors could speak

Superintendent lacking a name

Must have been a hell of a resume

Wondering if he’ll show some balls

For cads around us

If these doors could speak

 

They would tell us that they’re sorry

This plot is trash and dumb and weak

They would tell us that it’s really

On a losing streak

That’s if these doors could speak

 

Amy Grant is here with us to skewer this roast that’s long been in the oven too damn long and likely to taste like the worn-out shoe Hank Williams used to croon about. Y’know

Why do they treat us like refried stew

Why does this plot smell like a worn-out shoe

 

Another time with one of the greats. Right now, Amy is the bill of fare and God Almighty it’s time to pay up. Just days ago nobody wanted to go to the Superintendent because of an implied lack of iron rods in his back even with solid evidence.

Suddenly “The Buck Stops at this Cheap Rural King Mahogany Door” is ready to make a stand after Gil and Marjie and Carole King’s half sister comb the city of Milford for fodder they can use against Bluto. I’m sorry, Popeye wouldn’t be stockpiling the spinach wagon until the end of the episode to send Bluto into next week. Olive Oyl would have long since divorced him and ran off with Dick Tracy. Did you ever see Gravel Gertie flush evidence on Flattop down the toilet because Dick Tracy was a wussy? Please.

“You can come out from under Gil’s desk, Tracy. The Mole is gone from the Mudlark Girls Gym and only took the slaughter balls to sell on the black market.”

So maybe MAYBE John Doe Superintendent will have enough spinach in his file cabinet to confront the problem. Otherwise, those Popeye arms are really pillows caused by excessive Bucket Burger intake. When was the last time Popeye threw Bluto around the 3 panels on the strip getting drunk off some Bucket Banana Split(s)?

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Superintendent’s Name To Be Revealed Today After 60 Years Of Neglect!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I just thought it was time to come out of the closet. Gil’s had his name in neon lights on his vanity license plate. Two can play that game.”

Big shout-out to Karen of New Albany, Indiana. She works at the Kroger on Charlestown Road. Every time I see her, she is always bagging the groceries with a smile. You factor in her desire to help customers who may have a little trouble getting the groceries out to the car and you have a winning formula. She always comes to work on time and I am glad to take her there as part of my job. We need more like her. She represents America.

 

If these doors

If these doors could speak

I wonder what bull they’re exchanging now

Stuck on his Sudoku, 2 numbers down

Crucifying a man so dim

His diet’s Slim Jims

If these doors could speak

 

They would say that this plot owes us

More than cash, stocks, or CD’s

They would explain this plot only

Better go take a pee

That’s if these doors could speak

 

P1-Late one night at 1:30AM at the Thorp residence

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRINNNGGGGGGG

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRINNNGGGGGGG

“I’ll get it, Mimi”

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is your favorite anonymous School Board member calling to remind you of your appointment with me at The Bucket on-”

Lady with a drunken voice

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER TWENTY-FIRST

“at”

3:00PM

“If you cannot make this appointment, please give a 24 hour notice to avoid the $50 No-show fee. I have plenty of information that I hacked from the computer that will run Chance out of Dodge City and force him to continue his high school football career in Samoa while my own son will pull a Keith Smart and score the winning TD with only seconds to go. You don’t know me so don’t try to trace me. Several did down at the School Corporation building but they wound up in the corn field like that idiot in that Twilight Zone episode, y’know, where everybody is genuflecting to some kid because he’ll make someone a corn stalk otherwise. Don’t trash Charlie and wind up being a Corn Flake or Fruit Loop yourself.

I look forward to seeing you Thursday. I’ll be the one with the Harley Race gut and shag carpeting some call a beard.

Goodbye”

CLICK

Come to Jeff Smith Marathon in Edwardsville, Indiana. WOW THEY WERE BUSY YESTERDAY. Sounds like a good business to me. There were people pulling in and out to get gas and to get their cars fixed. Of course, there were several cars in the parking lot either fixed or waiting to be fixed. Busy.

The coup de grace was the attendant patiently helping a lady get her tire inflated. That is the kind of service you get at this place, the standard and NOT the exception. You’re doing great, Guys and Gals.

Come see Crystal who was lining things up like a pro and Bre who was doing that earlier in the shift. They are off Exit 118 on I-64 in Indiana. Soon as you get off, go Indiana 62 west and take the FIRST road on the left. Can’t miss these ladies.

Support Small Business, Gang. Keep America striong. You need a place where they know your name anyway. Crystal and Bre and the mechanics at Jeff Smith Marathon know mine.

 

Oh, so now the generic superintendent is going to take a stand and run Liberty Valance out of town.

“Damn straight I’m not going to let John Wayne steal all the thunder and ram Chet’s head into Liberty Valance’s trailer home. I got backbone, y’know.

Can you help me finish this crossword puzzle? 19 down ‘Wrote Gargantua and Pantagruel’.”

“How many letters?”

“Eight. It starts with an ‘R’.”

“Rotterdam?”

“That’s nine. Hey, Luhm, where’s that almanac?”

 

The Clanton Gang sent to an early grave because the one-size-fits-all knew the capital of North Dakota. Priceless.

“I knew it wasn’t Fargo. That’s what a lot of people answer.”

 

If ya call in a poacher ta th’ Milford Fish and Wildlife Ranger Office but ya wanna leave the tip anonymous cuz that’s yore teammate at Milford Lanes even tho he’s well past the bag limit of skunk, ya might be a redneck.

 

Do all the powers-that-be have trees that grew out of the planet Krypton and get transplanted for scenery behind the desk of said official?

The next time I see Honest Abe or Old Hickory posing in front of a set of Encyclopedia Brittanicas and a mutant poplar that’s accommodated one spider monkey too many will most DEFINITELY be the first time.

Lee and Grant signing the Appomattox papers with that thing in the living room? Who’s?going to take it home with their pistols?

 

“Roquefort?”

“That’s a salad dressing, dumbass.”

“Mr. Generic Superintendent, watch your language.”

 

Don’t get me started on P3. Evidently Charlie Chan IV couldn’t make it in the movies (“You don’t have the look”) so now he settles for a receptionist/hacker position at unknown company, presumably still in the same School Corporation building as Marjie and Mr. What’s-His-Name. And I don’t mind different, hey, the melting pot made America but no way will I ever freeze-dry my hair and use a cupcake mold to finish the shape. What is it about liquids we learned in 7th grade Science, they take the shape of their containers? We have an exception here. Papa John’s and Domino’s could design Pan Pizza concepts based on the top of his head.

Then there’s the conversation with Lurch’s brother. Is he the concierge of the School Corporation? Does he open the door for Mr. Generic Superintendent in the morning? Get his #2’s ready when the latter is about to do the USA Today crossword that Lurch Revisited obtained in the lobby? Light the man’s cigars?

“Yoouuuuuuuuuuuu rang?”

“Yeah, Lurch, we need as much dirt as you can scrounge together on Chet Ballard. The nastier, the better. And don’t leave out when he went streaking in that Chick Fil-A body of his when he was in Milford’s Streak to Cure Breast Cancer. Milford Enquirer will have a field day with that.”

“As you wish.”

 

Which only leads to WHAT THE HELL’S ON THE COMPUTER. Gang, Chet may be a scoundrel (trust me) but it’s hard for me to imagine John Walsh talking about him on America’s Most Wanted.”

“Chet likes to sell insurance when he’s not diving into peoples’ personal affairs. He has a?beer belly only the Milford Beverage Warehouse could love. He goes by several alias’s, including Chet Baker. He was last seen wearing a fake beard he bought out of Milford Novelty. If you’ve seen this man, your tip could save the season for the Milford Mudlarks. Call now at 1-888-GIL-HELP.”

 

They would tell you that he’s Rent-a-Supe

A man with no direction and no life

They would tell you that he really

Needs to have a wife

That’s if these doors could speak

 

“Ronco?”

“They make Julienne fries, Marjie.”

 

“Boy, all this action and I need to unwind and take a cold one. And what better way of relaxing after a tortuous 5-game season with the Mudlark Girls Basketball team than heading down to Milford Beverage Warehouse for all my chilling-out needs?

Hi, this is Mimi Thorp, taking my husband’s place who is on assignment and won’t be back for another 60 years. And man, when I see the selection of fine beers and wines, I’m tempted to add another game to the schedule. Lining up the referees to sign the contracts might require an extra Bud or two, but I’ll manage.

And look what I got lined up here. This is better than Correctable Error. Michelob Ultra in the 12-pack, a steal at $10.99. At that price, we’re trapping at the half-court line so WE CAN get the beer back.

And Maker’s Mark Whisky, sold for an arm and my husband’s hair at some liquor places, is a bargain at $24.99. Perfect for when I need to drown in my beer after my star player misses the go-ahead free throw when we should have blown out Goshen by 60 anyway.

And us ladies are in for a treat. For every 30-pack Busch Light we buy at the rock-bottom price of $17.99, The Warehouse will give you a voucher for free ammo and a shoot-out at Milford Conservation Club. Ladies, time to start working on your aim when those clay pigeons and Svedka Vodka bottles come out of the chute. Shoot, for Svedka, I’ll say “pull” anytime.

Come on down and taste The Good Life and have your Colt .45 ready in the trunk. With prices like these, I’ll get that Winchester Gil’s grandpa has stashed away in Gil’s Conestoga wagon in the back. With ridiculous prices and free chances to pretend I’m aiming at Marty’s head whenever the objet d’art flies in range, I know where I’m going after scrimmage. Join me, won’t you? Only at The Warehouse.”

 

Go at it, Gang. I’m going to look up all the dirt about the guy. I’m sure Rent-a-Supe has an interesting past.

 

“Rottweiler?”

“That’s Fred Flintstone’s dog!!!!!!!!!”

“Ruff?”

“That’s Dennis the Menace’s!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Still love your music after all these years, Amy. Your style never gets old. And you live your Faith.

May Jesus continue to bless you.

 

November 12, 2019

Elephant? What Elephant? In This Room?

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Drinking my Maxwell House one day, puttin’ the vinyl “Double Fantasy” on the turntable

 

People say it’s silly

Lost and confused

 

TWIMers think it’s messy

Blowing my fuse

 

When Chet exclaims with a straight beard

That Dumbo’s not around

I flip a coin between Gil and Chet

For who’s the bigger clown

 

I’m just sittin’ here watchin’ this plot spin ’round ‘n’ ’round

I really loathe this cruddy show

 

May we depart this hopeless merry-go-round

We just got to let it go

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Bruce Wayne Is Removed As A Suspect In Batman Case!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Milford Transportation Board spokesman said that Batmobile required a B License Endorsement, something not presently in Mr. Wayne’s possession.”

 

Okay, let me first throw my hat in the ring on the legitimate comments by our TWIMers in relation to education and the newspapers.

It has been my experience that the bigger cities (100,000 or more) are able to sustain a newspaper with its own education reporter. My own city I grew up in, which was in the category I mentioned above, has had for several years and currently has a beat writer covering the news pertaining to schools in the area.

The problem I personally am encountering here is, based on my experiences with reading Gil Thorp (“More fun than a barrel of monkeys”) , Milford is about the size of, say, Vincennes, Indiana or Henderson, Kentucky, 2 cities able to sustain a Wal-Mart and possibly a Kohl’s or Home Depot but still only capable of supporting one public high school and occasionally, as in Vincennes’ case, a private high school, Rivet (Rih-VAY), a Catholic High School.

Therefore, it’s dicey whether the Small Town Gazette is going to carry it’s own education section or have the financial resources to support a reporter in a specialized field like education. Anything’s possible but again too dicey for me.

But this is Thorpiverse and anytime you can get a beat writer like Niah Peters in this case to sit on the upper left-hand drawer when it’s locked shut and discuss with “We’re unclear whether she’s the de facto editor” Ducey about the rhino that escaped Milford Petting Zoo, the logic I mentioned above might as well get thrown in the big pot at Milford High School cafeteria along with the other ingredients in the 12 cans of Campbell’s Chunky Vegetable. Use a spoon, you’ll want to get every drop.

And WHO ELSE do you go to if you suspect a problem? I always thought that’s what School Board meetings are for. If there’s a strong suspicion (and this one’s arm pits are smellin’ PRETTY STRONG) that someone’s not on the up-and-up, what else CAN YOU DO? If the rhino is not in the petting area with the rest of the lambs and goats to feed a bottle of formula, do you go to Bozo the Pope and tell him a rhino is NOT in the room with the elephant? I always thought that’s what a zoo director is for. But let me cross-reference my sources. I’ll get back with you on that one.

Then there’s Janis Ian talking to someone with a neo-Jefferson Airplane hairdo-OH THAT’S MARJIE “SCOOP” DUCEY-about the possible repercussions should they challenge Chet to a toro fight at Milford Municipal Bull Ring. I think the gist of the conversation is that el toreador would be flattened by Big Butt Ballard, beard and all, should they go the procedural route. Okay, okay, I know some of you hoity-toitys out there think they shouldn’t ignore protocol and you might have a point.

But I gotta be fair about this and I am therefore enlisting the aid of Dragnet once again to see if we can resolve this one.

1:29PM. It was cool in Milford. The city had just been hit with snow flurries that tapered off right in line with our investigation. Bill and I were transferered over to the Recreational and Athletic Suspicious and Unwarranted Activity Division of the Juvenile Delinquent Department. The boss is Captain Peters.

We were advised to be on the alert for occurences at the Milford football games in relation to a one Chet Ballard. He was believed to be harboring dirty laundry and illegal records pertaining to one of his stepson’s teammates, Chance Macy. Witnesses said they saw him loading that stuff with a spade shovel in his trunk. We could nail him on Milford Penal Code Section 34 Article 9 Clause 103 “Illegal and Unlawful Work-Related Incidents with Intent to Self-Promote Family and Self, Including Domesticated Animals in Household” but without a search warrant, the only other way we could get him to open his trunk and display the spare records and spare tire was if he lost his key and asked me and Bill for a crowbar. The investigation was running colder than a Bucket Slushee.

Captain Peters suggested I talk to the School Superintendent. A fair proposition. One problem. While conversing with him and Gil down at the Milford Lounge, he informed me (the superintendent, not Gil) that this was out of his bailiwick. His job was to make sure the cafeteria ladies at Milford High had plenty of Handi-Wipes when handling the cheeseburgers so kids wouldn’t contract E. Coli or procure slaughterballs for gym class at Milford Elementary out of the catalogue of Classroom Paraphenalia. Fighting a guy whose razor had seen better days and was now shaving cow hairs for better milk production was not his cup of tea or the flask of Jack he was imbibing. The superintendent wasn’t going to get his retirement doing the right thing even if a sleazeball knew how to work the system the way he maneuvered his Trac II.

“Bill, let’s go get something to eat.”

“What about the case?”

“Hopeless. I could run him out of town on a Section 97 “Unwarranted and Illegal Entry into Public Building” but he could say he was in the Milford School Corporation Annex because his diarrhea medicine was kicking in and the Milford Park Public Unisex House was shut down for the season.”

“Back to square one, aren’t we?”

“Looks that way.”

“I heard the Superintendent tips pretty good at Milford Lounge, I’ll say that for him.”

“We could use some tips from him, all right”

Obligatory somber Dragnet music pipes in

 

Yesterday’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Cleared In Batman Case!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I asked the judge if he could see me in my blue Fruit of the Loom’s fightin’ The Riddler. I think that was the turning point.”

 

People say it’s stupid

Lacking a clue

 

TWIMers call it tepid

Ridiculous too

 

When the hippo dances with the crocs

And crush the furniture

Because nobody bothers to duly note

Chet’s self-imprimatur

 

We’re just sittin’ here watchin’ this plot drag ’round ‘n’ ’round

We’re gettin’ dizzy from all the snow

No need to further prod this merry-go-round

Why don’t we let it go.

 

THE HAND IS BACK

 

You Dark Shadows junkies like yours truly know exactly what I’m talking about.

And what a bad time for it to return, participating in a meaningless and pointless discussion that really shouldn’t be on the agenda in the first place. Heck, send The Hand to scare the living daylights out of Chet like it did us Shadows junkies, otherwise, it might as well be doing Karaoke in P2

At 2:34 A.M. in Chet’s bedroom

“You were always on my minddddddddd-”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA, GIL, I KNOW IT’S LATE BUT I CONFESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I POCKMARKED CHANCE MACY’S TRANSCRIPTS SO CHARLIE COULD START AT RUNNING BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE REALLY DIDN’T FLUNK ‘METALS FOR LIFETIME ACHIEVEMENTS’ OR ‘ADVANCE LATIN’!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUST GET IT AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

“Who was that?”

Gil half-asleep

“I think it was Chet. Something about Chance not getting a D- in Geometry 2 because some hand was grabbing his butt and giving him a wedgie.”

 

Well, if anybody has a better suggestion…

Otherwise, we can always call The Orkin Man as long as we’re going to eliminate valid options. The School Board room is going to look silly because it has personnel either on the School Board or in the Administration Building not willing to observe proper practices because it’s overthinking and overlooking the obvious, along with our cub reporters, but the room will be roach-free. I think that’s an even trade-off.

 

And as for P3, Mr. Lennon proves a song is worth a thousand words

People say it’s cheesy

Got bad reviews

 

TWIMers hate the premise

Yesterday’s news

 

When we fear a gutless myrmidon

With scruples in his beard

School Board regulations

Go the way of a rabic steer

 

We’re just sittin’ here watchin’ this tripe fling ’round ‘n’ ’round

We really hate the rigamarole

Why don’t we cease and switch to basketball

We just have to let it roll

 

WE JUST HAVE TOOOOOOOOOOO LET IT ROLL

Got message?

 

Because I’m a Classic Rock fan who saw Hard Rock in an ad but learned that they were referring to a man’s Erectile Dysfunction and the healing powers thereof

In the basement den late one night, the door double-locked, Coach Shaw blasting The Who

“Honnneeeeyyyyyyy, My ears are scorched and so are my flashes. It’s time to come to beddy bye and have some funnnnnnnnnnn.”

“Not now, Mrs. Shaw, I’m practicing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Honey, What are you breaking? I hope it’s not the Chippendale chair that belonged to my grandfather.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Shaw, I have a vise grip that’s holding all these light bulbs I bought at McShane’s Hardware. I’m pretendin’ I’m Pete Townshend and I’m doing a killer windmill with this ukulele, when I’m not smashing it to bits…

LONG LIVE ROCK, I NEED IT EVERY NIGHT

LONG LIVE ROCK

BE DEAD OR ALIVE

 

“Darling, we can do ‘Live at Leeds’ another time. Why don’t you Rock ‘n’ Roll with me?”

“Just when Won’t Get Fooled Again’ s on the turntable? How can you profane a classic like Who’s Next? Heck, I’m doing the part where Keith’s taking a leak at Stonehenge or wherever they hauled that rock from.”

I’LL TIP MY HAT TO THE NEW CONSTITUTION

TAKE A BOW FOR THE NEW REVOLUTION

 

SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Them GE 100-Watt Heat Lamp bulbs will never know what hit ’em with me and Pete smashin’ ’em like overripe pumpkins. Ain’t that the name of a group?”

“Overripe Pumpkins?”

“I thought it was Smashing Cantaloupes”

“Dear, at any rate, at least Loony Moonie dropped his pants on the album cover.”

SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Excusez-moi, Mrs. Shaw, but Roger and me just conked out a lava lamp while twirling our mikes. We’ll clean up the mess later.”

WHY SHOULD I CARE IF I HAVE TO

CUT MY HAIR

I’VE GOT TO MOVE WITH THE FASHION

OR BE OUTCAST

I KNOW I SHOULD FIGHT BUT MY OLD MAN

IS REALLY ALL RIGHT

AND I’M STILL LIVING AT HOME EVEN THO

IT WON’T LAST

“Honey, you won’t be living at home much longer either if you don’t perform a windmill on me.”

SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Just when Quadrophenia is heating up!!!!!!!!!!! And I got some Gorilla-Gro that I applied on my chest so I can have a sexy front like Roger. King Kong twirling a mike to The Punk and The Godfather will drive even the teeny-boppers for Frankie wild. And damn, I thought the Overture would never end. Kinda like the game the other day.”

IF YOU COMPLAIN, YOU DISAPPEAR

JUST LIKE THE LESBIANS AND QUEERS

Coach Shaw blowing on song flute in a well-intentioned attempt to imitate Entwistle’s French horn interlude

YOU’LL START DANCING

 

SMASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Shit!!!!!!!!!!!!! I smashed my trophy case!!!!!!! Hope the antlers are OK!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“I had to learn the meaning of Hard Rock the hard way. And when my Significant Other was lamer than a dead snake in our back yard, no matter how many windmills I did, I knew it was time to come clean and get my butt down to Milford Men’s Clinic. With proven traetments and proper medication, I can now whip myself in a frenzy from Baba O’Riley and my wife is caught up in the whirlwind and lovin’ it. Isn’t it time you and Pete laid down your guitar and checked in? Your concerts will truly be hard as Rock. Only at The Clinic.”

 

Gang, thank you SO MUCH for your patience. Trying to work this blog in while juggling my new job is a challenge but as Coach Stuard taught me, you learn to get around it. I am thankful for loyal and patient readers like you TWIMers. God bless you all.

 

“IbelieveinMIRACLES

Where you from

You sexy thing-”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Gil, did you forget to go to The Clinic again???”

Turns off Hitachi Sound System in his office

“They were closed for the holiday.”

 

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Shaw Banned For Life From Milford Holiday Inn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Local resident drove the family station wagon into the swimming pool.”

October 31, 2019

Bye, Bye, We Think This Plot’s Gonna Die

Filed under: exposition comics, Gil Thorp, song parody, Walking and Talking — tdrewhardin @ 12:18 pm

103119

Long, long time ago

I remember so well when Thorp led the troops

But now circumstances have changed

Some players have since gone deranged

And worn a strait jacket for a while

 

Football schemes just made me shiver

With every play that Gil delivers

Bad news on Macy’s doorstep

Can we brook one more step

 

I can’t remember when they played

This plot is strictly torn and frayed

Would somebody mind to kneel and pray

This plot has died

 

Bye bye, this plot’s a sepia rhubarb pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee

Where Gil’s head’s gonna dry

Then fans in the stands flashed their whiskey and signs

Screaming this’ll be the day the plot dies

This’ll be the day the plot dies

 

I really enjoyed reading the Liberty University Bible Commentary and I have found Jerry Falwell and his team of writers to be well-versed and also able to express difficult concepts in a crystal-clear and shrewd style. They hit the essence of the idea EVERY time.

I am intrigued by their staff who, as an example, went to Bob Jones University, Liberty University, Fort Wayne Bible College but got their doctorate at Harvard and Oxford. Without further ado

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Kaz Flunks Eschatology 311 In The Theology Department At Milford Community College!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Coach Kaz: ‘I was out for a week with hepatitis when Princeton Theological Seminary was covering Zoroastrianism. I couldn’t begin to say where their soul went when they experienced Nirvana.'”

 

Gang, we are getting into the thick of things, not that that means we’re going to GET ANYWHERE. Gil and Chance are going for a walk. It doesn’t mean they’re going to reach Nirvana either.

Now you know they’re not going to discuss the milk stain on Chance’s chin after having eaten a bowl of Wheaties right before the Olan Mills photographer had everybody, i.e., Beaver and Grandpa and Grandma Cleaver, posing in the den in front of the Childcraft Sex Education World Encyclopedias.

“Coach, do transvestites finally get off the wheel or do they reincarnate into a Milford High School Cafeteria Lady?”

“Not sure, Chance. Where did you read that?”

“Funk and Wagnalls in their Supplementary Edition.”

 

Did you write this script of trash

And can relate to this tub of hash

If Thorpiverse told you so

 

Now do you believe in Rock ‘n’ Roll

Can this crap save our moral soul

And can it teach me how to get bored

Real sloooowwwwwwww

 

Well, I know that you’re in love with Gil

Cuz I saw you and him dancing in the Mudlark gym

You both kicked off your Keds

Man, I dig his Denali head

 

Oh, I was a lonely teenage bronco buck

With Chance’s damnation in a pickup truck

His grandparents ran out of luck

The day, this plot done fried

 

We were singin’, bye bye…

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Endowed With Honorary Degree In Liberal Arts By Milford Vocational & Technical College!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“They were impressed when I showed the professor that GE refrigerators didn’t come from the stork.”

Now for 3 months we’ve been on our own

Crucified on a colassal stone

Compelled to dump a sense of time

 

Well, the Mudlark band played a somber tune

Something that Hank Williams crooned

Hank and Chance sank into a swoon

 

Gil just looked at his watch and sighed

This stupid song just wouldn’t die

We all got up to dance

Things anyway wouldn’t advance

 

Cuz the players tried to take the field

The plot and the band refused to yield

Do you recall what was the deal the day

The plot just died

 

We were singin’ ye bye…

 

 

LADIES TAKE YOUR PARTNER

AND THE MEN SASHAY

Oops, sorry, I was getting a little carried away watching Gil and Chance Texas 2-Step together.

If ya call yore 4-wheel drive “Blowtop” cuz the dang thang explodes in 354 different directions, the flywheel barely missing the goal post at Milford High School Football practice field, ever’ time ya put the key in the ignition and try ta start it up, ya might be a redneck.

 

Gang, remember the Saturday Night Live sketch with the original cast where Gilda Radner plays this child who gets scared at night and every time she sees or hears or feels something scary, Bill Murray and Jane Curtin, playing her dad and mom, come in and dispel whatever’s scaring her. If it’s a scary-looking monster, mom and dad turn on the light and show Gilda it’s just her oversize Mac turned inside-out on the chair or if her bed’s shaking, well, the possessed Serta from Hell is actually this band of gypsies sleeping UNDER her bed (I think she gets grounded for a week for that mistake) .

Okay.

“GRANDPA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GRANDMA!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MR. BLOWTOP’S EATING ME ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Son, we were watching Carson!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Dean Martin was singing the whole album of The Beatles’ ‘Rubber Soul’. This better be good.”

“It was here a minute ago. It’s over by that poster of Dominique Wilkins dunking on the Cubs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“That isn’t Mr. Blowtop. That’s Fido the Great Dane. We forgot to take his Coach Thorp mask for Halloween. He was trying to lick you.”

 

Sorry, Robmize, I suppressed the urge for so long.

 

Helter Skelter, in The Bucket shelter

The Byrds flew off to a fallout shelter

8 miles high ’til basketball

 

So come on

Gil be nimble

Gil be quick

Gil pole-vaulted over a candlestick cuz

Fire is a bad plot’s only friend

 

And as I watched Gil on the football stage

My hands were clenched in fists of rage

No child born in a well

Could save this Plot from Hell

 

As the flames rode high into the night

To moonlite the Mudlark’s banal rite

I saw Gilberto laughing with delight

The day the music died

 

We were singing, bye bye…

 

Oh boy. We get to watch Quentin tell Barnabas Collins as they’re leaving Collinsport Mansion  for a promenade along the Atlantic that if he eats more Cheerios and less Lucky Charms that he’s less likely to turn into a werewolf. The wind blowing Barnabas’ toupee just makes this Creepiest Moment This Side Of Maine And Closest To Milford that much more dramatic if you’re into the Sports Shorts segment of Dark Shadows.

 

“We’ll be back for the exciting conclusion of ‘Days of Our Lives’ after these messages, here on WDIG-TV.”

“Gosh darn, Chance sureis up to his neck in alligators over his reform school record, isn’t he? And it’s too bad Barnabas Collins can’t rescue him from this pendulum stashed away in the pool room of Coach Shaw’s basement. Man, I need a Holiday Inn towel to cry on this one.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp and don’t you know I have a better solution. At Milford Beverage Warehouse, they have the finest liquors to help cry your blues away without taking out a second mortgage. Believe me, I’ve had liens on my riding mower just to pay off the Dewars Mint Label. Hey, at The Warehouse, we treat you like family. If you don’t pay the tab within a reasonable amount of time, it’s not like they’ll send The Sopranos on the first go-round, particularly if they have a score to settle on some territory in Milford with a rival family. The concrete shoes won’t be for a while. You can relax.

Speaking of credit, if you haven’t signed up yet for Milford Beverage Warehouse Visa Platinum Plus, what are you waiting for? Sonny Corleone to deliver it to your door with a couple of candy mints? Shoot, with all the goodies throughout the store, I know I’m gonna stock up on Falls City Black Label 24-Pack,  Jim Beam Straight From The Sulfur Spring, and Martini & Rossi Sparkling Raspberry Non-Alcohol with my piece of plastic and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve got revolving credit. I can wait until Guy Fawkes Day to pay the minimum.

And now until Thanksgiving, if you wear your 3-piece suit and tie, The Warehouse will give you a free 6-pack of Coors Jerkwater Lite. A taste of the Rockies and it’s on the house? I’m going to get revolving credit at Milford Big & Tall. I’ll pay off the balance every leap year.

Come on, people, get your butt on down here and bring your Armani suit and the kids. Shoot, the only other time you can dress up like this is for church or a funeral. And the Mormon Tabernacle doesn’t distribute free booze.

Come on down, the water’s fine and the credit’s good. Only at Milford Beverage Warehouse.”

 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, HIS HAIR, IT’S GOT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GRANDMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GRANDPA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That isn’t Mr. Blowtop. St. Elmo’s Fire got your portrait of you and Gil. Now go back to bed.

 

Gang, I apologize. I had to work overtime and trying to work in my schtick was a doozy. Thank you SO MUCH for your patience. You all mean the world to me.

 

Bye bye

Hope this plot’s gonna die

Drive this heavy to the levee

Where Gil must close his fly

Then the fans in the stands

Showed their whiskey and signs

Saying

This will be the day

Football

Dies

September 26, 2019

“Did You See Him With Shades On And Carrying A Bottle Of Jack Out Of Milford Beverage Warehouse?” “I Did.”

Filed under: big arms, Coach Kaz, exposition comics, Gil Thorp, Milford Weirdos, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 1:11 pm

092619

Down in the dumpy, roach-infested digs

We’d roll and fall in green

You wore a beehive like this Spalding pigskin

Too much Sassoon, too pepper-gray

 

Why don’t you leave me

So I can possess the game

I hated you, I loved football too

 

Bad calls in the night

Coach told me I was going to lose the fight

Leave behind my

Thorpiverse

Thorpiverse

Thorpiverse Heights

 

Coach Thorp, it’s me, I’m legal age

I’ve passed the physical, I’m still eligible

Let me in the game

 

Coach Thorp, it’s me, I’m etc., etc., etc.,

 

Gang, I apologize, I had this one wrapped up for Christmas but a personal matter turned up and like Grandma Macy, she was was hard to bounce out on the street so I had to find her bifocals which we FINALLY tracked down under the cushion of the couch along with the remote we’ve been searching for for several months. Thank God we weren’t trying to find her dentures. Under the seat slobbering on the channel function? Yuck.

Anyhoo, Today’s post includes a performer I have always admired. Her music is electric and scintillating and really gets in me. But I grew up on Alice Cooper, no problem. I grew up on Black Sabbath, in particular, Ozzy Osbourne, no problem. I lived to tell about it every time I played “Children of the Grave”, the lead-in “Embroyo”, if you want to get greedy, off of “Master of Reality”. I grew up on Frank Zappa and Captain Beefheart, no problem.

NONE of these performers have scared the shit out of me the way Kate Bush does. She has an eerie presence that works and adds the touch to her music that really sends me. One night at 2:00AM, I was reading an article on her that I had to put down, her photographs were THAT frightening. But that’s what also makes it appealing for me and will add, in my opinion, the punch to this plotline that is enigmatic and starting to limp after a strong start at the Milford Marathon. God, I hate to see what happens at Heartbreak Hill. Kate will be there to deliver the death blow, trust me.

 

At the 26 mile mark, situated at the beveled loading dock at Milford Foundry

“Gil, want some Gatorade? You look like you could use some.”

“Hell, no. I can suck it a few more yards. I’ll have my picture with my family proudly beside me.”

“That’s nice, but the photographer went home for the night.”

 

If ya gotta pass the ‘rithmatic Final by studyin’ the multi-plik-a-shun tables ’til the rooster crows early mornin’ so yuz can FINALLY pass 3rd grade and be eligible as a redshirt freshman for the junior varsity football team and ya FINALLY got 9 x 9 cuh-rehct by placin’ 9 monkey wrenches on the hood one way and 9 the other way, pointin’ towards the dice in the rear-view mirror, ya might be a redneck.

 

P1 is scary but if Thorpiverse thinks it’s going to get to Chance singing “The Red Shoes”, I think we better stick with Kate, thank you very much. We are led to believe that Chance is the second coming of Ted Bundy, about to chop up Grandma Macy with a Ginsu knife once he gets off the team bus, unbeknownst to the kids sitting behind him, talking about girls, football, what’s available online at The Bucket (“Let’s order that Bucket Tunaburger again. It’s got tuna wild-caught out of Mudlark Lake.” “HOLD ON. My phone ain’t working.”) .

And what sucks, We were getting used to Chet being an asshole and tolerating his inchoate methods for dealing with his stepson and his potential football talent or dealing with Coach Thorp and his coaching in absentia and still putting a product on the field. Aren’t you getting vertigo jumping from Stiff-Necked Lout to Norman Bates about to turn Grandma Bates into sawdust? Like Robert Frost, I prefer the Road Less Confusing. But I know a lot of you aren’t into “Fire and Ice”. Diff’rent strokes for diff’rent folks.

STILL, once the only player who hasn’t been carded at Milford Lounge gets off the bus, I would like a little stability here. It’s time to get back to normalcy. So the League of Nations was a bad concept and now we’re going to have to endure every man for himself. But, Hell, we’ve had plenty of practice watching Chet at football games. Talk about grandstanding in the name of your own ego. His son better make the NFL and make this damn thing worth it, is all I can say.

 

Oooohhh, game gets close, it gets chippy

On the other side from you

I bitch a lot. I whine a lot

Wish I got ‘Dad’ from you

 

Don’t let Dreher back, Chuck

Cruel Macy, my one blot

My only other running back

 

Too long, Chance is in the play

Charlie’s coming in on second down, to put it right

He’s rolling right to

Thorpiverse

Thorpiverse

Thorpiverse Heights

 

Charlie, it’s me, I’m obnoxious

I’ve read the pattern, I’m a pro at this

Let me call the plays

 

Charlie, it’s me, I’m etc., etc., etc.,

 

Well, did you think the lyric was going to be “I’m a Good Samaritan, I believe in sportsmanship, shake the hand of your opponent when you lose, Charlie”? Hell, we could end the football plot RIGHT NOW and take a sneak preview into basketball. But noooooooooo, Chet’s gotta be an asshole for about 2 more months before we schedule the Billy Graham Crusade at Milford Outdoor Amphitheater. Can’t have Chet answering the altar call before October. Ooops, I forgot, we still have Ted Bundy and his grandma. But you can only chop her up 31 ways if that plot lasts until Halloween. Better to drag this jalopy all the way to the finish line. Jughead Jones will be there at Heartbreak Hill with a Radio Flyer full of Bucket Burgers.

 

Oh, come on, coaches. In P2, we are subjected to a conversation a bit on the unrealistic side. I was only kidding about Chance being compared to Ted Bundy. They aren’t.

As long as we’re going to be ostentatious about weightlifting and hoist something your average senior citizen with his or her yearly pass at the Milford Athletic Club could jerk up and down without Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em head serving as a spotter, why don’t we at least get real. I have dealt with, either in Babe Ruth or at the private school I coached, SEVERAL players who were short on conversation. That didn’t make them Lizzie Borden. As long as they showed up ready to play and listen, giving me 110%, I really didn’t care if they weren’t much for words.

Now don’t get me wrong. I think it’s in every coach’s best interest to establish an excellent relationship or at least a workable rapport with your players as long as you’re in the same dugout or on the bench.  I can honestly say that I could get players to crash through a wall for me as long as I treated them with RESPECT (Notice big case letters) . The players were GREAT to me and they made me who I am. They took the wins, I took the losses.

But common sense rules the day. If Chance doesn’t have a meat cleaver in his locker, I think it’s safe to say that his grandma will sleep another night. 2541 will enter another halcyon period since it’s hard for me to imagine Silent Chance attacking his grandma with his Boy Scout knife out of his drawer.

Time to hit the sauna, Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Head.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Cleared On Rape Charges In Grandma Macy’s Living Unit!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Judge Ito knows me better than that. I wouldn’t touch her with gloves on or off.”

 

Then in P3, Coach Kaz is really sweating it out, either from bench-pressing the 25-pound weight (allowing for 5 pounds on the bar) or the agony of cerebralizing whether they’re harboring someone who’s old enough to file for Social Security benefits. Heavy-duty mental loads like this can be hell on the last rep, we know, Coach Kaz. Gil is there with a Handi-Wipe.

BTW, how do they know all this unless they were riding on the bus THEMSELVES? And, okay, if they didn’t ride in the Coach’s Limo (So THAT’S where Thorp keeps his golf clubs in the summer when he’s not not-coaching during the school year) , or in a separate bus which some schools do if the team is carrying a lot of players (i.e., Sophomore bus, Freshman bus, etc.) , and they indeed rode with Ted Bundy and his arguably subversive, slightly dangerous demeanor, what were they doing, observing the entire bus ride back to Milford? And not celebrating with the rest of the team? Concern is one thing. Stretching the storyline so it makes the half hour slot without having to fill in with another Toyota Corolla or Breeze Detergent commercial is another. The silver lining to the latter might be I’d get a towel out of the box when I’m dumping detergent in the washing machine with the “rinse” letters barely legible at the Milford Laundromat to wash my tube socks but that’s about it.

But us Thorpiverse veterans are used to Rubber-Band Man scenarios. Stretch away, Coaches.

 

“And that just about wraps up the Milford Marathon here at the finish line here by the Wacky Water Slide here at Mudlark Lake. Jerry Pulver Jr. wins the event in a record 2:27:16. Coach Thorp and Coach are yet to be accounted for. I understand they got lost by the drawbridge by The Bucket. They had to wait ’til the Milford & Oakwood frigate finally got its orders. That gives me an opportunity to take a station break. This ius Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG-Radio, a division of Learfield Sports.”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Go away!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m training for the Milford Marathon!!!!!!!!!!”

“Honey, it’s 2:37 in the morning. And why are you training in the bathroom in the basement?”

“I gotta stay mentally strong. You can’t have any lapses in concentration when you’re chuggin’ for 26 miles.”

“Darling, I can give you that extra boost if you’ll give me a chance. Now come to bed with me.”

“Mrs. Shaw, you don’t understand. I have to be at my peak performance. That’s why I’m drinkin’ all these Nutrament Dutch Chocolate shakes. There’s plenty more behind the Pennzoil 10W-30 bottles here in the closet.”

“Aren’t there linens in there too? Where’d you put those?

“Blubba blubba, you’d be surprised how many Holiday Inn towels can cover a case full of Nutrament French Vanilla and Bar’s Leaks. Why it’s a match made in Heaven. And you can’t have any dissension when you’re at Heartbreak Hill. I’ll be sprintin’ like Jesse Owens if I got the Nutrament Black Cherry Special Blend wrapped up out of view.”

“And I don’t EVER remember your buying running shoes.”

“Ickity ackity oop, uh uh, I bought some cross trainers at a yard sale. Kid ran ’em in the Milford High School X-Country meets. Still got some high school invitationals left. I’ll be runnin’ like the wind at mile 15.”

“I just hope the crowd doesn’t notice the wimpy thing between your legs by then. Hard to hide that one with a Holiday Inn towel, My Love.”

 

“What could I say? She had me and she knew it and I knew it. It was time to take the towels back to Holiday Inn and pay the $7.00 Missing Merchandise Fee, then head down to Milford Men’s Clinic to deal with MY OWN missing merchandise. With treatment programs that work, my significant other came out of hiding and none too soon. I won my age division at the Milford Marathon thanks to the sprints I won in bed. Boy, it’s nice when you can pump your arms and your significant other simultaneously. My wife sure as hell agreed. But don’t take my word for it. Run on down to Milford Men’s Clinic and win your own age bracket. There’s plenty of ribbons to be won there. Come and claim your own Blue Ribbon. You’ll be glad you did.

 

Gang, thanks for your patience. I can only pass it along BUT I WILL. Y’all mean the world to me.

 

Ooohhhh, let him have it

Let Charlie take the game away

Oooohhhh, let him have it

Let Chance slice Granny away

You know it’s Gil, Cathy

 

Chet, it’s me, I’m concerned

I’ve come home, you’re so frazzled

Let Charlie, though fumbling, through the window

 

Chet, it’s me, I’m cornered

Etc., etc., etc.,

 

What are Gil and Kaz doing, pumping iron in Thorpiverse Heights? I hope they have plenty of Off!

Well done, Kate.

 

 

 

August 29, 2019

Not To Worry, Charlie. Gil’s Been New At This For 60 Years And Some Change.

Filed under: football, Pissy faced minor character, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 8:16 am

082919

Pitch and catch.

Pitch and catch.

Pitch and catch.

GREAT JOB, GREG. YOU’LL BE THE STARTING WIDE RECEIVER FOR THE MUDLARKS THIS YEAR. AND YOU’LL BE THE FIRST SEVENTH GRADER TO DO SO!!!!!!!!!!!!

GEE, THANKS, DAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nope, I know some of you with that mutant poplar in the background up your butt will say that that’s Mr. Brady spending quality time with Greg, aspirations of the former for the latter to grace your neighborhood NFL roster.

Actually, I was idealizing what small towns like Milford SHOULD be exemplifying but reality fumbled the snap.

Do we REALLY have to have step-fathers and divorced mothers grace what seems to be a running joke in terms of plots? Uncles and cousins and Dutch uncles and grandparents from the grave be the role model to satisfy their ambitions for the resident Mudlark athlete, pick a sport? Any sport?

Is Thorpiverse going to tell me that it skims through the Milford phone book and hasn’t run across an AVERAGE FAMILY with 2.3 children and a lawn you use the Snapper mower to eat the grass? Nobody walks in the door and says “Hi, Honey, I’m home!!!!!!!”

Now, according to Thorpiverse, that same breadwinner changed his approach

“Honey, where the Hell is Beaver? I’m going to make him a left guard like Jim Clack or Bob Kuechenberg. Shoot, he runs into that catalpa tree enough times, he’ll be able to block a Freightliner. Who knows, maybe he’ll be the next hog like Russ Grimm.”

“I think he went to the store. Darling, I appreciate you’re wanting to work with him but don’t you think Ward ought to handle that? Beaver’s just your stepson.”

“Nonsense, Alice, Ward is still on probation. Can’t see his son for another month. Besides, Beaver’s gettin’ tougher. I’ll have him shovin’ one of my busses outta the way before the end of the month.”

“Ralph, you promised me he wouldn’t use the 18-seater as a blocking dummy.”

“The boy’s gotta learn sometime. He’ll be knockin’ Greyhounds on their kissers by the time he’s a senior.”

Penny Lane will never be the same.

 

Come to Jeff Smith Marathon in Edwardsville, Indiana. You can pump the gas yourself OR they have friendly mechanics who will do it for you. Goodness, they were BUSY when I pulled up at a pump yesterday. When I came in to pay, there were people waiting on their cars that were being fixed. Man, THAT’s busy. Crystal is a friendly clerk who coordinates all that is buzzing around the place. The owner was patiently explaining to a customer the nature of the customer’s car’s problem. Gang, I think they got a lot going on. Take Exit 118 off of I-64 in Indiana and head south(Indiana 62 west) until you hit the first road LEFT. You can see the business from the freeway. Head in for a smiling face and fast service.

Support Small Business. You need someplace where everybody knows your name. They know mine.

 

So far, we are subjugated to a Beaver Cleaver whose Dad-for-the-duration-of-this-arc-or-season-whichever-ends-mercifully-first is Thurston Howell III and who is attempting to bunk Eddie Haskell at (fill in the blank even though running back would be the logical plot device-not much competition at medical knee wrapper) .

And that’s what adds insult to injury.

It’s just appalling that Thorpiverse didn’t check the latest Gallup polls to see if there was at any given flagstone house on the street where you live a life-size mother and life-size father, complete with a matching set of children. What was Thorpiverse thinking?

Really, do I want New Thayer or Oakwood to think that Gil has changed his tune and only accepts on the varsity sons who went through 3 dads because mom couldn’t handle the plot and was constantly seeking advice from Mary Worth because Buzz Sawyer was busy on a case in Tilden?

The tailback MUST be a son of an illegal immigrant who came over from Italy with Sancho and Venzetti and only escaped their fate because Gil staged football camp that week?

Normal kids need not apply.

 

Okay, granted the Gallup polls predicted that Dewey would defeat Truman. But that’s only because all the aliens and immigrants and divorcees and Democrats were at Gil’s two-a-days and couldn’t get to the polls in time. No way Gil was going to have open practice and let the Gallup worker in, not even to the concession stand for a hot dog and Slurpee.

“Name a position that is overworked in  Gil Thorp  Theater where players engage in Samurai wrestling for the honor-”

BUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

“Split end!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Ding!

“That’s the #8 answer. Brady’s whattya think?”

“Running back!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Ding!

“That’s the #3 answer. Brady’s you have the option over the Cleavers-”

WE’LL PLAY

 

Oooooooookkkkkkk, you old-timers will surely recognize this tune and I’ll bet you whippersnappers will weigh in on this one as well, Blue Oyster Cult’s “Godzilla”

Should any of you desire to no longer be forced to use your imagination, either by blasting the damn song out of your Hitachi speakers in your car or listening on your headset while washing the dishes, and you are no longer satisfied with mental images but would crave to see an embodiment of the tune, look no further than P2.

With a purposeless grimace and a terrible arm

He brings the team down,and sprays great harm

Helpless people in the football stands

Scream, bug-eyed, “Fool, you got no hands”

He gets the hand-off and fumbles it down

The football wades through the bushes towards the center of town

 

Oh, no, they say he’s got to go

Go, go, GODZILLA

Oh, no, from Milford to Tokyo

Go, go, GODZILLA

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Godzilla Gets Off UFO With Elvis And Principal Ek And Trashes Milford; Several Buildings Severely Damaged!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Dr. Pearl: ‘He ruined the petunias in my garden. They were just beginning to sprout. Thank God, he didn’t step on my watermelon patch’.”

 

I’ll say this: If Godzilla can outrun Gump or this sophomore mentioned in the strip, Godzilla might crack the starting lineup. It can happen.

“Name something you normally wouldn’t find in Gil’s hair-”

“Raid!!!!!!-”

UH UH

“A toothpick!!!!!!!!!!”

Ding ding ding ding

“All right, Marcia Brady, let’s see if y’all’s family can crack 200 points for the big money. Carol Brady done good, now it’s your turn. All right, name a name for a town Berrill would have used if he didn’t use Milford. Your mom said ‘Bedford Falls’. You answered ‘Rockville’. All righty, is there a ‘Rockville’?

Ding!

“Hey, you got 23 points!!!!!!!!!!! ‘Shakertown’ was the #1 answer…”

 

Well, looky here. Collinsport just got a make-over by Bob Vila. No wonder why Willie Loomis is reluctant to call Chet Baker ‘Dad’. I’d be scared as Hell too if I called him ‘Papa’ when my real dad awoke from his catnap in his coffin and was ready to practice a few snaps at midnight. Barnabas can rear those ugly fangs when I drop those cans of corn.

“No, really, I was just singing ‘Papa Was a Rolling Stone’. NO, NO, Dad, NOT MY NECK AGAIN…”

 

And I’m assuming that’s a continuity error in P3 because Godzilla a/k/a Willie Loomis a/k/a Charlie Chan’s stepson is throwing with his right hand in P2 and throwing with his left in P3 unless he’s doing the Charleston. I guess anything to overcome the Yellow Peril. I know that a few teammates might be threatened by cheap Chinese labor on the football team but this is ridiculous.

 

“Are you down and out because you’re having trouble adjusting to all the step relatives under one roof? Do you have to move that pool table in the garage to accommodate your step-brother’s Fruit-of-the-Loom collection? Had to use cheap Chinese jumper cables because the Sears Die-Hard cables are being used as a bungee cord for the step-kids? No wonder why there’s a Yellow Peril in Milford.

Hi, I’m Coach Thorp for Milford Beverage Warehouse. We might not have all the answers but we sure as Heck can ease the strain along the way. This week is Escape to Ward Cleaver’s Home Week. For every purchase of Four Freedoms Vodka, you can enter for our drawing for a chance to win a trip to the Cleaver’s household. That’s right, you and your family can win a 3-night, 4-day, all-expense-paid trip to the land where the Cleavers once called El Dorado. Wouldn’t it be nice to be served from same dinner tray June Cleaver used to serve homemade brownies on? Scrumptious meals with REAL mashed potatoes and gravy, not that Cream of Wheat and lard they serve at Denny’s or the Milford Truck Stop. Meat that actually comes from a cow, not imported on some flunky’s pickup from Milford Ostrich Farm. I don’t know about you but I like to know my ground round isn’t a dead buffalo they found killed from natural causes at Milford Fish & Wildlife Area.

And you can take a tour of the place, amazed at places like Beaver used to brush his teeth or where Wally played Monopoly with Eddie and Lumpy. And you can sleep in the same bed where June and Ward used to sleep. Because the producers wanted to keep it Christian, the beds are separate. Combining beds to foster intimacy will incur a small fee.

And I’m told that if you persist, the tour guide will show you where Ward kept his box of Penthouses in the basement. Fortunately, Beaver and Wally didn’t know the combination so they wouldn’t learn the truth. June’s pin-up is preserved for another day.

Don’t that sound exciting? Then come on in and get a Leinenkugel Summer Shandy 12-pack for an eye-popping $12.99 or Busch Light 30-pack for $19.99, and with a Manufacturer’s Coupon of $2.00, you can knock it down, well, you do the math.

And a chance to sleep in the Land of Oz? By God, that’s one rainbow I bet I’ll catch. Come on in for your own rainbows and tell ’em Ward and Coach Thorp sent ya.”

Go at it, Gang. Geez, playing pitch and catch with Barnabas couldn’t be more fun but has he been to Milford Dental Worx lately?

 

“…you answered ‘toothpick’. Survey said…

Ding!

…aw, too bad only 4 points. Aw, now chill, Marcia, you’re still in the running. ‘Rust-oleum’ was the #1 answer…”

 

Oh, no, they say he just can’t throw

So go, Godzilla

Into Mudlark Lake goes Tokyo

Go, go, Godzilla

 

History shows when time stands still

How football coughs up the Folly of Gil

GODZILLA

August 22, 2019

Mudlark Football And Manwiches, Traditions In Their Own Minds.

082219

Time out. As you most of already know, I have been a Thorpiverse junkie practically since I was knee-high to a grasshopper and I am trying to recall the LAST TIME the team EVER took a Hungry Man break after all that blockin’ and tacklin’. A Banquet Frozen Turkey Breast Tenders and Stewed Potatoes with that little itty-bitty brownie crammed in the corner of the plastic plate after 30 suicides? Didn’t happen.

But, okay, wink, wink, I’ll play along, Thorpiverse. They had to pump Healthy Choice Cheese-Free Lasagna out of Luke Bunkin, he was pukin’ all over the artificial turf after he blind-sided the fullback on a botched Off-Tackle set and that pasta came right up to the surface. Sure, Thorpiverse, anything you say.

 

The game is mortified

The plays are so unreal

The season will commence

With stinky tones, I feel

 

Whatever happened to the plot

It used to be so good

It made us feel alive

Not crapping chunks of wood

 

So if you hear us, Gilbert, can’t you feel the SOS

Football’s grinding in a smelly stench of murkiness

 

When you eat

How can we ever think you’ll go on

When you talk

Marjie clogs the plot up until dawn

 

Sorry, Gang, a little Abba music to soothe the savage idiocy. Works every time.

 

Gang, Fuel Mart in Austin, Indiana is your place to go if you’re on the road. Take Exit 34 off of I-65 and head west and take the VERY NEXT ROAD to the right and you’re in the place. Friendly people, plenty of pumps, PLENTY of goodies at great prices, heck, they got my hot dog ready every time. Come see Samantha and company where they treat you like a king. I know, I’ve been going there for years. Gang, if you’re in the area, get your butt on down there where they know you by name. SEVERAL semi’s go there, trust me.

Support Small Business. They make America.

 

Well, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. That seems to be the watchword in P1 as one of the Evil Triplets dropped cheating in golf and now wants to make amends and pursue a career cheating in football. By gosh, spearing the tight end when he ain’t looking after he had to use his athletic ability to snare a pass a bit too high on a Double Out Right flat-out works up an appetite.

Now that’s one way of looking at it. If some of you want to cop out and go the Billboard Way,

“This week at Milford McDonald’s, get a Happy Meal and a large-size aluminum container of Milford Yorkshire Hog Farm Sloppy Joe’s, only $1.99. I’M LOVIN’ IT!!!!!!!!!!!”

As long as they can engineer all that into my car while I’m negotiating the drive-thru, I’m in. Just make sure they have extra ketchup in the containers. Last time, the clerk at the window stuck horse radish in my order.

 

There appears to be division here. Some of you who are ALWAYS moanin’ and complainin’ and have to have your own way insist that Gil is a combo Bruce Lee-Godzilla while using his claws to maneuver the Hungry Man Chopped Sirloin Burger and Great Northern Beans, complete with watercress, while Marjie the Cardboard Cut-Out is cheating on her Ultra Slim Fast diet (“Give us a week, we’ll take the weight off this mindless plot”) , leaving her Chocalate Mocha Shake behind the bleachers and going the Steak ‘n’ Shake Burgoo Burger route, all-you-can-eat Sloppy Joe’s at its finest.

Others who are the art connoisseurs of the TWIM readership maintain the position that this is really Henry Fuseli’s “Kriemhild und Gunther”, Sturm und Drang efficiently motorcaded to the Mudlark football field, eating under the bright lights in the Bubba Joe Tilwell section. I would agree, were it not for the John Madden-like character in the background who dons “The Nightmare” cap and seems serious enough to want Milford back to its winning ways, even if it means slaughtering several cows and razorbacks in the Milford Nature Area to pull off this fait d’accomplait. True, “The Nightmare” was also done by Fuseli but the painter never painted a pigskin, let alone a Brunswick bowling ball, therefore cuttin’ some slack is in order.

 

To my grandpa, Leonard Thomas Hardin, I want to follow in your footsteps and be a cook just like you. I dedicate this blog in your memory. You did A LOT for people, Grandpa.

 

While the cuisine at the football practice is a fair one, though slightly inaccurate (Tod Andrews on the phone one day “I never saw you lay a pickle on a Manwich when I was your assistant, Gil”) , it could stand some sprucing up. And what better way to satisfy the appetites of a bunch of ravenous traditional mixture veterans-perennial-young-team-for-6-decades than with Sloppy Joes, beans, cornbread, generous slices of apple pie, etc., washing it down with waterfalls of Mudlar-K-Cola in diferent varieties, i.e. Kiwi, Lemon-Lime, Diet Prune, Big Red, Gin & Tonic, Gooseberry.

But, hey, leave plenty of room in the tummy for Irish Soda Bread.

Simple. Mix in 4 cups of Milford Bakeries All-Purpose Flour with a teaspoon of Morton Salt, procuring plenty of space on the table where the aluminum containers of Milford 7-11 Fried Chicken has been sitting for several Two-a-days. Throw in a teaspoon of Mudlark & Hammer Baking Soda and stir. Next, pour 1 and 1/2 cups of Milford Dairy Buttermilk. Be sure not to spill this on the aluminum container of meat loaf sitting next to your concoction. Several members of the defense, particularly the linebackers, got the runs at last year’s football picnic and it was too late when the coaches tracked the source of the problem.

Preheat oven in the boiler room as Steve Luhm will be on assignment vacuuming the jungle in Madagascar. Set it to 400 degrees. Take well-mixed dough out of bowl and lay out on an 8 and 1/2″ x 11″ baking sheet.  Wait until the offensive line unit has run laps before sticking the dough in the oven. Clear oven of Coke paper cups and dead mice, then add a bit more buttermilk before re-inserting in the oven. DO NOT PULL A GIL AND RUIN THE PLOT, ER, DOUGH BY KNEADING IT. Shape it into a ball, no Nerf Football jobs here, and bake for 40 minutes. Etch Spalding in each quarter and bake for another 25 minutes. Stab with a knife, cut an end zone on each end, then bake until crusty and browned. Let cool on Gil’s hair.

Feeds an army of 150 or a football team of 75, give or take a water boy or two.

 

You munch so far away

Though you are standing near

This team was once alive

But something died, I fear

 

I really hate to rock the boat

Cream cheese caught in my throat

What happened to this plot

It’s limping, barely floats

 

So as you’re sipping Red Bull

Can’t you hear the SOS

The doughnuts fattening Marjie

Shoves the stage to the SOS

 

When you eat

How can we watch you prate in a fog

When you talk

Marjie passing gas on some corn dogs

 

This plot is already beginning to excite me. We learn that the shortest distance between two points is Gil’s butt. Naw, naw, you can’t say Marjie’s butt, she curves and eventually forms a spiral, just shy of her pelvic area, were you able to unfold P2. Okay, so part of Gil’s butt overlaps a tiny bit into the bleachers but not by much. Marjie is still gonna have to indulge in a Nutra-bar or two to edge out Gil.

And whatever romantic interest Cousin Itt is engaging in with the person sitting next to him in P2 will presumably remain a mystery although I think his knee pad will be coming off in the next week or two, or so Doctor Hibbert, Homer’s doctor, has repeatedly stated. I’m sure the Manwiches are getting Cousin Itt aroused, judging by his juxtapositioning to the table, right behind Bruce Lee, er, Gil.

 

Let’s focus our attention on the main course. Sure, Sloppy Joes and Jowl Bacon dipped in molasses are nice but for that discriminating assistant football coach with no life or even football players with an extra appetite, One-Pot Roast Chicken is sure to please.

First, get the chicken. If you have a shotgun handy, there are plenty running around in the woods behind the stadium’s Port-a-Pots and ferreting them out ought to be no problem.

Next, take the wishbone out as even Cousin Itt might have problems digesting portions of the chicken if unnecessary parts are allowed to hang around. It’s not necessary to kill off Mercutio in Act 7 long after Juliet has committed suicide but that’s the beauty of Shakespeare. Actors and actresses enter the Pearly Gates at the right time.

Tie in a bundle, exposing the breast as wide as possible, seasoning with salt left over for 2 months on the faculty tables at the high school cafeteria and fresh-ground pepper. Peel carrots, potatoes, celery that have been yanked out of Gil’s garden, slice them in thick portions, then obtain 2 onions that Marty left in the fridge in the break room at WDIG because he changed his mind and wanted to leave his Bucket Cheeseburger plain. Quarter those, then throw all those goodies, sliced and diced, into pot that Mimi bought at the Milford High School Rummage Sale. Set chicken on top of that.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees, head down to Milford 7-11 for a Slushee break, then return and place One Pot Roast Chicken in oven and roast for 45 to 60 minutes, or longer, depending on how much of Gil’s dandruff fell in the pot and needs to be singed.

Chicken is done when juices are clear, not pink, when pierced with a knife or tire iron. Serves several with a Bucket Shake.

 

Now here’s where it gets fun. If your dog chewed the comics section of the Milford Enquirer, leaving you with just the first 2 panels and Gil left you hanging with

“But I’m glad we’ve kept the tradition-”

wouldn’t some of you guess that the rest of the sentence would be football related? Thought so.

Here are some ideas

“…of ringing the bell at the entrance to the stadium every time a freshman sacks the varsity quarterback.”

“…of the team captain snapping his jock strap every time a player runs the 40 in 2.7 seconds or less.”

“…of handing the player brave enough to tell Marty Moon to shove it up his ass and that he has a wiener as big as a Vienna Sausage the game ball.”

“…everybody in the stadium standing up everytime the players sing Handel’s “Messiah” when a running back scores a TD on a run 80 yards or longer.”

“…of making the players do 1000 push-ups after they’ve dumped Gatorade on me. Man, that shit gets warm after about 3 quarters.”

 

But noooooooooooooo, we’d never guess that Gil and Marcie are involved in a Lean Cuisine Moment. Well, at least there’s no touching involved. Keeping it on the level with bar-b-q lamb and mashed taters with gravy, there’ll be no front-cover illicit activity coming from that culinary angle, that’s for sure. Now if they can steer it back to football, the circle will be complete.

 

“And that wraps up the Annual Alleged Traditional Football Picnic and, God, I am stuffed. We’ll be back in a moment, enough time to stuff all this Stouffer’s Meat Loaf and Hamburger Helper Mac ‘n’ Cheese Surprise into the doggie bags. I think the Hefty bags should hold. This is Marjie Ducey, you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

Mrs. Shaw knocking on the door of the equipment shed at Mudlark Stadium which is locked good and tight for reasons about to be divulged

“Honeyyyyyyy, it’s time to come to bed!!!!!!!!!!”

“I’ll be out in a minute. I gotta put some more shoulder pads on the shelf. Some are out of sorts and every pad has to be in alphabetical order.”

“Honey, it’s 3:00AM. It takes you that long to put pads back on the shelf?”

“Blubba, blubba, I had to wash out the underarm stains on ’em. Man, some of these players need to apply some Ban Roll-on!!!!!!!”

“Darling, even I know you don’t put a shoulder pad under your arm.”

“Hubba bubba, some of our players are kinda dumb. Sometimes we gotta set ’em straight on where to wear their jock straps. Hoo-eee, we hafta defumigate a few with the Weed-B-Gon when we run out of Renuzit.”

“Sweetie Pumpkin Pie, I think we’ve defumigated all we need to defumigate. Now remove the 7-lb. Master Dead Bolt and let’s eliminate our own demons.”

“Dagnabit, I still have footballs I gotta put back in the bin. They got punctured from laying out in the grass too long. Then Luhm ran over the others with the riding mower. Do you know how long it takes to restitch them, cure them, and blow the big fan on them to dry?”

“I think my sweet little Che Guevara has something else left out to dry.”

“If you’re talkin’ about the helmets, I scraped all the cow manure off of ’em. We made the players do sprints in the stuff. That’ll teach the players where to walk when they go to the Milford Slaughter House to get Manwiches.”

 

“I finally caught onto what she wuz sayin’. I saw one of the helmets, shiny and new straight out of the polisher and saw my own helmet and found out the hard way that I couldn’t stick that into the polisher. I was too short.

I went to Milford Men’s Clinic and boy, the shoe shine job I got on my Significant Other. Cole Haan could not have smeared shoe cream any finer to get the erections of my dreams. And with a free Prick-o-Meter check to ensure sexual pleasure the magnitude of a Jake Slocum western, I am confident there’ll be no more embarrassing tender moments of the inappropriate variety.  Come see for yourself at Milford Men’s Clinic. What have you to lose but your pride and your Beanie-Weenie?”

Gang, comment away. I’m going to go get in line before Cousin Itt snarfs up all the tater tots.

 

Ooooooooooookkkkkkkkk, how could I leave y’all without DESSERT? Okay, okay, there’s plenty of pies and cakes on the table but we can add one more to the fire. After the players have had their fill of Twinkies

Let’s keep it basic. This one is Nectarine & Berry Cobbler and this will take care of any lingering appetite. You know football players and their Grand Canyon stomachs.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Proceed to Milford Dough Factory and purchase a package of sweet biscuits. Come back, hoping the Milford Fire Marshal hasn’t issued warrants, and prepare sweet biscuits on cookie sheets, cutting into 10-14 squares.

Next, get nectarines, blueberries, and blackberries that you plucked illegally from Milford Valley Vineyards property out of the cabinet. Slice nectarines until you get five cups. Slice blueberries and blackberries until you get 2 cups apiece. Combine all of this in a bowl, mixing in Milford Bakeries All-Purpose Lead-Free Non-Phosphate Flour, a pinch of salt, and a half cup of sugar. Throw in Milford Valley Generic Lemon Juice that Mimi uses every Christmas for her fruit cake and mix well. Put entire result in a gratin dish 9 x 12 inches, 2-3 inches deep. Bake for 8 minutes or until fruit softens, hoping to God Coach Kaz isn’t around with his greasy fingers to sample the merchandise, after washing football pants all day.

Place sweet biscuits on the fruit and such in staggered rows and return to the oven. Bake for 35 to 45 minutes, until biscuits are golden brown, the fruit is bubbling, and Coach Shaw goes back to obscurity, ready to return when Girls Basketball pops on the scene. Let the cobbler cool and serve warm with Milford Dairy Whip (“Freshly Milked From The Goat”) or Milford Dairy Ice Cream (“Ditto”) .

 

August 14, 2019

Not Janet’s Diner Again!?!

gt08142019

Now we’ve left the
Milford School Board
For the diner
Named for Janet
Oh, I never
Really ate here
But my boyfriend
Recommends it

I’ve brought with me
Tiki Jansen
And my dad
Ed, and he said
I was terrific
So I hope he’ll
Maybe
Pick up the tab

My dad said I
Didn’t need him
But I needed
Local counsel
Member of the
Illinois Bar
But I’m not barred
Here in Milford

And I thought
That it was weird
The School Board brought
No lawyer
Even though it
Was informal
Who knew
They’d go pro se?

Tiki’s still scared
Of New Thayer
So he’d rather
Go to Milford
He will not be
A mere vagrant
He will
Stay with Leonard Fleming

And I took
No depositions
From Leonard
Or his family
When he blabbered
That the Mudlarks need him
His dad
Told him “Shut your mouth”

Then I went
Before Chet Ballard
And his puppets
On the School Board
And I showed them
Bolek’s film clip
But Chet
Ballard wasn’t biting

So I played the
Safety* card and
Then I brought up
Leonard Fleming
Then I spouted
Mumbo jumbo
And threw
Some pocket sand

Now my dad
Is looking pissy
Is he thinking
Of my boyfriend?
Should we go
Back to Chicago?
Then will he get
Off our backs…?

But now my phone is buzzing
And I’ve got a call
It’s that Ballard guy…

He’s come crawling back to us…
Thomas Jansen will be pleased

 

*(Tiki’s a safety, get it?)

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