This Week in Milford

December 17, 2019

Watson, Come Here Into The Gym, We Need You To Play Basketball

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A few years ago, Lester Holt was interviewing a lawyer involved in a controversial case somewhere in rural North Carolina. I can’t remember the exact details but if you’ll allow me to improvise, it was concerning some business or radio station that was defending its Constitutional rights when comments laced with profanity was published or said on the air.

When Holt asked the lawyer about the crux of the case, the lawyer proceeded to quote what he and his plaintiffs were complaining about, bearing in mind this was NOT the defendant’s lawyer

“…and we are objecting to ‘Up shit creek’ or ‘I want to fuck you blind’ or ‘Gil couldn’t coach out of a douchebag’…”

And FINALLY Holt mercifully interrupted the lawyer, since this was on an NBC News Magazine and therefore national news, by saying

ALL RIGHT WE GET THE POINT WE DON’T NEED THIS BARRAGE OF PROFANITY ON NATIONAL TV THERE ARE KIDS WATCHING THIS SHOW

Holt afterwards apologized profusely for what arguably wasn’t necessary to quote on TV, especially because again this was the same lawyer fighting AGAINST what he himself was guilty of and was fighting, i.e., the usage of inappropriate language to drive home the issue.

And Thorpiverse

WE GET THE JOKE. IT MIGHT HAVE TAKEN ANOTHER 3-PANEL SET TO CATCH IT BUT WE HAVE A FIRM GRASP ON THE HUMOR WE DON’T NEED TO SKIP OVER GIRLS BASKETBALL LIKE WE DID LAST YEAR AND PICK UP WHERE LEFT OFF AND TRY TO GET CREATIVE WITH WATSON COMEDY AT THE BUCKET

They don’t have homework? Richie and Ralph and Potsie and The Fonz sit around at Al’s and conjure up new ways to express themselves about Richie Cunningham’s dad?

The Foghorn Leghorn approach

“Oh, say, can you C, Mr. C.?”

“That’s a funny, Dad.”

 

 

“Oh, Howard, you spilled your fruit punch all over your pants. Let me get you a Bounty.”

“Marion, I’m fine. I’ll just throw them in the wash later…”

“Aaaaayyyyyyy, Mr. C., I wouldn’t let that Hi-C settle on you, Mr.C. You’ll have a sea full of Vitamin C Hi-C all over Mr.C., see?”

“Eat the rest of your peas, Arthur. Here, Howard, here’s a Kleenex.”

 

Gang, if we have to have several more panels of Hee Haw, we’re in trouble

“Man, Roy, I can’t find those county corn yield reports anywhere. Can you help me look?”

“They ain’t come out of Lulu the Supercomputer’s mouth yet, Buck.”

Archie Campebell steps in

“That’s all right. Heck, Lulu’s so fat, they have to perform a Lamaze procedure when she’s spitting printouts.”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

 

Alexa, is that you

I hope that football’s finally through

Basketball could be in view

I can pray

Hard to say

There’s only one thing that there’s left to play

Tip-off might be any day

 

We gotta get you a ballgame

It’s the only thing to show that this plot is alive

We gotta get you a ballgame

You better quit walkin’

They call that stuff Traveling

 

Because I’m amused because I saw a sign on a grocery store advising customers to

PLEASE DON’T PARK IN FRONT OF THE STORE

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Local Resident Fined Severely For Double-Parking At Milford IGA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Coach Shaw: ‘I was just getting eggs for my wife. And that Iams Beef a-Plenty 15-lb. bag for my huntin’ dog was hard on my back.'”

 

Let me get the obvious out of the way in P1. The girls are actually drawn pretty darn well and Phoebe is a cutie in that scene.

Then we get to her burger. Oh my.

Unless The Bucket is marketing Art Nouveau Leaning Towers of Pisa disguised as an overloaded Big Mac with one pickle and onion too many, I think I’ll order the Bucket Full o’ Pasta. C’mon, I’m still utilizing the Italian language.

I could go to a Milford Zoning Board meeting with that structure and make my case for a high-rise condo unit on a vacant lot in Downtown Milford. Drainage shouldn’t be a problem with that thing, just set that Tower of Babel at a perpendicular and the grease is as good as gone. I’ll get approved at next month’s meeting, unanimously.

Now I delve into the not-so-obvious. This one will have to be broken down if we’re to build the logic back up.

And what better way to dive into deductive reasoning than to transpose what’s being said in P1 to Pop’s Choklit Shoppe where Archie and Veronica are sitting in a booth.

“Oh, Archiekins, I am buying the Popsburger Combo with Extra Buffalo Fries and a side order of Onion Rings and Pop’s Veggie Lasagna because Daddy ran over Jughead in his Lamborghini.”

“Did they get Mr. Lodge for a DUI?”

“Now you know Daddy doesn’t drink and drive, Love.”

“That’s true. You still want to go to the drive-in movie. We can go right after Jughead’s funeral.”

“Oh, Archiekins, you say the sweetest things.”

 

If yore computer is nicknamed “Bubba” because it’s the only computer on the planet that gives ya printouts while its butt’s hangin’ out, sportin’ more pimples in its crack than a teenager, ya might be a redneck.

 

Talking ’bout Thorp, he’s so under the gun

This plot is stupid, not a lot of fun

Let’s hope that basketball won’t be shunned

And then we’ll take some time to get your stuff together

GET YOUR STUFF TOGETHER

Cuz, we gotta get you a ballgame…

 

But enjoy the generic School Cafeteria Burger, Alexa. All students get a free one everytime someone calls him or her HAL.

“Would you mind passing the mustard, Dave?”

 

 

“Will Archie Andrews and Moose Mason use hedge clippers to pare the rest of Mr. T.’s grandson’s head? Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion here on WDIG-TV.”

 

Because I’m in eternal wonder over these ED ads advising a person to throw away his old dick pills

 

At Mudlark Lake Resort one Autumn afternoon

 

THESE GODDAM PILLS AREN’T GETTING ME ANY HARDER THAN MARTY’S HEAD!!!!!!!!!!! THIS NAXIUM IS WORTHLESS. THE PHARMACIST SAID IT WOULD TAKE CARE OF MY HEARTBURN AND MY ED PROBLEMS. I’M FLUSHIN’ THESE SUCKERS-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

YEAH?

“Daddy, I gotta go #2 bad. My Underoos are stinky already.”

“Hold on, Jaime. Daddy has to unload some garbage and this can’t wait THAT’S THE LAST TIME I LISTEN TO THOSE ASSHOLES AT MILFORD APOTHECARY. THEY SAID MY WIENER WOULD TURN TO STONE AFTER I USED MIRALAX. I CAN SHIT LIKE A RHINO BUT MY WIENIE’S STILL A WIENIE-

Mimi approaches

“Gil, you OK? They can hear you from the other side of the lake. I could hear you cuss at the boat ramp over the Evinrude motor and that thing was louder than a Who concert.”

“I’m sorry, Honey, but I got to flush my troubles down the drain. The Pharmacy Grad Student at Milford Community College said the Children’s Mucinex Nightshift Relief would cause my thingamabob to be stiff enough to hang a flag on. Snot’s runnin’ out of it more than blood’s flowin’ into it. I’m flushin’ this across the Charon.”

“Gil, you’re in an outhouse.”

“Mimi, I couldn’t care less if I’m in the penthouse. When I use my Mudlark Visa Gold to buy Milford Apothecary Ibuprofen, I expect to dominate my women like Thor shootin’ one out of the sky.”

“Gil, I have a better idea. Why don’t you try one of the EREC-STYLE 9800 that I stuffed in your stuffing and consider it a pre-Christmas gift? It works better than Coricidin or Vick’s VapoRub.”

“HEY THAT’S IT. LET ME RUB SOME ON MY OSCAR MEYER WIENER AND YOU WILL TRULY BE IN LOVE WITH ME!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Maybe so, but in the meantime, you’ll have to clean the poopie off the jungle gym. Jaime just had an accident.”

 

“Why go through all that frustration when I could have used EREC-STYLE 9800, sold exclusively at Milford Men’s Clinic. No more throwing Aleve or Bayer in the dumpster for Milford Sanitary Solutions to pick up. I am not only having the time of my life, but the bathroom is free for my kids when they’ve eaten one chimichanga too many at Milford Taco Bell. Come get your fun at the Clinic and leave Garbage Day for your canteloupe rinds. You’ll be glad you did.”

 

Thanks to Cooper Stewart of Louisville, Kentucky for help with the above idea. Cooper works hard and his raw sense of humor keeps me going and gives me GREAT ideas. Cooper represents America with his dedication to his job and just by being himself. Don’t ever change, My Man. America needs you.

 

Go at it, Gang. I’m going to court to testify for Mr. Lodge. They say he was guilty of pulling a Gil with his car. I wonder how you get busted just by owning an idle car that plops its butt on the practice field but we do have Due Process, Thank God.

 

And when we’re done with youuuuu

We’ll do it with baseball, too.

 

Thanks for putting up with my love for Todd Rundgren. You’re #1 in my book, Gang.

December 12, 2019

You Can Call Me Al

Filed under: Boredom in Milford, Piss faced Alexa Watson, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 9:40 am

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Two girls walk in the cafeteria

One says “Why hasn’t basketball started yet,

Hasn’t gotten off its ass yet

The rest of the plot will probably be Uncle Ben’s Denture-Friendly Rice

We need another opportunity

A shot at Peppermint Patty

Don’t want to wind up in Wee Pals

In a Wee Pals graveyard”

Bonedigger, Bonedigger

Marmaduke in the moonlight

And plot far away in Rivets’ doghouse

Mr. Snoopy, Snoopy

Get these mutts away from me

You know, we dont find this entertaining anymore

 

 

If you’ll just speed up basketball

I can be your long lost pal

I can call you Phoebe, and Phoebe, when you call me, you can call me Al

 

After having lost a bundle because we got the Watson joke THE VERY NEXT DAY (Had to fork over my Gil Thorp Comic Strip scrapbooks, in installments) , I am still wondering if these girls are going to play basketball. Now if Alexa the Supercomputer (I rub it in well, don’t I?) is 6’1″, the implication couldn’t be leading towards wrestling. God bless the girls who have broken into the sport and SUCCEEDED many times but I don’t think Alexa will be one of the pioneers continuing to lead the way.

Coach Thorp passing by Alexa one day in the Mathematics wing of Milford High School

“God Almighty, you’re tall. Did you ever think about going out for the wrestling team? I’ll bet you could execute a 3/4 Nelson with the best of ’em.”

“I’ll think about it. Who do I talk to, Coach Shaw?”

“No, he’s in Tank McNamara for the time being. Won’t be back until the Football Wienie Roast Pep Rally. Let me speak with Coach Anderson.”

“BTW, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back in gym?”

“I was going to strong-arm another trig teacher to clear one of my players to play. He just got sine and cosine, mixed up that’s all. Plus, I wasn’t doing anything anyway, like for the last 60 years.”

“I’ll work on Takedown Procedures tonight after I get done with my Biology Lab.”

“What I wanna hear.”

 

If yore Google computer in the den and yore bloodhound ya go huntin’ coons  with and yore cleanin’ lady with a tattoo the size of Delaware who comes in on Thursday to wipe off the pig slop in the living room and yore mechanic that fixes yore pickup and puts in points and plugs every bow season all go by the same name, Al, ya might be a redneck.

 

Interesting choice, the phrase “Day of Irritations”. Let’s see if we can make good use of combination of words.

 

On a 1944 headline of the Milford Enquirer

“MacArthur Fleet Bombs Honshu, Destroying 2 Nissan Plants, Including Line Of Sentras Being Shipped To Egypt!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Emperor Hirohito declared the attack a ‘Day of Irritations’.”

C’mon, it’s got possibilities.

Okay, you nitpickers out there, let’s go Room 222

“So what are you going to wear to the prom, Shelly?”

“I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

“The prom is on the same date as the Day of Irritations. I’m a Thorpist and Thorp simply operates through prayer and meditation and prohibits any kind of vigorous activity. I can’t even eat a Bucket Wienie.”

Later, in Mr. Dixon’s World Geography class

“…contrary to popular belief, the USSR never abutted upon the Cape of Good Hope. Africa was a target but Brezhnev was sick with flu in a Moscow hospital and could not commence Operation Africa in time…”

BRRRRRRRIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGGG

“That is all. Don’t forget your book report on Finland is due this Friday. Shelly, may I have a word with you?”

“Sure, Mr. Dixon, what’s up?”

“I heard rumors that you’re not going to the prom.”

“That’s right.”

Miss Johnson steps in

“Shelly, think of all the fun you’ll miss.”

“But Thorpism is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. I am going to sit butt naked in my bathtub and pray and fast on The Day of Irritations.”

Mr. Dixon has heard enough. Us TWIMers have SEEN enough

“Shelly, you can’t spend the rest of your life worshipping a man who never coaches, let alone worry about you.”

“And he tried to make a move on me and I said, your Ayers Rock hairline may be sexy to Mimi but you won’t even get Irish Spring soap from me and your hair is RAINING dandruff.”

“He tried to have his way with you, Miss Johnson?”

“That’s right. Threw the doggie shampoo bottle in his face.”

“Is it still too late to call Milford Formal?”

Mr. Dixon smiles when the 222 plot always has a happy ending

“No, a friend of mine works there and he can FedEx a gown by tomorrow. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Bobby Howry.”

 

Okay, Okay, so it had a rough edge but the 222 ending worked, didn’t it? Didn’t it?

 

“And on the Day of Irritations, Shechem, you shall lead my people towards the Land of Canaan where you shall enjoy a feast of milk and honey. I will rain Manna out of the sky until that Day…”

Hey, I know The Bible well. The Annotated Version ought to find that SOMEWHERE

 

Two girls walk into the basketball gym

One says “Why is this game so short of attention

4 quarters short of attention

And, whoa, Mimi rambles about setting picks

Where’s the referees and the scorekeeper

What if the timer dies on the half court line

Who’ll be the other team

Now that it didn’t show up like last year’s season

It ducked behind The Bucket

With some roly-poly little zit-filled carhop

All along, all along

There were flagrant fouls and technicals

There were slammed basketballs and Gil’s ejection

 

If you’ll be my point guard,

I can be your long lost pal

I’m the power forward, I will call for the ball

And you can call me Al

 

And in P2, Rod Serling at 17 flirts(?) with Al and Phoebe, we TWIMers unsure of motives but confident will find out in a well-developed soap opera, i.e., at the expense of basketball. Isn’t it just peachy that we are thrown 3 characters right off the bat and really not holding our breath that THAT will be the limit?

And why is Mr. Serling added AT ALL? Is he going to have a sex change and join the girl’s team? Boy, don’t go in Mimi’s office and dump her with THAT one.

In Gil’s office one day, right after he washed his hands and dried them with Bounty towels after The Deluge in his personal toilet

“Coach Thorp, I’m quitting the basketball team.”

“WHY????”

“I’m pursuing other interests after my surgery at Milford General.”

 

Whoa, Nelly

Ooooookkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is here to save the day!!!!!! Take ‘er away, Gene.

“Dumb Dora was soooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), she went through the cafeteria line with Al and Phoebe to buy plenty of __________________.”

 

And what is this in P3? Will this be a future installment on The Dating Game

“Bachelorette #3″, I understand you like basketball but you like archery, badminton, 5-stud billiards, dodgeball, indoor wiffleball, racquetball hockey, donkey nerf football, hallway X-country, heck, just about any sport in case Thorpiverse reneges on us and ditches basketball and there’s another sport Naismith hasn’t invented to entertain the masses in the wintertime.”

“What’s your point?”

“I was going to ask Thorpiverse the same thing.”

Funky music comes in for a landing, Marty Moon, the host steps in

“Well, that’ll wrap up this one. We’ll see which Bachelorette that Chris will pick in a moment, Phoebe, Ms. Rizk, or Al…”

 

 

“And that about wraps up this scrimmage here at the Milford High School Girls Gym. The Varsity beats the Reserves, 105-27, Al Watson leading the way with 45 points. I’ll have other stats in a moment, this is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

 

“Aren’t you fired up for basketball? With Al Watson and her Jordanesque moves, the 5-game season should be a snap. I know I won’t have to listen to Mimi complaining until 1:00AM about the referees not calling a violation when the opposing free throw shooter steps on the line. Fair play is important, bitching about while I’m trying to watch Letterman isn’t.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp for Milford Beverage Warehouse. Y’know, I went into Milford Hobby Lobby the other day and I maxed out on my Visa Platinum trying to buy a wagon for my kids. And when I saw that I could buy other red wagons for lesser value, I asked the teenage sales clerk, what’s less money than a Radio Flyer? Do they sell Radio Flyers for the Taco Bell chihuahua?

But don’t sweat this one as Milford Beverage Warehouse has ya covered, as if you thought otherwise. They bought several truckloads of toys that were of lesser value that the kids could still enjoy while selling The Good Life to the rest of us. I guess if Otis the Drunk wants Tinker Toys to purchase with his 6-pack of Falls City, that’s his cross to bear but the rest of us just enjoy watching our kids play Monopoly while sippin’ on some Jack.

That’s why Early Times at $19.99 and Star Wars Action figures for just a few simoleons more is practically robbing the store. Don’t you want watch your young’uns pretend they’re Luke and Darth while trying to locate your chaser under the recliner? What a way to get into the Christmas spirit.

Or for you mellow people, you can watch the neighborhood kids cuss at each other at Stratego as you partake of Starborough Sauvignon Blanc, and those memories are only $12.99 and some loose change.

And wouldn’t it be nice if you were kickin’ back on Christmas Day while watching your kids play with a 1,435-track Lionel Train Set, something that got repossessed by some loser like Chet Ballard? And your 12-pack of Heineken well in hand? My goodness, $14.99 and your checkbook that couldn’t possibly bounce on this one is a small price to pay when you hear the engine chug-a-luggin’

But YOU need to get your own Barbie Dolls or the Toy Robot from Lost in Space to give to your offspring if you want to enjoy the Garden of Eden. Glenmore Gin or whatever suits your fancy is all right here at The Milford Beverage Warehouse. Come see how full your wallet will remain as you break the bank down here where it’s literally fun and games and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

 

All right, Gang, it’s your turn. And don’t forget, ya doesn’t have ta call me T. Drew. Ya can call me T. or you can call me Drew…

 

A man walks by Phoebe’s and Al’s table

A table with some strange brew

Maybe it’s a chili dog and hash browns

Maybe it’s Cream of Wheat on Rye

Doesn’t speak their language

He’s too late for football

Shouldn’t be dropping in for lunch at 12:40

He’s surrounded by Mudlarks, Mudlarks

Some in the journalism room

Inchoate plots and lack of action technicals

He looks around, around

He sees two girls, tip of the iceberg

Rambling in infinity

Tells Thorpiverse “Get to the point, Amen”

 

If you’ll apply some Right Guard

I can be your long lost pal

I can call you Chris

And when you call me for a date

You can call me Al

 

“Coach Thorp, I can’t play on that date. My family celebrates The Day of Irritations”

“We didn’t make the Playdowns, Joe.”

December 10, 2019

Alexa, It’s Pretty Sad When I’m Bored When The Story Is Only Six Panels Old.

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I remember her well. She lived on an island off the coast of Mudlark Lake. Her name was Dorothy Pearl or Dr. Pearl for short. I never thought I’d be non-coaching for her several years later.

She said she was 1,187 years old. She held her age well. Hermie Shaw and Oscy Kaz used to make fun of me every time her name was brought up. A few examples:

“Geez, this Bucket Double Bacon Burger tastes like it’s been in the oven for days. Did Dr. Pearl light a camp fire there?”

“Damn, my book report’s due!!!!!!!!! If I wait until the Treaty of Westphalia, it’ll be late!!!”    “Isn’t that the year Dr. Pearl was born?”

“Why did Coach Thorp call a pass play on the 1-yard line? Is Dr. Pearl calling the plays from Versailles Palace?”

You get the idea.

 

“This Bucket Chili Dog has seen better days. I wouldn’t wrap a condom around this loser and have sex with-”

“SEE, HERMIE, I told you Gilby has a thing for Dr. Pearl!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A 15-year old virgin is going to have his way with an older woman!!!!!!!!!!! Tell me, Gilby, how was it when Dr. Pearl went in Napoleon’s tent? Did she like it?”

The story sucked

And football’s gone

I wretched all night

It went too long

Chance is cleared

He did no wrong

 

And when it was over

We never saw much to brag about

Against Valley Tech

Much less the season in toto

 

Chet’s in reform

His wife has warned

 

Gang, I’m sorry, P1 is starting this whole daggone story on the wrong foot ALREADY and I ain’t gonna do another Summer of ’42 rendition after basketball, assuming that’s the bill of fare, something that’s been the bill of fare the last 60 years and counting. It’s hard for me to imagine Alexa hittin’ the weights hard so she can be the Milford High School Girls’ Darts champion sponsored by Milford Lounge.

 

She throws her darts

With deft aplomb

She nearly missed

Moon’s glass of rum

Gil is concerned

Ate tons of Tums

 

Well. it needs a little sprucing but that’s as far as I’m going. For now, anyway.

 

Because I really don’t understand why the man in the car with Kentucky license plate 331 VBD used hate to get his point across at Papa John’s on Lower Hunters Trace and Dixie Highway in Louisville early this morning

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Neo-nazi Camp In Rural Milford Shut Down By Milford Health Board After Injury To One Of Its Members!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Safety concerns raised after member’s head was caught in the toilet in the outhouse after head-plunging procedure was going great guns.”

 

At the Milford Recording Studio, taping an advertising jingle for Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage

 

“Ahhhhhhhhh, Baby,

This meat is full of taste

And it’s ALL FOR YOU

 

Sit yo ass down and do

WHAT YOU GOT TA DO

 

Eat your ass blind

And experience Heaven’s

MASTERPIECE

 

No, no, don’t leave Gil this way

No, don’t leave Gil this way…”

 

“Anybody get a hold of Thelma Houston yet? I’m not getting my butt in the sling over copyright infringement”

 

Hi Crystal. I see you at Jeff Smith Marathon in Edwardsville, Indiana. She and Bre(like “key”) are two VERY friendly people who greet the customers with the utmost courtesy and respect. Throw in mechanics who get the job done as attested by all the cars that fill up the parking lot (BUSY) on the property and you have a whale of abusiness. But don’t take my word for it. Take Exit 118 off of I-64 in Indiana, head to 62 West and it’s the first road to your LEFT as you leave the freeway. You’ll see the business. Great gasoline, great prices, great mechanics. Gang, I think you catch my drift. Catch it at Jeff Smith Marathon and say hello to Crystal and Bre. You’ll be VERY glad you did.

 

WHAT is that thing in P2, splitting the girls? Is it that gigantic door from 2001: A Space Odyssey? I don’t see any apes around, at least none from the football team and the one ape that was making a spectacle of himself during football is at some marriage  enrichment seminar with his wife (Assuming she still claims Chet of the Jungle) . I’m still trying to adjust my eyes trying to translate Vulcan while going in the out door or going out the in door, same difference. Well, like Joe Walsh said, being a student at Milford High School is living a Life of Illusion. No better example than P2.

I don’t THINK that the obelisk wannabe is something anybody prays to five times a day. I was under the impression that Muslims pray towards Gil’s office that many times (“Surrender to the Will of Gil and accept Coach Kaz as his Prophet.”)

Oh, I KNOW (slaps head). It’s a stoplight. The hallways in the M.C. Escher hallways can get a little confusing. Helps to have Big Brother the Traffic Cop to sort it all out.

 

“Aw, C’mon, Gilby. Mimi really likes you. Hermie tried to make out with her and she said she only dates guys who referee her girls’ 5-game schedule. And I know you’re patched cuz I heard you scored a 92 on the open-book exam. You can’t keep fantasizing about Dr. Pearl forever.”

“Who are you going to make out with, Oscy?

“Marcia Brady!!!!!!!!!!! I heard she is really hot-to-trot after Alice the Maid showed her a few moves. Used a scrub brush to get her point across.”

That summer, I gained my manhood. We would marry 47 years later but making out behind the tackling dummies was more fun than a barrel of Nerf footballs used in the previous plot while Oscy and Marcia had some fun in the equipment shed, making sure the door was deadbolted so Luhm wouldn’t come in to fix the riding mower blades. Hermie had to settle for Dr. Pearl’s great-great-great granddaughter. He may have had to return her by the 8:00 curfew so she could finish her multiplication tables but he did get a kiss out of her. On the lips.

As for Dr. Pearl, watching her boobs press through her blouse while she was loading boxes in the attic was exhilarating. It was a little like observing gigantic prunes that the Jolly Green Giant eats for breakfast hanging through Kaz’s hammock but still exhilarating. The roar of Mudlark Lake bespoke her mystique. Her beehive bun came from Never Never Land.

 

And if we have to endure one more stinkin’ bad plot, we’ll be grumbling more than 3 times a week, rest assured.

 

Big shout-out to Thelma Houston. A very classy woman whose hit “Don’t Leave Me This Way” still rings true as it did when it hit the charts big back in 1977. Never one to rest on her laurels, she is still recording to this day and has acted in several movies and TV shows. I don’t know about you, Gang, but when a person still wants to keep performing even after she hit the Big Time, it is my humble opinion that that’s what makes a STAR. I salute you, Thelma, and hope you keep up the good work.

 

Gang, if I see one more Marcia Brady at 17 visage as in P3, I’m demanding my money back. I’ve already gotten refunded after returning a moldy Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage Flame-Broiled to Milford IGA, but I can always get another one out of the bunker, the ones next to the George Jones Old Fashioned Breakfast ‘n’ Bed Sausage. We can’t get another plot. Football proved the futility of that particular venture.

I was really working up my courage on a dare from Hermie and Oscy. Hermie Shaw had already disappeared like he always does when football season is approaching its climax. Asking for his mom’s Nair evidently was a bit too embarrassing. Surely the druggist at Milford Apothecary knew his mom shaved her legs.

At any rate, at the Milford Apothecary for Round Two

“May I help you?”

“Do you all sell banana splits?”

“Nope. The Bucket down the street does. Do you need directions?”

“No, that’s all right.”

Well, here goes

“I would like CruexJockItchmedicine100jockstrapsacoupleoffootballhelmetssomeLifesavers10rubbers5atheleticbandages534boxesofBand-AidssomehydrgenperoxideinthejanitordrumsizesoScottwillquitbitchingandapartridgeinapeartree.”

“We’re out of Lifesavers.”

“Do you have everything else?”

“Sure. Give me 15 minutes. My help had to make a delivery to Dorothy Pearl. Had to drop off her Ex-Lax.”

“No problem.”

Whew, that was easy. I couldn’t wait to see the looks on Hermie’s and Oscy’s face. Now I could go all the way with Dr. Pearl. Hermie would leave in defeat but you heard that before. Oscy would be able to buy rubbers and earrings with ease several decades later but by then he would be my assistant. And the druggist cheerfully came back

“Here you are. Have a nice day.”

“Gee, thanks. Oh, BTW, WHERE’S THE RUBBERS?”

“They’re underneath the football helmets, nice and neat.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry. Thanks, Mr. Druggist.”

“No problem. Hope she’s fun.”

 

So much for trying to sneak one past somebody. But I still had Hermie and Oscy with egg all over their faces. That’s what mattered for the moment.

 

Gang, I could be wrong but ol’ Foghorn here thinks Marcia Brady is tryin’ to execute a funny. It would HELP if we knew what the Hell she was talking about. I know what Watson the Supercomputer is, the IBM wunderkind, but WHAT IS IT REFERRING TO? We’ll have to toil through several more panels to get the joke? After several days, if Alexa’s weight training pays off by being able to lift Deep Blue off the ground with her index finger while holding a conversation with Marcia Brady about boys, the funny will have fulfilled its mission.

 

If ya gotta go to Milford A-poth-a-carry cuz ya is in-breedin’ once again with yore kid sister after ya got inta an argument over how many Tinker Toys got distributed to yaz both, b ut ya gotta hit the A-poth-a-carry once agin cuz ya ran out of pro-teck-shun, ya might be a redneck.

 

Because I’m still in bewilderment over these ads promising hardness for HOURS

 

While Coach Shaw has a problem on the Serta Love Sofa in the garage

“Hermieeeeeeee, it’s time to come to bed!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Come on down and do what ya got ta do!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“I can’t, Dear. I’m stuck between the cushions!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Honey, don’t leave me this way. Now quit trying to pretend you have a problem and let’s have some fun.”

“I’M NOT KIDDING!!!!!!!!!!!! That Erec-9000 Vita-Plus Medicine sold by Milford Men’s Clinic was good as advertised. They weren’t kidding when they said she’d love you like a rock for hours!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I didn’t think I’d be stuck like a rock for hours!!!!!!!!! I can still get to my beer!!!!!!”

“Hermie, you’ve come up with some excuses before to not have sex with me but you had me fooled on those. I’m not buying this one. My heart is full of love and it’s all for you!!!!!!!!!!”

“And this LOVE SOFA IS FULL OF ME!!!!!!!!!!!!! Quick!!!!!!! I think that old See-Saw is behind the tool bin!!!!!!!!!!! Get it out and pry me loose!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Hermie, If I leave YOU THIS WAY, you won’t have any carnal knowledge. Now stop making things up and hold my hand.”

“I can’t even hold my significant other, let alone get up from it!!!!!!!!! Did you ever try to stand up while your stomach’s on top of a flagpole?????”

“I salute you for your brilliant evasive technique-”

“Well, it’s either you criticize my lack of imagination for excuses or you can have anal sex. There’s an obvious problem with that.”

 

“Well, doggie, you can imagine the dilemma I was in. I didn’t want my wife to leave me but I didn’t know how to get down from Mt. Everest. But she FINALLY got the See-Saw if I promised to use the Erec-9000 on our second honeymoon.

But y’know, that’s a pleasant problem because I did get down and do I what I gotta do right on that Love Sofa. We just made sure to avoid the gaps in the sofa and Sexual Elixir was at a premium. Come buy a slice of your own troubles at Milford Men’s Clinic where your problems begin once your erectile problems end.”

 

Go at it, Gang. My money is on a week before we find out when the Supercomputer funny is grasped. Isn’t that when Looney Tunes comes on?

 

Gilby comes to Dr. Pearl’s retreat house on Mudlark Island. The whippoorwill is faintly heard in the distance.

He enters.

No one is in the living room. There’s a note on the coffee table

“Dear Doctor Pearl,

We regret to inform you that your husband was killed in action at the Second Battle of Bull Run-”

 

“Hi, Gilby.”

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry, I’m a mess.”

“For 1800 years, you look fine”

“I don’t think I do.”

 

Dr. Pearl heads to the kitchen

“I’m sorry”

Dr. Pearl turns around

Gilby and Dr. Pearl embrace and slow-dance to the Summer of ’42 Theme. The Summer Knows. More than it cares to know in this plot.

Dr. Pearl leads Gilby to the bedroom. Like watching a petrified tree undress, they finally come to bed. And Gilby is enjoying his Second Manhood.

“I think you should go now, Gilby.”

 

She left me a letter later

“Dear Gilby, I had a wonderful time that night. You didn’t need Vita-Plus to enjoy me and I thank you for that.

I hope good things and only good things happen in your life. I am leaving, never to return until I become Principal. It’s a pity that football didn’t leave sooner but sometimes you don’t win Antietam. But you’ll win the war, Gilby. Just not the football games. It’s been nice knowing you.”

And so my days in the Summer of ’42 were in a reverie, a block of events I rue I cannot bring back. We all went on to bigger and better things and football sank in the South Pacific. Sometimes poetic justice has a way of turning its vengeful head. But my boyhood was rewarding and taught me that you could disappear after you had the time of your life. I had Dorothy Pearl to thank for that. Now basketball awaits, belated so. There might be another Dorothy at the free throw line. One can hope.

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

IMG_20191125_121657

IMG_20191127_105323

PANO_20191127_111455.vr

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.

 

 

 

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