This Week in Milford

July 14, 2018

I Apologize, Betty Crocker was all out of trapezoid brownies.


Wait, wait, wait. Before we go ANY further, weren’t Aunt Bea and Opie going to fellowship over brownies? At least, the last time Daffy Duck went to Yalta to report on Stalin’s and Churchill’s bitches and gripes for the Milford Enquirer, that’s what people munched on. And if Ma Bader is on her hands and knees trying to get Daffy to change Barry from Goofus to Gallant, well, BROWNIES WORKED THE LAST TIME. WHY SWITCH TO CHIPS AHOY?????????? I admit in Mayberry, the more conventional culinary wisdom when catching up on the latest gossip would have been milk and cookies but brownies was an adequate substitute. But those look like COOKIES to me on the coffee table, being washed down by a Bucket Triple Chocolate Shake. The Uber driver arrived well before The Summit (“WE have 1 more coming, does the Uber driver have another T-Choc Shake in the fridge in his trunk?”).


Steve Luhm, writing off Milford High School Janitorial Science Department stationery

“Ms. Rizk, I love everything about you. Your Granny dreadlocks get me erect and you have eyes like frying pans smeared in Pam.”

A week later

“Hey, I dig your letter but didn’t Fred tell Wilma that she had frying pan eyes? I think that was the episode where Fred and Barney took Dino to the Bedrock Veterinary Clinic to get medicine for Dino’s tapeworms. I was 79 years old then so my memory’s slipping. I watched that episode on the ‘M’ Computer during my planning period.”


Watching Barry in negotiations with Daffy is comical. ” I really DID see Elvis and now you’re making me a liar. He and OJ and me went down to The Bucket to see if I had any chance at pro ball since I’m the star of the team. As long as Moose is going to swing his weight around, I might as well do some swinging myself. And you write like I was still in T-Ball”.

Richard, you did a lot for the country, you normalized relations with China and Russia, the economy did well under your leadership, for a Republican, you were very environment-friendly, BUT YOU’RE STILL A CROOK.


And gang, I promised you That Daffy’s day in court was coming. The Day of Reckoning is today. Sung to the tune “Good-Lookin’ Woman” by Norman Greenbaum, awayyyyyyyyy we go


You’re a sleaze-talkin’ woman, oh yeah

You spew venom out of your womb, oh, oh, yeah

There’s no mercy when you write

All of Milford goes running

They don’t want to get slammed and slimed

Time after time

They’d rather be napalmed


It’s gonna take manners to keep you around, Baby

Nothing like manners to keep you on the ground, Baby

You wonder why they hate you

Babe, it’s no-brainer

You are a viper

We need a restrainer

On a sleaze-talkin’ woman

Sleaze-talkin’ woman

Sleaze-talkin woman

Sleaze-talkin’ woman like you


You did a hose job on Pa and Barry, oh yeah

Reese’s Bits ‘n’ Pieces, that’s what’s scary, oh, oh, yeah

You could be Society’s Child

If you live like a human

I’m not holding my breath on that

The chances are fat

And baboons act better


It’s gonna take manners to keep you around, Baby

You behave like a tick-ridden, smelly bloodhound, Baby

You worry ’bout the future

Babe, you could end it

Use manners like money

Be willing to spend it

On a sleaze-talkin’ woman

Sleaze-talkin’ woman

Sleaze-talkin woman

Sleaze-talkin’ woman like you


Thank you for your patience, gang. You guys did a great scouring on Daffy. Just finishing the job.


Don Drysdale comes to Milford


While Don is throwing grapefruits to Moose during batting practice

“Don, I understand you played a little ball.”

“That’s right, Gil. Played for the Dodgers for years.”

“And do you have any advice for Moose here?”

While Moose is whackin’ ’em to the top of OJ’s townhouse across the field

“Sure. It’s not an easy road, son. You gotta pay your dues. Long bus rides. Greasy spoon restaurants. And I roomed with Tommy Lasorda while we were playing for Albuquerque. God, the shit he left in the shower when we were getting ready to go. One day, I asked Tommy after he used the Motel 6 towel to wipe his ass, My Man, the maid does supply toilet paper in the stall. Then he used 2 rolls every time he took a shit. I got left with 1/2 a paper towel, that gritty stuff you clean your butt with in the Milford boys bathroom. On the mound, it’s HELL pitching against the Reds and the sandpaper itch creeps up your butthole. Son, take my word for it, it’s a long ride.”

Don leaves to go down to Milford Sporting Goods to sign autographs and endorse his latest book “Life’s Lesson’s I Learned in Milford”

“Well, Moose, did you learn anything?”

Trying to pry one batting doughnut off because it’s not heavy enough to help improve his bat speed

“Sure, next time, make sure you bring 2 Charmin Rose-Scented 2-Ply 12-Roll Paks and stash ’em under the bed.”


“Oh, but Daffy, my Barry really is a good boy. Just because he stares at the mirror doesn’t make him a bad boy. He may be deaf, dumb and a jerk but he’s not Bart Simpson.”


Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“OJ Filing Suit After Baseball Lands In His Aquarium!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Proceedings Will Not Take Place Until October; Judge Ito Is On Sabbatical.”


“Mr. Chambers. Mr. Chambers. It is the meal time. Kindly state your preference.”

“Oh, all right. I want a Triple Bucket Burger, hold the mayo, extra pickles, extra cheese, and X-large order of Chili Bucket Fries, and a Dutch Chocolate Bucket o’ Shake.”

“Small, medium, or large?”

“Aaaaaa, I’ll take large.”

“My, my, Mr. Chambers”, the lighted tube speaking briskly and efficiently, “You are going to be a 3-course meal by the end of September.”

“I thought you Kanamits have no sense of time.”

“We always know when it’s a certain time of the year. The plot finally ceases and that’s when we make our move to earth to get more condiments, er, people. The population of Milford is high on our list. They are haute cuisine of the human race.”

“BTW, how’d you manage to bring another Bucket up here?”

“We had a little trouble at the 5th Galaxy but after that, the legal deeds, property taxes, easement issues, parcel outlots, legal fees, environmental concerns, economic impact studies were simply a matter of time.”


A one Michael Chambers is left to ponder in amazement the denouement of The Bucket in the world of the Kanamits while his existence is on life support. Many careers fade, sadly to say, into a pot of boiling stew and while you’re commenting away on today’s strip, this story exemplifies that Man is a star about to nova in a world we call…The Twilight Zone


July 10, 2018

Eyesight for the Belligerent

Filed under: huge earrings, Milford Idiots, song parody, What the hell is going on here? — tdrewhardin @ 1:08 pm


Captain Gilbert didn’t come home

His unborn child will never know him

He’s believed to be missing with a couple of men

They planted 8 bombs inside the gymmmmmmm


It’s a boy, Mrs. Gilbert

It’s a boy


It’s a boy, Mrs. Gilbert

It’s a boy


Hear the joyful celebration in the street

It’s a boy the day we won the Final Heat


And gang, I think you know where I’m going with this. After watching “Barry: The Musical” and still thinking Daffy is still Queen of Sleaze, what was Barry expecting? To clear his name up IN THE MILFORD ENQUIRER?????? No, Daffy, I did not get on that UFO with Elvis. I was down at the Milford Moose Lodge with The King seeing if he could revive his career at the Annual Chili Cook-Off and Raffle Ticket Night. Man, some lucky cat was going to have the time of his or her life listening to “Don’t Be Cruel”, “Heartbreak Hotel” and “Suspicious Minds” and drive away in a brand new Cadillac, courtesy of Milford Motors. But no, your story killed his career. Thanks for nothing.

Then there’s Ms. Rizk. Aside from going back to the Granny from Beverly Hillbillies look, she’s gone from calling things straight down the middle to being Ebenezer Scrooge. The Baders are asking for mercy after you sent them through the meat grinder? Humbug! Serves them right!!!! I’m going to call the deputy sheriff and foreclose their house anyway. We’re going to turn it into the Milford High School Journalism Annex by the end of the year!!!!!!

I would like to give a shoutout to Heather Sanders in Louisville, Kentucky.  She may be confined to a wheelchair but her humor isn’t. She is VERY funny and keeps me going with her edgy wit and on-point insight. She makes my job easier and I have promised her that I will do EVERYTHING I can to get her in the next movie my dad does (my dad being a part-time actor). Heather, I intend to keep that promise. Right now, you are shining pretty bright because you deserve a moment in the spotlight. Keep the funny bone pipeline going because, well. YOU’RE FUNNY. YOU ROCK, My Friend.


Marty: Gotta feeling ’17 is gonna be a good year

Baseball season’s done and we can putt forever

Mimi: I had no reason to be overoptimistic

But with your 3-handicap, it’s a great endeavor


Captain Gilbert, smelly gym towel over the left side of his burned face, after a hard-fought overtime victory over Death, sees Marty and Mimi in bed.

Marty wakes up. Grabbing the 2014 trophy off Mimi’s makeup table, he wacks Captain Gilbert on the right side of the face, careful not to ruin the perm Captain Gilbert has sported for 60 years.

Barry, fresh from sneaking a sip of Cherry 7-Up out of the fridge, wiping the top so that nobody’ll get germs, steps in just as his father’s hair morphs into Hendrix from “Band of Gypsies”.






You didn’t see it

You didn’t hear it

Not a word of it

Not a sight of it

You’re gonna turn into a jerk



Now he’s deaf

Now he’s dumb

Now he’s a jerk

The guilty are safe

But always accused

By his asshole ways


What’s with this Betty Crocker motivational tool? I can see the commercial.

“Yes, what better way to preclude your friend from using a toilet plunger on a person’s reputation than to discuss the matter over buttermilk scones and tea? Mmm, mmm, and those sourdough biscuits buttered with Blue Bonnet on it tastes better than the stuff you have to swallow about your husband, coming from an amateur Ida Tarbell? Mrs. Olson should be coming in anytime and discussing Mr. Olson and Mr. Whipple (apparently they’re squeezing more than Charmin) having an affair with each other. Yes, Daffy, they’re coming out of the closet so have paper and Paper-Mate ready. After you’ve eaten your 10th sourdough, naturally. Set ’em at 350 and the gossip too and forget it. That’s the Betty Crocker way (“Cooking with Pam” theme whistling in the background)!!!!!!!!!!”


“Can’t you see the Christmas lights and all the toys that are so wonderfully enlightening

The Nike shoes, the bats, the balls, I swear it gets to be so terribly frightening

And Barry doesn’t know what day it is

He’s such a jerk, he doesn’t know who Jesus is




BARRY, CAN YOU HEAR ME??????? as Mimi whacks Barry with a bat.


And has anyone seen Ms. Rizk ANYWHERE but the Journalism room? We assume she takes potty breaks. We assume. And we assume she’s typing, or editing the school newspaper. All this time she’s been typing billet-doux’s to Luhm and  he’s cramming them into his locker at night? Anyway, I haven’t seen her down at the Milford Burger King ordering a Double Beef Whopper and unsalted fries. Or at a car show at the Milford Civic Center parking lot. Still glued to the chair along with Chris Elliott’s parents on “Get a Life”, I see. At least she isn’t in her bathrobe.

Gang, I realize Tommy is overshadowing Daffy today. She will have her day in court. Right now, I’m wagering nobody’s going to put up much resistance to the “DIE IF YOU WANT TO, YOU MISGUIDED PUPPET” approach, long-overdue at that, to Barry Bader. I’m wagering. I only make so much in my paycheck, gang, after taxes.


Barry, can you hear me?

Can you feel me near you?

Barry, can you see me?

Can I help to cheer you?

Ohhhhhh, Barry, Barry, Barry…


He seems to be completely unreceptive

The love I gave him makes no sense at all

Dale Carnegie is not in his demeanor

He pukes at Albert Schweitzer’s love and calllllll












There is no chance, no untried operation

All hope lies with him and none with me

Imagine though the shock from isolation

When he suddenly owns up to reality.


At the Milford Girls-A-Go-Go Club, Mimi Thorp answers the sign out front that says “Taking applications. Must be 18 or older.” Figuring she still has time before the Playdowns start in August(they’re just doing a light workout today anyway plus some bunting drills), she swings the SUV into the place. Just because they play softball on the 4th of July  doesn’t mean they pay time and a half so Mimi is always up for the extra income.


Mimi Thorp follows the secretary to Al DeWindt’s office. He’s the Personnel Manager.

Al peruses the application. He eyes the “Reason for Leaving” section and notices that she left it blank for her employment at Milford Burger King.

“Why did you quit Burger King?”

Mimi really doesn’t know how to lie. So she confesses.

“I was 16 years old at the time and I told the manager I knew how to make a Whopper. I wanted to impress my friends so I had at it. I slapped on Mel Purnell’s Whole Hog Hot ‘n’ Spicy Sausage patties instead of ground beef because I wasn’t paying attention, then I put the wrong pickles on the sandwich, I should have used Vlasic, plus I spread too much Hellman’s, I used a paintbrush instead of a spatula, then the lettuce was too brown and it was wilting like my husband’s wim-wim, and I stuck a slice of Swiss cheese because I swear to God I couldn’t find American even though the manager insisted they were behind the ice machine and when a few customers complained to the-”

“Ooooooooookkkkkkkk,” convinced that her crime has reached the statute of limitations, having 33 more applicants to interview, “Mrs. Thorp, you don’t have any problem showing your tits?”

“I used to tell my girls on the basketball team to give 110% effort, no matter what the scoreboard says. If that’s the job description, I will let it all hang out and dive for loose balls with everything I’ve got. I’ll have a lot of floor burns on me at the end of the night.”

DeWindt writes “very mature” on the check-off list. He adds “could be performing Christmas show with the 2 ex-Rockettes.”

“Are you willing to work overtime? Sometimes the New Thayer Moose Lodge holds their annual convention over at the Milford Ramada and a few of ’em head our way. They can get a little rowdy.”

“No rowdier than that crowd at Tilden. A lot of people were throwing coins, chewing gum, program ads, and candy bar wrappers at our girls but when we beat them in triple overtime, we got our revenge. Plus, Gil is hiring on as a bouncer so I don’t foresee any problems.”

“You do know we’re Union? Milford AFL-CIO Local 808? You have a problem with that?”

“I don’t see why I would. Unions have a Right to Peaceful Assembly according to The Constitution. I don’t mind gettin’ it on next to the Union steward on stage. We will show our boobs as a sign of solidarity.”

DeWindt writes down “Could be possible problem at the bargaining table but not a rabble-rouser”.

“Mrs. Thorp, we’ll start you out at $11.00/hour and give you a 50 cent raise after 30 days. The $500 signing bonus will be broken down into $250 apiece with the 1st installment paid out after 60 days and the remainder paid out after your probationary status ends after 90 days.”

“Are taxes taken out?”

“Yup, Uncle Sam gouges even us strip joints. BTW, can you fit into 9-foot boots, staple jewelry on your boobs and shake that thang? We do ‘Pinball Wizard’ every weekend and the last dancer injured her tits when she accidentally grazed them on a strobe light on the ceiling.”

“SURE”, trying to be an eager beaver. Do everything they tell you. That’s how you move up the corporate ladder. “I have some 9-foot heels I wore at my high school prom. I’m pretty sure they’re out in the garage.”

“Super!!!!!” as DeWindt is trying to hide his curiosity where she got 9-foot heels, let alone why she wore them.

“Well, that’s all the questions I have for now. I will learn everything there is to know about the company.”

“You got the right attitude. All right, be here tomorrow morning in the Training Room at 7:00AM sharp with your photo ID for your name badge and your Social Security Card. Also, bring a red pen so that you can learn how to fill out time sheets. We do EVERYTHING in red.”






OOOOOO, BARRY, BARRY, BARRY as Barry is escorted by Gil the Bouncer after the former wandered into the Club, thinking the ball diamond was on the same latitude. A jerk has a tendency to get his horse latitudes confused(with apologies to The Doors).


“OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH, BA-BY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




NO!!!! NO!!!!! DON’T LEAVE ME THIS WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DON’T LEAVE ME THIS WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

NO!!!!!!!!!! DON’T LEAVE ME THIS WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Doris, can I speak to you for a moment? I want to file a grievance. They’re having the dancers low on the Seniority List doing the Midnight Show.”


Daffy runs towards the spaceship set to leave Milford Int’l Airport.


And Ms. Rizk reveals herself as one of the Kanamits, deftly handling the stilts and the sleeping gas on Kaz, the same sleeping gas that was used on Batman and Robin, indicating that Part One was about to end (The Joker: “How’d I wind up in the Gotham City Correctional Institute? My gang put enough nerve gas on the Dynamic Duo to bring the Statue of Liberty to its knees.”). Coach Kaz is dragged in the ship and the door is sealed and the vehicle heads 29 light-years into outer space, with a potty break on Deneb and lunch at Stuckey’s on Lyra.

“GODDAMIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MEAT LOAF AGAIN??????????? THAT’S THE 7TH STRAIGHT DAY I’VE HAD THE STUFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND DOESN’T ANYBODY KNOW HOW TO DUMP CHEESE INTO KRAFT GARLIC MAC ‘N’ CHEESE?????????????????” as Coach Kaz throws the dinner to the floor in a cubicle roughly equal to the size of Papa Bader’s living quarters.

A 10-foot Kanamit walks in, straight from his game in the 12-foot-and-Under League. picking up dumped merchandise “Coach Kaz, Coach Kaz, PLEASE, there’s no reason for these needless tantrums. We can get the chef to switch to chicken cordon bleu and baked lasagna with tortellini.”

“And can they make Nestea instead of that swill they brew out of the canister in Milford’s cafeteria?

“I don’t see why not.”

“With Nutrasweet?”

“Of course.”

Consider for your speculation a one Coach Kaz, about to be somebody else’s Peanut Buster Parfait at the Kanamit DQ but enjoying The Good Life in his dying days. The parmesan cheese on his steam-fried London broiled steak and vegetables will expunge his fear of being Blizzard Flavor of the Month, Oreo Blizzard, may we add, at the same DQ drive-thru. Tonight’s bill of fare in…The Twilight Zone.


Comment away,gang. I’m going to catch the late show at the Go-Go Club. Mimi ought to be entertaining, certainly more than this plot.





BOY A JERK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


“Mimi, you really went to town tonight. I liked how your wedding band bounced so lively between your breasts. And all those beads around your neck.”

“Thanks, Gil. So I heard you had to throw out Mr. Dr. Pearl?”

June 26, 2018

Hug Him and Kiss Him and Stab Him and Hurt Him, You Will Be Hisssssss

Filed under: Gil Thorp, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 2:24 pm


HAH!!!!!!!!! Caught you, gang. I slipped that double entendre right past you. Pay attention, classssss (Sister Mary Elephant that time, that didn’t count).

But it’s understandable. This plot DID stink up and fart and we are paying the price in Snoozeland. And I hope NOBODY was surprised that Daffy Duck was going to pull a fast one. She goes through all this trouble on what appeared to be a goodwill mission, gets the proper papers signed in triplicate, got everybody’s approval short of Steve Luhm and that was because he was out of town on vacation, playin’ the slots. The Assistant Floor Buffer signed his John Henry in Luhm’s stead. THEN she had to have gone to the Prison Board and again filed all the proper papers, no doubt having to convince them that she wasn’t up for parole. No, I’m just doing an article for my high school rag, er, newspaper. I’m not sorry for giving my father 40 whacks. Or my mother 41.

THEN, disguised with good intentions but anybody with any sense being able to see that Santa’s beard is made of cotton candy, she’s about to pull a fast one. I can hear the Dick Dastardly laugh now. Hee Hee Hee, if he thought I was going to write about his setting a record for the most license plates while in prison, boy, does he need to renew his subscription to the Milford Enquirer to refresh his memory.

I’m bracing myself to say this. Take that Folgers and 2 tranquilizers, T. Drew. Barry, watch your back side. WHEW!!!!!!!!!!! Gimme another cup, please. Ran out of Folgers? Is that Sanka still boiling in Kaz’s office?

You always wanted a highball

with an olive

And martinis straight from the tap

Now you wound up in prison

You deserve it

How am I going to get through?

How am I going to get through?

I talked for hours

and gave you power

Your paper’s crap

and I’m a sap

So what have I

What have I

What have I done to deserve this?

Since you went away

I’ve been wandering around

From press room to ball ground

Crappin’ the town

You went away

And you need a new razor

How am I going to get through (what have I, what have I, what have I done to deserve this)

How am I going to get through (what have I, etc.)

And Daffy Duck, no. Nobody EVER accused you of being Barry’s pal, not in this century anyway. When George Washington was reading Gil Thorp in the Trenton Times, he never thought for ONE MOMENT that you were Fred and Barney. He had a lot on his mind before he crossed the Delaware but he had peace of mind that you weren’t lovey dovey, let alone buddy-buddy. No, Mr. Howell never wrote to the Letter to the Editor on Gilligan’s Island that his wife was sleeping with The Skipper. Just thought I’d clear that up, Daffy. It’s hard to imagine that Barry will be your Little Buddy after you sharpened your Ginsu knife and gave Papa Bader 42.

If yore request for an outhouse on the prison yard got approved after all the red tape that could stretch from Milford to Oakwood because yore homesick and the poophole is a good replica but not the real thang, ya might be a redneck.

And wasn’t Marcie teaching math several moons back? I can’t remember which plot, not that I care to walk in the manure to yank out the Jewel of the Nile, but Comrade Marcie Dern(read the Cyrillic alphabet on her door, silly) has the keys to Moose’s baseball prowess and Gil is sweating bullets, hoping to get Moose back on the diamond ASAP before the scout from the Mud Hens uses up his 4-days-and-3-nights special at the Milford Motel 6. “Oh, please, Marcie, if he can’t implement the proper launch angle for the Hartford Yard Goats, he’ll be a career sanitation engineer. And I’ve seen him ride one of those trucks with Luhm and he couldn’t ride a truck and chew gum at the same time.

“I think we can give him a break for Home Ec this time with the understanding that he’ll have to take classes to make up for those Betty Crocker recipes he flunked. He really botched coconut creme.  Somebody will have to show him how to practice on the temperature knob on the Amana range.”

You drank like a beaver

late one night

And now you sleep in a 6 x 9

with no lights

Guards don’t read bedtime stories

That just bites

How am I going to get through?

How am I going to get through?

I piss in pots

My brain is snot

I use cologne

For my gallstones

So what have I

What have I

What have I done to deserve this?

Since I went away

I just carved up your back

Didn’t cut you no slack

As a matter of fact

I went awayyyyy

To rip you a new one

How am I going to get through(What have I, what have I, what have I done to deserve this)

How am I going to get through(What have I, wh-)

“GIL!!!!!! GIL!!!!!!!!!! WAKE UP!!!!!!!!! Are you okay?

“Whew!!!!!!! That was a nightmare!!!!!!!!! I dreamed I spent Purgatory eternally in Studio 3 with Marty Moon!!!!!!”

“And this is Marty Moon, reporting from Hell, where I am doing an eternal interview with Coach T. I’m lickin’ my chops that he can’t duck out to his office when I ask him why he didn’t play Josh Sterling in the 4th quarter of the playdowns. He was taking a knee to pray, Coach. And we’ll be right back after this time out. You’re listening live from Hell on WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.

Late one night at Dr. Pearl’s home in the posh neighborhood of Milford Chase(next door to the stately manor of millionaire Bruce Wayne)

“Squiggly-Wiggly, Baby Bumpers, I found my bikini in the attic. You know, the one I wore at the high school dance when The Ventures played at Mudlark Lake.”

Mr. Dr. Pearl is in no mood for discussing intimacy, heavily entrenched in Tolstoy after a long day as a chemical engineer at Milford Dow Chemical. But he does his best to play along.

“Honey, Mudlark Lake was just a pisshole. I don’t remember The Ventures playing at a kiddie swimming pool.”

“Wrong, wrong, wrong, Peachy Plum. The Milford Contracting & Bulldozing Enterprises, Inc. built the lake right about when they hired Coach Thorp, fresh from the Marines. I had him in Strategies for Kickball when I was a freshman and that’s all I talked about was the dance when the lake was about to do its Grand Opening. You and I were cuttin’ it loose to ‘Walk, Don’t Run’.”

MDP, trapped in his own foggy memory, trying to stall any inevitable physical contact with Granny from The Beverly Hillbillies, grasps for straws

“All right, all right, you are correct. We were having the time of our lives and I remember how you SHOOK THAT THANG before The Rolling Stones made that a popular concept. I think I still have ‘Exile on Main Street’ next to the Breeze towel autographed by Porter Waggoner in the den.”

Then the inevitable. “Sweetie Pumpkin Doodles, how do I look?”

It is clear that DP is not fighting fair, especially when it still fits her to a T. Granny drank lots of possum juice and Ultra Slim-Fast over the decades. A chocolate shake for breakfast and one for lunch, then a sensible dinner of chicken gizzards and MDP is in a quandary. Still on page 738 of Anna Karenina, MDP finally relents, weakly looks up

“You look fine” trying to conceal THE PROBLEM

“Oh, Ginger Bread Man, you’re not even looking.”

“I’m sorry, Little Miss Muffett, I’m so caught up in the violence. They’re about to stage Gunfight at OK Corral.”

“Honey Bumpkin Lumps, Tolstoy didn’t write Westerns.”

“Well, Little Raggedy Ann, some of the Russians hid in the men’s room on the Mayflower and took Horace Greeley’s advice to GO WEST.”

“Apples, Peaches, Pumpkin Pie, why don’t we GO WEST and do a little WIPING OUT of our own in the bedroom?”

“When the story’s getting good? When there’s finally a shoot-em-up scene on page 1,138? When Dirty Harry is about to smoke out these Russian thugs at the Moskva Steak ‘n’ Shake where Anna goes for breakfast? I can’t wait to arrive at the part where Peer Gynt has a gun pointed at Anna’s head and Dirty Harry points his Magnum at Peer Gynt and says “Go ahead. Make my day.”

“Oogie-doogie, Lollipop Lovey-Dovey, wasn’t Peer Gynt Norwegian?”

“Weellll, bluh, bluh, they’re both north of the Equator. Same difference. Both get snow in the Winter.”

“Oh, Mammy’s Boy made of Aunt Jemima, is your little whim whim turning into a beanie-weenie?”

(Standing up, hoping she doesn’t notice the lack of a boner, replaced by the squishy banana) “Now you stop that talk this instant!!!! I do not need to be Dirty Harry or Ivan the Terrible to get me aroused!!!!!! I can pump my own Bridgestones!!!!!! I’m a guy, you know. And that centerfold of Anna Karenina on page 978 got me as erect as a fire hydrant.”

“Then drop your pants, peenie-pie.”

“What could I say? I was trapped. I could say that the zipper was stuck but I had sweat pants on. I knew Anna and her soulmates couldn’t lapdance this Lazarus of a phallic symbol. It was time to head to Milford Men’s Clinic and own up to the problem.

And I’m glad I did. With treatment programs that work without having to swallow Flintstones Chewables for a decent erection. Me and Minnie Pearl are headin’ to the Grand Ole Opry and all she’s gotta do is remove BOTH the bikini and the price tag. It’s hard to kiss when that damn thing’s in the way.”

Fire away, gang. If you don’t mind, I gotta pull out a few knives from my back. Man, Heather has a good eye. She must have hit the batting cages again.

June 7, 2018

Short Bader


Short Bader got no reason
Short Bader got no reason
Short Bader got no reason
To live
He’s got little patience
And little mind
His little ego
Got a great big size
He’s got little fuse
You never gonna know
Just what’s gonna
Make him wanna go
Well, I don’t want no short tempers
Don’t want no short tempers
Don’t want no short tempers
‘Round here
Short Bader just shifts the blame
On you and I
(He’s livin’ the lie)
“Boo Radley was snippy
Until the day she died”
(You can’t polish this turd)
Short Bader got nobody
Short Bader got nobody
Short Bader got nobody
For friends
Thinks second base is his and
He don’t wanna yield
You got to pick him up
To get him off the field
He got a little voice
Goin’ yap, yap, yap
All his teammates
Are sick of his crap
His little free library
Has gotta be the best
He can’t give things any rest
Well, I don’t want no short Bader
Don’t want no short Bader
Don’t want no short Bader
‘Round here
*apologies Randy Newman

May 29, 2018

Get Busy Playin’ Or Get Busy Dyin’, Barry.


Hoo boy. When spoiled brat Bader doesn’t get his way and threatens to take his attitude and go home, as if that were threatening ANYONE, does he do an about-face after getting blind-sided by some angel (or the Derby jerk, you decide) on the road to Damascus and repent and consequently bow 5 times to Mecca every day, reciting “There’s no ‘I’ in the word ‘team'” from the Koran? Do you really want me to answer that?

He is in rare form today as he just about tells the team that he’s The Franchise and that he is holding out for more money and that he’s worth more than Coach Kaz, Coach Thorp, and Luhm’s time-and-a-half on the weekend when Luhm is pulling that bedraggled chain link fence to smooth down the baseball diamond. And I hate to bring up Jerry Pulver again, the KING of attitudes (trust me on that one) but at least he had the game to back up his immaturity. Bader’s decent but really not in a position to be a poster child for Preparation H for the month of February as he’s displaying in P1.

And apparently out of fear from Thorpiverse that we might, out of disgust for the development of ANOTHER bad plot a-brewin, switch over to Buzz Sawyer and Roscoe Sweeney (“Thank God Marty isn’t here to second-guess Buzz’s investigations at the strip joint”), Thorpiverse inserts a lame sidebar a/k/a HOR-hay pulling a Moose on us and trying his hand at pitching. Did HOR-hay go the way of Robert Johnson and sell his soul for an effective change-up or slider? Only the witnesses at the Milford/Oakwood crossroads know the answer to that one. Not that we’re pressing the issue, you understand.

Gang, I honestly tried. My dad has always taught me to never be predictable when doing comedy. He was right. As a part-time actor, he knows a thing or two about keeping the act FRESH.

Still, with that in mind, this was hard to pass up and the lyrics just wrote themselves as you’ll soon see. And because I truly love my dad and therefore really dig his reverence for Warren Zevon, it was a no-brainer. God, the miles we have gone listening to “Werewolves of London” going all the way back to my teenage years. And as a bonus, you whippersnappers, I’ll betcha didn’t know that Mick Fleetwood was on drums and John McVie was on bass (yes, Fleetwood Mac) accompanying Mr. Zevon. Small world, eh? Anyway, another offering from Zevon, sung to “Boom Boom Mancini”, sit back and enjoy:

From Milford, God knows where, Boom Boom Bader was born

A heavyweight pretender, like father, like son

They acted like buttholes to everyone they met

And they stuck Father Bader down in Cell Number One

So hurry to the ballpark, hurry right away

Boom Boom the Wienie’s fighting Coach Thorp today

Hurry to the ballpark, hustle on your way

Boom Boom the Wienie’s sittin’ flat on his “A”

When Coach Kaz gave Boom Boom a royal tongue-lashing

Boom Boom pouted and moped, he was thorny as a rose

Boom Boom does have the speed and the fielding prowess

But if he can’t take the punches, he should stay in street clothes

So hurry to the ballpark, hurry don’t be late

Boom Boom the Wienie’s gonna up and seal his fate

Hurry to the ballpark, hurry don’t delay

Boom Boom the Wienie’s gettin’ a benching today

When he lost his position cuz he’s a long-standing prick

Never should have fought him, Derby dude was a dick

They made hypocrite judgments after the fact

But the name of his game is be a jerk and jerk back

So hurry to the ballpark, hurry if you can

Boom Boom the Wienie’s sittin’ down with no plan

Hurry to the ballpark, hurry don’t be late

Boom Boom the Wienie’s gettin’ singed by his teammates

Loved your music, too. Warren. Miss ya.

If ya got nailed by the home plate umpire for “illegal pitch” because your change-up, curve, and slider went higher than 12 feet but the batter crushed yore slider for a home run anyway because the umpire had his left hand out in a fist, signaling “delayed dead ball”, ya might be a redneck.

Then there’s the Rogues Gallery again. I know, I know, I hear you Baders out there saying “T. Drew”, don’t beat a joke in the ground, you’ve already mentioned that one”. I’m glad SOMEONE cares to read my comments on the Comment section, nice to know that SOMEONE besides my mother reads what I have to say but P2 just REEKS of Mr. Freeze/Egghead. Both were bald, right? Just pick out the one you want and go with the flow. And at least I’m switching gears and jumping from Dick Tracy’s frying pan to Batman’s oven. Anyway, he and The Riddler are giving Bader an earful, pointing out that when Batman’s criminals are not terrorizing Gotham City, or Milford at rush hour, they DO take one for the team. Didn’t Egghead get down and dirty and soil his uniform for the winning run? You can look it up, Yogi.

“So much for launch angles. It looks like Gil’s trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Moose, next time, hit the batting cages at Milford Bat ‘n’ Putt and don’t use the machine spitting out plastic balls at 40MPH. And, Coach, loosely speaking, batting tees are for T-Ball, not floppy-haired teenagers who tried their hand at quarterback. And we’ll be right back after this commercial break, with the score, Oakwood 8, Milford 2, you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

Off the mike

“He’s back!!!!!!! He’s back!!!!!!!! Pay up!!!!! Told you he couldn’t bite the bullet on Coach T!!!!!!!”

“Those Anger Management classes at Milford Community College didn’t do diddly. Talk about a silk purse from a donkey’s ear.”

“Daddy, Mommy said you need an erector set. But I already have one in my toy box. You gave it to me for Christmas, remember? Don’t you remember when I made WDIG Station out of it? The doggie chewed up Studio 3 but you can have the rest of my Lego blocks.”

Spits out his Evian while teaching Keri the fine art of putting at Milford GC, at a random spot on the green at hole #5, par 4, dog leg left.

“Well, Honey, Mommy probably meant to say something else. But you’ll learn all about it in Health Sciences class this Fall at Milford Elementary.”

“WOW!!!!!! You mean they have erector sets in Health class????? I want to learn how smoking hurts your body!!!!! I saw a Lego guy puffing from a cigarette. The teacher pumped smoke into his chest. It burned about 40 Lego blocks. There was a great big hole in his body. Some of the naughty boys aimed their paper airplanes at it. A couple of boys got sent down to the principal for shooting spit wads at it.”

Gil, trying to recover, pulls out his Copenhagen Long Cut Wintergreen from his back pants pocket

“Well, blub, blub, I won’t have that problem, no Holy Chest from this snuff I’m putting in my mouth. Maybe from my incisors but I brush with Colgate with Fluoride twice a day.”

Keri, oblivious to the chaw Daddy is cramming in his gums

“I want to build Mommy’s body and learn ALL ABOUT how bad smoking is for you. But, Daddy, I have a problem. The doggie ate a lot of the pieces and I don’t know if I have enough Lego blocks to fill out Mommy’s boobs.”

Choking on his Copenhagen, his gums a black-chartreuse mix

“Keri, I think you’ll learn all you need to know about smoking this year and if you don’t have enough Lego blocks, I can special-order them. I kept the 800 number for lost toy parts. I’ll call this evening and the FedEx truck should swing by the house in a couple of days.”

“Thanks, Daddy, maybe you can special-order an erector set yourself. HEY!!!!!!! I GOT IT!!!!!!!!! You can make a horse!!!!!!! I always hear you saying that Marty’s a horse’s ass. I still have some blue squares, the dog didn’t eat those.”

“Blib, Blob, Bloopy, Oopy-Doopy-Doopy, GREAT SHOT, Keri!!!!!!!!! You didn’t need a putter’s aid that time. Atta way to line up the ball. Drive for show, putt for dough. WAY TO GO!!!!!!!!”

“I knew I had to confront my Erectile Dysfunction problems when Keri went behind my back and bought another erector set. It was bad enough that she used Mimi’s credit card but a yellow horse with a blue butt, some still with teeth marks, just didn’t look good on the coffee table next to the lava lamp and the ’63 Mudlark yearbook. I tried explaining to my poker buddies when we meet on Tuesday that it was an art project at school but I was dead meat when one of my buddies told me that his daughter was in the same art class and they were doing Henri Matisse using only Crayolas. I was trapped.

Fortunately, the Milford Men’s Clinic helped me avoid any more embarrassing conversations. They have treatment programs that work. I gambled on 4th-and-1 with my Visa Gold and not only got the 1st down, I ran in the end zone with the winning TD!!!!!!!!! I spiked the ball and did the Ickey Shuffle in celebration and in bed!!!!!!!!!!! Mimi enjoyed every minute of  my slam-dunking the goal post!!!!!!!!!!

Now I can show Keri how to drop the ball when she shanks one in Milford Nature Center and I am more confident under the sheets. 2 in, 3 out is confined to the golf course, I am happy to say. As a bonus, I sent that horse to Marty as a token of my welcoming him back. He’ll figure out the color scheme. At Milford Men’s Clinic, it’s all black and white, no chewed-over blue Lego blocks to cover your you-know-what. Mine is covered nicely and I have peace of mind. Come check ’em out yourself. You’ll be glad you did.”

Finally, to regurgitate the question, but in a different way, what measures does Bader pursue to solve the obvious problem, i. e., he’s a self-centered lout growing up to be just like his dad, sans prison outfit? Look in the mirror and decide he’s had enough? He will suddenly realize, through an epiphany, that there’s 8 other guys on the ball field, more in the dugout? Boy, the money I could make selling property in Milford Valley if anyone truly believes that one.

No, Bader, to repair a jerky image cuts the Gordian knot and bares his soul to Daffy at the Milford Enquirer. Let her pour ketchup on her cheese fries before you spill your guts, BB.

I mean, come on, does he REALLY think he’s going to get anywhere selling his rights for a story to keep his teammates from laughing at him? I personally wouldn’t throw a match at the gasoline tank and find out. But it’s his funeral. If he thinks he can repair his image by explaining why he’s a jerk in the column next to Gil and Mimi being taken up in a UFO for one night rather than the annual trip to Mudlark Lake Resort or Coach Kaz explaining how Vitamin B1 enhanced chest hair growth or longer sideburns, more power to him. Oh, you know you saw this one coming

Today’s Headline from the Milford Enquirer


sub headline

“Daddy Bader was out of town on business trips many times to promote the new line of ice boxes.”

Gang, I forgot to mention yesterday to please thank a Veteran. Personally, I take 5 minutes out of my day to thank 1 Veteran for his services to our country but  I understand everybody’s different. The point is DO SOMETHING to let our Veterans know they’re appreciated. If EVERYBODY would do SOMETHING, the world would be that much better. And our  Veterans would be taken care of, in the bargain.

Gang, it’s your turn. Bonus points if you can sock it to Bader but, hey, we’re not picky around here.


May 15, 2018

Tales of Idiocy and Imagination

Filed under: actual action, softball, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 4:20 am


Daggone, THAT’S NOT the Alan Parsons Project album [Video removed. You can google it if you’re curious – TimP] was looking for. Why is Gil’s mug, ski-slope hair-do and all, on the front side? Aren’t they going to get in trouble for copyright violations? Well, until a lawsuit is filed in Milford Circuit Court, I’m sure the readership isn’t going to argue with the title, based upon how the plot is progressing(?) so far. Where the heck is that voice box coming from?  And what’s the deal with all this smoke? My goodness, how’d I get to the Milford Baseball Field? I think I’ll have a seat while I sort this out. Oh, my, is that voice box emanating out of one of Moose’s Louisville Slugger’s? Can someone turn that up? Yeah, just rub some more pine tar on it, there, that’s better LOUD AND CLEAR

And at the ballpark

where I am sitting

I heard him cursing at the score

Not really coaching

The plot approaching

A stasis here forevermore

In my amazement

Jay sailed through this one

He defied Moose and Bader’s sores

In spite of Coach Thorp

The team won the war

And we must hear forevermore

Thus quoth Gilberto


Thus quoth Gilberto


And so Gilberto

Remains the head coach

No matter how much we implore

No words of wisdom

No clear-cut system

And we must hear forevermore

Thus quoth Gilberto


Thus quoth Gilberto











Milford Glee Club and Milford Barbershop Quartet and Milford Philharmonic Orchestra and Milford Concert Chorale and Milford Chamber Singers all in unison, helping Ian Bairnson, David Paton, Eric Woolfson, Andrew Powell and the rest of the Project fading into a foregone conclusion.

And do we have a barnburner today. Lotta pitching and throwing with some great hitting and a slam or two. The fielding couldn’t come at a better time. Where would these Lady Mudlarks be without that one imporant element? Oh, the GAME? Did you think I was talking about THAT? No biggie, they won, 4-2.

I will NEVER get used to KRAK!!!!!!! No other comic strip, comic book, comic anything uses that sound. When Little Lotta threw some bully to the ground, it was a SPLAT or a WHAM but never KRAK!!!!!!!!!! Sergeant Snorkel beat up Beetle Bailey with a POW or a BAM. Never did Beetle Bailey wind up on the ground mangled in itty-bitty pieces as a result of a KRAK!!!!! Batman never beat the Joker to  a pulp or for that matter his dirty, grimy gang, y’know, the ones that uncorked the sewer lid and popped out of the manhole, with a KRAK.  And I know Thorpiverse will bail out and say they read it while looking up the word for Erectile Dysfunction in Langenscheidt’s Polynesian Dictionary. I’m sure there’s some monkeys in the Malaysian jungles that KRAK from tree to tree but here in America, we do everything at the CRACK of the bat. There’s no joy in Milford tonight. Mighty Casey has KRAKKED out.

A blood-curdling scream intro into the next song. Gang, I don’t know about you but Marty’s taking his suspension a little too personally.

You should have seen him

bitching and griping ’bout his lineup spot again


You should have seen us

Grinding our teeth in agony and hopeless painnnnnnnnn

And he’ll never get a cluuuueeeeee

He’ll keep acting like a shrewwwwwww

You should have SEEN HIM

Hacking and whiffing at the pitch with no results


You would have gone mad

Moose was a raging bull who swung with no control

And he never made contacccccttttt

Launched his bat without impaccccttttt

rumbling, rumblING, RUMBLING


Trying to get a story at her turn at bat



Even forgot to stick a helmet o’er her hat



I would like to thank the Oakwood High School Concert Orchestra for the extra violins and violas. They truly egged on the crescendo to the finish line. And the ensuing shrieking you hear at the end of the song was traced to the Mudlark bleacher section. Apparently they were attempting in vain to tell Daffy Duck that the umpire was barking “Batter Up!!!!!!”

Head in the game, DD.

“WE INTERRUPT PEYTON PLACE SO THAT WE MAY BRING YOU A SPECIAL BULLETIN!!!!!!!!! We’re here at CNN Studio because we understand an unusual phenomenon was transpiring at the Milford Softball Complex, an event that has the community in the throes of shock. Our own Marjie Ducie is on the scene. Marjie, what can you tell us about the situation.?”

“Fred, I’m standing here at 3rd base where activity was at a virtual standstill. That all changed when Daffy Duck belted a triple to rally the Lady Mudlarks to victory. There wasn’t any activity but it’s like the dugout exploded and caused a medium earthquake, one listed on the Richter Scale of 5.4. The epicenter was determined just beyond the reach of the left fielder, a few feet shy of the warning track. There wasn’t any major damage but the equipment shed collapsed. Officials are still trying to determine the cause. I’ll have more as this story develops. From Milford, this is Marjie Ducie, CNN News.”

“Thank you, Marjie. I’m not certainly not anticipating any more developments anytime soon but we’ll be on standby. Stay tuned, folks.”

And one more throw-in. I could make a case that the ball is going over the fence. Granted, if it DOES stay in play, it’s a triple. But as long as we’re doing  a remake of “The Last Picture Show” where the deadbeats talk about sex and relationships and OH THERE’S A GAME while the Newton left fielder has had her full ATTENTION to the game only to script one of the deadbeats to save the day after being at the gossip fence with Elviney and Loweezy, can we at least keep the trajectory believable? Otherwise, Kirk Gibson in the 1988 World Series hobbles around the bases, pumping his arms in a pulling-the-bow motion in celebration, all for nought, merely credited with a triple. We’d have to film-splice a World Series Moment. No sense in raining on Gibson’s parade. At least let him stand at 3rd base with those gimpy legs.

Gang, I don’t think we’re getting the full story on Marty. They say he’s still vegetating at the Milford Lounge. But we haven’t HEARD from Marty in quite some time. And he never came out of the Lounge. I wonder what’s up

Laid off at ‘DIG for 2 whole weeks or more

Wallowing in his self-pity galore

Unaware that Coach Thorp’s plotting his doom

In the Milford Lounge stinky bath room

Sitting and waiting on the black-seated john

He suddenly notices several chains on

His arms and his legs

Oh, Coach Thorp loves the fact that his enemy’s starting to beggggggg


I’m sorry for saying you can’t coach a doggggggg (I love it now, each brick I lay)

Bring back some mercy, I’m lost in a foggggggg (I love your life slipping away)

“Who laid these bricks in the entrance to the men’s room?”

“I dunno. Did you talk to the manager?”

“…and we’ll back after this message, the Milford Mudlarks coming from behind to win, 4-2. This is WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

Off the mike

“Not bad, Mr. Green Jeans. I’ll see if can get you on full-time.”

Marty, showing his Baby-Boomer age, is playing Chase’s “Get It On” from the sound system in one of the resort cabins at Mudlark Lake Resort

“Peaches, let’s hit the sheets. You know us men and our urges.”

“Ooohhhhh, Marty, say no more.”

Rips off overcoat, Milford Kohl’s price tag still on the sleeve, then negligee in full view.

Marty drops the Lee Jeans.

Peaches’ mental state is in disarray

“I dumped Curly for this?”

“Peaches, I’m harder than a Klondike Ice Cream Sandwich. Speak now or forever hold your hot flashes.”

“Marty, you haven’t risen past the halfway point. It wouldn’t even flare up to Mickey Mouse’s hand to ride Goofy’s Kiddie Coaster at Disney World.”

“Peaches, I can barely move, I’m so horny. You picked a fine time to get nit-picky.”

“Honey, you need a pencil sharpener more than sex. Thank God, there’s one in the kitchen by the sink.”

“C’mon, let’s get down to business and just pretend. Here comes Moby Dick and he’s gonna sink Captain Ahab’s ship.”

“Marty, the only way I go to bed with you now is if I get a tire pump out of the trunk. I bet I could inflate you up to 30PSI.”


“I’m a woman. I wouldn’t know. All I know is that Objet d’Art wouldn’t get a Participation Trophy at a 6th grade art fair.”

“Have you ever been in double jeopardy? That’s where I was a few weeks ago. I not only fumbled my job at WDIG but my dignity as well. I was determined to get both back. You see, I forfeited half my deposit that night and the algae in the lake swallowed up my dignity. Trust me, it’s no fun getting cussed out by the night manager, especially when he knew the reason. He suggested the Milford Men’s Clinic. He said they had treatment programs guaranteed to work. He also said that if they can’t make a Lincoln Log out of my Oscar Meyer Wiener, don’t bother coming back. He had a waiting list with plenty of firewood just itching to be burned.

I went to the Clinic. And was I amazed!!!! I couldn’t wait to tell Peaches I was ready to add a log to the fire. And you didn’t need Kingsfield Charcoal to get this fire going. Nope, no Matchlite Fluid or Zippo Lighters needed to fan the flames on this branch  of the oak tree. But don’t take my word for it. See how fun it is to get comfortably firm. They even have a money-back guarantee. You and your partner go to Magic Kingdom at Disney World the first night in bed and keep Huey, Dewey, and Louie out of the bed in the bargain, or the program costs nothing. What have you got to lose except your pants?”

…we’ll be stomaching Dr. Moose and Professor Baderrrrrrr.

Fundamentals they don’t know

Playing like it’s a sideshow

Their teammates pray that they part compannnyyyy

…good riddance to those Bozos

See the ball game in a new way…

That’s the wrong album!!!!!! It’s “Tales of MYSTERY and Imagination”. I didn’t think they could wrap all that cellophane around Gil’s pompadour. Just sayin’ Be that as it may, comment away. I’m going to enjoy “To One in Milford” as the plot heads off into the sunset. Maybe there’s a cliff nearby. And what are those wild white horses doing running the alleys of Milford? Just enjoy the song, T. Drew, and get your usual rush.

Behind Milford Foundry, while construction crews work on expansion of the building, Amontillado is excavated. The chains are removed from the skeleton. One crew member is said to have commented to his colleague

“Man, that dude had one funky beard.”

Fall of the House of Milford, indeed.

May 4, 2018

A Who Friday

Its a metapost today as I honor the Cubs newest millionaire with a classic from Roger Daltry and company. Feel free to comment on the actual strip while youre singing.


Yu Darvish

Yu Yu Yu Yu

Yu Darvish

Yu Yu Yu Yu


He walked into the Cubs clubhouse with a speaker from Japan.

He said Theo would pay him several million for the batters to walk away

But all the hitters said his fastball was so straight it wouldnt bend

And the  fans were throwing back every pitch that ever left his hand.


Well who are Yu? Darvish.

Yu Yu Yu Yu.

I really wanna know Yu? Darvish

Yu Yu Yu Yu.

Tell me who are Yu? Darvish

Yu Yu Yu Yu.

Cause I really wanna know Yu? Darvish.

Yu Yu Yu Yu.


He took the bus back out of town

Back to the Iowa pen.

He felt a little like a circus clown

with an interpreter speakin.

He stretched back and he pitched up

And looked back at the ball in play.

Eleven runs on the green board

God why ain’t I still in LA???


Well who are Yu? Darvish

Yu Yu Yu Yu

Oh, who are Yu? Darvish

Yu Yu Yu Yu

Come on tell me who are Yu? Darvish

Yu Yu Yu Yu

Alright, who the fuck are Yu? Darvish

Yu Yu Yu Yu


He knows there’s an ivy wall

Where balls fall from the trees.

His heart is like a broken bat

His ERA is in the teens.

He crawls into a sewer hole

And still receives the boos.

How can he measure up to Twenty Sixteen

When all he does is lose???


Well who are Yu? Darvish

Yu Yu Yu Yu

I really wanna know Yu Darvish

Yu Yu Yu Yu

I really wanna know

Oh I really wanna know

Come on tell me who are Yu Yu Yu AAHHHHHH YU!!!


April 24, 2018

“This is CNN live at Milford’s gym in the 28th day of the bargaining session and little progress has been made. Over to The Weather Channel across the gym for the start of the new plot.”

Filed under: Milford Idiots, Pointy Fingers, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 4:19 am


…where the wavin’ wheat

can sure smell sweet

when the wind comes right behind the


(Plunking head with an aluminum bat) Sorry, gang, for a moment my mind was on vacation and my brain was working overtime in Oklahoma (sorry to butcher your lyrics, Mose Allison, I’ll check out your anthology at the library this week to make up for it). As in Oklahoma! You know, the musical. The exclamation mark is not a dead giveaway? Meanwhile, back in reality, Gil fast-forwarded from Studio 3 at WDIG to record (Gil doing back-up vocals as a tenor) with an up-and-coming K-Tel Records performer(should hit his stride on the commercial circuit between Archie & the Gang and the ABC Afternoon Special in about 3 years when not doing commercial breaks for WDIG at Boys/Girls basketball games) over to the gym and the plot already has a dead battery. Weren’t we just AT THE GYM??? Why are we still there? Oh, so Moose can start a new career teaching physics. Arguably better than his chances as a baseball player since we saw his football ambitions, well, let’s just say that at least we’re expecting Marty back by Mother’s Day. Besides, perfect opportunity given the weather. No sense in explaining launch angles in the batter’s box. You’d get soaked. Let’s not display the proper angle to go yard while swinging in Oklahoma!

And if Ernie the P and his buddy, Polly Parrot are hangin’ around in the gym-who’d REALLY be surprised?-ANYONE?-he and she (the parrot, of course) can videotape his golf swing. Sure, how to park one in the bleachers (the gym’s, not the ball park’s, it’s Oklahoma! weather, remember?) using proper trigonometric principles. Well, Marty’s not there to film Arnold “Moose” Palmer, he’s gone another 2 weeks.

Now, Physics is Phun in Baseball aside, can’t someone remember to PLEASE get a Sears Die-Hard Battery next time? If it can start in the throes of Antarctica, surely it can fire up in this flood of a storyline. And remember, we’ve already cornered the market on Noah’s Ark and there was no flooding in Oklahoma!, just rain, so Gil needs to rewire the Die-Hard to something more original. I think the Milford Pirate Network camera still has a charge.

Gang, you knew I’d have leftovers. Here’s that Totino’s Supreme Pizza that got abandoned for days in the fridge and got resurrected in the microwave

The radio voice in parentheses, just so you’ll know (or care), is Mr. Pocket Square Sporting Radio Station Manager/Brother Mary Elephant (teenchy’s take or mine, not offended in the slightest if you take his (sniff, sniff, getting out a handkerchief of my own))-pick ’em. From Paul McCartney’s album “Ram” (no, the donkey(BIG maybe, I’ll admit, just use your imagination, it’s a farm, understand, so pretend you have a Mattel See ‘n Say in your hands e. g. “The Cow says ‘Mooooooo'”, “Marty says ‘Eeee-Yore, Eeee-Yore'”) in the background isn’t Marty, in case anybody’s wondering),

We’re so sorry, Uncle Marty (We’re soooo sorry, ol’ chum)

But we haven’t heard from The Dove all day (just like her basketball career, dear boy)

We’re so sorry, Uncle Marty (we’re soooo sorry)

But if they grant us some concessions, you’ll be airing any day

Moooonnnnn across the airwaves

‘Larrrrrkkkkksss across the gym

Moooooooonnnn across the airwaves

‘Laaarrrrkkkkkksss across the gym

McCartney guitar lead-in

Admiral Gil Thorp notified Moon

He had to take it back or his job would take a swoon

He stuffed his face with beer nuts and drank a glass of beer with butter pie (he couldn’t melt the butter so he dumped it in the glass of be-)

Mooooonnn dead in the water

Mooooonnn a-splayed the lounge

Mooooonnnnn dead in the water

Moooooonnnn reeks like a ‘hound

Another McCartney guitar lead-in

Little Little Dove brought him to the ground (to the ground)

Marty lost some face and it’s still yet to be found

Little Little Dove crucified him good(nailed him good)

Marty Moon is so disgraced and besmirched the neighborhood

Mooooonnnn dead in the water

The music fading at the Milford Lounge, the jukebox coming alive with Dean Martin’s “Houston”

“Chicks and ducks and geese better scurry

When I take you in the surrey

When I take you out in the surrey with a friinggee on toppp

Watch the fringe and see how it flutters

When I drive them high-steppen strutt-”


“Kaz, I think Aunt Eller will work out fine as a coach. You might want to inform her of our coaching philosophy on profanity. It’s somewhere in the Milford High School Coaching Manual but I forgot where.”

Seen in the March 2018 issue of Guideposts: “When I’m getting attacked on all sides from a bunch of pukey teenagers that don’t know their BLEEP from a hole in the ground about broadcasting, I have a simple solution: I make my bed. Several confrontations between me and Coach T. have meekly melted away when I pull the twill covers over the sheets. I managed to avert danger once when Gil charged to his trunk to get his Winchester rifle when I said a Pony League Manager could have done a better job of coaching that hit-and-run against Oakwood by a deft flick of the pillow covers over the bed spread. And when I told Paloma my fuzzy car dice around the rear-view mirror was bigger than HERS? I may have had to go to the Milford Load-a-Suds to wash the egg-stained satin sheets after Peaches served breakfast-in-bed but victory was eventually achieved after a healthy supply of Tide. I pulled those sheets over the bed and did a Victory Lap. Talk about gaining a foothold on the Philistines.”

“Oh, what a beautiful morning

Oh, what a beautiful day

I got a wonderful feeling

Marty is going awaaayyyyy”

“Gil, that wasn’t nice. You know Marty and Jud will be back off suspension in a few weeks.”

On Free Meal Wednesday at Milford Open Fellowship Church: “Eccchhh, they put too many peppers in the chili again!!!!!!! And I HATE rye bread on the pimento sandwiches. So as I was saying, tell Paloma, sure, she can have a guest spot on the show. I’ll concede that position. But only after we win. Fans don’t want to listen to a parrot squawking after we got our asses handed to us. Hey, is there any more Chocolate Curl Cream Cheese Cake or did you throw it out?”

“And that’s gonna do it for the 3rd quarter. I have no clue what happened. I’m still a little light on the basketball lingo. I DID identify correctly a 3-point play when an Oakwood player pulled on Aardvark’s gym trunks as the A went up for a layup so YAAAYYYY for me!!!! Still fuzzy on things like ‘correctable error’ or ‘defense responsible for contact when vertical plane is violated’. Eh, I’ll let the Milford Injury Attorney sort that out. The score after 3, Milford, 49, Oakwood, 41, this is Ernie the P comin’ atcha in Milford’s gym on the Milford Pirate Network, a division of Lear Field Sports.(heard off the air just before commercial break) Can somebody get the janitor? The parrot just doo-doo’d again. Who fed him nacho chips ‘n’ cheese sauce while I was broadcasting?”

“Hi, this is Coach Gil Thorp and y’know, practices can get real intense. Then there’s game time. When the ump says “Play Ball!” your adrenaline is really pumpin’. Your nerves can be on edge throughout the game and it can get dicey, win, lose, or draw. And when a tall glass of Lowenbrau at the Milford Lounge isn’t enough, I head to Milford Liquor Warehouse. That’s right, check out all the varieties from Drewry’s Low-Sodium Lite in 24-Packs to Bluegrass State Bourbon. Man o Man, I know what booze I’M going to be sloshing with Mimi in those shot glasses we received as a wedding gift 30 years ago when we watch the Kentucky Derby on the wide-screen TV this year. And for all you wine lovers, boy, are you in for a treat. This week’s special features Boone’s Farm Blueberry Surprise, a real lip-smacker, and you can smack those lips at 3 bottles for only 10.99. Easy-open pop corks that are also biodegradable. Boy, THAT’s a surprise. And Mudlark Dom Perignon 2009 Gift Box, straight from the vineyards of Milford Valley, is sure to please that champagne-and-cheese crowd at the next family reunion or graduation party. We have it in stock for the jaw-dropping 219.99 and that includes the corkscrew, autographed by Yours Truly.  If you are short on funds, like I am sometimes, doggone it, it’s always a toss-up between Michelob Mini’s or my personal golf lessons, don’t worry. The Milford Liquor Warehouse takes all major credit cards. Why let The Good Life blow out your car window because you are strapped for cash? By the way, they also have shopping carts guarded by trained security so they don’t wind up in a ditch behind Milford Elementary. It doesn’t get any better than that. Come see the friendly staff at Milford Liquor Warehouse for all your Liquor needs, in the Milford Wal-Mart Shopping Center, right next to Luhm Electronics. And tell ’em Coach T. sent ya.”

“Let people say we’re in looovvveeee”

“OK, Peaches, then it’s settled. If you dump Curly, we can take advantage of that Mudlark Lake Resort special, you know, pay for 2 weeks, get 1 week free. I promise I’LL make the bed. Nobody but us and Mother Nature out there. Whattya say?”

Gang, fire away. I’m going over to Milford Liquor Warehouse to float a loan to Marty. He tried to buy that Dom Perignon for that outing with Peaches but the suspension evidently ruined his credit. He used to run up a tab there until he swore on the air. Now they won’t even extend him a Diet Coke in the Teetotling Cooler up front.

Older Posts »

Create a free website or blog at