This Week in Milford

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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August 29, 2019

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

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

082919

Pitch and catch.

Pitch and catch.

Pitch and catch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Penny Lane will never be the same.

 

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

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

 

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

And that’s what adds insult to injury.

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

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

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

Normal kids need not apply.

 

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

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

BUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

“Split end!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Ding!

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

“Running back!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Ding!

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

WE’LL PLAY

 

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

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

With a purposeless grimace and a terrible arm

He brings the team down,and sprays great harm

Helpless people in the football stands

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

He gets the hand-off and fumbles it down

The football wades through the bushes towards the center of town

 

Oh, no, they say he’s got to go

Go, go, GODZILLA

Oh, no, from Milford to Tokyo

Go, go, GODZILLA

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

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

sub headline

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

 

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

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

“Raid!!!!!!-”

UH UH

“A toothpick!!!!!!!!!!”

Ding ding ding ding

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

Ding!

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

“…you answered ‘toothpick’. Survey said…

Ding!

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

 

Oh, no, they say he just can’t throw

So go, Godzilla

Into Mudlark Lake goes Tokyo

Go, go, Godzilla

 

History shows when time stands still

How football coughs up the Folly of Gil

GODZILLA

August 22, 2019

Mudlark Football And Manwiches, Traditions In Their Own Minds.

082219

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

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

 

The game is mortified

The plays are so unreal

The season will commence

With stinky tones, I feel

 

Whatever happened to the plot

It used to be so good

It made us feel alive

Not crapping chunks of wood

 

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

Football’s grinding in a smelly stench of murkiness

 

When you eat

How can we ever think you’ll go on

When you talk

Marjie clogs the plot up until dawn

 

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

 

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

Support Small Business. They make America.

 

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

You munch so far away

Though you are standing near

This team was once alive

But something died, I fear

 

I really hate to rock the boat

Cream cheese caught in my throat

What happened to this plot

It’s limping, barely floats

 

So as you’re sipping Red Bull

Can’t you hear the SOS

The doughnuts fattening Marjie

Shoves the stage to the SOS

 

When you eat

How can we watch you prate in a fog

When you talk

Marjie passing gas on some corn dogs

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

Here are some ideas

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

August 14, 2019

Not Janet’s Diner Again!?!

gt08142019

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

*(Tiki’s a safety, get it?)

August 6, 2019

Look At That Business Woman, She Even Finally Got The High Five Right.

081619

Imagine her, all of her wealth

And in the arms of somebody else

I imagine her in court

 

With her communication skills

Cabinet full of videos and pills

Paying the bills and beating the WAP!!!!!!

 

You’ll never understand

Manipulative mind of that woman

Powerful debauchery in her eyes

 

Look at that Business Woman

She’s got a nose in your business

Look at that Business Woman

Her hair’s not much whiter than Pearl’s

 

Somebody oughta put a helmet and shoulder pads on the Business Woman. She no doubt knows the playbook better than the players on the Mudlark roster, the way she’s been entrenched in the affairs of the football team. Little wonder why I used The Church’s “Business Woman” (Steve Kilbey, your songwriting is STRONG, My Man) to attend to things.

Oh, when she’s not at the Milford Country Club to see if she should do a mid-career switch from law to the LPGA. Might I make a suggestion? Our high school has won beaucoup State Championships in Boy’s Golf and Girl’s Golf and if she wants to elevate her game, look no further than being with our own to see if she’s got what it takes. Pair her up with a couple of sophomores and if she can drive the ball longer than the youngsters, then sure, let’s pair her up with Nancy Lopez. But if she makes a habit of landing in the sand while the teenagers sink par after her par, well, as the old saying goes, don’t quit your day job. Some people are better at strong-arming School Board members whose businesses were in a lull period so they wrote a letter telling Tiki to get the Hell out of Dodge than they are missing the pin oak tree on the fairway on #9. Probably explains why THAT plot was an aborted flight. Thorpiverse simply never admitted that the Business Woman’s beginner’s luck was no substitute for PRACTICE, something you’ll need if you want to do better than the several-strokes-over-par-round-even-with-a-handicap game you more than likely shot the SECOND TIME AROUND but Thorpiverse didn’t record. Why show the dirty laundry and ruin a promising plot?

Golf game aside, L.A. Law has swooped in and preyed on the squirrels that is the School Board members and left nothing for the vultures to eat. And a recycled plot is saved for another day. It’s nice to know that when Tiki is playing in the 35-and-over Co-ed League at Milford Softball Complex and the Milford Parks & Recreation mails him a letter positing that he’ll have to move back to New Thayer because he has titanium bats in his bag, titanium being something the Milford EPA banned in the city limits, he can always dial long distance to Chicago and call the Business Woman. She’s got a chip and a head on her shoulders, 2 valuable assets when pleading your case before the Rec Board. You might need a video but you can always shoot one of Tiki at Mudlark Lake using one of the bats as a fishing rod to prove their environmental friendliness. The beauty is, it’ll be awhile before we reach nirvana. The Tiki Plot will encounter several rebirths before then, especially if the Business Woman has anything to do with it.

 

If yore lawyer got ya a reprieve until ya can fix the septic tank at yore trailer park after showin’ the Milford Zoning Board a video of yore neighbor’s raw spillage of Totino’s Pepperoni pizza crusts (the pizza of choice fer rednecks, just pop it in the microwave ’til ya charred the damn thang and enjoy while yuz watchin’ the Super Bowl) all over the streets of Milford Trailer Vista, the same neighbor bein’ the pot callin’ the kettle black just cuz yore septic tank is missin’ a coupla bolts and causin’ at worst a minor stink with just a few old horseflies and a few skeeters buzzin’ about, nuthin’ else, ya might be a redneck.

 

Doncha love the Business Woman pointing the finger at Tiki in P1? Hasn’t he had ENOUGH of that? Wasn’t that the point of this plot? Stop allowing the Rockville School Board to shout “J’accuse!” at our hero because they never bothered to see the video of Bugs Meany and his gang threaten Tiki? It was bad enough that we never got to the heart of the matter as to why Mr. Ballard and Granny Clampett and the other School Board members would send him a letter stating that he would have to withdraw from Milford at the earliest hour when the evidence had already confirmed that he was a member in good standing. What was the point of putting him in Double Jeopardy? There was nothing else on the agenda and the School Board had to concoct something exciting just to boost attendance?

“Hey, I know!!!!!! Let’s send him a letter saying his septic tank went on the frizz again, causing Milford Trailer Vista to shut down for 2 months!!!!!!!! Everybody will be at that meeting. They’ll want restitution. Not even the Business Woman can get him out of paying the street and yard cleanup. He’s just as good as ‘Hit the showers!!!!’ It’ll be nice to use more than one sheet of steno paper to record the minutes.”

And maybe that explains why she IS pointing the finger.

“OF COURSE!!!!!!! You’re free to play. But that’s not the issue. Remember when you turned on the garden hose on that day when it was really muggy? And you forgot to turn it off because you wanted to catch the radio broadcast to see if the Cubs regained the lead? Well, your neighbor’s watermelon patch next door got flooded and…”

Well, I don’t think she’s screaming “You ran a slant and the play called for a buttonhook!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Her mind reveals a lump of coal

Stopped like the flutters in death’s robe

When she reveals her marriage plans

 

All of her bitches come deep and swift

Promise her anything only if

She’s going to have to ditch her dad

 

She’ll never understand

The entire playbook in one day

Time to head home, come what may

 

Look at that Business Woman

She’s got her head in her buttocks

Look at that Business Woman

Her hair’s not much whiter than Carol’s

 

Remember that flunky that followed that gangster who used to always say “Shaddup”? One of Bugs Bunny’s nemeses?

“Oh, Boy, Boss, we held up the Milford Federal Bank 3 times this week and we hot wired a coupla ‘vettes so we can head to our hideout in North Bend and live large and the best part is we won’t have to attend any more School Board meetings!!!!!!!! That video clearly shows we were racin’ the streets and alleys of New Thayer and gunnin’ down a couple of squad cars. No way they could prove we bombed Ms. Rizk’s classroom!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Shaddup.”

“Does that mean I’m back on the football team? I may have a fat ass but I can pull-block. And I know how to protect the quarterback’s blind spot. Coach T even thinks I can play a little tight end even if I have have lunky hands like Foghorn Leghorn.”

“Shaddup”

“And I think Mr. Ballard couldn’t sell an automobile policy to an Indy driver. And, Boss, he’s got lice in his beard. Does he ever shower? He smelled like Tiki’s septic tank. And Carol uses Geritol to treat her herpes. Old people’s medical products won’t bail you out if you’re sexually indiscriminate.”

“Shaddup”

“And are those guys ACTUALLY playing football in P1? It’s been so long since we’ve seen any sports. Just Looney Tunes and the Business Woman and her boyfriend-cum-fiancee. And her dad who’s in a mid-life crisis at 81. When I saw the helmets, I thought ‘what’s a road construction crew member with a Stop and Slow sign doing at the practice field? Then it hit me. Gawrsh, THEY”RE PLAYING FOOTBALL!!!!!!!!!!! I know because crane operators don’t normally wear jock straps. You don’t do a cup check on a cement mixer. I’ll bet you didn’t know that, huh, Boss?”

WHAM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SHADDUP MEANS SHADDUP

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Judge Ito Declares O.J. Will Not Have To Vacate Condo Even If Costco Is Moving In The Suite Next Door!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“It is my understanding that the Milford Zoning Board had designated the property a mixed-usage development with an easement so The Bucket could use the grass lot for overflow parking on Saturday night.”

 

Boy, the Chunky Bracelet Parade is in full display today. Business Woman bought a few at Milford Consignment Shoppe and must have picked up a few off the ground when she was at Milford Towing and Recovery to retrieve a teenager’s car after the car got its title mixed up with another car which was supposed to be towed to New Thayer Towing and Recovery. The Milford Towing people have VCR’s. They should have watched the video of the New Thayer owner sticking the title in the glove box. There’d be no misunderstanding. And Business Woman wouldn’t be plucking stray brass rings and copper fixtures out of junk vehicles and putting them on her wrists.

I’ll give Thorpiverse this. They got the sound effect right for once. I personally would have liked WHAP but I’m not particular. Just PLEEEEASSSEEEEE no more KRUNK or FLOK or SPLACK or any of the other noises Bigfoot makes in Milford Nature Area when he’s taking a dump.

“Batman!!!!!!! Look out!!!!!!!!! Here comes Bigfoot!!!!!!!”

FART

Oops, not even Batman did that to The Riddler. Let’s try again

“Batman!!!!!!! Look out!!!!!!!!! Here comes Bigfoot!!!!!!!”

CRATCH

“You knocked him cold, Batman.”

“Yes, and with the Hydrogenated Anti-matter Dephosphated Soporific Bat Sleeping Gas, Chief O’Hara and the rest of the Milford Police should be here before he wakes up.”

 

And speaking of Batman, not sure why The Joker is making her dad wear a suit and be a prop. Why would that be necessary if you she were trying to track down the Bat Cave? Be in your best seersucker when you finally locate the Bat Computer? And is the School Board meeting still a go? I thought that was a dead issue. As in sports, expect the unexpected in Thorpiverse. Evidently, Business Woman wants her dad to be in his best Joe Pesci and bring his accordion that’s on his desk in P3 to entertain the School Board members. Playing some polka like Bobby Vinton’s “Melody of Love” would soften anybody’s renewed efforts to run Tiki out of town. The Lawrence Welk Theme ought to bring Ballard the Insurance Guy to his knees. Get Carol Merrill at 85 cryin’ those crocodile tears.

“I haven’t cried this much since I showed some man and his family that Bahamas trip for 4 behind Door #3.”

And maybe it’s just me, but aside from the inexplicable time-lapse growth of Mr. Baxendales’s hair caused by an outpouring of Rogaine and oat bran mix, is Mr. Baxendale striking the Napoleonic pose? Otherwise, he appears to be holding those sheets of paper containing business news and insider info at Milford Downs with his left ring finger and pinky. I tip my hat to a guy who can bet the winning horse and hold the form on his thumbnail, no question.

And does she always wear Ford Explorer piston rings when she’s talking to her dad? I know she’s trying to look stylish but…

 

“And that’ll wrap up another practice here on the gridiron. I’ll be talking with Coach T. in a moment. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

“Did your loved one pass away recently and your budget did not allow for cremation? Wasn’t it a bitter pill to swallow to see the corpse lie in state in the truck bed while the Dodge Ram peeled away towards the Milford Medical Research Center? As one family related to me, it was shocking to find out Grandpa Jones was subdivided all over the lab, or so the nurses said. It was painful to put his head in a jar while his hands were substituted for frog legs to do testing on nerve impulses. And don’t go there about his gluteus maximus. That became some kid’s trampoline after testing that with Dacron.

Hi, I’m Doctor Pearl, speaking on behalf of Milford Funeral Solutions. The friendly staff here understands the concerns of many families strapped for funds but want the dignified procedures that accompany cremation. That’s why they have partnered with Milford Scrap Metals, Inc. to facilitate a better way to The Promised Land. For a cost that would cause a mild surprise, Milford Funeral Solutions can take your loved one, after proper service and heartfelt testimony of the deceased when he or she was alive, and drive the Dear Departed  to Milford Scrap Metals, Inc. for a righteous send-off.

Don’t worry, after all the aluminum has separated from the iron, staff workers at the incinerator ensure that the device is completely devoid of any metals or the occasional Diet Coke 16 -ounce bottle that gets accidentally thrown in the fire. Your loved will never know what hit him or her as the flames reach an apogee that will take him or her to the Stairway to Heaven. No leftover material has ever graced the surroundings, your loved one has vanished into another dimension, ready to join those who wait for him in the Heavenly Garden. Isn’t wonderful to not spot charred bone or misrouted dentures around the fireplace, let alone the hearse crash into one of the semi’s filled with #2 copper because the police-escorted cavalcade kept the Path to El Dorado pig iron ingot-free and devoid of rebar trucks? And you didn’t have to dip into your retirement and pay an early withdrawl penalty.

Yes, Milford Funeral Solutions truly has discount cremations designed to bring peace of mind to your loved one and your pocketbook. Come check them out today and let your own Uncle Charlie get the Trial by Fire via The Shadow of Death without allowing your car to be repossessed. You owe it to yourself and your loved one.”

 

Take ‘er away, Gang. I think we still are going to have a School Board meeting. Maybe not. But maybe one day Tiki will sign with the Cubs…

Couldn’t resist, Robmize, couldn’t resist.

 

And when she comes, the plot explodes

Exquisite bracelets in outrageous mode

When dad’s hair grows, it’s suddenly gone

 

Maybe you’ll find it, maybe you won’t

Maybe Dad loves her, maybe he don’t

Maybe he’ll wear a peruke all alone

 

You’ll never comprehend

The hair transplants she gave to Dad

A Business Woman, that’s her path

 

Look at that Business Woman

She bought some hair for his scalpline

Look at that Business Woman

She’s got more white hair than Dad’s chest

July 25, 2019

“And I Always Call 400 Lawyers When I Always Owe 400 Mil…”

072519When I wake up, I know where I wanna be I wanna sleep with the man

Who’s gonna marry me

When I’m angry, so angry I could shit I know I’m gonna shine a heat lamp

On my father’s head

When I throw up, I know it’s cuz I ate too much all this fancy cooking

Clogging up my butt

When I clean up, I know I need some Clearasil I know that wart was

Just one fancy zit

 

And I always type 400 briefs and I always fax 400 lawyers

Just to be sure that the case is closed

And we’re not left hanging by our drawers

 

da da dun dun

da da dun dun

da da dun dun

da da dun dun

Always fax 400 lawyers

da da dun dun

da da dun dun

da da dun dun

da da dun dun

Not get shot stripped down to our drawers

 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT’S GOT ME. THERE’S ONE MORE FROG ON THE ISLAND!!!!!!!!!!!!!! RAY MILLAND HAS ALREADY GOTTEN EATEN BY AN 8-FOOT KERMIT THE FROG AND AN 8-FOOT MISS PIGGY ATE HIS REMAINS FOR DESSERT, HELP!!!!!!!!!! HELP!!!!!!!!!-Oh, it’s you, Mrs. Baxendale. For a moment, I thought you were the Goodyear Blimp but sometimes when Salvador Dali is the artist as in P1, these optical illusions can be quite a sight for sore eyes. I figured that you were inflated to 35 lb/psi when I didn’t see any blimp messages, e.g. “Eat at The Bucket this week for Daily Daquiris Hour, 3-4 P.M. every day, Cherry Daiquiri topped with Bucket Cool Whip, 1/2 off” or “Goodyear Steel-belted, 2-Ply, All-weather, 36,000 Mile Warranty, Looks-Like-They-Ran-Over-Mrs.-Baxendale’s-Visage Radials, 4 for $450, Only at Milford Tire and Wheel”.

 

Because I stand in befuddlement when people who should know better get attacked by bison at Yellowstone National Park that involved a 9-year-old getting head-butted by one, prompting me off-hand to say that when enjoying wildlife

KEEP YOUR DISTANCE AT ALL TIMES

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Almost Stampeded By A Herd Of Moose At Milford Nature Area, Manages To Climb An Elm Tree To Safety!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sub headline

“‘I thought Cochrane was scary when he pleaded his case with Ito until I tried to feed one of them some Wheaties'”

 

And where in the name of Jerry Pulver are Mrs. Baxendale and Hadley Venom? As long as we’re going to talk herds of lawyers and keeping your distance from them (gotta watch ’em. They like to feed in the same area as the black bears in the Smokies) , I’d like to know the venue where Hadley Veronica is pouring her heart out with mamma, lawyers, Papa Warbucks, er, Baxendale, or the Cubs (GOTCHA, Robmize-ha) .

Well, it’s the same brick wall that Pink Floyd used for The Wall but I don’t see any queers in the theater tonight (even tho Mrs. Baxendale DEFINITELY doesn’t look right) to get up against a wall or anyone with spots, let alone have any of them shot (just reading off the album’s cheat sheet) and I don’t think David Gilmour frequents a place that has all the atmosphere of a minimum security fortress so I’m gonna go ahead and rule that out if it’s OK with the rest of you.

And I’m almost positive that they’re not in the studio where The Police are remastering Zenyatta Mondatta. No “Don’t Stand So Close To Me” while Hadley Verdant is wailing about Daddy Warbucks. Read the sign, Gang. It’s KENYATTA, not Zenyatta. You do know your Z’s from your K’s, right? The 400 lawyers are not the chorus backing Sting on “De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da”. Just thought I’d get that straightened out ahead of time.

And again, it really doesn’t look like Shawshank, the bricks look too modern. And Andy Du Fresne would be coming out of Mr. Baxendale’s tub anytime after he left a hole in the wall behind Mrs. Baxendale. Boy, the case brief the 400 lawyers would have to file for that one.

Hey, I’ll go with some Joe Blow coffee shop meant to promote ATMOSPHERE while this pile of Quaker Oats gets steeper and steeper. And that’s not the half of it. Didn’t they just get done shooting a scene of intramural football? Didn’t that replace the Putt Putt Miniature Golf plot? And weren’t they supposed to get together at another IHOP in New Thayer because the New Thayer Creme de la Creme Bon Cuisine et Le Plus Bon Vin dans le Soleil du Centre de Paris burnt to the ground because the toilet’s circuitry got mixed with the Dutch oven? And does Thor strike coffee cups to the ground too? Man, that piece of porcelain Mrs. Baxendale is drinking out of got burnt at the stake. Thor must have angered Zeus and vice versa and they both took it out on Poseidon’s corningware. Mythology couldn’t generate any more interest.

 

When I speak up, I know she’ll only have a cow she’ll never take me

To Milford Six Flags again

When I read up (When I read up) The Vulcan Times has published dates of all the times

Captain Kirk jump-starts his ship

Oh my daughter (oh my daughter) , I know she wants to marry rich so I won’t be her

Sugar Daddy in escrow

When I find out, you know I’ll make sure that he’s buying out the

7-11 shelf of IUD’s.

 

And I’d always drive 400 miles just to loan her account 400 bucks

Gotta make sure the ATM won’t overdraw

So she won’t wind up SOL

 

Da Da Dun Dun

Da Da Dun Dun

Da Da Dun Dun

Da Da Dun Dun

Spot her balance 400 bucks

Da Da Dun Dun

Da Da Dun Dun

Da Da Dun Dun

Da Da Dun Dun

So she won’t wind up SOL

 

Ooooooooooookkkkkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is back to bring sanity and order to a plot that has wandered off into Milford Natural Area. I don’t think it’s feeding time for the leopards yet. Anyway, take ‘er away, Gene

“Dumb Dora was soooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought Zenyatta Mondatta was a country on Mr. Baxendale’s head, next to ___________________”

 

As long as the soap opera is going from “Days of Our Lives” to “Another World” to “General Hospital” to “One Live to Live”, leap-frogging to “Dallas” to “Falcon Crest” in the same hour on the same channel (feel sorry for the sponsors) ,  I’d like some verification if you wouldn’t mind.

It’s a reasonable assumption that any dad only wants the best for his daughter and that’s really the gist of Mrs. Baxendale’s conversation (she’s married to the equivalent of J. R. Ewing, after all) . What’s NOT reasonable is the conversation protruding from Hadley Viniculum in P2. I never talk about my personal life with ONE lawyer, much less 400 of them. Nope, not gonna divulge to 400 Perry Masons who I’m gonna marry next or what I ate at the school cafeteria in the 3rd grade. If you’re gonna work out your life ahead of you and we’re gonna assume (I’M gonna assume anyway) it’s gonna be with Jaquan, it’s really unnecessary to call The Shark. Unless you run into each other in the bathroom because he slipped on a bar of soap and his butt crushes your face, well, yeah, I’d call 1-FON-THE_JAWS. Then it would be a horse of a different color.

“The Case of the Milford Moto-Lodge Capers”.

Boy, what channel is Perry Mason on? And right after Dobie Gillis?

 

Your only dad? Hadley Vector, at last count, and here I’m speaking biologically, you really only have one of them. I’m sure you can dig up in your Star Trek video collection an episoed where Dr. McCoy told Captain Kirk that the former was the father of the latter even though the latter also had a dad in Oelwein, Iowa who worked as a farmer when he wasn’t moonlighting as a factory worker and, oh yeah, that one in Visalia, California who’s been a career census worker, oh shoot, I forgot about the one in Bennington, Vermont who works the National Forest collecting specimens for Williams College and, oh yeah…

 

If ya have to call 400 injury lawyers cuz the crossing guard at the railroad didn’t function right cuz the squirrels escaped from the contraption pullin’ the crossing guard cuz they seen some walnuts on the ground and the Milford & Oakwood ran over yore pickup truck and they’re gonna have to ampyatate yore right leg and yore truck bed at Milford General, ya might be a redneck.

 

THE PLAY-DOH FACE IS BACK IN P3!!!!!!!!! That’s right, he was Lou Grant yesterday, today he’s Chief O’Hara, relaxing before he has to call on the Batphone that is sitting there on the counter in the kitchen. Get out of the way, Mrs. Baxendale, The Joker and his gang are holding the 400 lawyers hostage at Hadley Virgo’s office.

And if that’s not the Batphone, WHAT IS IT? Talk about Pantheon of Mysterious Objects. This one takes the cake. And maybe that’s literally. Of course, when you’re done lapping up all the Betty Crocker Butternut Cake Mix, ya gotta store the rest of the batter SOMEWHERE. Can’t use the fridge. Don’t put in it in the Salt and Pepper rack. And don’t even THINK of storing it in the cupboard next to the Minute Rice. I think we’ve nailed this one.

And when Rubber Face is done reading the sports section in the Kanamit Plain Dealer, maybe he’ll listen to his wife. And maybe we’ll find out what’s eatin’ him.

“They wouldn’t let Jaquan referee that 7-on-7 scrimmage? My daughter fought the State High School Athletic Association over his eligibility. NBA players only had to have a score of 75 on the State Exam.”

Well, I had to take a stab. I’ll narrow this one down. Promise.

 

“Honey, come to bed. You can read the Vulcan Times for another day.”

“But there’s an interesting article on Dr. Spock’s virginity. He hasn’t had sex on another dimension at all. The planet Ganymede was barren in more ways than one.”

“I can take you to Jupiter if you’ll give me a chance. Let me inflate you the way I inflate my face.”

“It says it takes 76 light years before he could copulate with a Vulcanette. She could buy Mary Kay Cosmetics from her Mary Kay sales lady from Deneb in the meantime. He was shooting at Darth Vader while trying to work up an orgasm.  God, no wonder why he never could get it on.”

“But I’m right here. You can get it on in 2 seconds.”

“Um, let me call Hadley V. one more time. I just want to make sure they’re sleeping in separate bunks, she on top and he on the bottom. I’d hate to hear they ruined the Holiday Inn towels because the relationship was top-heavy.”

“Darling, it’s 1:00AM. I’m sure they’re sound asleep and the bunks are at a proper angle. Even though they’re probably snuggled up in the same bunk.”

“NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! The whole damn thing will collapse and cause an earthquake in Milford. They wouldn’t dare sleep together in the top bunk!!!!!!!! That’s why you don’t put Red Sovine and his semi’s on the top branch of a redwood!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“I’m sure they slept on the bottom. And we need to sleep on the bottom too. In this Serta.”

“You don’t put a Serta on a redwood either!!!!!!!!!! The grizzlies might sleep in it and where would my daughter stay for the night???????”

“Darling, are you flat AS a bunk bed?”

 

“There was no two ways about it. I had to confront my daughter’s future and my own future with my sexuality. And when I climbed down from the redwood after wrestling with the devil and a grizzly for my Blessing, I went to Milford Men’s Clinic. With treatment programs that will make my sexual life taller than Jaquan and with proven medications sure to inflate matters bigger than my wife’s face when she gets puffed up herself when at the County Jail Snack Bar in a mother-daughter tete-a-tete, I feel like a new man again. Lou Grant with an attitude. Come see for yourself at Milford Men’s Clinic. What have you got to lose except your virginity?”

 

Comment away. I’m checking out all the deals Rural King has on the planet Io. I need a riding mower. The grass is getting brown on my lawn on the planet Mars.

 

 

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Kaz Almost Loses Arm At Milford Petting Zoo!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Was trying to caress a croc when it was munching on jowl bacon at feeding time.”

 

 

 

 

And I always walk 400 miles just to give this plot 400 barbs

Can we just forget the summer now

If it were beer, it’d have only 400 carbs

 

Da Da Dun Dun…

July 23, 2019

Whose Life Is It Anyway?

072319

Golf plot in your pocket

Lipstick in your hand

Dine with the Rockefellers

You’re now the 21st-Century Man

 

Family can’t afford it

Brie and wine too dear

But you will pay for dinner

Jaquan will foot the beer

 

Tho you ride on the wheels of tomorrow

You still wander this plot of sorrow

What will it bring?

 

And I won’t lie, being a Christian, I’m not enthralled about the living arrangement in P1 or overall. I think responsibility does come into play in ANY relationship.

That said, at least the scenery so far has been G-rated. Sure, Fred and Wilma may be shacked up at the Bedrock Moto-Lodge before Wilma V. Baxendale becomes Wilma V. Flintstone (or V. Baxendale-Flintstone if she wants to carry on the family name and still enjoy being married to a guy who will work at the Bedrock Quarry when he’s not slam-dunking for Generic NBA Lakers or Celtics) but Fred isn’t walking around the motel grounds in his boxers to get ice at the ice machine. Not that that would be sexy to watch a civilized caveman or Jaquan, you decide, be casual spending $2.00 at the Coke machine for a Sprite. And then there’s his mother-in-, correction, FUTURE mother-in-law. She keeps this G-rated if only to retain matters on the level aesthetically

“Wiiillllllmmmmaaaaa, have you seen a towel? I just got out of the shower. Damn, you see so many Holiday Inn towels in people’s bathrooms. Hell, Rubble’s got a collection of ’em to wipe his ass with when he runs out of Charmin, but there ain’t one hangin’ on the towel rack here? Call room service and-”

“FRED FLINTSTONE!!!!!!!!!! This isn’t the Men’s dorm at Bedrock State!!!!!!!! And buy some new Hanes!!!!!!!!!!!! The Bedrock Costco has a BOGO sale this week!!!!!!!!!! You have paint stains all over them!!!!!!!!!!! Take those holey drawers and throw them in the trash before the maid comes to clean up!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“I love my mother-in-law, I love my mother-in-law…”

 

And today’s post will be accompanied by Electric Light Orchestra’s “21st-Century Man.” I have always loved ELO, they just led a hit parade from “Evil Woman”, “Strange Magic”, “Livin’ Thing”, and “Hold on Tight”, the last song off the same album as “21st-Century Man”, Time. They keep playing these tunes and others on the Muzak channels. Timeless.

 

And so after Jaquan finished his Run-to-the-North-Pole-and-back routine (“Hadley, I just set a PB!!!!!!!!!!!!!”) , Jaquan gets in his suit he bought on lay-away at Milford Big ‘n’ Tall and by dingies, he pulls a Foghorn Leghorn and utters a funny. Let’s listen.

“You know how many roller skates Daddy Warbucks retains in his closet?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t either but Milford Skate-o-Rama will receive quite a haul bequeathed from his will when he chokes on the Chablis on the table that is actually Palmolive.”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

 

“Oh, Madge, you sure Milford Valley Dom Perignon Vintage 1897 Maraschino Cherry Boulevard du Reves Rompu is non-abrasive and good for washing the dishes and serving later at the Bridge Club meeting?”

“Hell, you’re soaking in it.”

“I didn’t know you could cuss in a ’60’s daytime commercial.”

“This is Thorpiverse. Think of Lobachevsky’s Theorem and you can make an equilateral triangle into The Rat Patrol.”

 

If ya cain’t leave th’ friendly confines o’ Milford and inn-dolge in all them thar fancy-shmancy rest’rants in Central City and dine with th’ new-voh ree-chees cuz ya couldn’t jump yore pickup truck cuz jumpin’ thuh batt’rey might set off an uh-tomic explosion not even th’ Manhattan Project kin corral, ya might be a redneck.

 

Talking over problems

While playing a game of chess

Plates arranged as a pawn chain

The middle piece a bowl of kress

 

Where will Jaquan play next

It’s part of a Master Plan

The family’s enduring needless worry

She’s now the 21st-Century Man

 

Tho your clueless on where he’ll play tomorrow

You won’t live in a gutter of sorrow

Income with no strings

 

And since we ARE in Central City, playing along with the bit of emphatic tone that Thorpiverse brings to another Rockville on the map, it’s leaving me hanging. As in what’s in the water in Central City that’s NOT in Milford? Yeah, I know, Milford Exterminating Experts could do a better job of snuffing out the roaches at the Milford Country Club, especially at the diner and the bathrooms. It would kill anybody’s appetite to munch on a Grilled Fromage et Tomates Sandwich avec Le Vin Blanche while something’s scurrying across the grill.

But The Central City Chateau (“Fine Exquisite Dining in the middle of Hicktown”, their motto) may have gotten a thumbs up and a 5-star rating from the American Automobile Association but I’m seeing flaws in its evaluation.

Take the window, for example. Did the person doing the evaluating have to fight through that permanent lightning bolt in the window while trying to see if you could see Milford Valley or Mt. Milford on a clear day? And what was he eating? Rice Chex? Ravioli e Uovos Frescos Cacciatore? A lump of coal? Sometimes Anthracite can affect your judgment looking out THAT window.

Then there’s the table. What could the evaluator have been thinking? Did he get intoxicated from the Egg Plant Souffle dipped in Beer Nuts when trying to figure out the M.C. Escher pattern? Picnic table hocked from the Central City Softball Complex and hope nobody notices by throwing a few of Granny Clampett’s quilts on top or King James I version of the Bible because he couldn’t fathom all the ancient Greek beveled edge job? The picture of Bill Wither’s grandson in the foreground isn’t helping the perspective.

Then there’s the pieces on the board, I mean, plates on the table. C’mon, Mr. Evaluator, what’d they get out of Central City Creek in terms of corningware that they couldn’t get out of Mudlark Lake? I’ve seen several pieces of fine china being dragged out of the lagoon, thank you very much. No sensible person would stoop low in Milford to eat his or her Beanie Wienie’s at the Milford Country Club off of paper plates. Milford has culture too, y’know. Since when did Central City corner the market on the Sistine Chapel? Oh, I forgot, you can’t see it behind the Central City Gas ‘n’ Goodies, it’s blocked off by the mighty hand of Thor in the window.

 

Ooooooookkkkkkkk, nothing like Gene Rayburn to get things back on track. Take ‘er away, Gene.

“Dumb Dora was soooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought that streak in the window was a picture of Mr. Baxendale’s ________________.”

 

Gang, I’m gonna say it. Can I say it? Go on and say it, T. Drew, and quit wasting people’s time.

The artwork in P2 is PITIFUL.

If Central City Chateau is the shit around their Hicktown metropolis, why’d they have to steal gigantic flapjacks from the Milford IHOP? Discussing something as semi-urgent over a plate of a mutant Eggo waffle? Covered by Aunt Jemima and an aluminum covering? Like George and Louise Jefferson, we’re movin’ on up. With wine and glasses of Aquafina to complement the haute cuisine. I’m just workin’ up an appetite.

And evidently, Mrs. Baxendale has a voracious one at that, given her propensity at stabbing her pancake with a steely knife. It doesn’t look like you can kill this beast of a pancake but Mrs. Baxendale is trying. I’ll give her that. If and when she hits paydirt, it will surely add another chin or two to her Etch-a-Sketch conglomerate on the lower part of her face.

And while Mr. Baxendale is kibbutzing the Queen’s Gambit Accepted, has anybody noticed that he went from Ed Asner to Murray Slaughter, all with the grace and aplomb of a few deft strokes in the makeup room? Surely not Hadley Virtual Plot’s makeup room? Oh, well, as long as Jaquan and Hadley Virgin were sleeping in separate beds, it’s OK.

STILL, this is pretty confusing, Shakertown Revisited notwithstanding. At least Jaquan has his chastity belt on and his bald head has been consistent, Herman Munster meets Mr. Clean. Chaste behavior at its finest.

Would you pass the Karo, Mr. Slaughter?

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Treating Out-of-Town Dignitaries To Night On The Town At MCC!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“‘Card maxed out so Cochrane covered the rest.”

 

And just to tie up a few loose ends (Oh joy oh joy) , I just thought of something. That’s not Gavin MacLeod as Murray Slaughter. The huge crack in the window is blocking the view of the Adriatic Sea and that’s Gavin MacLeod as the Captain of The Love Boat. I was thrown off by Herman Munster’s hand he’s using to raise his wine glass as a toast but you weren’t going to fool THIS Twimer for very long.

And it’s a Love Boat episode. Jaquan and Hadley Venezia (hush, they’re in the Adriatic Sea, close enough) are going to rent out a $10,000 Luxury Suite with faucets that spout out dolphins and soapy water, good when you want to watch Flipper on Nick at Nite and take a shower, and wine made from grapes stomped on right in the living room (And they’ll even clean the mess.) , AND a bed made from the finest wool that Odysseus and his men used when they escaped Polyphemus.

They’ll trash each other and use each other and Jaquan won’t even have to employ the services of the Milford Men’s Clinic. But the Captain will intervene and tell them that the episode only lasts an hour and that not only are they violating good taste, they’re running over into Fantasy Island. Point well-taken. Opening the door after a quickie to get a quick bite to eat at the ship’s snack bar and confronting Ricardo Montalban and some midget shouting “The plane!!!!! The plane!!!!!!!” would make me want to grab that mutant poplar plant off the table in self-defense. Gotta do what ya gotta do.

Finally, Ricardo and The Captain will convince them to get married, that they’ll have plenty to cover them financially the rest of their lives, the midget will perform the ceremony, the passengers from The Love Boat and Fantasy Island will be in attendance, Barry Manilow’s “Looks Like We Made It” will blare out over the episode and they’ll ride off into the sunset with the credits reeling off at the end of the episode.

Then they’ll trash each other again.

 

Because I really don’t comprehend these injury lawyers trying to project a “We wear blue jeans in the office” image

CRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Oh my God!!!!!!!!!! There goes my hand. Quick, get out and get it before the light turns green and that Freightliner runs it over!!!!!!!!!!!”

“No problem. Somebody needs to get on the cell phone and call The Shark!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“I was a fork lift driver for Milford Foundry and without my hand, I’d be out of a job. No way I could stack pallets and pallets of pig iron while driving with one hand. It would take weeks to sew my hand back together and go through the rehab as a result. who would pay the bills? Who would take care of my hospitalization?”

 

“Hi, I’m Joe Sharkey with Sharkey Law office. If you’ve been injured in an accident, you need piece of mind. And I’m here to get you to that El Dorado of a worry-free financial situation.

Once you step into our office, you will be put immediately at ease. Our receptionist shows up a lot of times in a thong bikini or sometimes in her birthday suit. Me, I like to kick back in my Fruit of the Looms while filing a claim. The insurance companies fear a man who takes off his pants to get comfortable in that air-conditioned lobby.

We guide you through your rights while we pick up the doggy doo from our pets we brought in. In fact, we encourage our clients to bring THEIR pets to our office. Somebody once brought in their pet giraffe. Hey, if it can clear the door, we’re geared to prepare a winning case against our opponents. Justice is always a different animal.

And we always keep the out house in the rear of our office in excellent running condition. No cobwebs on the door while you’re taking a dump. If we’re going to fight the insurance companies on our terms, running water and Orkin are a must.”

 

“I felt at ease the minute I stepped into the place. I sat down on a seat cushion that covered the receptionist’s fart stains and me and The Shark got right down to business. And I walked away from the office with a great deal of satisfaction. Later, when I got a generous check from The Shark, I had no problem with giving him his 20%, rip in the crotch or no rip in the crotch. He could buy 20 pairs of Haggar slacks at Milford Men’s Wearhouse with his percentage. And I could FINALLY return to work, able to shake his hand, even after he’d wiped himself after a trip to the out house. Thanks, Shark.”

“You heard the man. Don’t let the insurance companies bilk you out of house and home. Let the people who can throw an orgy at Christmas time better than Milford Girls-a-Go Go Club show you how you can get compensation for your injuries. Call 1-FON-THE-JAWS today.”

 

Gang, comment to your heart’s content. I think Granny Clampett and Herman Munster are making their point LOUD AND CLEAR in P3, don’t you? I think they’ll have several more quickies, sure, but Herman can work for Roadway. Gavin forgets retirement from sports is not death. You just gotta pass your A License exam. Piece of cake.

 

Granny with her white streak

Herman with his tan

They’ll both head off to Paradise

She’s now the 21st-Century Man

 

Tho you ride on this plot that you borrowed

You still ramble the fields with much sorrow

OH THE SORROW

21st-Century Mannnnnnnnnnnnnn

21st Century Mannnnnnnnnnnnnn

21st Century Mannnnnnnnnnnnnn…..

 

“No problemo. We can stick your water buffalo out back and let him wallow in the pool. Now, how’d the Baylor semi mash your leg?”

May 31, 2019

Beasts of Milford

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Beasts of Milford, Beasts of Milford,
Mark the baselines out with lime,
Hearken to my doleful tidings
As I put this crap to rhyme.
‘Cause of skating (or of blogging?)
Linda Carr left on her own,
No one likes to play a scrimmage
In the infield all alone.
Okay to have outside interests,
So said Nancy, that was that.
Then we started winning ballgames,
Then we got these awesome hats.
Then we thought that we were hot shit,
Then we were “too cool for school,”
Celebrating all our interests
Kinda turned us into tools.
Bright will shine our spirit buttons,
And to earn one will be sweet,
Sweeter yet to watch kids grovel
For our praise and at our feet.
For that praise now they must labour,
And it is for us to judge;
Band geeks, scholarsstamp collectors,
Didn’t get one? Hold no grudge.
Beasts of Milford, Beasts of Milford,
Are we guilty of a crime?
Now we’re stuck with weekend reading
So much for our leisure time.

(apologies Orwell but hey, we didn’t drag you into this)

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