This Week in Milford

January 17, 2019

Today, Marty “Scoop” Moon. Tomorrow, Rush Limbaugh And Allen Colmes!!!!!!!!!!!

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Marty, I wouldn’t be showing my face ANYWHERE, let alone on your radio show. Anything you’re doing now is licking the table scraps of meat loaf and mashed potatoes off your Broyhill King Louis XIV collection, a table you more than likely hocked from Versailles Palace when the French Revolution was taking a potty break. Of course, you do that anyway but at least in times past you used plastic silverware. Don’t forget to send your table cloth to the dry cleaners when you’re done licking.

Honestly, Patton was right: “I never admired a man who lost and laughed.”

So why are we digging for more roaches when there’s plenty scurrying around in Moon’s booth and beyond but then roaches and Marty are pretty synonymous with each other. Yeah, I guess that’s only logical. Roaches of a feather flock together. Who better than roaches to dig up more garbage out of the roaches garbage can and broadcast that garbage on the GBN (Garbage Broadcasting Network-I don’t think one of their sponsors is Raid) ? Go ahead, King of the Roaches, keep scooping after you’ve been scooped. That’ll make up for lost time for sure. By the time you’re done, the EPA ought to be in on this cesspool. Scoop, you are King in your court. BTW, you might want to spray your throne with D-Con again, I saw a couple scurrying on the arm rest.

I mean, really, what more do we need to know NOW since the cat is pretty much out of the bag? We know that The Man Who Billboarded Too Much is a malcontent who never heard of School Board meetings and would rather go the Your Ad Here route, able to finance it from his World’s Finest Chocolate sales (Lord, the number of doors he must have knocked on) , changes his name once again to Robb, like we really like keeping track of all his sobriquets or even have the time in that regard (God, which one does he use to endorse checks he’s going to cash?) , trying to get Gil fired. Take a number, Robberto.

Scoop, we’ve done read about the Watergate break-in. No sense in interviewing Ehrlichman and Haldeman on WDIG  to see if they’re going to wiretap Dr. Pearl’s teleconferences with the New Thayer and Oakwood principals. But I wouldn’t put it past you to try. Roaches are like that. Cut your losses, Archy, and I don’t mean the one whose friends with Jughead.

Okay, you whippersnappers, the group is Procol Harum and the tune is “Conquistador”. Gil had him over for dinner to relive old times. Marty, don’t try to scoop this. Call Orkin and do some extra spraying in your booth.

 

Conquistador, your team is bad

In need of some recruits

The situation’s all bogged down

Better wipe those muddy boots

 

A forward is a name you use

On your mail, not basketball

And a center just plays catch

After gulping Adderall

 

And though we hope for

Action to find

We can see no

Movement in kind

 

Though we hope for

Plays to unwind

We can see noooooo

Motion in mind

 

The Milford Symphony Orchestra and Procol Harum making a great team on the interlude. Is there a message here, Gil and Kaz?

 

Conquistador, a vulture sits

On your bench with the subs

Waiting for this plot to rot

Grind it to little nubs

 

Peyton Place is wearing thin

Basketball scurried out of town

Practice now is all that’s left

Waiting for the ref to count

 

And though we hope for

Action to find

We can see no

Rebounds to time

 

Though we hope for

Dunks through the twine

We can see nooooooo

Dishin’ the dimes

 

Coach Shaw and his jazz guitar trying to keep up with Robin Trower on the guitar solo. I think the hare will beat the tortoise this time.

 

Conquistador, there is no tale

We’d love to give respect

Though we entered the gym so proud

We leave now with regret

 

I see your armor-plated hair

Has long since lost its sheen

And though you came with whistle held high

You did not sizzle

Only fry

 

And though we hoped for

Action to find

We just saw no

Movement in kind

 

Though we hoped for

Any ghost of a sign

We just saw nooooooooo

Basketball Times

Robb ending with the trumpet flourish, only getting pelted with tomatoes for his squeegie on Gil while Procol Harum get a well-deserved round of applause along with the Milford Symphony Orchestra. Actions have consequences, Howry.

 

And this Conquistador, to no one’s surprise, isn’t doing a great job of convincing Los Guerreros that the 10 million Francescos on the other side of Les Montaignes Pyrennes are wussies who get dropped off at the day-care center by their mothers, Mama’s boys to the nth degree. Mis hombres, you’ll just need your BB guns this time. We oughta be able to clean house and kick some tail within the time McDonald’s stops serving breakfast. Pack Lightly. Not to worry, Gunnery Sergeant Highway took the Alps while Rambo and his gumbahs routed Neuschwanstein. We’re covered.

While we’re still agape observing Seneca struggling to persuade the plebians that Augustus Caesar’s centurions are not going to raid your fridges and will leave 10% of foodstuffs you stored for the winter as compensation for all the virgins that are no longer virgins, isn’t it time Thorpiverse refreshes our memory on what a basketball court looks like? Stopping short at the locker room, out of apparent efforts to appease our preference of basketball games actually being played vs. Falcon Crest, really isn’t cutting it. When I find myself wishing for Dickie V’s glossary of Diaper Dandies, Dunkeroos, Slam-Bam-Jam, Cupcake City because Dark Shadows has run its course, you know eventually the basketball-starved are going to revolt. For they march out to Bastille Day, like the group Rush used to sing.

It’s like the used car salesman talking about the Rolls Royce (Sorry, Dickie V, i forgot to add in Rolls Royce Programs) with 200,000 miles on it by showing his son’s Tonka Truck collection.

“Now if you’ll ignore the crane, the emergency brakes are on the left. We replaced the brake shoes so the toy truck and the Royce shouldn’t roll down the mountain again. And these brake pads are not cheap K-Mart Blue Light specials. We went to Pep Boys this time (“People like us, Tonkas LOVE us”) .

And it’s bad enough that we’re in the locker room. Players getting dejected, especially after a winnable game is understandable (Trust me, being a high school booster and coach forever, I UNDERSTAND) but is it too much to ask Thorpiverse to sow WHY they’re dejected? For all we know, they kicked the shit out of Jefferson but just got informed by their traveling (only in Thorpiverse is previous word used as a non-basketball word) academic counselor that they have to write a 1000-word essay on “How I enjoyed basketball over Christmas Break”, double-spaced, 4 inches from the left margin, due tomorrow. I’d be bummed too if I did a poster job on somebody, then just discovered that they moved my SAT exam up to midnight tonight. Are those #2 pencils still in my locker, next to my soap dish?

I repeat, Thorpiverse, a funeral advertisement in the middle of the strip to sponsor “Another World” is just kidding yourself. We’re not seeing rebounds but burial expenses, we’re not seeing free throws made but the organ playing “Funeral March” by Chopin, we’re not seeing assists nor steals but the preacher saying the basketball plot did not die in vain but is in a better place. Yeah, stick the fouls and turnovers into the jar of ashes and dump it all out into Mudlark Lake from Kaz’s Evinrude.

One final rendering on this topic. Remember when Deacon Jones sold the Dairy Queen “More Burger than Bun” concept?

“When I want a burger, I’ll go to Dairy Queen. And when I want bread, I’ll go TO A BAKERY.”

So here we go, Deacon Jones kind enough to do another promo with some alterations

“When I want basketball, I’ll turn the remote on my Magnavox to ESPN for North-Carolina-Duke, Kentucky-Louisville, UCLA-Arizona, Indiana-Purdue and so on. And when I want soap, I’ll go BUY SOME LIFEBUOY!!!!!!!!!”

I’ll put some Irish Spring in your stocking, Deacon, no problem.

 

“We’ll take a commercial break. I’m talking with H.R. Haldeman about how he broke into Gil’s office and planted Milford DeLuxe Smut under his playbook so that people might take him for Pee Wee Herman and get Gil fired. We’ll have more after this. Don’t go away.”

“Hi, I’m Marty Moon. Y’know, battling to not get outscooped by the Milford Elementary 8th grade newspaper can sap your energy. That’s why Kellogg’s Raisin Bran uses 2 scoops in every box. That and a tall boy of Michelob Dark and I get my second wind, interviewing the School Bully before the punk kid reporter gets out of gym class. Don’t get outscooped by Lucky Charms. Plenty of green clovers and yellow hearts but no raisins. Start your day off right with Kellogg’s Raisin Bran.”

 

Then there’s that painting in P1 where it appears Patrick Henry is orating his “Give me Basketball or give me Death!!!!!!!’ speech while our forefathers are sitting on the bench, gettin’ pumped for the game. Is that Benjamin Franklin with the cane in his Nikes? Aw, shucks, I forgot, he’s injured. Too much carousing in France might get the Northwest Territory but it’s Hell on the ACL. And I swear, Charles Pinckney displays the ugliest-looking jock strap. Put your shorts back on, Pinckney, there are ladies present. Plus the delegation from Belgium is due to show in the 3rd quarter. After the game, couldn’t you imagine Elbridge Gerry coming out of the shower with just a towel and a blow dryer? Ids that where we get Gerrymandering from, i.e., a path leading from the shower head to your locker, hoping Daffy Duck isn’t snooping for a story? Talk about rewriting history.

 

At Independence Hall in Philadelphia, Joe Tourist scoping the art

“Who’s that man that looks like Engelbert Humperdinck and why is he shaking hands with Thomas Jefferson? Was he the one who did the Louisiana Purchase?”

 

Last, but CERTAINLY not least, is P3. Marty, it’s bad enough that Peter Brady outscooped your ass on Mr. Price’s sexual advances towards Alice the maid but when you’re interviewing some kid barely out of high school, attempting to extract a tell-all tabloid in the name of getting Gil fired, that’s plain sad. I’ve already lectured y’all on the School Board route so let me cut through the Bucket Crunchy Frog Shake and say you could pull John Q. Public off the streets of Milford, stow him in a communist debriefing room next to Ms. Rizk’s room on the second floor, and in 3 weeks get him to say Gil should be fired because he hasn’t changed his Jockey Brand underwear in 6 months. Boy, I’d like to see the contingent rally ’round the flagpole on that one wouldn’t you?

Why don’t we just go to the Milford Correctional Facility and give Otis the Drunk a police escort to your studio, splash him with Old Spice Beer Breath Fighting After Shave so he doesn’t stink up your studio, literally and figuratively, and let him slosh for 2 hours how Gil couldn’t walk the straight line when the Milford Police pull him over when designing a matchup zone? He really isn’t  qualified to speak on Gil’s coaching any more than The Great Schnozzola we’re seeing now in the studio and that’s the point. Don’t have them in the same booth at The Bucket. As Jimmy Durante a/k/a The Original Great Schnozzola Who’s Too Busy Entertaining To Launch Billboard Campaigns would say “Dat’s moral turpentine!!!!!!!!”

 

“We’ll be right back after these messages. I’m talking with  Count Chocula about his feelings towards Gil. I agree, Count, Gil’s coaching is worse than Boo-Berry swirling in sour 2% milk. This is WDIG. Don’t go away.”

 

“Hi, this Coach Thorp for Milford Beverage Warehouse. Has post-Christmas party blues got you down? Stuck with that bowl of Stove Top Stuffing in your fridge in your office and nothing to imbibe? Well, shoot, I have the answer. If you’ll return any of the leftover office party grub to Milford Beverage Warehouse, we’ll give you a voucher good on your next purchase of Drewry’s Lite or Budweiser 1893 Original Formula, both in 12-packs. No sense in leaving that Papa John’s Pepperoni Pizza that’s been in your purse for 10 days when you can sanitize the damn thing and purchase a slice of The Good Life. Goodness, makes me want to return that 1/4 block of Cracker Barrel Provolone Cheese I left in the den. Come on, admit it, you stole that 24-pack of Mudlar-K-Cola Root Beer & Horse Radish right from under your boss’s nose but if you return it to the Warehouse, no warrants will be issued and, shoot, The Warehouse will throw in a free can of Milford Vending Beer Nuts. That and a Bud to wash it down? Time to come clean on that pound of Amish potato salad you’re letting vegetate out in your garage.

But hurry, this deal won’t last long. The deal ends by the end of January and if you want your resume clear of any trivial wrongdoing, ya gotta act now. Come on, Grandma, bring in that fruit cake you shoplifted from Milford Bakery back in ’63 because you were hungry at Yuletide and the Bud Man will call it even. Sounds like a winner. Milford Beverage Warehouse. We’re changing Milford’s perception on exchanging gifts, one customer at a time.”

 

Gang, comment away. Some of you have already and I really appreciate it. You make Democracy work. in the interim, I’m going to Milford Beverage Warehouse to see if I can exchange my Pay-Day collection for some Bourbon. Doesn’t hurt to ask.

 

“And we’ll be back after this. I’m interviewing The Invisible Man and you’re right, Gil’s coaching is invisible. This is WDIG. Don’t go away.

 

“Hi, I’m Marty Moon. Even if I got outscooped by Pogo Possum from the Okefenokee Daily Swamp over Gil’s getting attacked by Albert Alligator while he was fly-fishing, there’s a scoop ready for me at Milford Ice Cream & Dream Shoppe. A double-dip scoop of Rocky Road will help erase the memory of Churchy Lafemme getting that exclusive on Kaz’s catfish battles. And a single scoop of Neopolitan hits the spot when you’re competing with Howland Owl for that story on Beauregard Bugleboy’s sex change. Then there’s the banana splits. You don’t need scoops for that one, thank God, or my boss would give me a permanent suspension. Wouldn’t have to worry about using profanity on the air anymore, dammit. Oops, darnit, sorry, read the script wrong. Anyway, come to Milford Ice Cream and Dream Shoppe, where getting scooped is tasty and won’t lose your job.”

 

From a story about a police officer who’s a mother and pulled over her son who was speeding, gave him a ticket and kissed him

 

Joe Friday and Bill Gannon catch Joe Friday Jr. trying to steal Gil’s stuff out of his house. Joe Jr. is in Gil’s driveway, trying to close the trunk  of his Vega on the wide screen TV he is hocking, plus miscellaneous trophies in the back seat

“Police!!!!!!!!! Freeze!!!!!!!!!!”

Joe Sr. approaches Joe Jr., the latter with his hands to the sky, and kisses him square on the cheek.

“Awwwwwwwwrriggghtttt, Gannon, read him his rights, then book him on a Section 56, Article 12 of the Milford Police Code, ‘Attempt To Steal Merchandise From a Public Official During Half Time’.”

 

 

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October 11, 2018

…’Round and ‘Round and ‘Round and…

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High-flying in this worthless plot

Losing altitude

We go ’round and ’round  and ’round

Until it sucks up air again

 

Sorry, gang, just had to dip from the Classic Rock well again, this time from the Rock band Yes off their album Tormato (scrunching together “tornado” and “tomato”, you whippersnappers) which was released in 1978. And WE ARE just spinning our wheels on this one, allowing a teenager to dominate the landscape when the jury is still out on his character, let alone his game in general, let alone his punting prowess.

No Marty to skin this one alive and hold Gil accountable for spending more time with Arnie and Tiger in August when August was the time to be ferreting out what the heck Gil was going to do for the next 3 months? C’mon, Thorpiverse, you can’t bail out on the “Marty’s been suspended” excuse this time. Gil is roaming free like your small pet in your efficiency apartment and Marty is not there in his 26-cage Milford Animal Enforcement truck to haul him back to the pound. Gil is peeing on every fire hydrant in town.

 

P1: “Raise your hand if you’re Surrrreeeeeee……”

And I could have contrived other deoderant commercials running the gamut from Ban To Arrid, even gone the Roll-on for either one. Such a perfect setting. Coach is on his hands and knees begging Our Hero to come out for the team, Our Hero promising to go out if Coach promises to fork over the two duffel bags of footballs in Dr. Pearls’ husband’s tool shed (apparently an overflow in the equipment room) , give up his Hank Williams Anthology that he ordered one night on a K-Tel infomercial, including liner notes on how he froze to death in his car AND which year he froze to death (some say December 31st, others like the hitchhiker who looked inside, just wanting a ride, January 1st), and puh-LEEAAASSEEEE slap on some Right Guard. Unless some kid went for the jugular and aimed his water pistol at your pits, not that that I’m ruling that out…

Be that as it may, Irish Spring would complement your Big Jake physique.

“Coach, I don’t mean to say you have B.O. or anything and thank you for that photo of Heather Burns’ dad posing next to Bart Starr when Mr. Burns was a teenager and wanting Bart to autograph his Bucket Lemon-Lime Slushee cup when Bart kicked off the Milford Fall Chataqua Festival Parade, but when you and Coach Shaw go hunting, do you mark off spots so your wife can pick up the scent? I think you might want to watch out for female raccoons in heat when you traipse into the Milford Wildlife Reserve on your next outing.”

 

One early morning on Milford Transit Authority Mini-Bus #7757, Marty Moon is engaged in a heated debate

 

“Whattya mean, you had another handicapped passenger??????!!!!!!! WE’RE handicapped!!!!!!!!!”

“Yeah, but this was serious. If he loses his dentures, he can’t eat any solid food. Then he’ll shrivel up and die. We finally found them underneath the fire extinguisher. He was so happy that his Houston Colt .45’s won the Super Bowl, that he expectorated them while giving commentary on the winning TD.”

“Bud, there IS no more teams with that moniker, let alone win the Super Bowl!!!!!!!!!”

“Whatever. Anyway, we kept feeding him McD’s Breakfast Burritos until we got him to the Milford Rehab Center to regain his strength, after we re-inserted them, of course.”

“Does the Rehab Center keep Dentu-Creme on hand?????!!!!!!!! That might cement them into place!!!!!!!! AND CEMENT YOUR JOB!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Never thought of it that way.”

Thanks to Dale Smith and Dustin Figg of Valley Station, Kentucky for the last idea. You guys get the shaft many times but your presence is never taken for granted with me. Despite your visual impairment, you keep America moving. Both of you have overcome  a lot to achieve the American Dream. I salute you both.

 

Again from “Tormato”

The tale of all this inanity

Will go down in infamy

Onward, plot’s got blight

Onward, a bad flight

Onward, with no fight

Onnnnnwwwward, out of sight

of my minnnnnnddddddd

 

What is this exchange with Kaz and Joe in P2 and P3????????? Joe looks like he’s in a job interview. Essentially, when you think about it, it pretty much is but even then job interviews, last time I checked, take about a 1/2 hour-1 hour if you’re applying at McDonald’s, Burger King, Chick-Fil-A, The Bucket (making sure you’re paying attention), KFC, etc. This one’s been 2 months running. What do we have to do a background check on NOW???? Joe’s punting average in Pop Warner League Football? To see if NFL scouts are still interested? Joe’s favorite yogurt flavor at The Bucket (Bucket Peach Pit Delight, BTW) ? Get him on the damn team and let’s get ready for the next game which by my calculations is TOMORROW.

“So when can you start?”

“How long will this plot last.?”

“Are you willing to work overtime?”

 

 

 

Kudos to Matthew Maloney of Fern Creek, Kentucky. You go to work at Kroger ready for action and thereby keep the customer well-stocked with the groceries the customer needs. You have been working there for years, rarely missing a day and ALWAYS being on time. Gang, I think he likes his job. We need more people like him because he makes America great. Next time you come to Fern Creek Kroger (just north of I-265) , say hello to Matthew and treat him with respect. He’s earned mine and I bet he’ll earn yours too.

 

At Milford Towne House Condominiums in the green area

“Okay, Keri, you’ve had your turn. Now let Jamie ride the zebra for awhile.”

 

Updated copy of “Home on the Range”

“Oh, give me a home/Where the buffalo roam

And they snore in Milford Penthouse tonight

Where seldom is heard/A gray buzzard’s word

Its owner got a writ in Milford Heights

 

Home, Home on the Range

That concept has lately gone strange

Where apes and baboons

Share a posh time-share room

And they Google New York Stock Exchange

 

 

“Johnny Olson, I’ll bet you have another member of the studio audience who would love to kick the night away with John Travolta, don’t you think so, people?”

WE BET HE DOES JOE HE HAD HIS CUE CARD IN HIS CRACK READY TO ROCK ‘N’ ROLL

“Well, they were right but I wiped before I crammed it in there but George Snerdley, COME ON DOWN you’re the next contestant about to learn Joe’s secrets.”

Snerdley comes on down, running over a Pinkerton on his smoke break plus a couple of octagenarians in their wheelchairs. His gut is one great big Jello-in-motion running down the Colosseum steps, eager to learn before the Super Bowl comes to Mudlark Stadium in 2023.

“Awwwwwright. So Joe, where you from?”

“Right here in Milford.”

“Awwwwwwwwwrrrrriggghtttt, I’ll bet he’ll be easy to teach how to kick one straight through the chute, these Mudlarks get it right the first time, whattya think, audience?”

WE THINK CAROL MERRILL WILL BE BUSY RETRIEVING BALLS OUT OF THE NET, JOE

“I thought so too, people. So George, tell us a little about yourself.”

“Well, I’m married, there’s my wife in the 27th row, the one with the “Gil on his Motorbike” tattoo on her left boob (YAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY) , I have two children, both grown, one was not able to be here today, in fact, he’s in the cell block next door to Mr. Bader, but the other one’s an engineer for Dow Chemical right here in Milford. And I travel, I’m a salesman for Milford International Tire Company. We sell industrial tires to many companies in many companies. We do a heckuva lot of business overseas.”

“REALLY!!! Where are you going this week?”

“Oh, they’re setting up a coal mining operation in Lichtenstein. I’m supposed to be at the Grand Opening of Vaduz Black Beauty Mine #23 next week. A couplke of C-130’s and we’ll keep their coal trucks happy” proudly grabbing his crotch with glee.

Joe, shooting a 1/100,000 second dirty look at Camera #3 for the unplanned obtrusive Crotch Shot, continues

“Wellllll, people, he’s a busy man, isn’t he?”

SOUNDS LIKE HE PUMPS MONEY INTO THE GNP OF BOTSWANA AND SURINAM, JOE!!!!!!!!

“He sure does. All right, I noticed you brought your brother along.”

“This is Mel.”

“Mel, how long have you had that one tooth inb your mpouth?”

“Ever since I got in a brawl at the Milford Lounge 10 years ago. Told Jerry Pulver he was a selfish egotistical piece of slime who hogged the ball just to set a scoring record. The rest of the team should have just sat down and watched. He didn’t take a liking to it and the next thing you know, several people got arrested but I decked him pretty hard and got out of Milford Prison Camp after only two months on good behavior.”

“Ooooooooookkkkkk, hopefully, the same thing’ll never happen at The Bucket. So now, are you going to be George’s holder?”

“Sure am.”

Joe throws out a few phony chuckles that the audience can tell is fake since Joe was reading from the wrong cue card. The real cue card got mixed up with Johnny Olson”s Next Contestant index card

“Well, it was either that or Carol Merrill and somebody’s gotta go get ’em unless you wanna catch ’em with your tooth.”

GO FOR IT MEL

“Whoaaaaaaa, audience, he’ll puncture the balls and he might get headaches from all the banging around.”

TAKE A GOODY’S POWDER MEL

“WAIT A MINUTE, isn’t that Mel Tillis’ line on The Ralph Emery Show?”

WHOOPS GOOD POINT JOE

“Thank you, studio audience. Thought I was losing my mind” as the plastic laughter from the studio audience and the canned laughter are Synchronized Swimming in motion. Gold Medal if I ever saw one.

“ALL RIGHT George and Mel, ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL…”

 

If ya fail at kicking a pigskin after ya’ve tried 1,574,785 times and ya just say the Hell with it and ya go down to Milford Sportsman’s Club and use it as a clay pigeon, ya might be a redneck.

 

O.J. on the “Milford Community Comment” show

“Man, I fed that dude some Cheerios and next hting you know, he literally shoots through the roof.”

 

 

“Well, you almost made it. Sorry, Johnny Olson, we didn’t mean to spill your coffee on your P.A. system. Now, remember, George, look it all the way in…”

 

Marty, jamming to “On The Silent Wings Of Freedom” by Yes over the speakers on the Milford Transit Authority mini-bus, much to Gertrude DeWindt’s annoyance who is riding up front, nearly T-bones the Mudlar-K-Cola truck crawling out of the Milford Lounge. Gertrude smashes her head into the plastic guard that partitions her from Marty. Plastic shards are everywhere.

“Don’t let bus drivers who let Classic Rock distract them from that Union Pacific barreling down the track. Call The Shark today and get the money you deserve.”

“Marty got his license revoked for two months and I received just compensation for my loss. They even replaced the Rent-a-Boyfriend model and even paid for his funeral expenses. Now, I not only have this in my possession (displaying $546,263,689, x 10^5 check) , but my new boyfriend I got free from Milford Rent-All is even sexier. He could give a few pointers at the Milford Men’s Clinic Symposium. Mudlark Lake Resort here we come, the El Dorado of sex retreats.”

Heard in background, a split-second after testimonial

“Nice job, Mrs. DeWindt. You read the teleprompter perfect.”

“If you’ve been in an accident with a Roadway or an antelope, call 1-FON-THE-JAWS today. One call, that’s all.”

Thanks to Mary Simpson of Jeffersontown, Kentucky who helped me with the comedy idea above. Your Christian faith inspires me and I enjoyed talking to you the other day. Your ideas prove how intelligent you are and I like your getting about and about. You’ve made a difference in people’s lives. I will be praying for you because you’ve made a difference in mine. God bless you.

 

Ooooooooookkkkkkk, you finally got it through the uprights. But I’m not going to make this an easy exit. I’ll give you a Peyton Manning autographed Denver Broncos jersey, Luke Bunkin’s jock strap he wore in the Playdown Final where he made the game-saving tackle, a gold-plated Mudlark-Heather Burns-Signature helmet and mouthpiece that Carol Merrill is now wearing AND $5000 to call off the deal.”

NO!!! NO!!!! DON’T DO IT!!!!!!!!

DO IT!!!!!! LUKE’S SWEAT IS SEXY!!!!!!!!

PEYTON RULES!!!!!!!!!!

HEATHER RULES!!!!!!!!!

PEYTON SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!

HEATHER SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!

I LIKE THE WAY CAROL MERRILL MOVES THAT MOUTHPIECE BACK AND FORTH

Last outburst contributed by  Mel Snerdley, amazing what a man can exclaim with one tooth

TAKE THE MONEY!!!!!!!!!!

DOOR #3!!!!!!!!!! DOOR #3!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Vote now in the next 30 minutes and you’ll get Joe’s punting cleats, shoestrings included, all for 29.99. Oh, did we forget to mention that Joe is throwing in the Official 2018 NFL Rule Book ABSOLUTELY FREE!!!!!!!!! But you gotta call within the next few minutes to take of advantage of this ridiculously generous offer that Joe had to send a person in concrete shoes down Mudlark Lake to get approved. Operators are standing by.

Don’t wait. CALL NOW!!!!!”

 

Gang, have at it. I’ll leave you with Yes’s “Rejoice” off of “Tormato.” I humbly hope you’ll agree that this sum things up at this juncture

 

Sitting in a stupid God-knows-where

Hashing out the verbiage, talking like true idiots

Kaz is mired in a patchy fog, I swear

Football plot is killing us, Bolek is a minion

 

And we’re not even Close To The Edge

 

Hey Guys

Bye Bye

Till tomorrow

 

See ya

Be the

Lack of sorrow

 

Killing us with silly politics and lunacy

Challenging our intelligence

My o My

It’s no wonder why they can’t win a game or two

There’s no course for competence

Wiping out our innocence

 

Reject

All the things we’ve seen

Gil should abandon ship

It goes ’round and ’round and ’round and ’round

Until it lifts its bow again

 

Reject

Ditch this plot right now

Cut its throat, and how

It goes ’round and ’round and ’round and ’round and ’round and…

 

October 4, 2018

“Gil, They Can All Boom It From 50+ Yards, But One of the Seven Chinese Brothers Has Turf Toe.”

Gil Thorp Comic Strip for October 05, 2018

 

 

Seven Chinese Brothers were once asked

If they could punt

Six were sure of foot

Five kicked 50 yards

One was a runt

 

Gang, as you might surmise, this post will have an REM flavor to it. Why not? One of the more influential Rock ‘n’ Roll bands, and then some, they will weigh in today on this plot already on life support. Call it pulling the plug on this vegetable with a little help from my friends.

 

Brace yourself. Gil is starting to get intellectual on us. I should have seen it coming when the other day Kaz and Joe started sounding like the VideoHound. I understand Leonard Maltin will be giving the pregame speech the next game.

“You guys could do better in the plot but I liked the cinematography. Those poplars on top of a rosebush we see in the background at Mudlark Stadium save the film from a total disaster and the script, though I’ve seen better in Godzilla vs. The Mudlark, peters out and gives us a ray of hope should there be a sequel. Now kick New Thayer’s ass, Gentlemen.”

“LET’S DO IT!!!!!!!!!!!! YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

And sure, not all coaches are dumb jocks, having been involved as a high school booster/coach, but  Coach Kaz looking like he just read out of Fodor’s French in 10 Days is REALLY stretching it. Next thing you know, he’ll be utilizing all the French words we use in English anyway just to display to the world that there’s a Harvard side to him.

“Gil, voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?”

“No, Kaz, I can’t go with you to the cafeteria for breakfast. My doctor told me to cut back on the bacon/egg soufflé and grits. No Cream of Wheat either.”

So the next time you see graffiti in stall #3 in the boys bathroom and it reads “Madame Pearl est plein de le merde”, it won’t require Miss Marple to find out who the culprit is.

 

Situation clearly sucks

doo dee doo dee doo dee doo dee doo

Pistons in combustion chamber stuck

doo dee doo dee doo dee doo dee doo

Gil would sport much better luck

doo dee doo dee doo dee doo dee doo

In his bathtub coaching his rubber duck

doo dee doo dee doo dee doo dee doo

Ohhhhhh, wish we were on our way

la da da da DA DA

Basketball next day

la da da da DA DA

We can only plead and pray

 

Ages of Gil

Ages of Gil

Ages of Gil

Yeah

 

And JUST WHEN Gil and Kaz go Einstein on us, P2 confirms it was a false sense of security.

POP QUIZ TODAY???????

Isn’t pop ANYTHING meant to convey a sense of surprise with the intention of compelling your underlings to cough up information that you should have been studying the night before instead of going to the Milford Bijou to watch “The Return of the Brady Bunch: Mr. Brady Transfers to Milford Toyota As A Corporate Lawyer”? And speaking of the Brady Bunch, isn’t that Mr. Price, y’know, old-timers, the one Peter Brady was snowing because he was so focused on working on the school newspaper that he forgot to memorize all the capitals of Latin America and South America? He still might have passed if he’d taken more time spelling “Tegucicalpa” correctly. Spell-checker might have helped, Peter.

“Peter Brady, you still might have saved your grade but Tijuana is not the capital of Honduras.”

“My bad, Mr. Price.”

“I’ll give you half credit for remembering that Bolivia has two capitals, La Paz and Sucre if you’ll try to remember that America did not sign over the Panama Canal to Aramco.”

“Gee, thanks, Mr. Price. Your wife looked good in that bikini at Mudlark Lake Resort last weekend. She’s fit and trim at 87 years old.”

 

Shout-out to Kathlynn Turner of Jeffersontown, Kentucky. I LOVED your sharing how your family members, Bill Davis and Levi Beauchamp, were truck drivers for several years and worked countless and thankless hours at their jobs so we could get the goods we wanted ASAP. They certainly kept the flow going for the finer things in life. Gang, they kept America moving. They are the unsung heroes that keep our economy STRONG. Without them, we wait DAYS for our favorite items to come, as in the past, Colonial or Cowboy period, take your pick. I salute you, Levi and Bill. You too, Kathlynn.

 

Gang, whaddup wit this quid pro quo stuff?

“Okay, Joe, then it’s settled. You can have my entire DVD collection of ‘Planet of the Apes’ including ‘The Battle of Armageddon Decimates Milford on the Planet of the Apes’ if you’ll kick for us.”

“Throw in Coach Thorp’s ‘Them!!!!!’, ‘Tarantula’, and ‘The Blob Swallows Milford’, and I’ll call it deal.”

” ‘fraid not. Coach says that was his collector’s items when he first started the strip and they’ve been in the heirloom for ages. His grandma watched them on her old Victrola.”

“How ’bout REM’s “The Footballs of Guatemala” to sweeten the pot?””

 

Milford & Oakwood train whistle introducing next song, accompanied by strtident guitar lick on Marty’s ukulele, just imagine the possibilities, Marty and Peter Buck in a guitar duel

 

Windout

Can you kick a ball

Windout

Does Kaz care at all

Windout

Should we return Gil’s call

Windout

Will you play this Fall

 

Punt Punt Punt Punt

Punt Punt Punt Punt

Punt Punt Punt Punt

Punt Punt Punt Punt

(Great guitar licks, Peter Buck, way to apply the pressure with your strings)

 

Oh, Mister Bolek

 

Should we doubt

That you’re done with film

Windout

That you’ll take the helm

Windout

The team won’t go to Hell

Windout

The strip stays put as well

 

Windout

Windout

Windout

WINDOUT

Punt Punt Punt Punt

 

I was tempted to call this plot “Dead Letter Office”. Nah, no sense in disgracing the group with a plot in a coma. Anyway

I’M GETTING TIRED OF THIS PLOT IN A CIRCUS TENT…Uncle Gil

Okay, Gil looks nowhere near like Uncle Ben, I can’t even imagine him on the rice box, it’s literally black and white,  but I’m taking poetic license here.

 

If ya think Fodor’s French in 10 Days is shoveling cow manure with mustard on the Streets of Milford within the same period of time and ya follow through by gettin’ shovel, pick-ax, trowel, cement mixer, and backhoe at Milford Rent-All, ya might be a redneck.

 

 

“No, Coach, I didn’t see the movie. I was getting back in shape. How’d it wind out?”

“You should have seen it!!!! A deaf, dumb, and blind kid kicks the pigskin straight through the wickets and the team wins the State. Then he dies of suffocation in the dog pile.”

 

WHO SHOT COACH SHAW?

At the Milford Police Station

“Ugly rumor that it was Joe Bolek”

“Negative. He was seen by several eyewitnesses sneaking into Milford Adult Theater on Classic Porn Night to watch ‘Deep Throat’.”

 

Seven Chinese Brothers donning their helmets and shoulder pads

Waiting for their time to play, this is awfully, truly sad

3rd and 18 on the Mudlark 25, doubt they’ll get their chance

Stay warm in the meantime, executing the cha-cha dance

 

Seven Chinese Brothers wallowing on the sideline

Gil and Kaz lacking clear direction or ANY guideline

Please get a clue

Please get a clue

 

And as long as I’m going to beat this one in the ground, Coach Kaz trying to imitate Gerard Depardieu(“Man, Kaz, you’ve got talent. I also liked your Donald Duck, James Brown, Homer Simpson, Slim Pickens, and Bozo imitations. You ought to audition at Milford Girls-a-Go-Go Club on Talent Night”), c’est la vie(French for “Gil prefers Charmin instead of Brawny when he’s situated in the Port-o-Let”) reminds me of my favorite group, Emerson, Lake, & Palmer who did a song with that title, off the album “Works”, a slightly ambitious production that got better with age, released back in 1977. But this is taking a turn for the worse.

“I’ll trade you my ‘Pictures at an Exhibition’, ‘Tarkus’, and ‘Emerson, Lake, & Palmer: Live at the Milford VFW Lodge’, and my collection of Greg Maddux cards if you’ll kick for the team and give me ‘Remember The Titans.’ I wanna see if Denzel Washington can teach me anything new.”

“Throw in that video of Keith Emerson spinning ’round and ’round on his organ while playing ‘Fanfare for the Common Man’ and a bunch of drunk navy veterans throwing Sterling cans at him in the VFW Lodge ball room, and I’m good.”

“Deal.”

 

Oooooooooooookkkkkkkkk, gang, to commemorate the TV clips you see get lopped off at the Milford Shell after you’re finished pumping your gas

 

“And Milford is gonna kick it. This is for the win. DeWindt, the holder, the Seven Chinese Brothers will be kicking against the wind, here’s the snap, THE KICK——-”

THANK YOU!!!!!!! CLERK HAS RECEIPT

 

“Peter, why are you late?”

“Sorry, Mr. Price, I went to the Milford Men’s Clinic for Teenagers and I OD’d a little on the stuff. I had a little bit of a hard time putting on my Levi’s. I was thinking about your wife and how much fun I was having mentally undressing her and that just added fuel to the fire. Her boobs really looked nice while jumping off the diving board.”

“Well, I must admit, your snow jobs are creative.”

“Thank you. She’s probably somebody’s baby tonight. And it was a toss-up between her and Bo Derek.

 

Gang, it’s your turn. I’m going to the travel agency and get “Fodor’s Milford on $10 a Day”

 

Seven Chinese Brothers shooting dice until it’s time

Finding out in vain that Gil’s acumen weighs but a dime

They almost went in, 3rd and 10 to kick the winning goal

Play was called back, refs blew foul, receiver flagged for a hold

 

Seven Chinese Brothers wallowing on the bench

Seven Chinese Brothers had enough of this stench

Please let ’em play

Please let ’em play

 

September 25, 2018

And Gil Screams Eiffel Tower High

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Awwwwwwwwww. Gil is in utter disbelief as his team is virtually getting railroaded. No doubt the Oakwood coach did call a time out but us Thorpiverse veterans are used to not holding our breaths when the Mudlark finishes the Mudlark Marathon run from Athens, Greece (where the Olympics all began) to Milford (well, the plot’s always a marathon, anyway) and beats the rest of the world by 2 days, 29 hours, 34 seconds, 1/456 microseconds, lapping France, Kenya, Sudetenland, Maldives (appaently training techniques suck, such as bad nutrition, i.e., dearth of Special K, Lucky Charms, apples, oranges, limes. uglis, mangos, beets, onions, borscht, prunes, etc.) et al only to find out he was disqualified because he skipped the Strait of Magellan when he was negotiating his way from the Atlantic to the Pacific. We’re resigned to our fate, thankful for the day when every ONCE IN A BLUE MOON they win SOMETHING. Nope, gang, Charlie Brown and his band of merry losers can keep on losing and build eternal character along the way and still keep its readership going. Not so in the world of Thorpiverse. Win SOMETHING, preferably a State Championship (Normally that’s wisely the case) or watch EVERYBODY switch over to Dagwood (technically Blondie).  A Doug Flutie like Miracle Bomb from the Strait of Magellan to the other end zone will have subscribers for life.

“Marino heaves a torpedo from 99 yards for the game TOUCHDOWN MILFORD. There’s an injury time out as the explosion caused mass destruction and the game can’t end on a natural disaster but the Mudlarks will likely win as De Windt, though blown in two, still managed to hang on and keep one foot in bounds!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Plus, everybody else got blown sky high!!!!!!!!!!”

If that doesn’t spike subscription sales, Marty Moon’s an astronaut.

 

And if Gil’s frown doesn’t prove that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, nothing will. That arc on his visage is the route you would negotiate through the Alps from Milano, Italia to Innsbruck, Osterreich. You forgot the Simplon Tunnel, Thorpiverse, assuming it’s nearby. Or just pick your favorite Deutscher Kaiser or Pope and attach an appelation to it. Make this fun.

Then there’s the fashion statement the referee is making. Time was, a referee might get yelled at by the Milford die-hards but  THE BLACK AND WHITE was wider in the stripes. Now, they got that look that Jordache is after. They’ll be hitting the runway at the modeling show at the Milford Expo Center after the game. At least there they’ll get cheered at.

 

Gang, wouldn’t you JUST ONCE love to see Coach Thorp do a tarantella when he gets waxed like he’s getting in P1? Granted, throwing a chair out on the field might not travel far in the natural grass and the field has bigger dimensions than a basketball court. But the worst I have seen from Coach Thorp the last 60 years are some Egyptian symbols (planet, ibis, North Star, pound sign, pyramid, etc.) out of some Sphinx somewhere along the Nile but I personally would like to see more animation and violent tempers and it starts with P1 in today’s strip. C’mon, Gil, you can do better than that. Scream so that Bulgaria can hear you, yell if the refs got their license out of a Trix box, say something about their mothers, they all have one, throw a helmet or a shoulder pad or a jock strap out on the field, ANYTHING to get ejected. Okay, Unsportsmanlike Conduct for throwing some player’s smelly piece of apparel is breaking precedent but the punting team has botched the snap several times, the referees are killing you and all you can manage is a Smiley face going the wrong way?  I hope the expression isn’t permanently welded. That might cause problems when you, Mimi and family do a family portrait at Milford Studios.

I do gotta admire the Nerfball sailing through the uprights at the Milford Observatory. The Oreo background makes for great atmosphere.

 

Walking toward the football field

He surely knows where to go

He slaps on his ‘phones

And puts on a show

Feasting on Gil’s fecklessness

And reckless leadership

And that Gil don’t give a shit.

 

He struts into the broadcast booth

He’s been there ever since

He strolls down to concessions

For a box of Junior Mints

Whooooaaaaaaa

Talking ’bout the game at hand

Thrashing Coach Thorp into sand

We’ll shout at Moon and demand

Try to get his attention

Scream at him

And we’ll scream, we’ll scream, we’ll scream

 

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream Marty Eiffel Tower Highhhhhhhhhhh

And we’ll scream MARTY EIFFEL TOWER HIGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

 

I may have missed a verse or two. You might want to check me on that one. Also, thanks to Mimi Thorp for belting out the last verse and proving a suitable replacement for Grant Hart. We know she’s busy with her basketball team. She’ll be even busier this year as the conference upped the schedule by one game. How she finds time to sweat through a five-game schedule and rock with one of the best in the business and still find time for the kids and Gil (well, in bed, anyway) is nothing short of amazing. Scripts have a way of easing up the logjam.

 

If yore face got permanently contorted cuz that shot of Jack came straight from the well outta some corn field somewhar and ya wind up as a Witch Doctor Exhibit at the Milford Museum, ya might be a redneck.

“And Coach T’s inept coaching strikes again. That pouty gargoyle mien won’t save his ass this time. We’ll be back to wrap things up in a moment. The final score, Oakwood, 31, Milford, 28. You’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

Coach Shaw is reading The Saturday Evening Post. He’s doing the “Where Do You Think You Are?” section. It’s all the Milfords in all the different states and he’s already figured out Milford, Delaware, Milford, Connecticut, Milford, Pennsylvania, and Milford Indiana, but can’t figure the state Milford, as in Mudlarks, comes from. (“It’s only 5 kilometers to Oakwood?”) While he’s wrestling with an Angel on this one

“Hi, Honey, I have a surprise!!!!!!!!”

“Wow, DO YOU EVER!!!!!!! I’m trying to solve this knotty problem. How many ‘k’s in ‘Mudlarkia’?”

“Darling, how can you indulge in one of Benjamin Franklin’s pastimes at a time like this when I have something in my possession that will alter your life?”

“You finally bought them mag wheels for my Dodge Durango? Wow, I’ll be the envy of my hunting buddies. Them raccoons will get their rings knocked off from all that glitter.”

“Nooooooooooooo.”

“Did my mail-order sawed off Winchester arrive today?”

“Nooooooooooooo.”

“Daggone it, I need to call the Milford FedEx office. It was shipped Tuesday. It’s already Friday. Looks like I get free shipping on my gun anyway.”

“I have something else that’s free.”

“Honey, you know they don’t run specials on deer tags. That’ll be the day.”

“Nope. Time’s up. Ta-daaaaaaaaaaa”

Shaw’s wife pops in the living room in a black bikini.

Shaw drops the Saturday Evening Post in the magazine rack between Field and Stream and Milford Outdoors Today

“Gloopy glop, um, I think I’ll head down to the Milford Public Library. I bet they’d know about Mudlarkia.”

“Uh, It’s Saturday and it’s 6:00PM and I think they’re closed.”

“Blippy bloop. That’s what you think (Coach Shaw recovering as fast as his brain can process the information) . I heard they were having a bake sale and handing out free cupcakes if you can read 500 Louis L’Amours in an hour. Shoot, the way he uses guns and kills off the bad guy in the end, it’s the same old same old. No Martin Charley Horse or whatever the name Dickens called him to contend with, let alone get on his hands and knees down at the Milford Shelter House beggin’ Oliver Twist for oatmeal and onion rings. Nope, bang, bang, take that you slimeball bank robber, you cain’t run off from Fort Knox with 500 tons of gold in your Conestoga Wagon. Louis’ll shoot you dead if ya don’t watch out. Them cupcakes is as good as in my belly.”

“The library has that many books on one person?”

“Oh, Hell, yeah. Then some lucky winner, if he/she can guess the State Flower, the State Motto, the State Flag, and the Admission Date of Mudlarkia will win a whole chocolate cake. I might have trouble with the last one since I don’t remember when the Carpetbaggers entered into our state but I’m pretty sure it was before the Gettysburg Address but just after the Wilmot Proviso.”

“Dear, why don’t we skip the history lesson and make our own history. We’ll do the 21-gun salute.”

“Because we might have run out of ammo?”

His wife caught off guard for the moment, Coach Shaw gets back on the offensive

“And if we read ‘The Positronic Man’ by Asimov before midnight, we get a $50 Gift Card to Milford Donut Solutions. I can taste those custard-filled chocolate long johns mow. Umm, umm.”

“I’ve never known you to read Science Fiction.”

“I read Clifford Simak and Ray Bradbury right before Game Film sessions. I can break down an opponent’s defense right after devouring ‘Fahrenheit 451’. AND the coop de grass is the drawing for the 2018 Chevy Blazer 4-Wheel Drive. It drivews through snow, salt water, sleet, ice, lichens, earthquake faults, Bavarian Alps, gneiss, permafrost, polar ice caps-”

“Polar ice caps? We’re nowhere near the North or South Pole. We’re in the State of Mudlarkia, remember? We’re practically across the Atlantic for the Bahamas, silly.”

“Blubby, blubby, there’s some snow that never melted at the Milford Wildlife area that the caribou dumped a load on and preserved for several months. If you’re not careful, you could drive your Blazer into the swamp and get eaten by crocodiles.”

“Caribou and crocs in the same refuge?”

“And all I have to do to be eligible for the drawing is read ‘Last of the Mohicans’ in Chinese before the cock crows twice.”

“Honey, you don’t KNOW any Chinese.”

“That’s what YOU think. I have this IBM Word Processor that can translate faster than you can say Rosenthal’s Methods for German. And it’s even been broken down into Cantonese, Mandarin, and Shikoku, in case the judges try to pull a fast one.”

“Isn’t the last one Japanese?”

Ignoring last slight, clinging desperately to his sexual barrenness

“And don’t you need batteries for the translator?”

One last stab

“Hell, I’ll get ’em down at Milford Electronics. It says right here, now where’d it go, ah, here it is, right under one of the electrodes ‘can…’, damn this Vietnamese can be a pain to read, only someone from the Gnomemobile can read it, ‘…only…be…special-…orderdered…send…SASE…'”

Coach Shaw looks up.

His wife is smiling in victory.

 

“It’s like Louis being surrounded by Black Bart and his gang without any bullets in his gun. You can’t have a happy ending in his novels if the supply office at Fort Leavenworth or Fort Cheyenne failed to order the right guns and ammo in time. We might still be using tomahawks. But at the Milford Men’s Clinic, you can shoot straight without any fear of the Dalton Gang spoiling your wedding. You can get married, get it on in bed that night, free from anyone crashing the party. With treatment programs that work, isn’t it time your wim-wim got the proper medicine and stood and be counted so that Louis can get that 1,345,586th novel he’s been working on? Don’t let Louis go the way of John Wilkes Booth and let him fight his way out of the barn. You’ll be glad you did.”

Gang, have at it. I don’t know which Art Deco bus I’m riding in, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

 

In Gil’s Living Room Decor

“Kaz, Shaw was listening to ‘Saturday Night Fever’ over the speakers, wasn’t he?”

“How’d you know, Gil?”

“There’s toilet paper forming a 540 degree angle from the shower stall to the film screen.”

August 30, 2018

Tradition!

gt08302018

Who, on the links, must scramble for the Juniors,
And who just plays golf, no soccer anymore,
To shave their final score a stroke?
The golfers, teen golfers! Tradition!
Not Tony, but Wilson! Concussion!
Who must know the way to play a proper game,
An honest game, a kosher game?
Start a phony tournament and leave the house,
So Mimi’s free to drink the holy grape?
Gil Thorp does, Gil Thorp does! Tradition!
Gil Thorp does, Gil Thorp does! Tradition!
Let’s watch the Valley tournament. They’ve rented a nice tent.
I hear they’ve got some nice trophies. I hope they’re pretty.
Ho-hum, ho-hum! Tradition!
Ho-hum, ho-hum! Tradition!
And who learns how to cheat, learns how to lie and fix,
At Pine Ridge and at Blackthorne? Geez, what a bunch of pricks!
The cheaters, the cheaters! Tradition!
The cheaters, golf cheaters! Tradition!
(apologies Bock and Harnick)
*****
Alright, enough of that.  Skeeters must be biting hard in Milford or else Gil’s pantomiming how much of a pain in the neck he’s become.
I’m truly confused about a few things:  (1) If scorers are tradition! at the Valley Juniors, why aren’t they also at the qualifiers?  (b) How does dude know about the Pine Ridge Boys’ thievery except as hearsay? (iii) Why does dude give a rat’s hinder about what Gil does at his Participation Trophy Invitational?
Gil has to realize he’s not the big man at the Valley Juniors, both figuratively and literally. Just look at that gargantuan couple to his left!
metapost: I’m having trouble with the spacing here today.  Not sure why but then again I’ve never bothered to figure out how to adjust the spacing on WordPress posts. Mea culpa.

July 21, 2018

We’re From Milford, We’re from Milford…

gt07212018
… No one likes us
We don’t care
We’re from Milford
F***in’ Milford
No one likes us
We don’t care

I am Bader
Barry Bader
No one likes me
I don’t care
I am Barry
F***in’ Bader
No one likes me
I don’t care

It’s my dad’s fault
It’s not my fault
It’s my dad’s fault
I don’t care
Didn’t know that
Until last week
It’s my dad’s fault
I don’t care

Where was my mom?
Where was my mom?
For the last year
Did she care?
Did she stand up
To my father?
It’s not my fault
I don’t care

I’m Pelwecki
Kev Pelwecki
I hit homers
No one cares
I’ll beat Shankey’s
F***in’ record
You mean Sharkey?
I don’t care

I am Dafne
On a mission
Get in J-school
I don’t care
I’ll expose my
F***in’ classmates
They don’t like me
I don’t care

I am Ms. Rizk
I will take risks
Name’s ironic?
I don’t care
I just care ’bout
F***in’ Trumpet
I will take risks
I don’t care

I’m Kazinski
Bob Kazinski
I don’t coach much
I don’t care
Hair like Venus
Grab that penis
Off the basepath
I don’t care

I am Gil Thorp
Head Coach Gil Thorp
We’re still playing?
I don’t care
Trust the Process?
There’s no process!
When’s my tee time?
I don’t care

 

July 14, 2018

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

071418

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

071018

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”.

WHAT ABOUT THE BOY

WHAT ABOUT THE BOY

WHAT ABOUT THE BOY

HE SAW IT ALL

 

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

WITHOUT ANY PROOF

 

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

HOW CAN HE BE SAVED

FROM LOSING SECOND BASE

 

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

 

SEE ME

FEEL ME

PLAY ME

ADORE ME

 

SEE ME

FEEL ME

LICK ME

WORSHIP ME

 

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.

“Next.”

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.”

 

BARRY CAN YOU HEAR ME

CAN I HELP TO CHEER YOU

BARRY CAN YOU HEAR ME

CAN YOU SEE ME NEAR YOU

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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MY HEART IS FULL OF LOVE AND IT’S ALL FOR YOU

NOW COME ON DOWN AND DO WHAT YA GOT TA DO

 

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.

“COACH KAZ!!!!!!!! COACH KAZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DON’T GET ON THAT SHIP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THAT ‘M’ ON THE COMPUTER SCREEN IN THE JOURNALISM ROOM!!!!!!!!! IT MEANS  ‘COOKBOOK’ IN KANAMITESE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

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.

 

I’M THE GYPSY

I’M THE ACID QUEEN

I’M GUARANTEED TO MAKE YOUR

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?”

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