This Week in Milford

July 23, 2019

Whose Life Is It Anyway?

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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)

May 23, 2019

Chef Gil, This Plot Has Been Chopped

Filed under: actual action, Just plain sad, Madison Time, softball, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 12:37 am

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You’re kidding, right? It’s this much of a no-brainer, kinda like someone handing you a $100,000 check when you’re leaving Milford Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market to take your groceries to the car. No strings attached??? Just don’t forget to sign your John Henry on the back when you cash it at Milford Federal.

Still doing a mental background check on the person the implementer of such largesse, well, gee, duh, if you’re caught up in “Tippicanoe and Gil Thorp too” buttons, worried more how they’ll play on the free market than THE ACTUAL GAME ITSELF, isn’t that another way of saying YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW???? Yeah, it’s rocket science when you forget “There’s no ‘I’ in the word ‘team'”. We gotta go back to kindergarten to figure that out????? Linda, right now, I wouldn’t give you a scholarship on Romper Room’s intramural team.

 

“Coach, since you’re not going to do much coaching until, say August, loosely speaking, you understand, do you mind if I take a vacation?”

“No, Coach Boone, you only show up around the Playdowns anyway. To paraphrase Dylan, you just want to be on the side that’s winning.”

“Coach, that’s not entirely fair. I watched you work with your kids the entire afternoon practicing their putts at Milford Golf Course because you got tired of maxing your credit card at Putt Putt by teaching them how to negotiate the windmill. It was as exciting as watching paint dry teaching them how to avoid a bogey on par 5 dog leg left Shoot Through The Bazooka pin, but the cashier at Putt Putt was proud. Little victories in everything.”

“Oh, Hell, Boone, take the whole summer. If you can’t handle having to endure physical activity for long stretches at a time, take your candy ass to Wheel of Fortune for all I care. Win a trip to Bahamas and get lost.”

 

The trip to “Worst Cooks In America” is getting off to a resounding start, doncha think??? Hope Coach Boone brought his ‘A’ game.

 

How’ bout dippin’ into the ’80’s for a little Talk Talk?

Funny how the crowd observes my every move

I walk with lack of privacy at school

I wish I’d never paid 39 pennies

For the El Dorado

 

They just drool

 

I ask myself

Can I make it to a stall

 

 

It’s my badge

Don’t you forget it

It’s my badge

You touch, you’ll regret it

 

I like how timbuys mentions “just plain sad”. What other scenario can be drawn from today, especially P1? Gang, do what you want but I ain’t touchin’ P1 with a 10-foot pole. She is puttin’ on a clinic. Good arm extension, hip rotation, eye on the ball, level swing, ball poppin’ off the bat at a good angle. Guarantee it, Walt Hriniak is taking notes and he didn’t do that often.

But do we have to learn from The Joker about how to swing a bat because Batman was out in the Batmobile too long???? Yeah, it is, indeed, just plain sad when this clinic is coming from the other team. F— you, Mudlarks, and quit pullin’ your head when you swing. Correct me if I’m wrong Thorpiverse old-timers, especially from the Berrill era, but wasn’t some of the tips we’d see flashed on the screen not only educational and an added bonus, it actually came out of GIL’S MOUTH???? I know I’m not going to Tod Andrews’ Oakwood Baseball Summer Camp Junior High Division to learn how to use 2 hands and squeeze when you catch the ball.

The Philistines are teaching the Israelites how to Punt, Pass, and Kick.

 

Then there’s P2. What can ANYONE say????? It is going 180 degrees away from P1. Just about ANYTHING that’s right in P1 is wrong in P2. Players with heads up their asses, putting their own selfish agenda before what’s going on  the field. How can I mention fielding technique? I had a saying when I was coaching Babe Ruth League Baseball, “What do you tell the player who knows everything? Nothing.” In P2, rest my case.

 

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“USF Holland Semi Collides With TCFS VW Company Van!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Miraculously, no one was injured. Semi on the way to The Bucket to deliver guacamole chips.”

 

“Coach Boone is pulling the chips out of the oven-he forgot to add KC Master Bar-B-Q sauce to the recipe. You have 10 minutes on the clock, Coach.”

 

“So Coach, what are you making, if I may so ask?”

“I’m serving up a Guacamole Chicken Salad Tostada en los Frijoles Morenos y una Copa del Vino Merlot Fresco serving for 8 people. This has to be seasoned just right, especially when I lay the Grippo’s on the sheet pans.”

“Absolutely. I noticed you’re using Bar-B-Q chips. Aren’t you a little concerned that the judges might have Grippo’s breath for days?”

“Way ahead of you. I solved that problem watching ‘Trisha’s Southern Kitchen’ one night. She doused a pint of chocolate cherry liqueuer all over the Baked Chicken Gumbo, Sauteed in Nabisco Cheese Nips .I understand Trisha only needed a half a pack of Certs when she performed with Garth for a Nashville charity event.

 

If ya burned the guacamole chips and sneak out the back down to Piggly Wiggly, buy out the store of Golden Flake Cheddar ‘n’ Sour Cream Potato Chips, stick ’em in the bed of yore pick-up, lay the tarp over ’em so the judges don’t notice when they’re on a smoke break, then smuggle ’em to the cupboard on a commercial break, ironically enough Lay’s Vinegar Chips one of the sponsors, ya might be a redneck.

 

Being stalked by everyone

Green with envy

Can’t even approach the water fountain

 

Need a hall pass to Chem or French

Econ field trips are simply out

 

What a mountain

 

I ask myself

Can I buy a Twinkie from the cafeteria

 

 

 

 

 

It’s my badge

Don’t you forget it

It’s my badge

You just don’t get it

 

After coaching the linebackers for 2 strips while Gil is off another Big Adventure, Coach Boone returns for prep time.

“Okay (flush) , I put the guacamole sauce in the microwave. While that’s sizzling, I will get the chicken ready. (To himself) Goddammit, I told KFC I wanted white meat this time. (To the audience) Fortunately, I have a glass bowl ready, sitting by the Cocoa Pebbles, whattya know. I dump the chicken strips in the bowl, add a pinch of paprika, a pinch of cilantro, add a tablespoon of raspberry red, half a teaspoon of orange orange, and a quarter cup of green clovers and a half cup of yellow moons.”

“Coach, you think Lucky Charms will mix evenly in the bowl with Green Onion Grippo’s Chips.”

“I had to try something. I’ve already used Grippo’s Bar-B-Q Chips for my other secret recipe. Besides, it’s no different than making a free safety whose family is from Laos line up with the outside linebacker whose dad’s a hog farmer. They talk out their differences and BOOM BABY!!!!!!!! Next thing you know, we stop the tailback at the line of scrimmage. Friends For Life do that.”

“Just don’t forget to add Contadina Tomato Paste so the flavors don’t overwhelm. And some Lysol. The yellow moons got a little chewy when I sampled the product.”

“Thank you, judges. And I’ll add a few drops of iodine so that the acid-base reading is close to ‘7’ as possible.”

 

Then P3 is the culmination of the failed “Keep Cool with Cool Buttons” campaign. Yeah, I reckon you need to call the whole damn nation/keep the tailgate down with your glove if you don’t want another “Dewey Defeats Truman!!!!!! moment at the Mudlark Softball Complex.

Madison is just simply dancing in front of the Mudlark dugout, doing their best Travolta rendition, complete with disco ball. The spotlight is going back on the team bus with the rest of the Philistines. Lady Mudlarks, you’ve been chopped.

 

“Coach, I don’t understand. Weren’t you going to add guacamole chips to your dish?”

“NO!!!!!! Those were the appetizers to hold down the fort while I work through this. Kroger ran out of store-brand Restaurant Chips. I want this Guacamole Chicken Salad to be just right. The soy sauce clicked with the blue diamonds so CYA in that regard. But I got some Dorito’s Cool Ranch under the sink in case I gotta go to Plan B.”

 

Ooooooookkkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn is back to help skewer this plot. Take ‘er away, Gene.

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooo dumb  (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she wore a button that said ‘Too Cool for ________________'”.

 

“Coach, you ARE aware you have 5 minutes?”

“And your point is?

“The Guacamole Chicken Salad Tostada en los Frijoles Morenos y una Copa del Vino Merlot Fresco looks a little overdone. I can see au gratin potato stains all over the green clovers. And I’ve seen better cooked chicken at Mel’s Diner. I’m not sure Alice would even eat that Waffle House in Paradise.”

“HA!!!!!!!! That’s where I’ve got you judges where I want you!!!!! I want you to THINK I’m burning the merchandise but not only am I going to marinade it now, but the slight sizzle, or overcooked as you say, will bring out all the flavors, especially all the anise. The Trix portion of the dish won’t know what hit it. Honey Nut Cheerios pieces and Kroger Restaurant Chips simmering in a cream cheese marinade sauce? Like to see Thorp do better. He can barely marinade water.”

“All right, we’ll see what happens. You’re the cook. I just hope you come through with the Chocolate S’mores and Louisiana Lightning Sauce mixture that you highly bragged about.”

 

I snuck into the dugout gate

With my Holy Grail

Locked in the gym bag, best know the combination

 

Only “All The Way With LBJ”

Stopped TCFS hardware

 

From world domination

 

 

Convince myself

Mussolini ran campaigns better

 

 

This is my badge

Don’t you forget it

This is my badge

You can’t even pet it

 

This is my badge…

 

As Gil rides off into the sunset with one of the ostriches, rumor has it thst he was at the Savannah Section of Milford Nature Area

 

“Chef Boone, congratulations, you have earned the distinction Worst Cook in America. I wouldn’t feed this concoction to starving children in China, let alone on my block. The chicken was chewier than a Nerfball, the lemon juice was overbearing with the Cocoa Puffs, and don’t even go there with the guacamole chips. I could buy better chips from a street vendor who sells chili dogs at lunch.”

“I’m just getting Lay’s Potato Chips and KFC  Breast Dark Meat and maybe the mashed taters in the pee cup that comes with the chicken. You sure you didn’t take a urine sample yourself in this slop?  I’d be drug-testing you for stupidity at my restaurant right now. How you can have the audacity to mix Chic-Lets and oregano just so you can spice up your dish is more than a travesty. And the raspberry red was undercooked. Don’t quit your day job.”

“Chef Boone, or maybe just Mr. Boone, since you can’t coach or cook. Why in the world are you using Arm & Hammer Baking Soda after you take it out of the oven? You needed to mix it in to give the chips a more even texture. your chicken was raw and the substitute Tater Tots ‘n’ Vine Ripe Tomatoes that you got from your grandfather’s recipe didn’t really replace the guacamole chips you ran out of. Ever heard of Pam? Chef Boone, you’ve been chopped, I’ll save the trouble before the commercial break.”

 

“Thank you, judges.”

 

“HUGE HUGE shout-out to the staff in 5 Core Unit of the Intensive Care Unit at University of Louisville Hospital. They have waited on me hand and foot during my stay here and have done it with a “Service with a Smile” atmosphere. It would not be fair to name names, since there were many of them and the beauty is, many would rather not be mentioned anyway. Classic unsung heroes. You factor in the Medical Team that has stayed with me patiently throughout my recovery and you have a recipe for success. I can see why my nephew, a medical doctor himself, highly recommends them. A big THANK YOU is in order to these people who make a difference in our lives.

 

Comment away, Gang. No, I’m not getting autographs from the Madison players. I won’t go that far.

 

“What can I say? I need to use more Pam and canola oil next time. I appreciate the judges’ honesty as they’re only trying to make me better. I’ve chewed out a nose guard for not wrapping a guy when he’s tackling him. It’s all in the execution.”

 

“You callin’ me a candy ass???? Shoot, you couldn’t ride an ostrich through the Picnic Area!!!!!”

February 6, 2019

Does Gil Realize??

gt02062019

Do you realize that in the Valley we’re in last place?
Do you realize I stare into space?
Do you realize that Marty Moon makes me cry?
Do you realize that our entire team someday will die?
And instead of playing counselor to me, let me know
You realize this season’s passed
You cannot coach us out of last
You realize that Howry is a clown
He’s just getting off because we’re missing the playdowns
Do you realize?
Do you realize that even Marty Moon someday will die?
And instead of getting hung up on my play, let me know
You realize your time has passed
Resign and give your job to Kaz
With Mimi, get drunk as the sun goes down
And then you could stay away from the balls that are round
Do you realize that in the Valley we’re in last place?
Do you realize?
(apologies Wayne Coyne)

 

January 24, 2019

The Lunatic Is In The Booth

Filed under: Bobby Howry, Just plain sad, Marty Moon, Milford Idiots, Pointy Fingers, song parody — tdrewhardin @ 5:11 pm

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The lunatic is in the booth

The lunatic is in the booth

You second-guess

And undermine the team

We’ll just pretend that it’s a bad dream

 

The lunatic is on the court

The lunatic is on the court

Your patient file

Is wedged tight in your gym shorts

Got to play zone D and still hold the fort

 

And if Gil starts bitchin’ and pullin’ out his hair

Ranting and raving like Yogi Bear

And if this game you’re in starts playing different tunes

I’l see you in the booth with Marty Moon

 

 

Shout out to Devin Cameron, of Louisville, Kentucky, for his VERY perceptive mind. Our discussion on politics while taking him to work was INTENSE. It is clear he has a VERY brilliant mind and a good head on his shoulders. And he cares about things as well. Without people like Devin, the world would go a little slower because he LOVES to be a working part of our upward march of humanity. Treat him with respect, gang, he’s earned it.

 

 

 

 

P1-Day 14

“All right, you’re on the air. It’s Psycho Pete from suburban Milford. Go ahead, Pete.”

“That’s PSYCHO Pete to you.”

Marty, a little annoyed, swallows his pride. He needs to get his fan base back and what better way than someone who just received his diploma from the Milford State Hospital.

“Okay. Will do. What’s on your mind, Psycho Pete? Is Gil past the expiration date?”

“A better question is, are YOU past the expiration date? You’ve been second-guessing Gil ever since they launched Sputnik and I’m surprised McCarthy didn’t interrogate you when he was on the witch hunt for the Reds. I was on the Anti-Communist Committee with Kefauver, Stevenson, Nixon, Acheson, Morgenthau, Bretton Woods, Dumbarton Oaks…”

“Wait, wait, wait. Weren’t the last two conferences on, refresh my memory, improving world peace or, maybe, the world economic system? I flunked International Studies at Milford Broadcasting School but I remember those names when we took a pop quiz. Saved my license.”

“Shows how much you know. We were set to sentence you to the chair for all the nasty things you said about Gil back in the ’50’s. At Dumbarton, we were trying to get the OK from the Governor to pull the lever after you remarked that Eisenhower had a hair style like Gil when Ike and McCarthur were classmates at West Point. Low blow, Moon.”

“Look, what this has to do with the present topic-”

“And John Maynard Keynes thought your show needed a pump-priming after the Free Market was allowed to send people to the soup kitchen. Sure, scandalize Gil while someone is at the ticket booth at the Milford Gym asking “Brother, can you spare a dime? I’d have put your show under the Tennessee Valley Authority, for sure.”

“Will you PLEASE get to the p-”

“That’s why, soon as I hang up, I’m going to drive down to the WDIG studio and chop you up. Your goatee oughta be great jowl bacon at Milford Bar-B-Q Shack. The rest I’ll just feed to the hogs on my farm.”

“Now you’re threatening me and I’m gonna call the p-”

“Then I’ll be nice. I’ll just use the chain saw on Peaches. You better hope it’s plugged in cuz Milford Gas & Electric threatened to cut off my electricity. Said I was 3 months behind but if I paid $1,563 of it by this Friday, they wouldn’t send a temp to put a lock on the fuse box. Peaches might not have to die in vain after all. Did you ever play Operation when you were a kid? I hope it doesn’t buzz when I get to her boobs.”

“NOW YOU LEAVE PEACHES ALONE, YOU PSYCHO YOU!!!!!!!!!!”

“That’s my name don’t wear it out.”

“IF I COULD REACH THROUGH THIS TRUE VALUE #2 COPPER WIRE-”

“BTW, to show there’s no hard feelings, I was the one who shot Coach Shaw.”

“NOW we’re getting somewhere. If you’ll reveal your name, WDIG will send you a check for $10,000-”

“$20,000. Still gotta get caught up on the M G & E bill.”

“-$20,000, cashier’s check, no questions asked.”

“Hell, you don’t have to do that. I trust you. A Milford Kwik-ee Mart money order will do. They only cost 79 cents.”

“Whatever, fine. OK, the scoop of my life, the career-saving news item, my retirement nest egg, Psycho Pete, what is your name and where do you live?”

“My name is—————————–”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Marty Moon, On Assignment By WDIG Out In Milford Nature Area, Stampeded By A Herd Of Elephants!!!!!!!!!!”

sub head line

“Curator noted they were doing a ritual dance while an East African female was in gestation.”

 

 

Shout-out to John Buntain, of Louisville, Kentucky, for losing 80 pounds!!!!!!!!!!!! This was his 3rd straight day of working out and he is DETERMINED. He told me one of the keys to his weight loss was WILL POWER. He just laid off the heavy stuff (burgers, fries, etc.) , no matter how tempting it was to gorge into a Big Mac or Whopper, and exercised a lot. Sounds like a recipe for success. John deserves respect because he did all this while at an oloder age. Sometiomes losing a pound as you get older is TOUGH. But John did it. Got my respect, Big Guy. You da Man.

 

 

And as for P2

If these walls could speak

 

They would tell you that I’m sorryyyyyyy

For being an overarching snake

They would tell you that

This program is sponsored by Shake ‘n’ Bake

 

If these walls could speak

 

They would tell you that I owe Gil

Twenty and some dimes at Milford Lounge

They would tell you that I’m only

A jerk, a lout, a scrounge

That’s if these walls could speak.

 

Dedicated to you, Amy Grant. You make a difference in people’s lives and LIVE your Faith as well. LOVE your music too.

 

 

“…a bear on Snuffy Smith’s porch while Jughaid is scratching himself????????”

“Oh, Gil, no wonder why Milford Comedy Club changed the locks. And we’ll take a commercial break. This is Marty Moon. You’re listening to WDIG on Lear Field Sports.”

 

“Hi, I’m Mr. Wall. I’m literally the front for WDIG. And I can’t afford to have bad breath when I’m on the job. the employees would call in sick and sponsors would defect to WMFD. That’s why I use Industrial-Size Scope. One spray from the Milford Fire Department fire truck hose, a gurgle for 30 seconds, spit it down the sewer and as long as the pipes aren’t stopped up, my breath is horticulturally fresh. I can’t afford to reek embarrassing odors that bring the EPA out of the closet. They have enough to worry about in Gil’s office since I heard he rarely flushes in his personal WC. Imagine doggy-doo on your carpet with a Bucket Rocky Road Shake spread all over it with a heat lamp bearing down on it, magnified by a power of 10, carry the one, and you get the idea.

Try Industrial-Sized Scope today. Now available in Mint or Creamy Apple Cider at Milford Pharmacy, home of the 99 cent X-Lax. Constipation has met its Waterloo.”

 

Thanks to Sarcastic Jack for help with the above idea. He’s a funny guy who feeds me great ideas. He proves no man is an island. Can’t do this post alone, trust me. Sarcastic Jack is one of the little help from my friends.

 

The lunatic is on the mike

The lunatic is on the mike

He’s doling out programs about ‘Larks lack of game

And every game the head usher brings more

 

You lock his door

And cut off his podcast

You rearrange his head

Cuz this won’t last

 

And if Boob won’t shut up and seek real jobs

Besiege his screed with angry mobs

And if he won’t shut up about Gilbert’s lack of shrewd

I’ll see him rambling in the booth with Marty Moon

 

 

The laughter you hear is Boob making fun of Gil’s coaching in a padded cell somewhere on the grounds of Milford State Hospital. Sometimes having no life catches up with you. Or gets you run over by Babar’s family, as Marty proves.

 

All that you shoot

All that you root

]All that you miss

All you dis

All you rebound

And all that you bounce

All that you front

Block, box out, or steal

All you deny

And all you post up

All you tech up

All you pass

All that you bank

And all that you brick

All that you tank

All balls you kick

All the time outs

20 seconds or full

All plays you call

All you ball

And all you fast break

And every press you break

All that you swish

And everything you take out of bounds

Is the game

But the game is eclipsed by ol’ Moooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnn

 

The scoreboard clock is ticking while Luhm is heard to say

“Man, why doesn’t Marty clean up after himself? I’ve  never seen so many used-up coffee filters under the press box. Whew!!!!!!! Pewwwwwweeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!! Is that coffee grinds in tne corner???? That isn’t urine I smell, is it? I always wondered why he had both arms under the booth during a 20-second time out. Thank God it’s all dark, hard to tell.

 

 

WE ARE MILFORD’S KIDS. A MILLION STRONGGGGG AND GROWING

“Y’know, every time I hear that song, I’m thankful for our future generation. But sometimes that can be a problem when you have prior commitments and you still gotta watch the kids. Hi, this is Coach Thorp for Milford Beverage Warehouse. Don’t let babysitting detail impede you from The Good Life. The Warehouse is proud to announce that every Friday night from 7-10 is Kid’s Night Out. You heard right, when you purchase any bottle of booze, your child, as part of the Kids Drink Free promo, will receive a free soft drink of his/her choice. Oh boy, if you use that Visa Gold for Crown Royal Whiskey, the kids get a Mr. Pibb on the house. And all you have to do is show proper ID at the door and the kid present their Student ID. But hey, we’re not picky around here. If you have no prior convictions, your child can bring his/her Jungle Book lunch box and as long as it his has his/her name on it, why, come on in, the liquor’s fine. Just clean the Jif Peanut Butter stains is all we ask, for health reasons. We don’t want anybody getting germs off Chateau Ste. Michelle Blackberry Wine. Mmmmmmm, mmmmmmmm, Jim Beam Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey tastes a little sweeter when ya see the kids downing a Choc-ola. I know, because when Mimi went to her basketball seminar in Minneapolis to talk about improving the 5-game schedule so that the hotels wouldn’t be overbooked, I got left hangin’ with Keri and Jaime when it was Strip Poker Night at my house. No problemo, I just hauled off the kids to Mecca and got a couple of cases of Samuel Adams Boston Lager, a case of Bud Light Lime in the 24-pack and a bottle of Svedka Imported Swedish Vodka for Kaz. Some people love blowing their guts out while playing Old Maid. The kids were treated to Bud canes and some licorice, given generously by Bud Man who made an appearance and signed autographs for the kiddies and the kids at heart. They all washed it down with a Fresca. AND they went inside the Bud House, that’s right, a free-standing structure where the kids can go in and float around all over the place. NOW they know what it’s like when Daddy is hung over and the living room starts spinning. Golly gee, Chuck E. Cheese’s can’t do that. They just have humanoid bears trying to act like KISS and they serve refried pizza. I’d be blowin’ smoke like Gene Simmons on that pepperoni specimen, fer sure. C’mon, everybody, take the family down to the Milford Beverage Warehouse. I just lost my shirt and boxer shorts that night after  Coach Shaw showed a full house and the kids went off to La La Land with their Bud Man teddy bears. And the Milford Girls Basketball team will be staying in a Motel 6 from now on. Hey, Me and Tom Bodette will leave the light on for you.

 

 

 

 

But Coach Thorp is eclipsed by the Mooooonnnnnnnnnnnn

Whoops, oh well, same difference. At any rate, comment away. Booby should end his vigil by the time the skating marathon begins. He can’t bitch forever. I wouldn’t think.

 

P3-Remember that Martian that was Bugs Bunny’s nemesis? I claim this gym in the name of Mars. Maybe they can work out an exchange program and send Gil up for a coaching symposium. Send Booby the Martian back for a permanent lobotomy. It could happen.

January 17, 2019

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

011719

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’.”

 

 

October 11, 2018

…’Round and ‘Round and ‘Round and…

101118

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

 

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