This Week in Milford

November 3, 2018

Here’s Where The Story Should End

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Gil lit Tiki up

Worse than any wide receiver

That ain’t Andre’s biz

 

Just keep practicing

But never suit up for games?

Just quit already!

 

“Lit up” for nothing?

Mudlarks can lose without you

Still miss the playdowns

 

Tiki’s sister is

More important than football

Family comes first

 

Sticking with Gil Thorp’s

Transit analogy, that

Car won’t drive itself

 

The only thing that

Keeps me interested in

This stumbling plot:

 

Anticipating

The crow Gil will have to eat

When truth comes to light

 

 

 

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October 23, 2018

This Plot Goes On And It Drives Us Mad

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Where do we go from here

Now that Tiki is camping in Gil’s place

And how does he spend his time

When the plot forges on at a snail’s pace

 

ANOTHER HARDY BOY’S MYSTERY???????????? CAN WE AT LEAST GET SOME FOOTBALL WHILE ENCYCLOPEDIA BROWN AND SALLY KIMBALL TRACK DOWN WHERE BUGS MEANY LIVES??????????????

My goodness, I’m sure they’ll discover, probably to no one’s surprise, that Bugs Meany and his family have their own private Hooverville house at Milford Skid Row. They followed Bugs’ (not Bugs Bunny, to avoid any resemblence which would be REALLY coincidental) trail of Jack Daniels bottles back to his house, or really loosely speaking, abode. It keeps the rain out, give him that. Anyway, the Hardy Boys will more than likely find a similar path starting with the sandwich Tiki is devouring in P2. Are we SURE his mom packed that in his lunch box this morning along with Sun Maid raisins, Lays Sun Chips, Hi-C cooler, and Hostess Twinkie or did Tiki hock that from the incinerator in the Maintenance Room? The Hardy Boys should have checked there first. After non-contact drills, of course. Anyway, if the janitors check all the garbage cans and dumpsters and detect that all the PB & J, Ham & Rye, Tuna Fish and Scrambled Egg, Brain, Bacon ‘n’ Pork Rind, and Reuben sandwiches were pilfered from designated repositories, then it’s hard for me to imagine, as desperate Gil is to resuscitate this plot, that he would stoop that low, literally and figuratively. There could be only one culprit and he’s eating the evidence even as I text.

But hey, the Hardy Boys could always sneak into Coach Thorp’s office and check his mini-fridge after blocking drills on Thursday just to be sure.

“WOW, look at all these Bacon ‘n’ Egg Croissants!!!!!!!!!!!”

Elmer Fudd follows the string of Michelob Lite beer cans from the edge of the Wal-Mart property deep into the Milford Wildlife Management Area until Mr. Fudd pinpoints a rabbit hole next to a camellia bush, half-eaten by the other Bugs (not Bugs Meany, do I have to keep reminding you???????) that he surely washed down with the Michelob Lite (Here’s to good friends, tonight is kinda special, a hollyhock and Lowenbrau among your fishing buddies after you caught a shark. Life is good) . Elmer points the blunderbuss into the hole. Hope Bugs Bunny isn’t hung over. “Aw wight, wabbit, say your pwayers.”

 

Shout-out goes to Vincent Natalie of Louisville, Kentucky, who was a housing inspector for years, and with his solid work ethic and great personality, would have kept going had God not told him to relax and enjoy life. Unlike many housing inspectors, Vincent learned you catch more flies with honey than you do vinegar and approached every landlord and tenant that way. they would gladly proceed and comply with his orders which were ALWAYS reasonable. If government was ALWAYS that way, we’d get more done. Vincent, you were great to talk to the other day and I hope to talk to you some more in the future. Enjoy your retirement. You’ve earned it.

 

BTW, While the Hardy Boys and Milkman are on a rampage,  I’ll be using “The Turn of a Friendly Card”, you whippersnappers, from the Alan Parsons Project, to aid them in their pursuit of justice. Need help somewhere.

 

I have been reading on one of my favorite subjects, math, and I read something interesting on probability.

It seems that Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades (assuming that Hercules and Atlas were busy with the kids) threw dice and Zeus wound up with the earth, Poseidon, the oceans, and Hades, well, I think you can put 2+2 on that one.

But my imagination is running wild

“I drew Milford AGAIN?????? Let me see those dice!!!!!!!!!

 

And by my calculations, it appears in P1 that the Spaceship Enterprise has landed in the Milford High School parking lot (Security ordered Captain Kirk to park the vehicle in the Student Section) for, I’m thinking, a seminar with the students. I’m ruling out a pep assembly. And, lo and behold, if it isn’t Samuel Llewellyn Spock, Dr. Spock’s grandson, shooting a stare at our victim, Tiki Time Bomb. Careful with that Vulcan Submission Hold that your granddaddy used on his enemies. We’re talking a prospective slum king here and it’s not necessary to implement desperate measures.

“OKAY!!!! OKAY!!!!! We live under the bridge and we eat out at Hardee’s every night!!!!!!!! At least it’s char-broiled!!!!!! And, OKAY, we sleep on the dead sassafras trees and lay our heads down on the foliage. Now will you let go of my shoulder?????

 

Where do go from here

Now that Tiki lacks toilets or floor space

And how will he go to class

If he’s blocked by the presence of Gil’s face

 

At a book sale, I ran across a book entitled “How to make a Tornado”.

This week’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O. J. Suing Milford High School Concerning Home-Made Tornado After His Mudlark Lake Beach House Was Razed To The Ground; Scuba Divers Recover His MVP Trophy In The Bottom Of The Lake!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub head line

“Trial will begin in February 2019 after his lawyer, Johnny Cochrane, gets his condominium appraised of damages.”

 

Nothing forward

Nothing gained

This plot wades on

And it bears much pain

I’d rather eat borscht in the rain

Topped with candy cane

Crap festers more and more profane

 

We’ve got common sense to lose (We’ve got common sense to lose)

We’ve got Alpo Beef for news (We oughta be belching out this news)

 

Shout-out to Beverly Tyler of Clarksville, Indiana. Two, count ’em, two broken ankles in the past, yet she has overcome and cheerfully goes to work every day as if nothing ever happened. She is truly an inspiration to me and has shown me how you can beat the odds just by making that first step. She gets up EARLY to boot. Wow. Gang, I think she loves her job and life too. Give her respect, gang. Lots of it.

 

And as long as The Hardy Boys are not going to learn their lesson AND STICK TO SPORTS (remember the stern lecture Gil gave them last year when they and Joe Friday and Bill Gannon were staking out Aardvark’s place?) , I have to admire their process of elimination in P3. No, if he’s eating Spam instead of Prime Rib, Ken’l Ration instead of Filet Mignon, Fried Tuna instead of Lobster, we can safely posit that Tiki’s family does not own a time-share cabin next to Marty’s beach house at Mudlark Lake Resort.

“Joe and Bill-“

“That’s Mr. Friday and Mr. Gannon, to you, punks.”

“Anyway, look at this trail of Tender Vittles. Smells like they eat a lot of the Shrimp variety. It’s leading to that chalet by that huge pin oak tree.”

 

Annnnnddddddd, I saw this at a Kroger in my hometown in the Frozen aisle on an endcap

Denali Extreme Maximum Fudge Moose Tracks (for those of you keeping score at home)

Sooooooooooooo at the Milford Clay Oven, The Taste of the Himalayas, now offering free delivery, brought to your doorstep in 30 minutes or less or the order’s free

“Waiter, there’s a roach in my wife’s Fish Curry Vindaloo Soup.”

“And the chefs didn’t sprinkle enough paprika in the Samosa Chat Moose Tracks. I’m usually fartin’ up a storm by the time me and Gil get to our Nissan Sentra.”

“Believe me, I have to roll down all the windows when we drive out of the parking lot. We have to give our kids Flintstones Chewables to flush themselves of the stench.”

“But this time, I haven’t even bothered to reach for my Rolaids.”

 

“Officer, how’d you know I was with Milford Clay Oven? The cherry top on the Domino’s, Papa John’s, and the Pizza Hut cars are all shaped the same.”

“Simple. Yours was the only one in Urdu. BTW, I’ll let you off with a warning if you’ll let me sample that Ultimate Vegetable Korma Moose Tracks.”

 

 

 

“Okay, here’s your Chicken Tikka Masala, your Tandoori Chicken Salad, your Chicken Pakora, your Denali Vegetable Karma Ghia Pakora ‘n’ Baked Beans Krishna Karamel Baghavad Vita Wienerschnitzel On The Rocks Tandoori Waldorf Salad Maximum Ne Plus Ultra Chocolate Vanilla Strawberries ‘n’ Cream Ghi Moose Tracks Ice Cream, and your Kiddie Whopper And Fries. Oh, I forgot your 6-pack of Bud Lite on your coupon special.”

“That’s correct. I receive a free 6-pack brewskie of my choice when I purchase $85.00 worth on the menu, am I right?”

“You are correct. Anything else?”

“I think that’ll do it.”

“Thank you. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks for coming out to Oakwood.”

“Anytime, Mr. Andrews.”

 

Nothing’s good and Gil’s been had

The tripe shoves on

And it drives me mad

The writing flubs

And the story’s bad

For the ending, I’ll be glad

Eliminate this passing fad

 

Gil’s got nothing left to lose (Gil’s got gray lint in his shoes)

He oughta admimister fresher news (He’s waxing increasingly obtuse)

 

Ian Bairnson’s guitar solo, brilliant virtuoso as he always is (never disappoints) , leads us intooooooooo

“And that’ll do it. Coach T finds another way to lose one. Who’s gonna be his next kicker,  Donald Duck? Well, while I’m scanning the Disney Channel, allow me to pause for a commercial. We’ll be back to wrap up this travesty of justice. Your final, Jefferson, Louisiana Ragin’ Cajuns, 23, Milford, 21, you’re listening to Marty Moon on WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

“Fans, while you’re listening to Marty’ bull, I have a question.

Is your sex life on the rocks? Is the only time you get erect is when you stand at attention and salute the flag? Is your wife spending more time dropping off the kids at soccer practice than in bed?

Hi, this is Gil Thorp, And I can certainly relate, having experienced my own Erectile Dysfunction nightmares. Talk about “Tales from the Darkside”.

My weenie could have passed as the host of the show, it was that frightful. Mimi was about to call a werewolf, she was desperate for something exciting, even if it meant her heart would be ripped out or whatever werewolves do, I never watched the show, I was busy incompetently coaching the team. If all she had to do was stick a silver Bic pen in his neck to get stuck herself, it was worth going all the way for them. Thank God the werewolf’s number was unlisted.

And, I know, the Milford Men’s Clinic at the Mall got leveled to the ground by that tornado, created by a Senior Project. I still think some people need to get a life. However, don’t let some careless asshole who misapplied Erlenmeyer flasks and pipettes on the 2nd floor of the chem lab at Milford High School derail you from the pleasure you seek. The good news is that the Downtown location wasn’t even touched. And you can get the same treatment programs there that work just as well. By Gum, all you gotta do is locate the Empire State Building and you’re gonna score, in bed and in finding the place cuz the Clinic is right next to it. I’m not good on geography, some say I’m not good on coaching, but I’ll bet Marty Moon’s retreat house at Mudlark Lake Resort that if I can find it, you can too. Plenty of free parking in the rear and they’ll even validate your parking stub if you park in the Milford Municipal Lot.

Improving my sexual arousal and picking up my bar tab, er, parking bill, now that’s a winning combo. Pippin and Jordan couldn’t park their pick-ups any better.

And while the idiots who were careless with Mother Nature will serve In-School Suspension for their malfeasance, the Mall location will rise from the ashes, a Phoenix mating with its female counterpart, ready to soar their sex life through the uprights, this time winning the game. No referee to throw a flag on this one.

 

Comment away, gang. And if you’re in the area, stop by Coffee Crossing in New Albany, Indiana (Grant Line Road exit) . I was impressed by their selection of lattes, cappucinos, coffees, and scones, among other goodies, lots of ’em, at reasonable prices. If you’re on your way to work or need a lunch break, stop by. Support Small Business, gang, You need a place where everybody knows your name.

 

“Hmmmmm. Bill, this tastes like Mudlar-K-Pineapple Plus Cola. They must be skimpy on the soft drinks.”

“Mr. Friday, it could be Donald Duck Orange Juice. I’ve seen Tiki snarf tons of the stuff.”

“You punks run along and go home!!!!!!!!! You’ve got calesthnics and conditioning at 0600 hours!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

No this plot never ends

When Gil’s World all depends

On the turn

Of a friendly

Foot

October 19, 2018

When is anything on time in Milford?

Filed under: football, freak hands, Gil Thorp, Steve Luhm's Ghost Mops These Floors — robmize2013 @ 6:13 pm

I’m late.

I’m late.

A very important date.

No time to say hello goodbye I’m late I’m late I’m late.

I remember that little ditty from years ago and dont remember what it was connected to, but it stuck with me.  And we now have yet another story within the story to deal with. I guess the punter problem has been solved for now. That was last week. This week its Gil playing guidance counselor along with coach.

Why would Gil call Tiki in to discuss this matter? Isnt that for the people in the main office who deal with that stuff? My high school had rules that stated – frequent or chronic tardiness may be cause for suspension if not improved after a set amount of days since the student was notified by the office. In other words, the damn football coach isnt in charge of that at all! Here Gil worrys about his punter day and night for a month, and now he’s worried about a kid being late. For school, not practice or games. Now we’re gonna have 2 weeks of this being repeated ad nauseum until its either resolved or Tiki loses his place on the team.

When I was a senior I had study hall my last period (some seniors took another class after that but a lot of us were done early. Privilege of being a senior- shorter days.) Well, the wrestling coach was the ‘teacher’ in that study hall, and believe me, he was very lax about people getting there on time. The bell would ring, and half the desks would still be empty. I was always there early due to my previous class being close by, so a short walk etc. So I would watch people slowly stroll in like cattle grazing in a field, chatting with whoever they walked in with until by about 10 minutes after the period began everyone was there. Very loose discipline indeed. And sometimes we wouldnt even sit in our assigned seats. He hardly noticed any of this. It was like a glorified social hour, not really conducive to studying. Eventually we would quiet down and get some real studying in, or do some homework. But it was easily the most undisciplined class I ever took. I was also late a lot to English, but that was for 2 reasons; it was 2 1/2 halls from my locker which was way over near the gym on the other side of the school, and I would chat with my girl friend whose locker was next to mine, and walk with her to her class which was way closer to our locker so she had a shorter walk and more spare time as it was, and I would squeeze in as much time with her as possible before sprinting to my class a good 30 seconds after the bell rang, but I wasnt alone; a bunch of us were always late for that one too, and the teacher was also fairly ok with it as long as we got going right away, since it was a real class (unlike study hall).

Anyway — back to the strip– P3 is another possible side story with Tikis sister– who in high school gives a CRAP about a 5th grader? Nice clean floors however..

October 13, 2018

Sister Act

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Thank goodness we don’t have to listen to Kaz pretend to be a film buff to get a kid to play football anymore. That was getting awkward.

Know what else is gonna get awkward real fast? The secondary plot about Tiki Jansen. Besides not being a star and having a ratty orphan car, we didn’t know much about him until last week, when we learned he has “a slow sister problem.”  Rubin left it to interpretation then that Tiki’s sister might have a hard time getting ready for school. Now he drops broad hints that fifth-grader Angela might not be in the regular Milford school system.

How is Rubin gonna tie all these loose ends together?  Maybe Joe Bolek gets together with Tiki and Angela and they watch films of Nate Kaeding together, I dunno. (Nah, that makes no sense; Kaeding was a placekicker, not a punter.)  I shudder to think how this strip is gonna handle IEPs, Least Restrictive Environments, developmental pediatricians and all the baggage that comes with them. On that bright note, Happy Saturday, TWIMers!

June 25, 2018

Are We Sure These Kids Aren’t In Prison?

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Is it just me, or is everything spoken by Barry and Dafne utter nonsense? Am I reading Gil Thorp or Eugene Ionesco?

I get Panel One, sort of (except that they are in school now, but we’ve chewed all the meat off that bone). It’s awkward for Dafne to give Barry a straight answer so she just humors him instead of telling him that Del is a bitter, unrepentant a-hole.

That’s when it goes off the rails. What are you talking about Barry?? I told you he was sorry. Did Dafne’s non-answer indicate any contrition on Del’s part? We can chalk this up to Barry’s own self-delusion, I suppose.

Then the final panel is full of it. Mr. Bader told me to hug Barry for him. Seriously? He said that?

Dafne’s reaction to the request is equally baffling. But I can’t, it would seem dishonest. Dishonest? How about inappropriate? Nauseating? Maybe, at heart, the whole concept of “give so and so a hug for me” or “say hi for me” is kind of insincere, but I don’t know about dishonest.

Judging by how awkwardly the words are strung together, I’m just going to assume Rubin is as bored and fed up with this plot as the rest of us. I know Dafne’s classmates have zero interest in her story. Year round school really wears you out.

June 23, 2018

Lately, I’ve Been Thinking Too Much Lately

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Oh, Thorpiverse, now stop it. Don’t blindside me with scenery and expect me to decipher it when it’s the weekend and I’m a recovering workaholic. And I haven’t gotten my cup of coffee yet from the neighborhood Taco Bell. Slow down, you’re goin’ too fast. You got to make the morning last.

I ain’t feelin’ groovy trying to set the record straight concerning the environs in P1. (Takes obligatory first swig of Taco Bell Maxwell House medium cup, spits it on the floor from microwave burns on the tongue.) We ARE in the Milford High School journalism room, Ms. Rizk taking a dump from the Buffalo Chicken Sandwich (with mayo and Louisiana Lightnin’ Hot Sauce) she ate at Wendy’s at the faculty lavoratory, and NOT in the second floor of the Milford Enquirer Complex.  Otherwise, Jimmy Olson and Lois Lane are in a useless conversation about Milford Athletics.

And evidently, Steve Luhm, when he’s not taking garbage to the dumpster at Milford High School, is running the buffer at 3:00 A.M. at the complex. You missed a spot, Steve. Yeah, right over there by the right desk leg. And you might wanna spray the place down with Roach-Pruf again. It has the Good Housekeeping Seal plus Paul Harvey adds it to his Folgers along with Coffee-Mate. And I found a roach running by one of the computers displaying an article on the Summer Modeling Show at Milford Fun ‘n’ Fashions.

Then in P2, there’s the Divine Miss Daffy interviewing Daddy Bader and this one’s pumpin’ up the volume, gang. Not sure how a high school rag that is Milford High School could turn her loose and subsequently watch her switch over to “Have you stopped beating your wife lately” questioning.

The COUP DE GRACE!!!!!! That pose Daddy Bader is displaying that is a facsimile of the one that one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence staged that appears on a 50′ x 74′ painting on a wall at your nearest neighborhood museum. Gang, I’ll allow you to insert your favorite Founding Father from the list of Signers of aforementioned Declaration. My money is on Benjamin Franklin but I’ll gladly accept Robert Morris, Samuel Adams, Richard Henry Lee, Button Gwinnett or any of the other 56 Signers in general. Yes, some of you might weigh in with Patrick Henry as Daddy Bader is just as vehement getting out of Sing Sing but, unfortunately, Henry wasn’t one of the Signers. Daddy Bader will have to select another statesman. And we better leave out Thomas Jefferson. He never went to prison and was a better writer than speaker. Plus he shaved every morning.

If ya wind up in prison because yore 4-wheel drive smashed into the meeting room where the Milford Women’s Christian Temperance Union Bar-B-Que Rally was being held and ya wuz 3 times over the limit, ya might be a redneck.

Gang, the title just came to me based upon the tete-a-tete between Lois and Jimmy in P1. And that David Allan Coe tune just won’t flush out of my head. Omigod, am I getting delusional? Will I wind up in a cell next to Daddy Bader? Well, at least I’ll know if he forgot to buy Gillette Atra at the Prison Canteen or if he’s just got a lot on his plate and shaving isn’t a priority. Give ’em to Daffy, Daddy Bader, if you’re not going to use them. They’re like a Poulan Weed-Eater for her hair.

“And Daffy sends a smash out to deep center. IT’S A GRAND SLAM!!!!!!! And the Mudlarks lead Oakwood, 11-0!!!!!!!!! That’s the third homer of the day for the journalist-3rd baseman. Man, Mimi must be using those batting machines at capacity. Daffy is just seeing watermelons up at the plate. Moose better be looking over his shoulder. And Coach T. better be taking notes from his wife. We have a pitching change for Oakwood so we’ll take a commercial break. This is Marty Moon with WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

In the locker room at Milford Athletic Club one day:

Coach Kaz, looking through his fuschia gym bag, is desperately seeking his Ben-Gay. He’s combed through  it twice and all he finds is his 2x Large jock strap, stop watch, Holiday Inn towel, Wal-Mart wash cloth, comb, earring extractor, Lava, Johnson’s No-More-Cryin’-Like-A-Wimp Shampoo, mail order blow dryer, but no Ben-Gay.

Coach Shaw, fresh from a victory against Mark Trail in handball, inquires “What’s up, Kaz?”

“Aw, dammit, I can’t find my Ben-Gay.”

“Are you still using that sissy stuff? Bubba, you’re gonna smell like a candy cane when you go back to teach class.”

“Shaw, I gotta put something on my back muscles. You know how edgy I get when I feel like I’m constipated and I don’t have time to make it to Milford 7-11 to buy a $5.00 tube before my Intermediate Badminton class.”

“Kaz, you need to try Sportscreme. It has an active ingredient, thenobizonol-acetylate-disulfide-bicarbonate-soda that kills that Ben-Gay odor and soothes and massages your muscles better ‘n’ a vibrator.”

“Okay, so it’ll keep me limber and loose. But you sure I’m not going to overpower my class with that mediciney smell?”

“Bubba, I killed a skunk out in Milford Fish & Wildlife Area and later stuck a Sportscreme tube straight up its butt and gave it a good enema before I had to clean out its innards. Sportscreme snuffed out the stink dead in its tracks. Man, that was some good eatin’ later on, not having to chew the meat with that stench up my nostrils.”

Later, in Dr. Pearl’s office for Kaz’s annual teacher evaluation

“No workout today?”

“Yes, I was pumpin’ iron all morning with special emphasis on my pecs. Why?”

“You usually smell like Ben-Gay.”

“Not any more. The smell went in the same cell as Daddy Bader.”

“Wonderful!!!!! Now, Coach, we think you should use more visual aids in your Lifetime Bowling class…”

Gang, it’s your turn. I am still wondering how Stevie Ray Vaughan wound up in prison but maybe I’m getting old, I don’t know. Anyway, you Guys rock.

“I know no North nor South nor East nor West…”

“Warden, I’m adding 5 years onto his sentence. He keeps insisting he’s Henry Clay.”

June 2, 2018

Bombs Away, Kevin – er, Barry

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Milford, USA

June 2, 2018

 

Head Baseball Coach

Vacuum Cleaner Repair School

Sucksville, USA

 

Dear Head Baseball Coach:

You better come out here and get this slugger. He just changed his launch angle and he’s hit four home runs in five games and he strikes out once in a while. His home run trot is so good that he has to ask his teammates if he needs to slow it down a little. All he does is adjust his launch angle a sixteenth of an inch, then gives the ball a ride, which leaves his bat looking like a little white bullet, over the fence by 40 feet, easy. He’s a big, 18- or 19-year-old fellow like I told you before (I think), and if you don’t hurry up someone will sign him and he will be the best sluggerer that ever lived. He hits harder than Elmer Vargas or Bryce Larkin ever did, and his hair is greasier than Andrew Gregory’s. He knows where he’s hitting because if he didn’t there would be dead bodies strewn all over Milford.

Oh, wait, scratch that. I was thinking of my second baseman’s old man. Anyway, get out here and check him out before he changes his mind and decides he wants to be a quarterback, or a fullback, or an astronaut or something.  Gotta run – the local sports jock’s got a case of Johnnie Walker waiting for me for pulling his nuts out of the fire and saving his job.

Your pal,

Gil Thorp

Head Baseball Coach (such as it is)

Milford High School Mudlarks

 

*apologies nameless Idahoan

May 30, 2018

Making Things Worse

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I’m struggling to grasp anyone’s motivations here other than, perhaps, Ma Bader’s. Well, I suppose Barry’s motivation is that he’s a hot headed moron* with self esteem issues but that doesn’t make for the most compelling protagonist. At least not as written here…

Bonus points:

P1: Ah, the rare ANDS brand laptop, disfavored by Milford teens who prefer |||| brand computers. I’ll leave speculation as to the nature of the mysterious foreground display to our wonderful commenters.

P2: I’m digging the Bader’s mismatched chairs at their tiny kitchen table underneath the chandelier they stole from a TGI Friday’s. Also, Steve Luhm has clearly been moonlighting.

P3: I’m sure I’ve floated some truly idiotic ideas in front of my mom over the years but I don’t think I’ve ever given her occasion to give me such an exaggerated (and presumably genuine) stinkeye.

* Seriously, ‘enoblers’?

Metapost: As this year’s Memorial Day celebrations recede into memory, please bear in mind the veterans who surely number amongst this count.

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