“Big Brother Is Watching You. And Wants A Button Too.”

“I’ll give you $500 to call off the deal or you can find out what’s behind Door #3 that Carol Merrill is standing by.”

“I’ll take what’s behind Door #3.”

“He says he’ll go for Door #3. Carol Merrill, show him what he’s won.”

Johnny Olson, moonlighting from Match Game Mudlarkia, with the call

“It’s a year’s supply of BUTTONS!!!!!!!!!. That’s right, Monty, buttons out of the stovepipe, buttons out of that elephant’s butt that Carol Merrill is riding, it’s raining buttons everywhere. In fact, on your next trip to the Bahamas, the button-powered Cessna will land you safely to the Nassau airpo-”

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sorry, Gang, I just had a nightmare. Maybe that button-shaped Bucket Cheerios and Pepperoni Pan Pizza did the trick. Couldn’t have been the Frosty Root Beer. That’s shaped like a bottle.

And this one is spiraling out of control. What began with hippos as good luck charms changed for the worse into a Button Robber Baron Campaign that only a Rockefeller or a Carnegie could appreciate. I can’t even imagine John Rockefeller selling his share of 3 street blocks of Milford, plus some of his oil shares in Oakwood Oil, Inc., his drilling taking place out on an open field next to Tod Andrews’ property, just to get his hands on a billion TCFJPG (Too cool for J. P. Getty) . I’m guessin’ he’ll leave the John Rockefeller gym alone, y’know, the girls gym at Milford. He figures he’ll get SOME usage out of it this coming season. They can’t go 2 seasons without girls basketball, the script won’t allow it. Besides, he doesn’t want the rims to rot or he’s going to have to order another tax write-off through his accountants.

Believe me, there are enough buttons to share the wealth. I understand Hannibal is coming into town after negotiating his elephants through the Alps. Geez, I heard the route between Milford and New Thayer was dicey but if I have to leave my Freightliner, trailer included, at home and ride an elephant with Gil and Mimi, I’d rather sample the Bucket Prune Juice (made from concentrate).

And General William Rosecrans is also expected to hit Mudlarkland before this evening to earn a button and also a Medal of Honor (same difference, I suppose) after his decisive victory at Stones River. I was told Molly would enough buttons for the members of the Army of the Cumberland.

BTW, General Braxton Bragg declined on behalf of the Army of Tennessee. He telegraphed Molly that the Rebs were not into moral victories.

And how can I forget Murderer’s Row? Babe and the Iron Horse and the rest of the ’27 Yankees without some form of recognition, TCFRS (Too cool for Red Sox) ? The button is the rubber-stamp of their dominance that season, a reminder that you can cheer on The Bambino and still call yourself a Mudlark.

 

 

Did I leave anybody out?

Oh, Heavens no, can’t let the ’19 Black Sox get a button. I already have a TCFBSWCADTC (Too cool for Black Sox who cheat and deserve the chair) securely fastened to my Arrow Sorts Shirt. I’m sending a message.

 

I am VERY reluctant to announce the passing of musician Leon Redbone. I confess that I was not a big fan of his but that doesn’t stop me from admiring his contributions, significant and big. He had a nasally voice that crooned the tunes, his guitar-playing crisply and obediently following along, singing songs mainly from Ragtime, Jazz, and Tin Pan Alley. In fact, he revived those genres in a mighty way after they had been phased out in the late ’50’s and ’60’s with the advent of Rock ‘n’ Roll. He proved you could love Rock ‘n’ Roll AND those styles too (I’m living proof) .

A frequent contributor to Saturday Night Live, and rightfully so, he was 69. I miss you already, Big Guy. Just have that concert ready when I cross the threshold in the sky. I’ll be a ready audience.

 

I’m going to go out on a limb and say that in P1, they are warming up and are employing the old “Pitch and Catch” method. I ruled out Rosenthal’s, he dealt with foreign languages, not buttons and softball. No boomerangs. No frisbees. No frisbee golf. They are in their uniforms not because they work for the State, directing cars to SLOW in a construction zone, but because they are actually preparing for a softball GAME.

Therefore, since ships are no good to ship goods and thereby earn profits if they are safely anchored at Port of Milford, I’m gonna take my S.S. Minnow out for a test drive on Lake Michigan and say those are foul lines they are pitching and catching around. No demilitarized zones anywhere near Milford and I have never know Mudlarkland to straddle the Mason-Dixon Line.

Glad I got THAT conundrum solved. I can concentrate on Squaring the Circle and the Four Colors Problem.

 

If ya wear a button that says TCFIL, or Too cool fer Izod and Lexus, while yuz mall-walkin’ yore bloodhound at Milford Shopping Mall and only stop to let him go wee-wee behind the Milford Chick-Fil-A dumpster, located 50 feet behind the Food Court sign, ya might be a redneck.

 

And you’d think that our anti-heroes, the ones who are dragging down the word TEAM into a pile of doggy doo doo that Luhm amassed from the softball outfield grass would get their comeuppance and learn from their loss the other day. If anything, they’re proving resoundingly that there is an ‘I’ in the word “selfish”.

I can hear Stengal now: “Doesn’t anybody around here want to play this game?????”

Mimi really ought to be asking the question but she’s too busy playing 20 questions in P3. Is being too cool for 20 questions bigger than a bread box? I’ll go check Roget. He oughta know that and the answer to a clue in the New York Times Crossword I am alternating between that and the Concordat at Milford presently being ironed out in P2. A supplement to the Adams-Onis Treaty, Napoleon can have Idaho back in the Louisiana Territory, Jacksonville can be a French Colony including the guillotines to deter rebellions to his rule and, oh, can wear a button, TCFB (Too cool for Bismarck) . Ah, the compromises humans must go through for peace at any price.

Spain, BTW, can still have the Okefonokee Swamp. Last minute addition to the deal.

 

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Mitch Miller Singers Guitarist Sent To Milford General After Accident At Milford Amphitheater!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Throws out back after attempting Townshend Windmill maneuver on the song ‘Tuxedo Junction’. Out for 8 weeks on Tour.”

We come to P3. I THINK Mimi is trying to go the Foghorn Leghorn route, engineering a funny, hoping the ladies will get the hint and flush their TCFO (Too cool for outhouses) buttons down the toilets at the Milford Softball Complex facility.

The strategy of choice is, I’m presuming, Orwell’s Animal Farm. Y’know, get rid of the drunk farmer and let the animals run the asylum. But they gotta do it as a team, utilizing the motto “Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad, One Plot Pathetic”, or something to that effect. And I’d even play along with this odd attempt to inspire and motivate her players were she not standing in front of one of the worst-designed backstops I have ever seen since P. K. Wrigley sold the Cubs (Don’t hate me Robmize, I was trying to hold back, the A & W chili dog forced it forward) .

If I have to fire up the troops in a Salvador Dali lookalike painting, my career as a coach will go the way of the dinosaur. But at least there are drawings of them in caves somewhere. My career wouldn’t survive the rough draft.

I am really honestly trying to figure out if the backstop is FOLDED IN or concave or FOLDED OUT or convex. You really need to figure this out before First Pitch as you really don’t want to send your players out of the dugout on the wrong side of the ledger. It’s bad enough that Mimi is still NOT TAKING CHARGE and resorting to leatherbound editions of The Classics as a text for her Gipper speech but speculating where the infield is located might send things over the edge.

“Hey, coach, some vandals moved the outfield to Diamond #3.”

And a late throw-in, judging from Mimi’s attire, MTV logo included, we now know the kind of women that populate the planet the Kanamits live on. They could save the trouble of UN Peace Conferences and just send a few of these Mimi Models out of the spaceship at strategic locations, i.e., malls, bars, NFL Monday Night games, Garth Brooks concerts, etc. Guarantee they’d have a menu by the end of the week.

 

 

“And that wraps up another loss for the Lady Mudlarks. Coach Mimi Thorp, your Father Flanagan approach isn’t working. We’ll be back to wrap things up in a moment, with the final score, Madison, 3, Milford, 2. This is Madty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”

 

As Mimi does a swan dive on the bed in her negligee, she awaits her unsuspecting victim.

Gil enters. He is still reading about Stephen Curry in The Sporting News while still brushing his teeth.

SPLAT

“Gil, enough on the Golden State Warriors. Time to take charge of me.”

“Mimi, he got game. I was enjoying the part where he basically took apart Portland single-handedly.”

“Speaking of taking apart-”

And then I was going to read the team-by-team breakdown of each team’s chances of making the Super Bowl. They say Mayfield may lead tbe Browns while Roethlisburger is still nursing his left testicle and is questionable-”

“Gil, come to-”

“After breaking down the Chargers’ chances, I want to read that article on Hank Iba. I didn’t know his brother was a transvestite. Man, TSN is REAL thorough in their research.”

“Gil, to bed, pl-”

“Then the Yankees are talking trade again. Andy Pettite for Hack Wilson and ol’ Hoss Radbourn. I knew they needed right-handed power-”

“Gil, aren’t some of those players from the past, say, Dead Ball Era.”

“Honey, I just read them, I don’t bother to look it up. That’s what Statistical Abstract is for. When they pay me to do a piece on Christy Mathewson’s Polled Heifer collection, I’ll be the first in the barn”

“Gil, are you having erectile issues again?”

“Mimi, if you think I’d stoop low, literally and figuratively, for a Hereford-”

“Gil, I mean NOW.”

Mr. Horse makes a cameo appearance and pulls the front of Gil’s pajama bottom

“Hmmmmmm. Nope, I don’t think I see it.”

 

“Face it, when you have to resort to Mr. Ed to address your erectile issues, it is time to renew your focus and head to Milford Men’s Clinic. I regained my sex drive, i finished that article on Polled Herefords and Mr. Ed is back in his stall. Now, if only my wife would take charge herself. Oh, well, 2 out of 3 isn’t bad, or, oops, ah well, close enough, we’re playing horseshoes. And be as erect as one today. Only at Milford Men’s Clinic.”

 

Gang, the phone issues are out to get me again. I apologize and truly appreciate your patience. Your readership is NEVER taken for granted.

 

“Ed, can I borrow one of your magazines again? I have a date tonight and I want to be ready.”

“Sure, Wiiilllll-bur. Look under the 2nd bale of hay on the right. Erectile issues again, Wiillll-bur?”

 

“I don’t know if Infield Fly applies on Convex Fields, Coach. It’s still under review.”

 

 

 

 

Voice of Harold

As a rule I try to stay away from political and religious references in my posts, but heaven knows Mimi’s exhortation to “be best” tempts me.  Suffice it to say I won’t be surprised if Linda ends up joining the Army.  You know you’re half-assing it when Gil, master of not doing his best work, gives you the stink eye.

Meanwhile the root cause of the late unpleasantness, synchronized skater/second baseperson Molly Hatchet, adds ventriloquism to her arsenal of TCFS skills.  Letting this thing spread beyond the softball team was bad enough and, granted, stamp collecting has never really been cool, but shooting down poor Harold by making him talk to the ball is just cruel.

Musical spoken word inspiration for today’s post.

Mimi Does the Australian Crawl

You know what’s not cool, besides this plot? Wanting to be thought of as cool.

Mimi could easily defuse this sitch, if she only had a clue. First off, it’s not “what’s with you [Linda] and the Aussies,” it’s “what’s with you and this need to be cool?” Linda’s answer gets to the root of her problem – not so much the cool factor but her insecurities about playing volleyball. She earned a scholarship, that’s not enough? How does she know the Australian girls didn’t too? Low hanging fruit that could let this arc wrap up by next weekend…. but…

…the bigger problem is the TCFS thing and how far out of hand it’s gotten. If Mimi had actually been paying attention to her players and not daydreaming about drinks on the patio, she’d have picked up on this developing trend and put some guardrails around it. (The stuffed hippo on the bench would’ve been a good sign.) As it is the only rails to be seen – well, besides the ones at Barney’s Pub – are the ones the Lady Mudlarks’ season is going off. Mimi needs to get a handle on this stat. Good thing Molly’s waiting for her in the shower.

Today’s musical inspiration:

Coaching 101

Well we knew where all this bs about the buttons, the petty jealousy, the dugout mascot, the outside activities, and the general immaturity of the players was gonna wind up– in a mid-game dispute about who is more cool.

Exactly where is this convo in P1 taking place? It sure aint the infield. Too big. If its the dugout where is everyone else?

I coached baseball for 5 years. All my kids had outside interests. I WANTED them to. They could do whatever their hearts desired outside of our team activities. I didnt care what they did elsewhere. However, when they were under my direction, — whether at practice, or during a game— I expected them  to concentrate on baseball. And the game. Or the practice.  And to play as a team, united toward a common goal. Thats the job of every coach. And Mimi is failing miserably at it.

So this argument in P2 and 3 should have no place in the game, and if I was Mimi I would bench these 2 asap and tell them to have a seat in the dugout until they can re-focus on the task at hand. But I fear she is shutting the barn door after the horse got away.

I’m Gonna Need To See Your Black List Score

This plot has taken its sweet time to reveal to Molly & Co. that their quest for team unity has taken them down a path to…whatever this is. An endless series of random kids at Milford High are seeking validation from the softball team in the form of a 39 cent pin.

The latest contestant in Tyler, who wrote a screenplay. You’ve probably heard. I’m betting the mostly likely reason you may have heard is that Tyler has been telling people he wrote a screenplay. How else would anybody know? Is is getting buzz in the trades? Has Tyler been shopping it around to all the would be producers in Milford? That is doubtful. My gut says that Tyler is the “I wrote a screenplay” guy at Milford High. I’m afraid Molly is going to have to reject his claim. You just can’t be cool if you have to ask somebody if you’re cool.

Of course “cool” is an illusion, yet another “brand” (ugh) devised by marketing types to sell us stuff that we don’t need. It still works though. Molly bought those stupid buttons, didn’t she? Actually, if she bought fifty of them, the guy at the promotions place probably cleared a healthy ten dollar profit off of her. That will keep the lights on for another day.

In case you’re curious about the post title, it refers to this, a method whereby unrepresented screenwriters submit their work with the hope of becoming represented and maybe even selling their work. If it sounds almost as dubious as teens begging for membership in exclusive clubs, maybe that’s because it is. But if Tyler spends a couple hundred bucks to have some anonymous person (probably another guy with a pile of unsold screenplays) rate his work, maybe it will spare him from spending a fortune pursuing an MFA is screenwriting. He can earn an honest day’s pay down at the Milford Button Works.

 

And yada yada yada.

Not gettin any better folks… I was not a big Seinfeld fan, but it was very well known as a show about nothing. I saw just enough episodes that I kinda get that. They dont really have a plot, its just a half hour of 4 characters screwing around every which way, and the best part, (for me anyway) was Jerrys comedy bits at the beginning and end of each show, where he’d make some vague connection to the action of the show. I remember one episode where he said ” If you’re watching something on TV, you’re missing something else.” Ever since then when I’d be forced to miss some show or game I would remember Jerrys words, and be comforted that nobody can be everywhere all the time. You do what you can, and everything else takes care of itself.

Well I have lost track of who all  these people are. Linda, David, Nancy, Molly…….I can name the Banana Splits easier then these bozos. .Too many characters in 1 plot who intertwine their nonsense about some abstract concept like TCFS. And maybe Linda and David THINK they did something cool. Thats all that counts. I’m just floored that 17-year-olds spend that much time on such BS. By now my friends would forget about the whole thing and be on to something thats more tangible, like what movie is playing or who the Bears should draft. One time my friend was talking about the foosball game he played the night before. 2 days later I brought it up, and he was like – “You’re still on that foosball”. But 2 days isnt like the weeks-long sludge this has become. Its a plot about nothing, and this time there’s no Jerry Seinfeld around to relieve the boredom.