Reading yesterday’s strip left me scratching my head. I wasn’t sure if Dafne Dafuq was trolling Carrie Hobson by tagging her the “star pitcher” or simply trying to boost her ego. After all, Carrie’s track record isn’t much to get excited about, so why not get her excited about a track athlete? Because nobody gets excited about track in Milford – nobody.
Carrie knows the score and isn’t afraid to admit it. In so doing she hips us to the fact that the late Boo Radley was a junior last season
– a fact I don’t think Rubin hipped us to before. (Thanks billytheskink for the confirmation; I hadn’t had my coffee yet this morning when I posted.) Dafuq then seizes the opportunity to further troll Carrie by calling her by Boo’s nickname for True. I think we’ve got a real shit-stirrer in the making here, on the diamond or off.
BTW, have we learned Double D’s position yet? Between those Ernie Lombardi mitts of hers and her penchant for needling people, she seems a natural behind the plate.
Today’s post title inspiration:
We now return you to Mike Granger and Ken Brown, Boy Detectives. Mike and Ken are working a case to determine if Aaron Aagard is rolling on molly on the regs or just plain flakey. The first snag they hit is that Ken Brown’s fingers might be too freakishly big to efficiently google molly. His iPhone looks like a pack of gum in those mitts! Then, our investigators must grapple with how to proceed with their information. Who needs to know about Aagard’s fondness for disco biscuits*? Stay tuned for more Mike Granger and Ken Brown, Boy Detectives.
I’m enjoying the foreground tray of Bucket chow. Nice touch, Whigham.
*slang term for molly found by googling it
Kevin Pelwecki may not have a poster of the right guard on his wall, but does he have Groucho Marx and Chuck McCann in his medicine cabinet?
Here we were for the past couple of days remarking on how this strip portrays football positions in dialog balloons as abbreviations and wondering whether Milfordians pronounced them as abbreviations, and now here are kids sounding out the full name of each position. In so doing The Secret Pelwecki shows himself to be yet another in a very long line of Milford Idiots who want nothing more than to be the
defensive lineman right guard center of attention. I blame reality television.
Then – hey y’all, look! It’s a rare Coach Shaw spotting – and with more lines than just about ever. He’s setting us up for the fifth-string QB‘s transition into the third-string TE. Kaz, however, has had enough of his talk. By doing an end-around to snatch Coach Shaw’s MATT mug, Kaz asserts his dominance over Coach Shaw and maintains his status as beta male on the Milford sidelines.
I was disappointed to learn that the Sulphur Tors aren’t named for Tor Johnson but is short for “(Golden) Tornados.” How cool would it have been to see the Sulphur fans turn out in Tor Johnson masks?
The Tors also wear dark jerseys at home. Hell of a road trip from the Great Lakes down practically to the Gulf of Mexico. If the “later” when the team arrives at The Bucket is the same night of the game then the Mudlarks must’ve taken a chartered jet back home. Maybe Wildcat Maris and the booster club got a multi-year deal after Gil & co. lucked into the state title season before last, and couldn’t back out of it after last season’s Holly Dobbs-orchestrated clinker.
Did Marty make the trip south or is he doing a recreation from his crate? Is he mentally willing the ball into Max Ortiz’s hands via his pose, or is he channeling his inner Rooster Cogburn? And how about that puny souvenir football Max hauled in for the insurance score? If they use balls that small during game situations, maybe The Secret Pelwecki won’t have so much trouble handing them off. Let’s hope Heather Burns, The Quarterback Whisperer, has a supply on hand in the morning.
As I watched the opening ceremonies of the Summer Olympics last night, several friends and I were having a running IM commentary about the Parade of Nations. Most of the comments involved the costumes/uniforms (or the greased-up lack thereof) worn by the athletes. Some involved the wide diversity (or lack thereof) of the various teams. But one person couldn’t help but notice how downcast and unhappy some of the female Olympians looked during the ceremonies, and wondered whether that was a reflection on the status of women in their respective countries.
If Milford had an Olympic team its girls would walk out in front, then be tearfully pushed aside for its boys, whose places they were holding.
Here we are, well over a week into Del’s client dinner/Boo’s triumph over Tilden. We’re waiting for something to happen. It looks like nothing is going to happen at The Bucket (unless you want to run this through the Bechdel Test and see how miserably it fails).
That leaves us with Del Bader, who is somewhere in panel 3, presumably. Is he the one with his back to us? Sure, I guess. We never even learned Mr. Businessman’s name, but we do know that he and Del have moved on from wine to something served in rocks glasses, so that shoe is poised to drop.
While that pot continues to simmer, here’s a little extra thing where I will share something from the Google newspaper archives. This ran in the Sept 15, 1972 edition of Norwalk, Connecticut’s The Hour, announcing the arrival of Gil Thorp to the pages of that great publication. I also snipped out the illustrated Jack Nicklaus On Golf that ran next to Gil.
We are into Seinfeldian territory as we have a conversation about a non-existent opportunity to earn one of the more meaningless statistics between a couple that isn’t and then we have a conversation about that conversation, the gist of which is that the other conversation wasn’t that interesting.