This Week in Milford

June 12, 2019

Soon It Won’t Matter Anymore

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Called it, I think. Mimi’s weak-assed reverse psychology is about to claim an innocent victim. I half expect that David will reveal an ulterior motive for casting FUD in Linda’s head because reasons.

Style points for Linda for breaking up in person a/o/t the ghosting referred to in the comments to the above-linked strip. I suppose we should be grateful the Thorpiverse isn’t  Lynn Johnston’s Ontario in which everyone ends up with their high school sweetheart.

Dunno who this rando burger eating girl is in the foreground but with hands like that she could spell Jocelynn Brown behind the plate.

Today’s bizarre cameo: Wilbur Weston from Mary Worth in the role of David’s dad.

Today’s title inspiration is as short and sweet as today’s post.

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June 4, 2019

The Baseball Season That Was, Until It Wasn’t.

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Gang, are you as confused as I am right about now? As Ned mentioned yesterday, we have learned to live with one-size-fits-all school schedules at Milford High School for quite some time, allowing for graduation ceremonies to be sometime right after the Fourth of July, or maybe that was Burgers and Fries day in the cafeteria, Hell, I forget which.

So while we’re munching on a Quarter Pounder here in the cafeteria before 5th period chem lab and pursuing the class project Design an Atomic Bomb in 1000 Words or Less, Sheet Metal and Crayolas are Permissable, it is left to us to ponder what DID happen to the baseball season. One day, David Walter does an Ozzie Smith fielding job to help the Baseball Mudlarks save the day (and perhaps this strip from extinction) , the next day we have girls talking about hippos and buttons.

And we couldn’t even stay on topic with hippos. Okay, Jamila Moses had a good luck charm she liked better than the Cabbage Patch dolls at Milford Toys ‘R’ Us and, damn, the concept was working until Rally Pachyderm failed to deliver in the 9th and we had to send a hobbling Kirk Gibson to the plate. And to think, it could have been a hippo rounding the bases on that homer hit off of Dennis Eckersley, doin’ the chugging motion while rounding second base as Whitney Houston is somewhere in another dimdnsion accompanying the hippo with “One Moment in Time”. Ah, the gods can be cruel when it comes to fate.

Even the hats that Jocelynn Brown doled out weren’t spared the Black Hole that made everybody look like Dionne Warwick. So it was left to the buttons which have become a national obsession and have driven baseball out of Milford. I know, have Jocelynn dish out those hats for the baseball team, enabling those involved to retain a sense of community. Hey, I’m all for the baseball team and the softball team posing in a group photo wearing Bud Powell fezzes on their heads. We’d be back on-topic anyway. I’m confident there’s a fez that’ll fit Gil’s buffon perfectly.

Don’t you think it’s better than what we have NOW????? What was the point? If reading “Animal Farm” was supposed to be a motivational tool to promote teamwork and commitment and FOCUS, well, “4 legs good, 2 plots (or more) bad”.

“Studying the book wasn’t good enough. You were supposed to READ it. 50 laps around the gym, girl. And don’t let me catch you cuttin’ corners or you’ll start all over.”

Okay, okay, so Mrs. Vince Lombardi is not in Mimi’s genes at this point but we’re still left with more questions than answers after Mimi, appearing to be TAKING CHARGE the other day and still with a bit of urgency in her voice in P1, is leaving us on the edge of the cliff as to what the punishment, if any although I get a sick-gut feeling that is indeed in her bag of tricks this time. No more crack the whip only to find out the whip is just being used to hold the concession stand door on its hinges until a carpenter from the Milford Carpenter’s Union Local 808 comes Monday for much-needed repairs.

If ya harbor the same cast that appeared in Animal Farm: The Movie II-The Year We Make Contact in yore house by takin’ a shower with ’em, sleepin’ with ’em, goin’ to Milford Drive-In Cineplex with ’em, jug of buttered popcorn included, plus tax, lettin’ ’em do the cannonball in yore swimmin’ pool, lettin’ ’em use yore washer and dryer, and takin’ ’em out on a Friday to The Bucket cuz they got 4 Legs Get 1/2 Off On Selected Items On The Menu After 8:00PM Night, ya might be a redneck.

 

And before I leave P1, I WAS hoping Mimi would end this comedy of errors with some good old-fashioned discipline OF SOME SORT. Make ’em do laps, as mentioned. Smack their knuckles with a ruler. Restrict their diet in the cafeteria to only bread and water for a week.

But noooooooooooo, Nancy has to ask, because Pat Sajak isn’t saying, what she’s won. Milford gym has turned into Wheel of Fortune. If I read the entire book twice, epilogue included, that trip to Mudlark Lake Resort is in the bag.

“Marty, you animal. You’re taking no prisoners this time. And I thought this cabin was booked solid through September.”

“Simple, Peaches. One run-through of the “Annotated Version of How the West Was Won” and Vanna took care of the rest. She managed to convince the 90-year-old couple to shift their vacation to Holiday World in Santa Claus, Indiana. I got the keys on Monday.”

“Ohhhhhh, Marty, you know how to talk dirty.”

And how do you study for something with no test or quiz involved? Do you tell Mimi you were chanting “Hare Krishna” while reading the part about the horse getting shipped off to the glue factory? I know Molly is doing her best roundabout answer of I Didn’t Read The Damn Thing, Thank You Very Much. But make the alibi believable. Reciting mantras of “Clapton is God” while reading about pigs and sheep sending a mule to the guillotine on Bastille Day is really unnecessary.

Mimi, I think your strategy is backfiring.

And, believe me, I’m all for unusual motivational tools as long as they work. One year, Indiana University Men’s Basketball played so badly that Bob Knight told them they played like horse crap (confident that the language was stronger than that) and just flat-out said “You’re on your own.” A couple of rookies and some newer players were aghast that he would dump the team like this but Joe Hillman reacted as if this was no surprise. So he got Daryl Thomas to get the plane reservations and tickets (I think they were going to Minnesota) , Brian Sloan to call the hotel in Minneapolis for reservations, Steve Alford to call a couple of restaurants in Minneapolis to reserve a couple of tables, etc. Finally, everything is set up and rarin’ to go, and by the time they arrived in Minneapolis, they got off the plane and subsequently went as a team to the lobby, where Bob Knight proudly awaited. Coach Knight had made his point. Needless to say, they won the game that night against an excellent Minnesota Golden Gophers squad.

I am still waiting for Mimi to get off the plane.

 

“We now return to ‘Daily Living with Dave’.”

Certainly a far cry from “Double Plays from Dave “, which is not only as awkward as it sounds, we’re spared the agony of bad literary style because double plays for the baseball squad is about as frequent as double dips of Bucket Turnip Torte ice cream.

And I’m not liking him at home on a computer with street clothes on. This can only tell me he’s not been at the ball park in quite some time. Which means he must have been doing OTHER things. Now I think it’s stretching it to say he’s been Nordic skiing in Milford Natural Area. Gang, hate to break it to you but you’ll have to set your sights somewhat lower. Yeah, that’s right, he was in a pick-up basketball game in his driveway court with Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Pippen couldn’t make it because he was sick with the flu.

So when Linda called, he had Kareem at H-O-R-S (“Bounce the ball off Gil’s hair, go through the loop of the chunky bracelet, bank it in.”) . And it makes me wonder, now that David is accounted for with no double plays up his sleeve, what Linda has on her mind. It doesn’t appear, due to the lack of scars, that Mimi sent her to the rack. But if we have to patronize the same saloon that Matt Dillon and Miss Kitty use Groupon coupons for, Mimi must have done something.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Suing Milford Beverage Warehouse After Nephew Thrown From Buddy Budweiser!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Penny caught in the slot chute, causing Buddy to buck, sending nephew 50 feet in front of the Modelo display.”

 

So now we anticipate, judging from P3, that Linda is going to get pissy-whiny-faced about the “punishment” Mimi must have doled out. I can’t imagine hanging around a bunch of Aussies that are thwarting your dream to be a U.S. Volleyball Olympian is really Paradise so being asked (not coerced, if we’re dealing in reality here) by Mimi to gracefully back away from a bunch of roughneck Crocodile Dundee’s so that you can concentrate on a sport that might land a scholarship and thereby doing something strange called “Paying for your Education” is clearly in order.

And Linda might live happily ever after if Sheriff Dillon didn’t have to deal with a shootout caused by one the Dalton boys drinking too much Blue Motha coffee. Kinda makes me wonder what kind of liqueur Miss Kitty spiked it with. Probably some cheap K-Mart Liquor special if it was only $2.15.

 

“Y’know, I just laugh when Coach Thorp takes shots at The Bucket, especially in its endeavors to procure a liquor license. His butt is showing out of his Haggar slacks if you believe some of the tall tales he’s been broadcasting.

Hi, this is the Absentee Owner of The Bucket. What he’s NOT telling you, because the Milford Courthouse Docket was not printed until after his latest ad was that there was a proposal on the table by the very owners of Milford Beverage Warehouse to raise the User Fee on Buddy Budweiser to $1.00 and to surcharge a value-added-tax on select brands of liquor, the latter of which to cover the costs of replacing the ‘B’ on Buddy’s saddle. If some patron discovered that he’s being charged extra on his case of Drewry’s to refurbish a fake Mr. Ed, I bet he’d have a cow. I don’t even want to think about the reaction from the wine connoisseurs when the more expensive Milford Valley Grape Deluxe gets blindsided with heavy tax increments.

But at The Bucket, we have our own riding horse, Bucky, and it is STILL only a penny. If the owners of The Warehouse want to pocket the extra money in the name of Uncle Sam just to finance their Rolls-Royce, that’s their perogative but tell the truth while you’re at it.

Because here at The Bucket, we still charge ’50’s prices because we’re still stuck in the ’50’s. We can go out on a limb in our quest for the Holy Grail and finally nail that Liquor Permit next to the First Dollar because ours isn’t a perfect world. Charging $1.00 for Bucket Triple Cheese and $.50 for Bucket French Fries and still be able to satisfy The Good People who desire The Good Life has long been a goal of The Bucket. And if they want to ride Bucky while they’re waiting for their Bucket o’ Marinaded Shrimp Combo, overflowing with shrimp, onion rings, and a tall boy of Bud Lite, who can blame them? Doesn’t a Michelob Dry taste better when delivered by a sock hop on roller skates with your order of White Meat Chicken Sandwich Combo, especially when you’re washin’ own the Bucket Buffalo Fries and a packet of Bucket Mac ‘n’ Cheese? Mmmm, mmmmm, good.

And this Saturday, as a way of expressing our thanks for over 60 years of your business, The Bucket will let all kids between the ages of 1 to 18 ride Bucky for free. That’s right, save that penny for the gumball machine later. Ride ’em, Cowboy and chow down on the menu at The Bucket. Wow, hope you don’t have plans on this exciting day.

But you won’t know until you ignore Gil and his cohort, Sonny Corleone. The way they both tell it, we’re only in it for the money. Yeah, that’s what happens when Honore Vashon is on the City Council. As if Milford and Steve McGarrett don’t have enough to worry about.

Either way, the door is open this Saturday. In fact, the only time our doors are closed is when we close at night.

Is there a message here? You decide.”

 

Gang, it’s all yours. I’m gonna try that Blue Motha coffee, remembering I have a post to do on Thursday. But I can afford $2.15. And I promise I’ll pay back my sister.

 

Gene Rayburn, thanks for stopping in. What’s the latest?

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought ‘Animal Farm’ as owned by a group of _________________.”

 

“Mr. Vashon, with all due respect, there’s no way The Bucket would survive on the island of Maui. Too many resorts and restaurants.”

“Ooohhhhhh, that’s where you’re wrong, McGarrett. We did a survey and found that The Bucket Sharkburger was 10 times better than Logan’s Steakhouse or the luaus on the island.”

 

March 26, 2019

“The Sopranos? I Thought They Were The Chiffons.”

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Where are we GOING with this??????????

I’m tempted to do another chorus of Zappa’s “Valley Girl” but I didn’t want to pull a Gil and beat a dead Marty or Principal Ek, since the latter’s already dead and anyway I get a sneakin’ suspicion that that wouldn’t do justice to what’s going on at the present moment.

And to add insult injury, we are flip-flopping between Milford’s school cafeteria and Barney’s Pub and Morrison’s Cafeteria or Milford Bowling Lanes Bar ‘n’ Grill or some generic upscale eatery that Gil and Mimi have chosen to air out their grievances concerning High School Athletic Association protocol. It doesn’t do justice to work these issues of Scrimmaging Procedures within the convenience of their own offices, naw, we gotta talk about lining up the umpires and settling any contract dispute (“I can make more umpiring Dagwood’s company team and they suspend a guy 2 games plus he gets his pay docked an hour by Mr. Dithers if he gets ejected.”) while Freddy Mercury is serving them Steak Flambe Au Jus avec Mashed Potatoes ‘n’ Gravy (blanche, bien sur) and Collard Greens.

BTW, how can I tell it’s the cafeteria in P1? The cafeteria lady, should we broaden the scope and get a panoramic view would likely not be in her Jordache jeans based upon her upper wear. Looks like classic white linen only a Mudlark Cafetria Lady could appreciate and subsequently don. Our high school cafeteria ladies didn’t dare wear this haute cuisine of the school cafeteria world. Linens made by starving children in China in a sweatshop somewhere in the slums of Shanghai have heightened theimage that is the Mudlark Ccafeteria Lady. Dr. Pearl will not wear this at the Principal’s Convention in Seattle. Ms. Rizk doesn’t type sleazy stories about Marty and Peaches at Mudlark Lake in those linens. And it’s hard for me to imagine Miss Cafetreia Lady for the Gil Moment at Milford Natural Area hunting bison with Shaw and Gil. No way does she ladle Hormel Sauerbraten Hash that are in all the compartments in the cafeteria line (the 14,000 bowls of chipped Jello is probably one compartment over) while wearing Alice Kramden attire. And did you ever see Freddy Mercury in those linens shoulder a full tray of dinner plates ready to be laid down at a random table at Barney’s, the majority of the plates SPAM????????? (Hey, it’s hash in reverse) ????????????

“Enjoy your Kartoffelsalat mit Huhn Gebackt und Brotchen, ganz Vollstandig mit Mosellewein with a side order of Spam and Dorito’s Cool Ranch.”

As the horse on Ren and Stimpy would say “Nope, I don’t think I like Spam.”

 

Giving a shout-out to Bethany Bennett of Louisville, Kentucky. Though she uses a walker, you hardly notice because she’s a real go-getter. She gets up EARLY to go to work and always does so with a smile. She represents America by her her hard work and determination and her decision not to let setbacks get her down. Gang, we need more people like her. I always offer to help her get in her place of employment but she always refuses and gets in by herself, and then some. I salute you, Bethany. Give her respect, Gang. She’s earned it.

 

Then the word “family” intrigues me. Oh, brother. I really don’t want to go into Mammoth Cave but I’m bringing a flashlight if Gil is twisting my arm. Researching the word “family” while looking at cave drawings with a lantern filled with Matchlite fluid is as exciting as watching Luhm’s wax dry on the Mudlark basketball floor. Trying to sift through the plot like you were sifting through the channels of the cave with no light source being like trying to decipher Gilplots is bad enough but I’m packing plenty of Eveready batteries. And plenty of Bucket Fries. It’s a cave, the gas won’t escape, trust me.

Munching on my Bucket Livercheeseburger, I started asking myself (I’m in  a cave, remember?) , what ELSE could be going on? What would pique people’s interest while they’re plunging in the buffet table at Barney’s, discussing the Cubs’ chances for a repeat this year, or while the baseball team is spending another useless moment in the dugout, par for the course in the world of Thorpiverse in ANY sport,  before waiting their turn to practice hitting off the machine (after we’d seen Meadowlark twirl the baseball a couple of weeks ago) and then head to Rome where one of the Hardy Boys is sitting in the mezzanine level of the Colosseum, all 3 panels in different locations with one thing in common: The hot topic concerning the 3 girls whose reason for not being able to make scrimmage was non-athletic in scope. You want some more hash? Looks like the hippie lady in the background is ready to shovel it on her tray.

Then it hit me. It’s The Chiffons. Or The New Chiffons. Back for another Comeback Tour after 50+ years of singing and performing, they couldn’t make the scrimmage because they couldn’t back out of their contract. What happens when Mimi gets desperate and gives basketball the shaft, people drop out due to lack of activity. Then you start groping for players and going after the first one in the hallway. The Chiffons were stopping in Milford to ask Luhm for directions to the New Thayer Amphitheatre. Next thing you know, they’re shagging balls for Mimi. They might not get thrown to the lions, even if it is the Colosseum, but can’t blame ’em for avoiding a  nasty lawsuit over breach of contract. Mimi, you not only should plan ahead next time but you really shouldn’t impede nostalgia. They got a juke box at Barney’s don’t they? “He’s So Fine” one of the selections???? No Tchaikovsky’s “Symphony No. 5”? Case closed.

 

Now allow me a little backdrop. The record company for The Chiffons sued George Harrison of the Beatles because it argued that “My Sweet Lord” sounded too similar to “He’s So Fine”. Now, in fairness, Led Zeppelin were guilty in the first degree, “Whole Lotta Love” and “When The Levee Breaks” having been performed several decades in the past as Blues standards. Quite a few Blues musicians got a generous out-of-court settlement from the group.

But The Beatles were notorious for writing their own material. Even Ringo, not a songwriter by any stretch of the imagination, weighed in with some key contributions. And The Beatles sued ANYBODY for stealing their songs. BUT they were very generous in helping a group get started in their musical career by giving them a song. “A World Without Love” by Peter and Gordon and “Come and Get It” by Badfinger come to mind.

That in mind, they made an out-of-court settlement where George agreed to pay a certain amount and the record company representing The Chiffons agreed to let George keep playing “My Sweet Lord.” Personally opining that George or any other Beatle would NEVER plagiarize another group, I reluctantly would agree.

 

So with that in mind, Joe Friday and Bill Gannon have come to sort this out.

This is the city. Milford, USA. It has plenty of stores, schools, houses, and parks. Plenty to do in Milford. All legal. But when some truant runs afoul of the law, that’s where we come in. My name’s Friday. I carry a badge.

10:22AM. It was Tuesday in Milford. It was cold and crisp. The weatherman predicted warmer temperatures by the end of the week. We were working the International and Domestic Copyright Infringement detail. The boss is Captain Andrews.

We were transferred to Rome, Italy because there were unconfirmed reports of illegal recording and wiretapping of another man’s music, allegedly by a Milford connection. Captain Andrews handed us our flight tickets out of Milford International Airport and we were on our way across the pond.

1:45PM. We arrived in Rome and got to the Marriott di Roma ASAP. I had jet lag something fierce and Gannon ate too much airplane chicken and upchucked for 2 hours in the hotel room toilet. We didn’t call room service for 5 hours until the stench died.

7:48PM. We got in our rental car from Alamo and headed to The Colosseum. We had sent a SWAT team last week to bust an illegal lion trafficking operation, thinking the bad seed had left the building like Elvis. Elvis sounded horrible singing “Suspicious Minds” while the Christians were getting thrown to the carnivores and it had to stop. But while Elvis continued his tour in Baton Rouge, the bad seed was still in the ground.

We had to be careful. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. The New Chiffons were using The Colsseum to secretly record George Harrison’s records. Nothing was sacred. “All Things Must Pass.” “Cloud Nine.” “Somewhere in England.” You name it, they were putting it on platinum. We could have busted them right then and there for singing “Octupus’s Garden” but that was Ringo’s song. The tear gas would have to wait. We had to move fast, but slow.

9:12PM. We didn’t want the Romans and the rest of the Senate to suspect we were cops. Seneca and Cicero would tip off the 3 girls that Friday and Gannon were back in town, even if that town wasn’t built in a day. And they weren’t kidding. Just try asking a cabbie, using your Fodor’s Italian in 10 Days, Give or Take 24 Hours, for directions from Alamo to the Colosseum without having to pay toll across the Tiber.

So we scooted over to Burger King for a Whopper and Martini & Rossi. We weren’t supposed to drink on the job but you didn’t drink the water. Tasted like Lassie piss. Later, we’d sample the Thai Veggie Stir Fry Pan Pizza at Noble Roman’s which was located across the street from Vatican City. We didn’t want to blow our cover.

“Hey, Joe!!!!!!!!! Hey, Bill!!!!!!!!!”

Trouble was already in our rear-view mirror.

“Awright, punk, how’d you manage to swim across the ocean? Don’t you boys have homework?”

“My lab’s completed and not due ’til Friday and my 3-page essay on John Jay for American History has already been turned in.”

“And my Geometry class problems are completed and I got an ‘A’ for constructing the Bridge of Sighs without a compass and straightedge.”

“That’s in Venezia, you losers!!!!!!!!!! Now come clean or I’ll kick your ass straight over the Adriatic!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Those girls ARE recording Harrison’s music. We slipped security a 20 and got an earful. Man, the dude’s heavy with his religion. Should’ve heard “This is Love”. “When we use the power provided, free to everyone-”

“Cut the concert and get tot the point!!!!!!!!!!! You sound like Slim Whitman!!!!!!!!!!”

“Once they’re done cutting the record, they send it to a factory within St. Peter’s Basilica. While the Pope is holding Mass, “All Those Years Ago” and “Crackerbox Palace” are mass-produced, pardon the pun-”

Gannon steps in, keeping Friday from hitting one of the Hardy Boys with a wine bottle

“Okay, son, enough comedy. So what happened?”

“Then they ship them to places like Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore where there’s some catacombs. They wait until there’s rioting in the streets after another Papal decree, then they make their move to smuggle them to a United Airlines plane and stack ’em in the luggage portion of the plane.”

“How the Hell do they get past the Customs at the Aeroporto di Roma!!!!!!!!!! You’re gonna tell me they lug crates of records up a chute next to someone’s Samsonite of Hanes and sport coats!!!!!!!!!!”

“Simple. Some of the Customs officials are Chiffon and Beatles fans. Plenty of cash supplied from a Swiss bank account in Geneve and the crates are put on a C-130 next to arms Oliver North smuggled to Nicaragua. Just inventory to the Logistics lieutenant.”

“I vote Republican, jackass!!!!!!!!! Watch your mouth!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“The rest they store in the Papal Archbasilica di St. John Lateran. “When We Was Fab” next to a saint buried in a vault below the sanctuary is the last place la polizia would look.”

“I don’t want any advice on how a police officer, Italian or American, should conduct their investigation!!!!!!!! Now scram!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Oh, and you dropped your copy of the rental contract with Alamo. Better be careful, they might smuggle that and “From Behind That Locked Door”.

“GET A HAIRCUT AND GET OUT OF TOWN!!!!!!!!!!!” I’ll run you in on Milford Penal Code Article 364, Section 45, Clause 58 “Intent to Impede an Officer While Conducting International Affairs in the Line of Duty!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“You heard the man, boys. Smuggle your locks and at least get to Paris. You can miss a day of school before we nail you for truancy. BTW, how are you going to get back?”

“You never find out. Thorpiverse just zaps us there and we’re there. Kinda how Friday gets his own haircut at Milford Style Shop.”

Friday pulls out his Sig Sauer but the Hardy Boys are already zapped to Greenland.

 

A shout-out to Belinda Hawkins of Louisville, Kentucky for her courageous stance against bullying concerning her grandson, Jose. She is going to home-school him and do it her way. She worked several years in convenience stores, many of those years as an assistant manager. She KNOWS the meaning of work and can instill that into Jose. The reality is, schools are going through trying times but Belinda is leading the charge in doing something about it. Way to take the initiative, Belinda. You have my blessing to work with Jose. Never give up. You both are too smart for that. You represent America.

 

All righty then. Let’s get out of Rome and approach it from another angle. I’m thinking they indeed have a contract, but a much graver one, i.e., The Sopranos. I know Gil should step down as coach but do The Sopranos have to leave New Jersey, let alone involve 3 girls, to make their point? Why drag them into this, not to say they couldn’t flash a weapon (see “Prizzi’s Honor”) ? As macho as they were, it was hard for me to fathom  getting mixed up with the female Harlem Globetrotters.

Put in perspective. Anyone remember when Doonesbury went caustic on Frank Sinatra??? Don’t get me wrong, I love Frankie with my life but those comics of him at the gambling tables were a riot (“That’s DOCTOR Sinatra to you, Chiffons!!!!!!!!!”) . And his mob dealings were painfully obvious.

And remember Doonesbury showing Frankie posing with mafiosos in a photograph,  many of them part of a family??? The Gambinos, I’m thinkin’ but God knows. Anyway, let’s try squeezing those 3 girls  in the picture, in fact why not have them pose to the left and right of Frankie. What better way to show loyalty and respect (the mafia, remember) if P1 is going to harp on family matters? If it’s that clandestine, it’s hard for me to think they’re talking about The Brady Bunch

“Here’s the story

Of Lou Gambino

…the  lower left in curls.”

 

Besides, I don’t think the other mafiosos in the picture would mind 3 girls from Milford (family matters, right?) displaying their pearly whites along with these rough-hewns. As long as these 3 girls aren’t Corleones, of course.

For that matter, I wouldn’t be surprised if that photo got taken in the gym after practice. Perhaps Mimi doesn’t mind these thugs observing practice as long as the 3-point-circle doesn’t get dynamited.  Ehhhhhh, better not go that far. Especially when they didn’t play basketball. It was just IM’s But they still took the picture. And we got a credible explanation why there was no basketball. Priceless.

“Sonny, I thought I told you to dynamite the boys gym. I ain’t fightin’ the Gambinos in the bleachers. I’m too old for that.”

“Sorry, dad. We wired Gil’s office. The Gambinos won’t come around as long as there’s no leadership.”

“You do me honor, my son. Now order me some Bucket Linguini.”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Emerson, Lake, and Palmer Estate Sues The Chiffons Over Copyright Infringement To ‘Pictures at an Exhibition!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'”

sub headline

“Estate points out that ‘Sweet Talkin’ Guy’ sounds similar to ‘The Hut of Baba Yaga.'”

 

Today’s Women’s History Month entry is Marie Curie. Polish by birth, she eventually moved to Paris, partly to escape persecution, partly to encounter better opportunity. She became a professor while there and in the process discovered polonium and radium, 2 elements off the Periodic Table. Her brilliant mind and constant search for the truth through diligent research earned her the distinction of being the first person to earn a Nobel Prize in 2 different fields, Chemistry and Physics. She also fell in love with and married her lab partner, Pierre Curie, for which they enjoyed a health and productive relationship. Please join me in saluting a woman who coined the term ‘radioactivity’ and made great strides to this world by leaving iot a better place through her work.

 

Comment way, Gang. I think it’s safe that they’re not The Chiffons or that they’re not at The Colosseum in P3 with a contract out on Gil. But I’ve been wrong before.

 

11:23PM. We made our move.

“…forgetting all we have, isn’t it a pity…”

SSSSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

Cough, cough,

“Don’t shoot!!!!!!!!!!!! Don’t shoot!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“All right, Gannon, read them their rights!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Can we include the Dragnet theme on ‘Living in the Material World?'”

“You can make all the records you want where you’re going!!!!!!!!!!! Papa Bader makes plenty of ‘Abbey Road!!!!!!!!!!”

 

The Horse at The Bucket eating Bucket Fries.

“Nope, too salty. Gil sprayed ‘Afro-Sheen’ all over them. Don’t think I like ’em.”

March 19, 2019

Where Do I Begin To Tell A Story That Will Likely Never End…

Filed under: Chunky Bracelets, freak hands, They called it Puppy Love — tdrewhardin @ 2:28 pm

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“Damn it preppie, I doing my trig functions!!!!!!!!! Can’t you just chill until I finish my Triple Layer Nachos and arcsin problems????? Don’t you have a hockey game against Yale tonight????”

“They canceled it. They closed off the freeway. We have a makeup with New Thayer tomorrow.”

 

Uh oh is right to quote Oliver Barrett IV verbatim, a/k/a David Walter. I knew this was a sting operation. The Harlem Globetrotters have left town and we got left holding the deflated ball. No wonder why they beat the Boston Shamrocks. Hard to run a 3-on-2 break when you forgot to stick an air pump in your bag. The Shamrocks were dead ducks.

Meanwhile, Meadowlark and Curly added insult to injury by leaving not only Jenny Cavalleri dying at Milford General, but another head case to wallow through until, say, the golf plot arrives in August. It’s March, folks. Someone pass the Rolaids. I hope to God Jenny’s funeral isn’t simultaneous with Gil’s tee time. We could have problems. Mr. Cavalleri and Linda both running into a brick wall??? Could we send Linda back to Rhode Island to help Mr. Cavalleri with his bakery business??? I don’t think Oliver Barrett III is prepared to tolerate a head case. What would the club think?????

“I’m marrying Linda and that’s FINAL!!!!!!!!!”

“Your mother will be very disappointed in you, Oliver. And you’ll have to attend Milford Community College Law School because I’m finished financing Harvard.”

 

Love is never telling your husband he couldn’t imitate Harry Caray any better than he could imitate Mr. Spacely.

“Jetsonnnnnnn, that’s awful!!!!!!!”

“Sorry, Mr. Spacely. I guess that means I can’t take a late lunch to catch the Cubs on Deneb?”

 

Can we at least FINISH what we started??? As long as we’re dealing with a student who is in long-term need of Freudian analysis when she’s not way-layed with cancer, can we expedite the part where we learn that she procrastinates on her math homework because the demon Pizuzu was spitting radical signs at her when she was 3 years old after her dad read her a bedtime story like “Goldilocks and the 3 Bears”? Simple. Goldilocks and Pizuzu were gettin’ it on and the 3 bears came home and found stained sheets and the law of cosines all over the bed. ehhh, it might be stretchin’ it to say that the 3 Bears found Dr. Pearl’s beehive hairdo on one of the beds. Unless the 3 Bears were sleeping at a Marriott and went out to get something to eat at Denny’s. Otherwise, let’s not get carried away, preppie, er, gang.

And I’m beggin’ ya, Thorpiverse, no more half-chewed pizza that Lassie left on the counter because anchovies challenge her housebroken discipline.

RUFF!!!!!!!!!!

“Lassie, you got diarrhea again?”

RUFF!!!!!!!!!!!!

“I have no clue where the Pepto-Bismol is, Girl.”

RUFF!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Okay, okay, I’ll let you out. I got a nice poophole where I’m planting my chrysanthemums. Have at it.”

RUFF!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Girl, don’t worry about getting all over the bulbs. That’s mulch for the soil.”

 

Remember, Thorpiverse, a stupid plot FINISHED is better than a War & Peace mired on page 1,718.

Love is never ordering a pizza from Milford Domino’s, devouring the pineapple and pepperoni special, then leaving the uneaten portions in Ms. Rizk’s room. Pineapple can ruin the typewriter ribbon.

“Gil, did you leave that pizza in her room? The erasers have sausage all over them.”

“Dr. Pearl, I swear, I ordered Noble Roman’s that night. The softball team staged a lock-in at my house.”

 

Where do I begin

To tell a story that will likely never end

Two players caught in love’s web

A web you cannot rend

A Thorply tale we’d gladly fondly

Wish to nuke

It makes me puke

 

This fills our head

With stupid verbiage

No one gets out

Thorp’s trapped us in a cage

We got to watch

This plot to wage

 

And if that’s not enough

Carr’s overshot her wad

Too many straws

To lug to class, My God

Please wear a brace

To stem the shock

Oliver’s worried, Love

Don’t snub “rich jock”

 

If ya say that “Love is never puttin’ your bloodhound down when he kin still bite the mailman’s leg as practice for when tha burgler tries ta steal yore 4-wheeler at 2 in the mornin’, even at 17 years old, 108 in human years”, ya might be a redneck.

 

“Preppie, I saw who shot Coach Shaw.”

“Jenny, that’s wonderful!!!!!!!!!! I can get a warrant from my law firm. Who WAS it?????”

“It was…”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barrett, we have to run some tests. Please wait out in the lobby.”

 

If there’s one thing us Thorpiverse veterans (Vaganova, you GI Joe, My Man) can do better than anybody else on the planet who dare enter the Thorp of the Covenant is follow patterns and accurately predict the outcome or at least follow the railroad track until it leads us to Nashville. We might have wound up in Murfreesboro, but, hey, we’re still in Tennessee.

At the Milford Cracker Barrel checker table

“Ya see where Thorp married Minnie Pearl?”

“I thought he might. Hell, he had all kinds of price tags hangin’ off his Mudlark caps. That Woolworth’s tag off his huntin’ cap, I unnerstand wuz the clincher.”

“And damn, Mimi looked awful with that Milferd Sportin’ Goods tag hangin’ from her Gibson Girl hairdo.”

 

Can’t win ’em all.

 

Love is never ordering Bucket Livercheeseburger topped with Bucket Pickle ‘n’ Pimento Loaf and served with a side order of Bucket Bouncin’ Jalapeno Poppers unless you plan on opening ALL the windows in your station wagon on the way home. Love orders a side salad instead.

 

 

Anyway, when Linda was caught in a red-eye condition doing her math homework before (I’m assuming) ‘ the next hour, we KNOW where this is going. Linda was that talented but overextended ball player, able to leap the high school in a single bound and turn double plays faster than the Globe trotters could warm up the bus en route to Oakwood but didn’t make quadratic equations a priority because lots of other things were on her plate and I don’t mean home plate and DEFINITELY not the cafeteria plates. She’s in the library, remember? Superman still needed to get her English Comp assignment done, “How I spent the summer with Lex Luthor”.

“Preppie, you eat raspberry quiche at Harvard? And lo-cal lentil soup? Don’t you have The Bucket at Cambridge?”

“Jenny, if you don’t like it, go back to Radcliffe. Oakwood’s out that door.”

“Don’t get so goddam defensive. I’ve just never seen a Crimson eat Ho Ho’s and Bagels Surprise for dessert. Yecchhhh. Sounds like something the Eli’s would consume.”

“Define ‘consume'”

“Something I’m doing when I have my father’s gingerbread cookies out of the oven to sell, Preppie. More than I would do with Twinkies in unleavened dough.”

“At least I don’t eat gingerbread cookies in the car. Did your father lock you out of the bakery?”

 

And P1 is just the pinnacle of overextension. She’s wearing too many hats, gang. Do we have to sit here and watch her implode because she’s cramming  volleyball, aerobics class, tuck-pointing, snipe-hunting, homework, baby-sitting, archery, synchronized bowling, and being a member of the UN, representing the U.S.? Oh, and then she has to get the longhorns on the Chisholm Trail to Abilene by the time 1st pitch of her game rolls around.

And whazzup with this “dinner in the car”? Another Tiki, only comin’ atcha from the female side? She DOES have a home or is that the idea? There’s that Chewed Pizza Hut Pan Canadian Bacon theory comin’ to the surface again. She eats Fruity Pebbles that she got out of the glove box in bed while the car warms up to take her to school? I wonder what her family did for her birthday. Musta used the trunk.

“There’s some extra folding chairs in the hood. Would you be a dear and get them out?”

 

Therefore, in general, this is deja vu all over again. Tiki who needs to see Freud badly because he needs 2 backpacks instead of 1 for his personal life who needs to change the dining room decor in the Lexus.

Take the load off, Lisa.

 

“Man o Man, I hope you’re enjoying ‘Love Story’ as much as Mimi and I are. Makes me want to go to law school after I retire from coaching in 60 years. That’s why I hate to put a damper on the fun by announcing that there are conflicting reports that the Milford Beverage Commission confirmed that The Bucket may get a permit to sell alcohol while other reports point out that the concept will go the way of the 2018 Mudlark Girls Basketball season.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp for Milford Beverage Warehouse. Until this issue gets ironed out, the Warehouse is kickin’ both sides when they’re down with specials so low that the FCC will fine the Warehouse and WDIG a trillion dollars, give or take a 20 dollar bill, if they are broadcast over the air. You’re just going to have to motor down here for yourself. Take a cab, ride the bus, take your own car, hot-wire some vehicle in the Milford Municipal Parking Area, ride a Schwinn, ride with your wife on a tandem, as long as you show proper ID, the Warehouse has acres and acres of free parking to hitch Trigger. The hitching post is next to the Ice machine, My Friend. After you’ve set the parking brake, find out for yourself if the Warehouse is employing dirty pool on The Bucket for goodies like a 24-pack of Bud Lite Classic or Falls City Dark Malt. Think The Bucket is worried that we’re cuttin’ their legs on specials like Bacardi Rum in the 2 Liter bottles or Jack Daniels Sloe Gin Supreme? I’d be sweatin’ too if I saw Coach Kaz cartin’ out some Boone’s Farm Cherry Sizzle and Cutty Sark in the Gallon Drum while some poor schmuck walked out of The Bucket with a Happy Meal and a Bucket French Vanilla shake he spilled all over him. I never saw Ronald McDonald nor Burger Chef and Jeff sell Kentucky Bourbon Straight, No Chaser either in the family dining area or at the drive-thru. And they can’t even hold our jock on free delivery. Yeah, Burger King, try delivering a Whopper, 300 Bucket Chocolate shakes and a keg of Bud at a fraternity party. You can’t touch our Lyft drivers.

You heard right, The Bucket should stick to Mug-o-Malts and banana splits and leave selling The Good Life to the pros.

Now to be honest, nobody more than me enjoys a Bucket Double Cheese, hold the pickle, and New England sea-salted fries with my favorite soft drink, Mr. Pibb.

But when I’m in the mood to get it on at the Teachers’ End-of-Year Orgy ‘n’ Celebration, I will not be consuming Hawaiian Punch in those little foamy cups, nosirree. I won’t be funkin’ to James Brown with a Bucket Root Beer Float in my hand, that’s a fact, Jack.

Nope, the Warehouse will be our supplier of plenty of Schlitz, Sterling, Old Milwaukee, Falls City, Budweiser, Miller, not to mention Jim Beam and Martini & Rossi and Dewar’s Scotch. I gotta admit, it’s fun watching Mr. Price with a lampshade over his head, dancing to “Disco Inferno” after one cup too many of Skyy Vodka. What made it sweeter was Dr. Pearl’s Entertainment Committee was able to take advantage of ridiculous specials at the Warehouse with some left over to get new basketballs for the girls’ and boys’ teams. No one has to fight for a ball and we can trip the night fantastic too. Try to do that , Mr. Absentee Owner of The Bucket.

So when you’re finished eating your Bucket Crab Legs, come on over to the Big Boy and see what livin’ is all about. Leave your doggie bag of Bucket Buffalo Fries in your pick-up and enter the Warehouse. And tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

 

Comment the night away, Gang. I will leave you with a song, inspired by P3

“When will this shit end

She’s proving she wants more than a friend

Must we endure another chunky bracelet too

I think we’re screwed…”

 

THERE’S A DRIVE WAY BACK WAY BACK IT MIGHT BE IT COULD BE IT IS!!!!!!!!!!!!! A HOME RUN!!!!!!!!!!!! SANDBERG HAS TIED IT UP!!!!!!!!!!!!! BOY O BOY WITH THAT WIND BLOWING OUT

“GIL!!!!!!!!!!!!! Enough buffoonery and read your report!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Sorry, Dr. Pearl. We have enough in the budget for some chalk to line the field…”

 

Love is never having to say you’re sorry that Gil uses his dentures to comb his hair. Love says “it shows”.

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