This Week in Milford

April 3, 2020

He’s the mayor

Famous mayors:

  1. Harry Caray- the mayor of Rush Street
  2. Hank Sauer – the Mayor of Wrigley Field
  3. Augustus Maywho – the mayor of Whoville
  4. Ed Koch – mayor of New York City
  5. Richard J Daley – mayor of Chicago
  6. This dude

And all the other mayors were surely less of a douchbag then this guy is gonna turn out to be. Even the mayors in this strip blow.

Floor design is weird in P1. Who has floor patterns like that?

P2 – what the hell kind of question is that? Its not even a sweater. I have a similar shirt; its NOT a sweater.

I hate this guy already.

 

March 11, 2020

Weird Science

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Well there you are and here I am. Get out your crayons and your pencils and start connecting these dots. Somewhere between Chris pouncing on that old test copy and shooting it into the library wastebasket, Kaz playing “smell my fingers” and Gil confronting Chris, Mr. Rollins went to Gil with Teddy Boy’s story and basically accused Chris of cheating.

Why didn’t Rollins confront Chris directly? Oh yeah, because Milford High is Gil’s world and everyone else just lives in it. It would also be tantamount to an admission by Rollins that he gives the same midterm every year. Lazy, for sure, but is Rollins just following the coaches’ lead in that regard?

Faux cliffhanger in P3. We’re led to believe Chris is lying, but he’ll likely tell Gil that Teddy gave him a copy of a test but told him it was a copy of last year’s test and why would he want last year’s test ’cause teachers aren’t so lazy as to give the same test every year, amirite?

Now get yourself some ’80s. Thirty-five years ago. Jeez.

March 3, 2020

“Hey, Funnie!!!!! I Got Some Crib Notes On The SAT For Sale!!!!!”

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This is the city, Milford USA. It has its good points and its bad points. But I was born and raised here. I call it home.

Milford is like any other city. Good roads. Good schools. Fair tax system. And The Bucket is better than a Big Mac and tater tots any day of the week. And I can handle any rogue who tries to slip a BLT in his overalls because the Milford Soup Kitchen ran short on Campbell’s Chunky. But when a punk attempts to traffick illicit and illegal test items, that gutless coward filled in one too many blanks on the essay section with his #2 pencil. That’s when I go to work. My name’s Friday. I carry a badge.

It was rainy in Milford. The WDIG-TV weatherman called for hail the size of Mudlark practice balls later in the afternoon. But my partner, Bill Gannon, and I had a hailstorm and you couldn’t come of the rain on this one.

We were assigned to the Unlawful and Wrongful Distribution of Examinations and Quiz Substances Unit of the Milford Police Department. The boss is Captain Keener. We were advised to be on the lookout for vehicles peddling illegal SAT’s and other stolen test merchandise. The contraband could be in an Econoline van or a Roadway semi. Anything to throw off the trail.

“Gentlemen, we have a hot one and I’m tired of getting the once-over from the Mayor. So the sooner we can wrap this package and get it under the tree for Christmas, the better. But don’t be stupid. Don’t get your chest blown in two over an LSAT. And you can’t open the Milford Bed and Bath delivery truck without a warrant.”

“We understand. Are there any leads?”

“A couple. An anonymous tipster called and said he saw a Roehl Trucking piggy-back pull at the entrance to Milford High School gym. Said they were using dollies up and down the ramp. We put two and two together and figured you couldn’t fit slaughterballs on dollies. But the guy riding shotgun had one of his own so the tipster couldn’t get closer.”

“We have our Sig Sauers in our wallet. We’ll fire when necessary, Chief.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that. I don’t want to lose you both over a sting operation gone awry.”

“Don’t worry. If Friday and I can handle John Dillinger without firing a shot, we can handle vermin who shot the proctor so they could improve their score on the Verbal section.”

Somber music as Friday and Gannon methodically leave Keener’s office

 

Come to Iroquois Gardens Apartments and check out the deals at hand. Melody Bland and Melissa Frye always have a friendly face and can show you the best rooms around. I know. I love the comfort and convenience, not to mention the atmosphere of my abode. Factor in a microwave, refrigerator, excellent Central Air and other amenities along with great closet space and places to store my cooking items (LOVE to cook) and I have a winner of a situation. And it’s a perfect setting for doing this blog. Come see what I mean at Iroquois Gardens Apartments on New Cut Road in South Louisville, just across the street from Iroquois Park. You’ll be glad you did.

Support Small Business, Gang. You need to go where everyone knows your name.

 

This is purely inane. What in the name of Nickelodeon is “Doug” doing on here???? Thorpiverse, if you’re going to drag bad guys out of the script heap, will you at least tell Roger M. Klotz that if he’s going to be trafficking test papers in the hallway to at least SHAVE? It’s bad enough that we have sunk to juvenile proportions just to sell a comic strip.

“Hey, Alexa, here’s some inside info on the Math portion of the SAT. It has all the trig ratios. And Funnie is still struggling with Corresponding Parts of Congruent Triangles are Congruent. You oughta knock him cold if you remember that cosine is the ADJACENT side divided by the hypotenuse. The difference between Milford Community College and Harvard.”

“No thank you, I don’t cheat. Where’d you get those Cliff’s Notes? Surely not the same location as your Trac II.”

“Naw, I stuck all my razors in Funnie’s locker. And told Mr. Bone that Doug Funnie stole them out of his desk when he was going to The Bucket to have lunch with Gil.”

“It shows.”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Injures Back At Milford Lounge During Karaoke Hour!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Was trying to duckwalk while playing ‘Maybelline’ on his banjo.”

 

10:14AM-It was windy in Milford. My partner, Bill Gannon, passed some gas and thankfully the zephyr blew most of the stench away. I told him to lay off the sausage biscuits off the Dollar Menu at the Drive-Thru at McDonald’s.

But the test operations ring was getting even stinkier. The good news was that one of the cafeteria ladies called and reported a suspicious pickup truck unloading milk crates at the entrance in the back of the cafeteria. Normally Milford Dairies appears in their Kenworth. It was time to investigate.

We talked with Constance Snakely, the head of the cafeteria, about the incident. Needless to say, the discussion wasn’t about overripe meat loaf on the school lunch menu.

“Awwwwwrrrigghtt, Mrs. Snakely. I could book you on a Section 347, “Manufacturing of Unlawful Condiments with Intent to Damage the Well-Being of the Academic Circles and its Constituents”, but the Milford Minimum Security Facility is overcrowded and I lost the key. But you better have the Twinkie rack in order on this one.”

“It’s that we had to utilize a Dodge Ram to bring in shipments of dairy products. But I am by the book on deliveries. Nothing escapes my eye. What would I do with a Barron’s Guide to the SAT? Store it in the cooler with the 2%?”

“Ma’am, my partner Friday is only doing his job. We have to ensure nothing is fishy. If a #2 pencil is found under a package of Sargento’s Sharp Cheddar, we could all wind up in the hoosegow. Just following procedure.”

“I understand. I hope you catch the crumbum who’s messing with my deliveries. I run a clean operation, you know. Kids and Minute Maid go together like Gil and Mimi.”

“You better pray Gil and Mimi aren’t discovered with a Ford Explorer with cottage cheese and Cliff’s Notes on Precal.”

Somber music as Friday and Gannon grab a bowl of chipped Jell-O and leave.

 

And why the heck is Jiffy Pop Head still following Roger Loser? Both had their prank props confiscated, both got detention, and to add insult to injury, NOBODY LAUGHED. When I was going to school, a student named Fred Seiler (SIGH-ler) would keep us in stitches in Mr. Stieler’s (Steeler) German class. And he NEVER got in trouble. Fred’s philosophy was that if you’re going to get sent to the Principal’s office, keep ’em laughing when you leave. ‘Nuff said.

So in P2, 2 Dead Men Walking

“Hey, Roger, why are they strapping us down to this chair? I thought you said The Governor implented a Stay of Execution.”

“I just got done talking to The Governor. He said that Dr. Pearl ought to remove this steel hat to our heads anytime.”

“Even if we dumped Doug’s body in the ditch behind Milford Beverage Warehouse?”

“Dr. Pearl just said ‘Boys will be boys’.”

“Whooaaa, don’t dump so much water on my head!!!!!!!”

 

 

If ya got fined by the Game Warden cuz ya cheated on the open-book portion of the Hunter’s License exam and he didn’t git notified of your illegal maneuver until after ya bagged a ten-pointer at the Fish & Wildlife Reserve behind the Thorp Pure Pork Sausages Enterprise plant, ya might be a redneck.

 

12:59PM-We were up in Ms. Rizk’s room and had to interrupt her Intro to Journalism-Lifetime Reports class. She was in the middle of discussing efficient methods on printing church bulletins when we knocked.

“I don’t know why you’re talking to me. I wouldn’t have anything to do with anything being smuggled in the gym. Have you talked to Coach Thorp?”

“He wasn’t in.”

“That figures. Recruit players to get their picture on the front page of the Milford Trumpet, then fly out of town on a luxury cruise, courtesy of Milford Travel. But that’s Gil.”

“Isn’t that a little odd? We keep finding answer sheets in the gym lockers and Gil is nowhere to be found.”

“He may be perpetually in absentia but he wouldn’t know what to do with stolen PSAT booklets. I did see a kid with a Mohawk in the girls’ gym when I was oiling my typewriter at the drinking fountain. He had reams of college-bound notebooks. He was headed to Mimi’s office.”

“Joe, that may lead us to something. Can’t hurt to look.”

“On it. Hope Mimi isn’t strangled with a lanyard from a referee’s whistle. Let’s go.”

 

P3 is just absolutely insulting our intelligence. Roger going on a wild goose chase to the Milford Dog Pound and finding out that Doug Funnie already paid the fine to get Porkchop out after Porkchop pee’d in Gil’s coffee at the Fellowship Breakfast at that Coffee Shop in P3 only makes a travesty out of a travesty.

Next thing you know, Roger will be looking in the ol’ swimming hole to see if Doug and Skeeter are in their birthday suits. Oh boy, don’t you just wonder if Roger is going to go through with it and plant those papers in Doug’s shorts?

“Mr. Funnie, why do you have a butt like Freezer Thompson?”

“Oh, gee, Mr. Bone, I’m sorry, I didn’t notice that bulge. I guess my butt had an erection.”

“Well, you march right to the boys room and adjust your pants before pre-algebra class. And don’t let me catch you with a boner in your crack again. We have decorum at this school and I intend to live by it.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Bone.”

 

Sure, stick some Cliff’s Note’s on The Taming of the Shrew up Patti Mayonnaise’s dress when Mr. Bone isn’t looking. Doug is sure to ace the Final on Shakespearean Theory if he doesn’t get caught. But if he does, not only will Mr. Bone make him sit on the bench and watch Phoebe coach the boys team since Gil is in The Bahamas, Doug’ll get suspended. Sound strategy. Use a plunger if the papers fall out.

 

“We’ll be back to see if Eddie Haskell has to go to Sing Sing after plotting crib notes in Beaver’s lunch box after these messages. This is WDIG-TV.”

 

HAIL HAIL ROCK ‘N’ ROLL

Knock!!!!!! Knock!!!!!! Knock!!!!!!

“Yeahhhhh?”

“Honey, it’s 1:00AM. Don’t you think you should come to bed? I’m all lonely and need some good vibrations.”

“Not now, Mrs. Shaw. I’m practicing for my upcoming gig at the Milford Lounge. I’m gonna do Chuck Berry one better. Why, I’ll be duck-walking in this bathtub before you can say ‘Chubby Checker’.”

“Darling, you need to unlock the door, put down the Jazz guitar and come to bed. I know you say it once belonged to John McLaughlin but that’s neither here nor there. Come to beddddyyyy-by, Honey Pie”

TOO MUCH MONKEY BUSINESS TOO MUCH MONKEY BUSINESS FOR MIMI ON THE COURT TO SEE

“My little Monkey, don’t you want to swing on a tree and be like Tarzan and jump on your precious Jane?”

“Woman, I’ll have the barstools rockin’ with Johnny B. Goode until the break of down

DOWN IN LOUISIANA, CLOSE TO NEW ORLEANS-

“Honey, you have no particular place to go when your Jazz guitar is more solid than your wim wim. Right?”

 

“How could I argue? I was goin’ to town but hadn’t reached my destination. But Milford Men’s Clinic changed all that. These new HARDCORE PLUS tablets took all the guesswork out of my Significant Other. Just a couple of tablets and a glass of water and Tarzan was truly King of the Jungle. The giraffes and lions ran off to see their Mama. And Mrs. Shaw was truly satisfied. She made the sweetest cinnamon Danish rolls at breakfast to seal our relationship. Come on down and get some Green Eggs and Ham for your limp garden hose and watch it spray. Only at Milford Men’s Clinic.

 

Gang, you make my world. And I don’t have to look in Mammoth Cave to find you. But Roger will go just about anywhere to exact revenge. I don’t think he’ll go to Antarctica. He wouldn’t stoop that low. Would he?

 

At the Indy 500

“I checked with the pit crew. They haven’t seen him.”

“I told you to look first in the library, dimwit.”

 

3:47PM-Bill and I drove over to the Coffee C Shoppe. We were told that the smugglers went there for cappuccino and doughnuts

“He about drained the Colombian pot dry. Thank God I ordered more Folger’s.”

“Did you see anything suspicious other than that? Did he stick the crib notes anywhere?”

“Yeah, Mr. Gannon, now that you mentioned it, he ordered a 3-piece chicken dinner, all-white, 2 breasts and a wing. He crammed something under the potato wedges. The biscuits were too small.”

“Any idea where he was going?”

“Said he was going to eat lunch at the Milford Trucking Terminal before he went back to work. What he does with crib notes and why he sticks ’em in an 18-wheeler is more than I know.”

“If he hides Chic-Lets in a flatbed, he’s still breaking the law.”

The obligatory zinger said and done, Joe says no more and he and Bill leave. They take their Powerball tickets with them.

 

To be continued

 

February 26, 2020

Not An Exhibition(ist) Game

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Unlike Dan Reeves, Alexa wants to let ’em see her sweat – and bang bodies, too – but doesn’t want to let ’em see her score? If you went by dialog alone you might this was an outtake from Eyes Wide Shut. This is no orgy, at least not on the scoreboard and not at the moment.  Assistant Head Coach Phoebe Keener is about to change all that.

Nice to see Mimi has given up on coaching Alexa since effectively abdicating that role to Phoebe last week. This is painfully apparent during the timeout. So the Milford girls have one (student) coach for one player and one for the rest of the team? Marty Moon should’ve noticed that and ran with it like a preschooler with a pair of scissors.

Mimi has lost control of the Lady Mudlarks and Rubin has lost control of this plot. It’s been two weeks since we’ve seen Chris Schuring and over a month since we’ve seen the boy hoopsters; can any of them get this thing back on the rails?

February 22, 2020

In Which Alexa Learns the Definition of Insanity

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The quote is often attributed to Albert Einstein, but it ain’t necessarily so. What is so is that it’s one of the most overused clichés in modern writing. Gil Thorp is chock full of clichés, so it should come as no surprise that we’re resorting to one today. (Honestly, I sometimes think that Rubin has a hatful of about a dozen slips of paper with tropes written on them, pulls out three at the beginning of each season, and runs with them as his arc. For example, “Insecure Braggart” + “Parent Living Vicariously Through Child” + “Tone-deaf Marty Moon” or “Dysfunctional Home Life” + “Manipulative Uncle” + “School Board Member with a Grudge.”)

Putting her newfound pushiness into action, Alexa drives to the hoop only to get called for doing the sprinkler charging by Jackie Rogers Jr. Judging from how the Jefferson defender has her hand wrapped around Alexa’s bicep, she mustn’t have had to to sell the charge too hard. The Lady Jeffs mustn’t push the ball upcourt very fast either, since Alexa and Phoebe have time to analyze in complete sentences as they loaf back on D. Enter the insanity.

While she does have a point, Phoebe’s logic is flawed: Sure the zebra might call the block next time, but who’s to say the Jefferson girl won’t just plant herself and draw another charge? Either Alexa gets into quick foul trouble or reverts to form and starts kicking it back out to her gunner.  Milford will lose and Mimi and Phoebe will play “Who’s the Coach Here?”

February 6, 2020

“‘The Invisible Player’ Will Not Be Seen Tonight So That WDIG May Present The Following Special, ‘Mudlark Basketball’.”

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“I’m in my own world when I put on my football helmet. How to drive, draw, and dish. How many quarters I’m going to need for my laundry at the Milford 24-Hour Laundromat and Tanning Clinic. How much Coppertone I’m going to need when I’m under the heat lamp while my Dickies work pants are going through the ‘rinse’ cycle. What piece I’m going to change into when the pawn reaches the 8th square after I’ve queened a couple other pieces when I’m playing Coach Thorp in his office. What to do when Coach Thorp takes the name of the Lord in vain and slams the chessboard on Kaz’s head, who’s been kibbutzing the match, and says I cheated when my pawn captured en passant. Sometimes competitive juices go a little overboard.”

“I understand, but how do you use a helmet in basketball?”

“Coach is still mad from the match and the refs understood. As long as I had medical clearance, I was good to go.”

 

Okay, so for the moment, I’m going to pretend that Hamlet is in a mini-soliloquy and that he is agonizing through another “To be or not to be” phase, overlapping through Alexa’s own troubling phase. I still think we oughta go back to basketball and if neither one is carrying out instructions that have CLEARLY been stated the last 3 weeks, then bench them and get somebody who WILL carry them out, but in Thorpiverse, all the world’s a basketball court and players are the actors.

“O Romeo, Romeo, where art thou, Romeo?”

“Working on a pick-and-roll with Mercutio. The Capulets have been packing it in so I need to establish my perimeter game then hit Mercutio or Benvolio down low when Potpan is overplaying me.”

 

If you need a place to live, check out Iroquois Gardens Apartments. This place has been PERFECT for doing this comedy blog. I can concentrate because of the great atmosphere and great furnishings. Nice to hit the microwave when I’m running dry on ideas. Factor in a super neighborhood with easy access to a lot of stores and restaurants and I’m the luckiest man alive. The cost is pretty darn affordable too. Sounds like excellent living to me. Head to the office and meet Melody Bland and Haley Strickland, great property managers, and their friendly staff and explore all the opportunities that they have in store. You won’t regret it.

Support Small Business, Gang. You need to go where everyone knows your name. They know mine.

 

WHAT IS THIS??????? What does he mean “inside my helmet”? I THINK the implication is that he is like Simon & Garfunkel’s tune “I Am a Rock” whenever he puts on the chin straps, doing what rocks do, i.e., nothing to attract or warrant attention. Both he and Alexa would be perfect in a church gravel parking lot if we’re going to go that far.

I just let the cars go by, I wouldn’t want to be like the asphalt or the cement mixer and do anything to make a spectacle of myself. The UPS truck can’t make deliveries to the church office if I don’t hold up my end of the bargain and look stupid and stony-faced. Let somebody else sign their John Henry with the Etch-a-Sketch pencil on the scanner they hand to you when somebody needs to sign off on the 10 packages of L’eggs being delivered to the church secretary. There’s no “I” in the word “Rock”.

 

Don’t make me shoot

I only want to rebound

I am shielded by the backkkkkk-board

Mimi won’t get off me

I’m happy to draw a charge

I’m sick and tired of this lousy wannabe sarge

I am a Rock

I am a Mudlark

 

And I THINK Chris has been molded by Gil into one of those “Set it and forget it” ovens we see at your friendly neighborhood department store all the time (Wal-Mart, Target, for example) . That would not be surprising. Gil has been in a “Draw the play then go play golf” mode for eons. Don’t lay your Stouffer’s 8-Servings Lasagna in the microwave, then expect Gil to be around when the beeper finally goes off after 16 minutes. If he has been an absentee landlord for basketball et al. longer than the USA Basketball team refusing their Silver Medals at the 1972 Olympics, what makes you think he’s going to be around when the lasagna finally cools off so that your tongue won’t get 3rd-degree burns from the heat? Don’t wait for him to take the first bite or pour Lawry’s Sea Salt all o ver the lasagna. Remember, you have 7 servings, assuming you served yourself. You can always feed the next-door neighbor and your dogs.

Therefore, once Chris does indeed put on his helmet and sets the oven on autopilot, I shudder.

WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE???? AND WHY IS CHRIS’ HELMET OVER BY THE 50-YARD LINE??????

“Gil, the wiring in his head went haywire. The ‘Set and forget it’ button was connected to the ‘defrost’ function’.”

“Damn, and I had a golf scramble this afternoon.”

 

I’ve set screens

A buttock deep and mighty

That none may penetrate

I have no need for shooting

Shooting causes pain

Five-footers and it’s free throws I disdain

I am a Rock

I am a Mudlark

 

First off, P2 has to display the most obvious crotch shot in quite some time. Boy, if you want to learn how to outline the Golden Gate Bridge at Milford School of Architecture & Design, you have to take baby steps. Learning how to draw Felix the Cat’s private parts is crucial to the final steps in engineering the amount of tonnage the cables will sustain in San Francisco rush hour traffic. Factor of safety means everything. Watching Wilma Flintstone bend over when she’s loading the dryer ran by some talking pterodactyl will go a long way in doing a rough draft on the Chesapeake Bay Tunnel-Bridge. Sign me up.

Moving on from the obvious, so to speak, we are getting into the esoteric part of the strip today. Not sure if my Social Psych course I took when I was freshman will help me here but here goes. My guess is that she prefers Chris to take the center stage since she’s happy being a combo rebounder-defense kind of a player. Fair enough. I don’t know a coach who would not want a player willing to do the dirty work for the team.

And if this was The Brady Bunch, we would applaud Greg for taking one for the team. Never mind that Susan Willcox-Olsen (or Olson, flip a coin) a/k/a Cindy Brady is on the same roster. Pretend that it’s Co-ed Basketball and guys can only shoot with the opposite hand, unless the opposing coach raises any objections and then the shooter has to use the other hand the rest of the game.  A lot better than the Thorpiverse scenario which is possibly heading us straight into the Grand Canyon without a parachute. Usually if someone utters a remark that’s supposed to be pivotal to the plot and/or season as Alexa is uttering in P2, we are opening ourselves up (unfortunately) to a Pandora’s Box of possibilities. Bet on it.

She’s not shooting wide-open 2 footers because she’s competing with Chris for Valedictorian???? She heaves cross-court passes because Chris got an “A” in Trig and she got a ‘B+’???? She’d rather rebound than perform a breakaway slam because Chris was the keynote speaker at the Milford Academic Awards Banquet and she just passed out the programs at the door???? Recluses shouldn’t spike the punch, Alexa.

Stay tuned for this Brady Bunch episode where Cindy and Alice have to talk Alexa out of hiding in the hamper because Chris fed Greg for the 3-point play. I think you know which part of this paragraph smells of dirty laundry.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Fined Heavily At His Condo By The Milford Health Department!!!!!!!!!!!

sub headline

“I set the timer on the oven to 1 hour for my Taco Bell Liver ‘n’ Onion Limburger Chimichanga but got a disconnect from Milford Gas & Electric 23 minutes later while I went to visit friends.”

 

Don’t talk of offense

But I’ve heard the words before

It’s sleeping at the halfcourt line

 

I won’t disturb the slumber of Mimi’s give-and-go

If I never shot, I swat it second row

I am a Rock

I am a Mudlark

 

I remember reading something in my vast MAD collection where an article pointed out, essentially, that you should worry when… and the article talked about different situations. I laughed when one scene stated in the caption that you should worry when a player from the opposing team pats you on the fanny after a great play, then keeps his hand on your fanny the remained of the game, the scene showing the victimized player in consternation as the opposing player has his hand firmly entrenched on the victim’s butt.

So I am not going to comment today when Alexa has here hand firmly implanted on Phoebe’s 1) Shoulder Blade 2) Milford Sporting Goods Sportsbra 3) Dorsal part of an elongated collarbone 4) Sunburn from memorizing integrals in Calculus II and setting the sun lamp and forgetting it at the Milford Tanning Clinic 5) All of the above.

I’d be wondering too.

And before the season ends, the Milford Shuffleboard Society may be able to change the floor back to a basketball court. It just has to let the floor dry once the lines are sandpapered off. Sandblast it and forget it. The whole thing should be ready to go once our heroines are finished with their Folger’s moment.

 

“We will return for the conclusion of Marcel Proust’s A La Recherche du Temps Perdu or Fast Times at Milford High after these messages.”

“Honeyyyyyyyyy, I’m hornyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!! It’s time to come to beddy-byyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Hold on, Mrs, Shaw. I’m still applying to Milford School of Architecture & Design. They said I can take a correspondence course at 1/3 the tuition if I can draw 10 crotch shots that’ll meet the Board of Directors’ satisfaction.”

“There’s a crotch that needs to meet my satisfaction and you don’t have to draw Johnny Quest’s you-know-what to get it.”

“How’d you know what I was drawing?”

“Darling, put the wittle pencil down and come wid your play thingee cuz she’s got a surpwizzzee for you.”

“An 8 x 11 of Calvin & Hobbes when the camera zooms too close?”

“Noooooooooooo.”

“Damn!!!!!!!! I was close!!!!!!! Okay, a crotch shot of Popeye beatin’ Wimpy’s ass after Wimpy ate too many Bucket Burgers.”

“Actually, Popeye would trade spinach for this anyday.”

“WHAT?????? NO WAY!!!!!!!! Popeye ain’t gettin’ my sketches of Pogo Possum, I don’t care how many Bucket Burgers he pries out of Wimpy’s butt. The Registrar at the School said I can fudge a couple of drawings since Pogo and Winnie the Pooh don’t have anything in between.”

“Honey, at the rate you’re going, you  have something in common with them.”

“Winnie the Pooh and Spiderman can leap from building to building?”

“It was time to put down the blue pencil and face the facts. I had a clog worse than the sewer out front and we both knew it. But the Milford Men’s Clinic saved the day with Miracle Rush 3500, a state-of-the-art drug that’ll unclog Erectile Dysfunction quicker than you can say ‘Hoover Dam’. Come get out of your own logjam down at the Clinic. Me and my wife have had several major crotch shots and you can too. Paradise begins when the traffic congestion ends.”

Thanks for all your patience, Gang. I still wonder where Alexa is putting her arm as long as caffeine is the order of the day. I love coffee but I always keep my hands to myself.

 

Today’s Black History Month installment is actually about 2 persons, gentlemen I discussed last year. At the risk of rehashing, I felt their contributions were too significant to not be talked about once again.

Booker T. Washington and William Edward Burghardt Du Bois were men who arguably have contributed, if not the most, then a lot to the credibility of their race.

Washington was a very humble Christian man who founded The Tuskegee Institute, based on the notion that if the Black Man were to progress in the Upward March of Humanity, he had to learn a trade. He stuck to that notion until the day he died and it paid off in a mighty way. For example, if we sent a Man to the Moon, we have engineers from Tuskegee to thank, who contributed their part to see it happen. Washington’s dream was not in vain.

On the other end of the spectrum was Du Bois. He felt that a man learning a trade was limiting himself to bigger possibilities that could only be revealed through college, particularly the Liberal Arts Program. A well-rounded man was able to think better and handle the complexities that society threw at the Human Race. True to his word, he was the first African-American to earn a Doctorate from Harvard. The man was brilliant, Gang.

Whichever side you choose to take, please join me in saluting two men who have been a HUGE asset to the Human Race as well as their own.

 

 

I have my coach

And his assistant to protect me

 

Oops, better stop. I don’t wanna wind up in the doghouse over false advertising.

 

Why the Bulls were dominant in the ’90’s

 

“Ref, I want Jordan shooting with the other hand. No way can he get 59 points by being honest.”

“No problem, Gil.”

December 10, 2019

Alexa, It’s Pretty Sad When I’m Bored When The Story Is Only Six Panels Old.

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I remember her well. She lived on an island off the coast of Mudlark Lake. Her name was Dorothy Pearl or Dr. Pearl for short. I never thought I’d be non-coaching for her several years later.

She said she was 1,187 years old. She held her age well. Hermie Shaw and Oscy Kaz used to make fun of me every time her name was brought up. A few examples:

“Geez, this Bucket Double Bacon Burger tastes like it’s been in the oven for days. Did Dr. Pearl light a camp fire there?”

“Damn, my book report’s due!!!!!!!!! If I wait until the Treaty of Westphalia, it’ll be late!!!”    “Isn’t that the year Dr. Pearl was born?”

“Why did Coach Thorp call a pass play on the 1-yard line? Is Dr. Pearl calling the plays from Versailles Palace?”

You get the idea.

 

“This Bucket Chili Dog has seen better days. I wouldn’t wrap a condom around this loser and have sex with-”

“SEE, HERMIE, I told you Gilby has a thing for Dr. Pearl!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A 15-year old virgin is going to have his way with an older woman!!!!!!!!!!! Tell me, Gilby, how was it when Dr. Pearl went in Napoleon’s tent? Did she like it?”

The story sucked

And football’s gone

I wretched all night

It went too long

Chance is cleared

He did no wrong

 

And when it was over

We never saw much to brag about

Against Valley Tech

Much less the season in toto

 

Chet’s in reform

His wife has warned

 

Gang, I’m sorry, P1 is starting this whole daggone story on the wrong foot ALREADY and I ain’t gonna do another Summer of ’42 rendition after basketball, assuming that’s the bill of fare, something that’s been the bill of fare the last 60 years and counting. It’s hard for me to imagine Alexa hittin’ the weights hard so she can be the Milford High School Girls’ Darts champion sponsored by Milford Lounge.

 

She throws her darts

With deft aplomb

She nearly missed

Moon’s glass of rum

Gil is concerned

Ate tons of Tums

 

Well. it needs a little sprucing but that’s as far as I’m going. For now, anyway.

 

Because I really don’t understand why the man in the car with Kentucky license plate 331 VBD used hate to get his point across at Papa John’s on Lower Hunters Trace and Dixie Highway in Louisville early this morning

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Neo-nazi Camp In Rural Milford Shut Down By Milford Health Board After Injury To One Of Its Members!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Safety concerns raised after member’s head was caught in the toilet in the outhouse after head-plunging procedure was going great guns.”

 

At the Milford Recording Studio, taping an advertising jingle for Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage

 

“Ahhhhhhhhh, Baby,

This meat is full of taste

And it’s ALL FOR YOU

 

Sit yo ass down and do

WHAT YOU GOT TA DO

 

Eat your ass blind

And experience Heaven’s

MASTERPIECE

 

No, no, don’t leave Gil this way

No, don’t leave Gil this way…”

 

“Anybody get a hold of Thelma Houston yet? I’m not getting my butt in the sling over copyright infringement”

 

Hi Crystal. I see you at Jeff Smith Marathon in Edwardsville, Indiana. She and Bre(like “key”) are two VERY friendly people who greet the customers with the utmost courtesy and respect. Throw in mechanics who get the job done as attested by all the cars that fill up the parking lot (BUSY) on the property and you have a whale of abusiness. But don’t take my word for it. Take Exit 118 off of I-64 in Indiana, head to 62 West and it’s the first road to your LEFT as you leave the freeway. You’ll see the business. Great gasoline, great prices, great mechanics. Gang, I think you catch my drift. Catch it at Jeff Smith Marathon and say hello to Crystal and Bre. You’ll be VERY glad you did.

 

WHAT is that thing in P2, splitting the girls? Is it that gigantic door from 2001: A Space Odyssey? I don’t see any apes around, at least none from the football team and the one ape that was making a spectacle of himself during football is at some marriage  enrichment seminar with his wife (Assuming she still claims Chet of the Jungle) . I’m still trying to adjust my eyes trying to translate Vulcan while going in the out door or going out the in door, same difference. Well, like Joe Walsh said, being a student at Milford High School is living a Life of Illusion. No better example than P2.

I don’t THINK that the obelisk wannabe is something anybody prays to five times a day. I was under the impression that Muslims pray towards Gil’s office that many times (“Surrender to the Will of Gil and accept Coach Kaz as his Prophet.”)

Oh, I KNOW (slaps head). It’s a stoplight. The hallways in the M.C. Escher hallways can get a little confusing. Helps to have Big Brother the Traffic Cop to sort it all out.

 

“Aw, C’mon, Gilby. Mimi really likes you. Hermie tried to make out with her and she said she only dates guys who referee her girls’ 5-game schedule. And I know you’re patched cuz I heard you scored a 92 on the open-book exam. You can’t keep fantasizing about Dr. Pearl forever.”

“Who are you going to make out with, Oscy?

“Marcia Brady!!!!!!!!!!! I heard she is really hot-to-trot after Alice the Maid showed her a few moves. Used a scrub brush to get her point across.”

That summer, I gained my manhood. We would marry 47 years later but making out behind the tackling dummies was more fun than a barrel of Nerf footballs used in the previous plot while Oscy and Marcia had some fun in the equipment shed, making sure the door was deadbolted so Luhm wouldn’t come in to fix the riding mower blades. Hermie had to settle for Dr. Pearl’s great-great-great granddaughter. He may have had to return her by the 8:00 curfew so she could finish her multiplication tables but he did get a kiss out of her. On the lips.

As for Dr. Pearl, watching her boobs press through her blouse while she was loading boxes in the attic was exhilarating. It was a little like observing gigantic prunes that the Jolly Green Giant eats for breakfast hanging through Kaz’s hammock but still exhilarating. The roar of Mudlark Lake bespoke her mystique. Her beehive bun came from Never Never Land.

 

And if we have to endure one more stinkin’ bad plot, we’ll be grumbling more than 3 times a week, rest assured.

 

Big shout-out to Thelma Houston. A very classy woman whose hit “Don’t Leave Me This Way” still rings true as it did when it hit the charts big back in 1977. Never one to rest on her laurels, she is still recording to this day and has acted in several movies and TV shows. I don’t know about you, Gang, but when a person still wants to keep performing even after she hit the Big Time, it is my humble opinion that that’s what makes a STAR. I salute you, Thelma, and hope you keep up the good work.

 

Gang, if I see one more Marcia Brady at 17 visage as in P3, I’m demanding my money back. I’ve already gotten refunded after returning a moldy Gil Thorp Pure Pork Sausage Flame-Broiled to Milford IGA, but I can always get another one out of the bunker, the ones next to the George Jones Old Fashioned Breakfast ‘n’ Bed Sausage. We can’t get another plot. Football proved the futility of that particular venture.

I was really working up my courage on a dare from Hermie and Oscy. Hermie Shaw had already disappeared like he always does when football season is approaching its climax. Asking for his mom’s Nair evidently was a bit too embarrassing. Surely the druggist at Milford Apothecary knew his mom shaved her legs.

At any rate, at the Milford Apothecary for Round Two

“May I help you?”

“Do you all sell banana splits?”

“Nope. The Bucket down the street does. Do you need directions?”

“No, that’s all right.”

Well, here goes

“I would like CruexJockItchmedicine100jockstrapsacoupleoffootballhelmetssomeLifesavers10rubbers5atheleticbandages534boxesofBand-AidssomehydrgenperoxideinthejanitordrumsizesoScottwillquitbitchingandapartridgeinapeartree.”

“We’re out of Lifesavers.”

“Do you have everything else?”

“Sure. Give me 15 minutes. My help had to make a delivery to Dorothy Pearl. Had to drop off her Ex-Lax.”

“No problem.”

Whew, that was easy. I couldn’t wait to see the looks on Hermie’s and Oscy’s face. Now I could go all the way with Dr. Pearl. Hermie would leave in defeat but you heard that before. Oscy would be able to buy rubbers and earrings with ease several decades later but by then he would be my assistant. And the druggist cheerfully came back

“Here you are. Have a nice day.”

“Gee, thanks. Oh, BTW, WHERE’S THE RUBBERS?”

“They’re underneath the football helmets, nice and neat.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry. Thanks, Mr. Druggist.”

“No problem. Hope she’s fun.”

 

So much for trying to sneak one past somebody. But I still had Hermie and Oscy with egg all over their faces. That’s what mattered for the moment.

 

Gang, I could be wrong but ol’ Foghorn here thinks Marcia Brady is tryin’ to execute a funny. It would HELP if we knew what the Hell she was talking about. I know what Watson the Supercomputer is, the IBM wunderkind, but WHAT IS IT REFERRING TO? We’ll have to toil through several more panels to get the joke? After several days, if Alexa’s weight training pays off by being able to lift Deep Blue off the ground with her index finger while holding a conversation with Marcia Brady about boys, the funny will have fulfilled its mission.

 

If ya gotta go to Milford A-poth-a-carry cuz ya is in-breedin’ once again with yore kid sister after ya got inta an argument over how many Tinker Toys got distributed to yaz both, b ut ya gotta hit the A-poth-a-carry once agin cuz ya ran out of pro-teck-shun, ya might be a redneck.

 

Because I’m still in bewilderment over these ads promising hardness for HOURS

 

While Coach Shaw has a problem on the Serta Love Sofa in the garage

“Hermieeeeeeee, it’s time to come to bed!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Come on down and do what ya got ta do!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“I can’t, Dear. I’m stuck between the cushions!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Honey, don’t leave me this way. Now quit trying to pretend you have a problem and let’s have some fun.”

“I’M NOT KIDDING!!!!!!!!!!!! That Erec-9000 Vita-Plus Medicine sold by Milford Men’s Clinic was good as advertised. They weren’t kidding when they said she’d love you like a rock for hours!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I didn’t think I’d be stuck like a rock for hours!!!!!!!!! I can still get to my beer!!!!!!”

“Hermie, you’ve come up with some excuses before to not have sex with me but you had me fooled on those. I’m not buying this one. My heart is full of love and it’s all for you!!!!!!!!!!”

“And this LOVE SOFA IS FULL OF ME!!!!!!!!!!!!! Quick!!!!!!! I think that old See-Saw is behind the tool bin!!!!!!!!!!! Get it out and pry me loose!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Hermie, If I leave YOU THIS WAY, you won’t have any carnal knowledge. Now stop making things up and hold my hand.”

“I can’t even hold my significant other, let alone get up from it!!!!!!!!! Did you ever try to stand up while your stomach’s on top of a flagpole?????”

“I salute you for your brilliant evasive technique-”

“Well, it’s either you criticize my lack of imagination for excuses or you can have anal sex. There’s an obvious problem with that.”

 

“Well, doggie, you can imagine the dilemma I was in. I didn’t want my wife to leave me but I didn’t know how to get down from Mt. Everest. But she FINALLY got the See-Saw if I promised to use the Erec-9000 on our second honeymoon.

But y’know, that’s a pleasant problem because I did get down and do I what I gotta do right on that Love Sofa. We just made sure to avoid the gaps in the sofa and Sexual Elixir was at a premium. Come buy a slice of your own troubles at Milford Men’s Clinic where your problems begin once your erectile problems end.”

 

Go at it, Gang. My money is on a week before we find out when the Supercomputer funny is grasped. Isn’t that when Looney Tunes comes on?

 

Gilby comes to Dr. Pearl’s retreat house on Mudlark Island. The whippoorwill is faintly heard in the distance.

He enters.

No one is in the living room. There’s a note on the coffee table

“Dear Doctor Pearl,

We regret to inform you that your husband was killed in action at the Second Battle of Bull Run-”

 

“Hi, Gilby.”

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry, I’m a mess.”

“For 1800 years, you look fine”

“I don’t think I do.”

 

Dr. Pearl heads to the kitchen

“I’m sorry”

Dr. Pearl turns around

Gilby and Dr. Pearl embrace and slow-dance to the Summer of ’42 Theme. The Summer Knows. More than it cares to know in this plot.

Dr. Pearl leads Gilby to the bedroom. Like watching a petrified tree undress, they finally come to bed. And Gilby is enjoying his Second Manhood.

“I think you should go now, Gilby.”

 

She left me a letter later

“Dear Gilby, I had a wonderful time that night. You didn’t need Vita-Plus to enjoy me and I thank you for that.

I hope good things and only good things happen in your life. I am leaving, never to return until I become Principal. It’s a pity that football didn’t leave sooner but sometimes you don’t win Antietam. But you’ll win the war, Gilby. Just not the football games. It’s been nice knowing you.”

And so my days in the Summer of ’42 were in a reverie, a block of events I rue I cannot bring back. We all went on to bigger and better things and football sank in the South Pacific. Sometimes poetic justice has a way of turning its vengeful head. But my boyhood was rewarding and taught me that you could disappear after you had the time of your life. I had Dorothy Pearl to thank for that. Now basketball awaits, belated so. There might be another Dorothy at the free throw line. One can hope.

December 7, 2019

Good Ol’ Blow Top

gt12072019

Mudlarks chowin’ down on sloppy joes
Runnin’ the two-a-day drills
Then Sam Finn passed out and had to go
Whose fault? Sure wasn’t Gil’s
Junior Mudlark tailback Charlie Roh
Had the job in his hat
Got showed up by some old sophomore
That was the end of that
“Blow Top, you’re gonna be
Totin’ the rock for me
Good ol’ Blow Top
Blow Top Chance Macy
Blow Top Chance Macy”
Charlie’s dad tried to derail Blow Top
Diggin’ for bones in his past
The trail he left, they didn’t need a cop
It bit him in the ass
Chance’s fits of rage called “Blow Top”
His backstory is weird
Livin’ with his gram and grandpop
So-called parents? Disappeared
Blow Top, you’re gonna be
Treated by Charlie
Good ol’ Blow Top
Blow Top Chance Macy
Blow Top Chance Macy
Ballard’s in the doghouse with his wife
Didn’t have to make it so hard
Now his credit’s gonna take a dive
Charlie’s got his gold card
“Blow Top, Can’t you see?
Tonight’s tabs are on me!
Good ol’ Blow Top
Let’s hit Ricozzi’s
Let’s hit Ricozzi’s
Let’s hit Ricozzi’s!”
(apologies? No apologies; this song makes me want to throw something sharp)
metapost: Dunno what’s gone wrong with my spacing, or why the YT clip isn’t showing. Maybe it’s time for me to hang it up.
Fixed!* – TimP
* Well, not the line breaks. Not sure what’s going on there. 
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