J-a-m-i-l-a Spells “Gilligan”.

God, I love it when the 7 dwarfs come to Milford High School. Is that Doc on the left? Man, he must have hit the Nautilus program hard. And Sleepy on the right? Snow White in between? Wait, she couldn’t have shrunk, if I recall my childhood years at the matinee.

Wait a minute. (Slaps head with a fraternity paddle) Those are MILFORD STUDENTS. And, I presume, they are at Milford High School on their way to class. If I were to play Devil’s Advocate for a sec, I could argue that they’re at Milford Mall, somewhere between Elder-Beerman and The Great Outdoors(“Wouldn’t Jamila look good in that fishing outfit? I like the flannel shirt. Christmas shopping is DONE”) or entering the Milford Civic Center to head to Second Floor, State Revenue Department, Room 247, to pay a delinquent tax surcharge. Baseball uniforms get harder and harder to purchase every year, I reckon.

But I think I better stick with the original premise, they’re in the building of Milford High School, even if they look like GI Joe Action Figures, and are going to class.

Funny how the topic du jour happens to be the baseball team. We Thorpiverse veterans are used to the baseball team getting its A– whooped by an Oakwood here or a Valley Tech there by an occasional 22-1 score, Berrill managing to fit all the carnage in 3 panels BUT WE SAW ACTION!!!!!!!!!

Now, the only way we can receive news on how the season went is through The Leakey Foundation. Yup, if ya wanna know how Lucy turned out or how the Mudlarks fared against New Thayer, you’ll have to keep digging, hoping the flunky for the Archaeologists Team hits the bone this time. It won’t help matters to find a random Mudlark’s ERA by hitting Lucy’s toenail.

It’s pretty damn sad when we have to go through the little bungee cord at the Milford Museum of Arts & Natural Sciences, make a voluntary contribution of $32,458(“Run the card through again. It didn’t read it.”), only to wind up in the Diego Rivera Collection and find out the baseball team didn’t do diddly. Naturally, when it’s posing next to Karl Marx and Leon Trotsky to satisfy Rivera’s leanings, you reap what you sow, but that’s beside the point. Anything belonging to Friedrich Engels stays in the stands with Engels, $40 buttered popcorn and $35 hot dog and all, and what’s on the Mudlark diamond stays on the Mudlark diamond. Leave Lucy in the ground.

Next thing you know, we’ll be learning the baseball team’s whereabouts in the Milford Enquirer.

Oops.

“Jamila, take a look out the window.”

“OMG, the baseball team is like a worn-out vacuum cleaner, they be suckin’ pretty bad. ”

 

Come to Jeff Smith Marathon in Edwardsville, Indiana. If you take I-64 in either direction, it is just off Exit 118, south of the expressway, take an IMMEDIATE left once you get on Indiana 62 off the X-way, headin’ west.

Jeff has built an established clientele based on great customer service, reasonable prices, and they got the best mechanics in the business. Then factor in great gas at great prices and  friendly clerks (Hi Crystal) and, Gang, I’m believin’ you have a recipe for success.

Then come down the hill to New Albany, Indiana and take care of Jeff’s brother, Mike, at Mike Smith Firestone. He and his wife are always there with a smile and will give you the same great service and great prices. Man, when my tires were shot, Mike was there to put ’em on and I left with my arm and leg. Don’t get no better than that. And any mechanical problems have ALWAYS been dealt with swiftly and many times I got the vehicle back the same day. Sounds like a winner to me.

Come see for yourself and take care of people like Jeff Smith and Mike Smith who ALWAYS take care of you. Gang, you need business people who run great businesses who know you by name.

And I’m in agreement with Moon Mullins, History 101 or any course with 3 digits affixed to the subject (e.g. Mandarin Chinese 302, Advanced Auto Mechanics 212) does ring of college material.

That said, has ANYBODY EVER seen a class being taught where the blackboard is IN BACK OF the students? Whether it’s Driver’s Ed Night School 415 or Physics 301 or Term Paper Issues 102, it has come to my attention that when our Guest Lecturer at Milford High School who is subbing for Ms. Rizk because Thorpiverse ran out of plotline ideas teaches the class, he really has to have the chalkboard BEHIND him if he’s to outline Journalism Ethics on the board. The objet d’art is doing no good behind the age progressions of Elroy Jetson and Sherman Peabody. Or are we viewing our future Fantastic Four?  Hey, I could see Grace Jones as one of THEM.

Nahhhhhh, Swiss Miss trying to be Ben Grimm? And wear the appropriate outfit? Think we better go back to the Welcome Back Kotter Even If You’re a Crappy Paid Sub Now approach.

Okay, okay, so Ms. Rizk is still at her typewriter and they’ve been carting in Domino’s the last 467 or more days(lost count, sorry) when she’s not on the Bread-and-Water diet and we are seeing an ACTUAL TEACHER. Well, don’t that beat all.

The one tbing we know IMMEDIATELY is that he’s been on a steady diet of Rolaids worrying about the Lady Mudlarks in the Playdowns(like Ned yesterday mentioned, We THINK that’s where this is heading). Given that this is, indeed, not a late entry somewhere, i.e., NBA Playoffs, our Joe Blow teacher still needs to have the chalkboard BEHIND him when he’s teaching the class, before or after he blows off steam from losing sleep over the Lady Mudlarks versus Wellington. Still not sure what he’s teaching but since I don’t see slide rules or calculators on the desk, I don’t think it’s Trig 213 or Algebra 433 or Set Theory 231 or Gaussian Ethics for Advanced Algebra Teaching 333. We just know he gulped one too many Tums.

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Lost Treasure Uncovered In Inca Empire Excavation!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Scientists reveal that Gil was on his second trip to the mound with Milford trailing Madison, 5-3.”

 

“Jamila, put down that Mad magazine and come to the window.”

“My Lord, look at them Aussies. They’re bigger than that giant prehistoric kangaroo the Leakey Foundation dug outside of Brisbane. No wonder why Linda quit the team.”

Come to Sister Bean’s Coffee House in Louisville, Kentucky. They are on New Cut Road, approximately 2-3 miles south of the Watterson Expressway. Check out the espressos, lattes, and, of course, coffees in many different sizes and flavors. I go in the drive-thru and am AMAZED at what they have to offer on the menu. For a small business not associated with any major chain(e.g., Starbucks), I AM IMPRESSED. They also have scones, muffins, and brownies in case you like go-withs, which describes yours truly. Factor in friendly service and this writer thinks it’s worth the trip. Come see for yourself.

Support Small Businesses. They make America great.

Gang, remember the Gilligan’s Island episode when Gilligan dreams he’s a dictator of some country? A Latin American dictator in exile finds himself landing on Gilligan’s Island, which precipitates the dream.

That’s EXACTLY what I thought of when I saw P3. Either she’s in the dugout or she’s in the movie “Topaz” where she is Fidel, waving at her supporters. If the latter is the case, I have a little ditty to support her seizure of power, thanks to aiding and abetting in winning the Valley Conference Championship

“Fidel!!!!!!!!! Fidel!!!!!!!!! Way to strike Los Yanquis out with your fastball and slider!!!!!!!!!!!! Mimi taught you well!!!!!!!!!”

Oops, wrong record

Here we go, sung to the tune from “The Little Dictator” episode from Gilligan’s Island

J-A

M-I-L

A

Anything else spells disaster

 

Guaranteed beyond any reason

To hoist us through this hopeless season

 

J-A

M-I-L

A

Anything else spells doom

 

She’s the one who will soon

Be pitching us out of June

 

O Jamila, for me.

 

“But Coach Mimi, I don’t want to be your puppet!!!!!!!”

“TFB. Who do you think has been pulling the strings when you and Jocelynn have been bossing everybody around?”

 

If ya quit the Men’s Slo-Pitch Wednesday Night Modified Industrial League cuz yore manager reminds ya too much of Che Guevara, a dictator plus he’s got the nastiest flea-bitten beard known ta Mankind, and ya doesn’t play fer no Komm-ya-nist who needs ta mail order ‘lectric Shave bladez pronto, ya might be a redneck.

 

“Are you tired of your car wearing the ‘Wash me’ tag as if that’s an extension of your license plate while your dog hasn’t had a bath in God-knows-when to the point where your neighbor is wearing a clothes pin on his nose? When the dog’s OUTSIDE????

Hi, this is Coach Kaz and if you answered yes to all of these questions, then come to Milford Super Car Wash Emporium Incorporated and you can get your pride and joy through the ringer. Oh, and your pet a good cleansing, to ward off any further confusion.

I was amazed when me and my honey went through the cycle and saw all the different soaps and suds being applied to our car. It was like being in a washing machine, watching Tide and Borax and Turtle Wax all acting in collaboration on the windshield and on the hood down the car door windows and over the trunk to give that Lexus a spit shine of its life. The Turtle Wax Lemon Lime coat even got the eagle poop off the windshield that I got when I was hunting squirrel last Fall.  I never that I’d see the day when I could say that I enjoyed watching Scrubbing Bubbles break-dancing around the hood ornament. Man, this car wash put on a show. Wish the baseball team could have performed even half as good, especially when fielding grounders. The Scrubbing Bubbles would have gotten the mitt on the ground and thrown to first for the out.

Then the drying was the Grand Finale. No using Pampers 18 Months Collection to dry on this bad boy of a motorized contraption. With soft brushes and HAL Computer technology, my Lexus shined like the Lady Mudlarks. And we didn’t need Mussoloni or Jamila to polish off the hood. A second coating of Turtle Wax did the trick.

Speaking of trunk, once we got Tiger out of it and dragged his butt over to the Dog Wash, we were again stupified at the way the dog washers were able to make him Comfortably Numb while applying Head & Shoulders and Milford Soap Connection all over his anatomy. Tiger won’t have dandruff until, well, maybe the golf season. Saved a fortune on any carpet cleaning in our living room. Then drying him off and combing was no sweat. I’ll bet smelling clean makes any animal cooperative. I’ve heard a few goats have graced the Dog Wash and are Lassie when they leave. And I’ll have to remember lacing Milk Bones with Sominex when I take him here again.

A clean car and a clean dog that you can put in the back seat? I only regret we couldn’t put a Valley Conference trophy next to Tiger. Come to Milford Super Car Wash Emporium Incorporated today for that spotless pick-up truck or Cadillac and Rin Tin Tin in the bargain. You’ll be glad you did.”

Get after it, Gang. I’ll be paying homage to Gilligan this afternoon. He has a way of dealing with those Yankee Imperialists.

 

“Geez, Gil had a suckass season. Got beat, 24-1, by the Azteca Civilization? No wonder why it got buried in Peru.”

 

“No problem, Gil. We ought to be able to fit Dumbo in Drive-Through #1. That’s where all the semi’s go. And we have plenty of Turtle Wax Raspberry Formula. Ordered the drums last week.

 

“Jamila, quit going over the pitch sequence with Jocelynn and come over here and look out the window.”

“Oh, forever more. Look at Gil’s golf game. ’nuff said.”

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It Is Better To Spike The Volleyball With My Friends Than To Make The Final Cut On The Olympic Team With My Enemies.

Or something along those lines. I don’t know if she got that inspiration watching the Avogadro’s number of stars(you think that’s where he determined the number of molecules, reading this plotli-nahhhhhhhhhh, he and Galileo were at The Bucket, chompin’ on Bucket Pita Salad and Mosel Wine, hoping the Pisa Tower, now The Milford Tower Senior Citizen Retreat Center, didn’t fall on them) in P1.

Being a Christian, one of my favorite Scriptures comes from Proverbs: “It is better to eat soup with someone you love than steak with someone you hate.” A very good lesson and ONE of the lessons Linda learned along the Long and Winding Road that was this plot.

The trouble was, were you as confused as I was trying to figure out what in the name of Scratching at the Volleyball Net were the teams Mimi was talking about? College teams? Teams in the WNBA???? Is there a League in the Galaxy? Last I checked, Linda you’re still in high school. Okay, Confucius say, that if you’ve lost the drive for your favorite sport, playing sandlot leagues at the sand volleyball courts behind the east parking lot at Milford Lounge is perhaps your Viagara.

But whaddup with all this name-calling? For all we know, Mimi memorized names out of the Milford Phone Book, left dangling in a deserted phone booth at the S-Mart. Boy, that’ll up my score on the Persuasibility portion of the Milford Vocational Aptitude Test. Just locate the nearest enclosed stall, maybe in the lobby by the snack bar at Milford General Hospital from where I’m standing, and I’ll ace it, fer sure.

And we had to go through hats and hippos back to hats so this plot apparently could save face, that’s right, Linda decked out, hat and all, like Aretha Franklin, just so this plot wouldn’t take a beating in the Rating Sweepstakes. Milford had Captain Kangaroo and Bozo the Clown on the other channels, y’know.

“Okay, boys and girls, if you’ll keep your head out of your rear ends(Children’s show, keep in mind) and listen to the coaches, you can wind up just like me. Ol’ Bozo is makin’ a good living because he didn’t overextend himself and he bloomed where he was planted.”

I think that’s speaking for itself. I’m gonna go check and see if “Good Morning, America” is on yet. I understand they’re interviewing Iron Butterfly. AND as a special treat, they’re doing the full-length version of “In-a-Goda-da-Vida”. That’ll kill Mimi’s name-calling in the Ratings War, don’t you think?

 

Who shot Coach Shaw?

“Suspect was seen with a hippo on the dashboard. Says it’s some kind of good luck charm.”

“Run the hippo through Ballistics. See if it matches the bullet that went through the juke box at The Bucket.”

“Way ahead of you. In fact, witnesses say suspect shot at Coach Shaw because he couldn’t stand Slim Whitman’s ‘Red River Valley’ being played. Shaw evidently was a big fan. Went to see Slim play at Milford Amphitheater right after Mitch Miller Singers and Perry Como.”

“Will do.”

 

Now is everybody satisfied that this will be the end of this charade? Because David’s dad reminds me of that song by The Doors

 

DAVID WALKED ON DOWN THE HALL

“Father?”

“Yes, Son?”

“I want to kill this plot.”

“Ask your mother.”

“She said it was OK.”

“Fine with me.”

BLAM

 

It is VERY tough for me to want to say anything smart-ass in P2, chiefly because it hits too close to home.

Therefore, for all you people out there who have kids in sports or are thinking about it, here’s a few tips along the way, things that worked for me

I had 3 things I told my players in Babe Ruth League Baseball or when I followed my nephew for 12 years, all the way to high school, primarily baseball and cross country

1) Give 110% at all times

2) Listen to the coaches and do everything they ask, to the best of your ability

3) Come prepared. The best teams are not always better-talented but they come to play

Regardless of what the scoreboard says at the end of the game.

 

A few other things. Don’t let your kid argue with coaches or umpires. That’s YOUR job. And if you do have anything to say, keep your voice low and know what you’re talking about.

Therefore, learn the rules, from the rule book all the way down to the local yokel guidelines.

BE THERE for your kid, no matter the record or the sport. You might have played basketball but if he or she likes canoeing, then the 3 rules above apply and you support him or her to the best of your ability.

If you criticize, criticize in private, praise in public. Coach them up until high school, then let the coaches take over. Nothing irritates a high school coach more than an armchair coach. If you work on something, it better be good and with the approval of the coach of the team your kid is playing on.

Only have positive things to say about other people, teams, coaches. Otherwise, say it to their face or not at all. For those of you wanting your kids in sports, I’m throwing in a freebie

“Silence is seldom misquoted”

LEARN THAT ONE BY HEART

 

Finally, MAKE SURE your kid understands that SCHOOL COMES FIRST. Don’t EVER give him or her the impression that winning a championship at the expense of his or her performance in school is tolerated.

I follow my own advice. I follow the local college baseball players in the Minor Leagues with the understanding GET YOUR DEGREE. As the old saying goes, very few will make the Pros. The rest of us better have something to fall back on. The idea is to make them better people anyway.

Don’t get me wrong. A couple of guys I follow got called up to The Show. That’s when making academics a priority gets sweeter. In the end, make sure your kid is academically eligible so if he or she is in that championship picture, you can dance a jig or two like I did.

Otherwise, ALWAYS have something to fall back on. The other day I read where one of my players was a manager at a Radio Shack. Another one is a team leader at PPG Industries. That’s when I knew us coaches did our jobs.

 

It’s worth it, Gang. Stay with ’em. They need you.

 

We move onto P3 where Linda is making the decision of her career with a platform in the background borrowed, rumors say, from the “Shiny Happy People” video. Wow, that old man’s got some energy. I hope I have that much chutzpah pedaling a Hostess Ding Dong w/Sprinkles skyline when I reach that age. Then he’s got those huge cauliflower trees. I knew Herbicide Technology does wonders but this is an old man behind the scenery trying to lug some Asparagus Redwood around David’s house. And all that dancing and singing from Kate Pierson of the B-52’s? No, David’s dad, don’t call the police. You’ve already proven enough of an asshole so much I wanna hit your bald pate with a wet cauliflower, preferably the one with the pine needles in it.

ANYWAY, that off my chest, I’m still debating what Linda means by friends. As in, find a volleyball net someone threw away in the garbage can for Trash Day, put it up on the same tree where Beaver hangs his tire swing or target practice for pitching baseballs, call 5-6 girls(or boys if ya wanna go co-ed), choose up sides and play without keeping score? Not a bad idea and if Linda can manage her competitive juices along the way, more power to her(NO, BEAVER, THAT WAS OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!).

Or does she want to play with friends in a semi-competitive environment, Sand Volleyball League Matches down at Milford Beverage Warehouse? Well, as long as she doesn’t buy booze, I’m sure The Warehouse woild be willing to bend the rules since they need the money to keep the League going. I don’t think sales of Guillaume de Vergy Brut is financing this venture.

All righty then, Linda, get that bikini out of the closet, call some girls, sign the liability forms saying you won’t hold the Warehouse responsible if you let another softball or volleyball slip through the cracks because you were too pissy-faced about Australia and looks like the fun will never stop.

Beyond that, I’m scratchin’ my noggin, trying to figure out what playing with friends entails. Then again, that’s a Hostess Cup Cake skyline that old man is luggin’, isn’t it?

 

“It looks like Linda’s learning a lot about life. And that gives me the opportunity to announce the 1st Annual All-Comers Double-Elimination Sand Volleyball Tournament sponsored by Milford Beverage Warehouse held this Saturday at their newly-constructed state-of-the-art Sand Volleyball facility.

Hi, this is Coach Thorp speaking on behalf of The Warehouse and when I saw that they didn’t just dump some dog-poop-infested sand from Mudlark Lake, I was highly impressed. With volleyball nets that the Olympics use to determine Gold Medals and chalk lines that’ll put a church softball field out of its misery, shoot, I’m gonna skip the links this Saturday.

They have Tournaments for all ages and skill levels. In fact, Mimi and I just turned in our form for the Co-Ed Bracket, Bloodhound Division. Gotta take it easy when you get into an exciting Tournament like this. I understand Tod Andrews and his 360-pound, one-tooth cousin entered the Golden Retriever level. He insisted that she can move and spike, even in the sand and with all that luggage. We’ll see.

Linda, if you’re within range, you need to come on down with David and have him watch you play. With bleachers vulcanized from the finest tungsten mills of New Thayer, he can down a Bud, as long as he’s accompanied by his asshole-of-a-dad who does double duty, BTW, lighting up the courts with his head. Copper light reflection technology is so avant-garde, geez.

Don’t you want to watch David and Pennytop go apeshit, oops, gaga, over your Grade A performance? Sure you do. In fact, the Female Bracket, Snippet Division was judged the most competitive Division by the Milford Volleyball Conglomerate. Geez, Louise, Linda, playing with friends while still at the top of your game, plenty of brewskies flowing, and the Bud Man’s in the house? And he’s in the Caped Crusader Bracket, Beagle Division, so hop on over to Court #2 with your Bud Lite as he battles Batman and The Green Lantern. Lools like everybody’s partying like it’s 2099.

And with beer and wine specials too low to advertise over the radio, you have a winning formula for a killer Saturday night. Sorry, the FCC wouldn’t renege, even after we waived the fee for their entrants in the Co-Ed Bracket, Government Employee Division. You’ll just have to check out these specials yourself while you’re down here, partying for your life.

So come on, get pumped, get rowdy, get ready, get wasted for the Tournament. The Bucket couldn’t even begin to know where to go, they’re too busy bribing City Officials and concocting illegal Bond Issues, just to get a Liquor License when they should hire the Drott man and dig up their own courts. Right now, they’re just digging a grave.

Come watch Mimi and I tough it out this Saturday and get a cart full of goodies to stuff in the trunk. It don’t get no better than that. Only at Milford Beverage Warehouse.”

Comment away, Gang. I still think the backdrop has the color of a Hostess Twinkie during the day. I’ll ask the old man when he’s back from break.

 

Today’s headline from the Milford Enquirer

“O.J In The Finals Of The Men’s Bracket, Greyhound Division!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“How’d I get Cochrane in the Draw? Isn’t that a conflict of interest????????”

 

 

“A six-pack of Zing Zang Bloody Mary is HOW much?????Damn!!!!!!!!! I got that five dollar bill in my back pocket somewhere. Oh, shit, are we still live????? I hope the FCC was at a Port-O-Let.”

 

 

 

This is The End

My only friend,

The End

 

Also Sprach Jim Morrison

 

 

Oh Boy, Book Club!

Nancy and Molly are lounging about on a Sunday afternoon, dealing with Mimi Thorp’s impromptu reading assignment. It’s very late in the school year (some would suggest that school should be out by now, but we all know that the Milford calendar is elastic) and these two are way over it, but they are soldiering on. They do a telephone check in, which I’m told is not a thing anymore for teens. I think we have to stick with this convention in comics because a) This is Gil Thorp and it is the 1950s with cellphones and b) visually, text exchanges are even duller than what we see here.

Nancy is reading Animal Farm and Molly is on the internet reading about it.  This is something that hasn’t changed with school reading assignments since the first time Animal Farm was taught in school. Nobody really wants to read this thing and just wants some bullet points so they can write an essay and move on. (Maybe some people enjoy reading Animal Farm. YMMV, but I have a few thoughts that I will share in a moment.)

Now when Monday rolls around, Mimi is still strangely talking collectively to “ladies” even though the book club is just for Molly and Nancy. I think that’s the case, but maybe I’m wrong. teenchy touched on this Saturday. It’s the usual muddiness .

We shall see what Mimi has in mind as discussion points for the book club. Whatever her thesis, it’s sure to land with a dull thud and I’m certain that I will be scratching my head when that happens. I have a burning question of the sort that never gets answered in Gil Thorp: What the hell is Gil/Mimi thinking? How does this allegorical tale written in England in the 1940s, satirizing the brutal Stalinist regime of the Soviet Union relate to a “too cool” high school button campaign? Are we to believe that Mimi wants to illustrate parallels between “in group/out group” selection criteria and a critique of collectivism? I see nothing more than a facile connection here, but I guess that’s what I expect.

I did actually read Animal Farm yesterday for the first time. Somehow, I avoided ever having this reading assignment given to me. I certainly knew about the book and had a good idea of the ideas it contained. I think the biggest problem I had with reading it was that the allegory is so obvious that the act of reading becomes so analytical that you might as well just go to the Cliff notes or the modern equivalent on the internet. Orwell is anything but subtle in his intent is what I’m saying. I think his writing is actually very skilled but this thing is a polemic guaranteed to crush the will of a teenager in any era.

There have probably been newer readings of Animal Farm that have emerged in our post modern age. Perhaps some more nuanced analysis of class struggle can use Animal Farm as a jumping off point. I don’t expect Mimi, Molly and Nancy to touch on this in the gym.

I will reveal a misconception I held about Animal Farm before I read it. I had thought that the slogan “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others” was something that had been painted on the wall by an animal resistant to the ruling elite as a kind of ironic statement. Having not read it, I wasn’t aware of the running theme of the rules being continually rewritten until the original utopian ideals had been obliterated. I guess that must have been my snarker’s brain’s reading of that statement and how it couldn’t be read as anything but ridiculous.

Okay, that’s more than enough jibba jabba from me about Animal Farm. I can’t wait to hear Mimi’s take.

ETA: If you want to be part of Book Club, you can read the entire book here.

Rocki Works In Mysterious (And Quick!) Ways

P1: Either we skipped a few days, or Graphic Goddess Rocki whipped up some original design in just a few minutes. Perhaps she used lots of copy and paste art.

P2: That word, you keep using it…

P3: Oooooh! Thursday cliffhanger! Could they have included the proper noun along with the pronoun? Sure looks like there’s space in for a larger dialogue balloon. Truly great pacing to use the last bit of dialogue to reestablish Molly’s name.

Bonus question: What is that thing that maybe could be the back of a CRT monitor in panel three?

Minus point: I am so committed to posting these things that I can confirm that the logo in panel three is likely not that of Skyborne Advertising, erstwhile enabler of B/Robby Howry’s mass media anti-Gil ad campaign.

Then Why Is The Hippo On The Bench?

Folks, this Spring’s softball plot, such as it is, has done nothing for me other than to raise question after question.

Does the media center really have movies on VHS cassette tapes? How often does the copy of Howard’s End get checked out?

Where did the rolled up newspaper come from? Do these two ever not pick at each other?

Seriously, why is the Rally Hippo on the bench? Is Jocelyn Jamila the Rally Hippo wrangler or how does that even work?

Why Don’t They Just Turn Their New Hats Inside Out?

If game days have been declared hat days, then where are the hats? Did they burn them because bad juju?  They could always erect a shrine to Jobu.

It actually worked for the 2016 Indians.  I’m sure Mimi’s got the rum stashed away in a desk drawer, that lush.

For the casual reader, the Rally Monkey is a real thing creature. You can read about its history with the California Anaheim Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim here.

But noooo, we have to have another softball player regale us with another of her extracurricular activities.  This is just getting inane, and Linda (at least I think that’s Linda, as she has been the only sane voice on the team) would seem to agree.  What’s the over/under on Mimi stepping in and telling the girls that these interests are all fine and dandy, but there comes a time to focus on the game itself?  My guess is that it happens once the Lady Mudlarks have reeled off a long enough losing streak to keep them out of the playdowns.

The Bases Are Loaded: Is the Artist Loaded Too?

Okay, could all y’all who said you were going to sleep please wake up and help me figure out the bizarro details in today’s strip?

Panel one starts out okey-dokey. Nice detail on the batting gloves, Chief and, uh, nice effort on using words that a softball player might use, Rubin.  Jocelynn Brown must be part of the Brown-Hiatt family ’cause she’s making things happen.

We get to panel two and what the hell is going on here?  Is this a Milford baserunner, base coach, or someone standing on a bag about six feet from the outfield wall?  Did she get her arms from an all-you-can-eat Alaskan king crab leg buffet?  Is she wearing Japanese tabi cleats?  Isn’t 410 a deep wall for high school softball?  (With this perspective, kinda makes you think that should read 4/20.)  Finally, is that a smaller Ricozzi’s Pizza billboard on the fence?  How funny would it have been had big money BRobby Howry kept buying ad space ripping Gil on his own playing field?

On to panel three.  I know that ideally a home plate umpire doesn’t line up directly behind the catcher, so as to have a better view of the outside corner of the plate.  I can’t recall ever having seen an ump line up that far off center – nearly perpendicular to the catcher – even with an unseen left-handed batter up.  Maybe someone who’s been to a softball game more recently than I can confirm this is legit.

Oh, and someone please tell me Benson uses this cheer:

 

Okay, everybody back to sleep now.

How Bizarre.

ALL OVER THE WOOOORRRRLLLLDDDDDDD

 

WHAT??????????????? P3 isn’t ELO’s video “All Over the World” video??????????? That just sucks. And just when I was getting happy feet from all the gossiping, belly-aching, and dancing, not necessarily in that order.

 

Visited The Bucket

They fried me up a shake

I can’t brook this valley talk

It’s pneumatic and it’s fake

 

Cut the dope

Nuke this Soap

 

Sittin’ in the bleachers

Observing girls at play

Flappin’ ’bout their troubles

They’ll be scheduled any day

 

So I hope

Can we cope, can we cope, can we…….

 

Ooooooooo, Baby(Pewwww, Baby)

It’s drivin’ us crazy(it’s shit and it’s hazy)

Every time we stick around(do we have to)

Every time we stick around

Every time we stick around

We lose faith

 

And we’re STILL in a valley but if you think I’m discussing the Valley conference, I got that vacant lot behind The Bucket to sell you cheap. Don’t snicker. One of these days they’ll make a playground out of it or a soccer field. You just beat your 3rd grade homeroom rival on penalty kicks from the Milford Elementary Major Soccer League, it’s Bucket time. Time to grab a cold one. I’m talking about a Raspberry Slushee, dolts, The Bucket is still in litigation over the liquor license issue. May take a while, Sharkey’s brushing up on Real Estate Law, taking a couple of night classes at Milford Community College. One of them was Advanced Rezoning Appeals 301 but I can’t remember, been some time myself since I’ve taken the class.

Back to the topic, Jacqueline Susann would be proud of this group of gossipy girls. This Valley of the Dolls is just writing its own script. Susann can go to Milford Styling Shoppe and get her hair bleached like she’s always wanted, get her nails done at Milford Nail Salon, and get a tan at Milford Tanning Outlet and still come back in time for this San Fernando Valley to reach the epilogue. You talk about having blinders for the Redwood forest because you’re too caught up in the trees that squirrels and unicorns piss on and you plunge head first into the Pacific Ocean.

“…No, really, officer, the unicorn was wiping his butt behind that elm tree at the entrance to Golden Gate National Recreation Area. I was about to get out some Charmin and didn’t notice the San Francisco Bay. BTW, where’s my car?”

“Got a call from dispatch. They just towed it out of Alcatraz.”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Throws Out His Back At Milford Shopping Mall!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Former Bill was trying to keep up with teenagers dancing to Electric Light Orchestra’s ‘All Over the World’; will have to wear a back brace for 8 weeks.”

 

I mentioned the Harlem Globetrotters a few weeks ago. And sure, they gossip just like the rest of us mortals. I bet the Boston Shamrocks do the same thing (“Boy, Meadowlark needs to do some thing about that overbite.”) . But during the GAME, I bet they throw gossip to the wind and act like PROFESSIONALS. No “Did you notice Curly changed his barber? Said the other was gay and Curly wasn’t interested?” while they’re in the free throw spaces while a Boston Shamrock is shooting a free throw to complete the 3-point play. No “That Shamrock needs to buy some Janitorial Size Oxy-5 for his butt. I can see them pimples through his shorts at the half-court line” while the Globetrotteers are breaking a press. No ” Mimi’s leavin’ Gil for Goose.” “Man, where we gonna put her? The plane’s already full.” Hell, we can sit her on Abe Saperstein’s lap. He won’t mind. She works better than jumper cables and he’s already had a stroke” while the Globetrotters are doin’ all that razzle-dazzle (lot of that going around, might want to take some Ny-quil before you go to bed) for 30 minutes, finally Meadowlark pulling the ball out of his shirt and shooting a Kareem sky hook, to the consternation of the Shamrocks who were anticipating a slam dunk.

In, short, P1 is more razzle than dazzle, leading to a commercial break about Ovaltine. Dentu-Creme pulled out as an ad last week after the plot went slower than it takes for the adhesive to stick to the gums. I guess they didn’t want false teeth on the softball field. Linda and company would be gossiping about some parent’s dentures leading into Golf in August. Can’t have that.

“Yeah, I’m so sure, I drink a quart of Ovaltine before my Synchronized Bowling match. I get more spares that way.”

“Groty to the max!!!!!!!!! I drink a liter of Faygo Wild Cherry. I rolled a 300!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Oooooooooooooookkkkkkkkkkkk, Gene Rayburn has been gracious enough to help us cope with a plot getting off on the wrong foot already. Not even the Cubs could shoot themselves this much in the foot (Robmize, I was trying to hold back) . Without further ado

“Dumb Dora was sooooooooooooooo dumb (HOW!!!!!!!!! DUMB!!!!!!!!!! WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) , she thought you had to have another ______________________ to Synchronized Surfboarding.”

 

Before we go ANNNNNYYYYYY further, you have to be blinder than Stevie Wonder to NOT notice Nancy Kaffer having gone through the Mr. Potato Head factory for her physical composition. And those are either earrings or she needs a flea bath BIG TIME. P2 is nice if you enjoy Mr. Potato Head attempting to rally the troops since Mimi can’t even get a simple scrimmage going without some lunkhead saying she can’t make it because that’s the weekend she has to be at the Security Council meeting at the UN to vote on expelling Easter Island from the UN due to nuclear spillage still rampant underneath those statues. Chile had to dump their load SOMEWHERE, I suppose.

 

And I was thinking that that was Ricky Ricardo in the background, playing sports for the Mudlarks when he’s not leading his band at his club but forgot those are girls; ah, but I came up with Plan B, i.e., one of the dancers in OMC’s video “How Bizarre.” Dancer and softball player, woman’s got versatility. And ears you don’t have to stick in a socket like Nancy.

 

Alone in the gymnasium

It wants of any action

Sophomore Intramurals

Was the main attraction

 

Omigod

Spare the rod, spare the rod…

 

Bought me box of Cracker Jack

While baseball’s put on hold

The prize became a Gil doll

Good Heavens, that is cold

 

Batter up

Had enough, had enough, had…

 

Ooooooooo, Baby (Hey, Baby)

It’s driving us crazy (Gil is so lazy)

 

Every time we’re pushed around (We push back)

Every time we’re pushed around (That’s a fact)

Every time we’re pushed around

We pull rank

 

“…so the mandrill asks the jackrabbit,’ do you know how to get out of South Dakota?’

And the jackrabbit answers, ‘What do I look like, a trombone player for Ricky Ricardo’s band?'”

 

“Good news, Mimi. I made my own mom laugh. And I didn’t even have to resort to Harry imitations. I’m making PROGRESS!!!!!!!!! I’ll get there. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

 

If you want to jump right into P3 and dance to “Rapper’s Delight”, be my guest. Because that’s about as much as going to get accomplished. If Mimi would take CHARGE, there’d be no need for this Mouseketeer roll call. Okay, talk about how bad the last Donald Duck cartoon was, that Donald should not have been up Daisy’s skirt, that there’s standards within the Disney world, that it wasn’t necessary for Minnie Mouse  to admit she’s been off the wagon and frequents Milford Beverage Warehouse more than she sees Mickey, but Mimi, YOU’RE THE COACH. Enough of these players-only meetings that are more players than coaches. SOMEONE’S got to direct traffic and it looks like Linda anmd Nancy are the de jure coaches. And I don’t even know Latin.

 

“Hi, this the absentte owner of The Bucket. Our establishment is getting dragged through the mud, thanks to a lot of distorted and misleading information.  Let me clear the record and say I will ALWAYS bre absentee to better serve our customers. And we are only seeking a liquor license because we feel our customers deserve a slice of the pie. Sure, Mil;ford Beverage Warehouse can serve fresh cheese cake. We just want the fork.

Gil should know better, He’s splayed out one too many times in one of our booths after mixing a Tom Collins he smuggled in The Bucket with a Lemon Lime Bucket shake. In front of his own kids, no less. Can’t he get his thrills without involving the family?

And Gil says we are stalled in litigation right now. Nothing could be further from the truth. We have hired one of the finest New York attorneys, the ones who represented the Gambino family, so we expect competent counseling to get us through the bad Bucket o’ Shrimp until Joe Sharkey graduates next Spring, Real Estate Doctorate in hand from the Clarence Darrow School of Law at Milford Community College. We’re so confident that nobody from  Cosa Nostra will shoot up the juke box that we are offering free Double Cheeseburger Combos, Swiss cheese extra, should someone come in with an Uzi and truncate Air Supply’s ‘Two Less Lonely People’.

And while we admit you can FOR NOW stock up at The Warehouse, the Milford Beverage Commission has issued a Variance and we can sell Creme de Menthe, on ice cream products only. Otis the Drunk might not be thrilled about ordering a banana split but if it’s sprinkled with Hersheys Chocalate Syrup and Tapioca Creme de Menthe, he might change his tune, especially while being lead back to his jail cell with El Dorado in his right hand and down his shirt.

Come to The Bucket today and clear up the rumors. We still sell the same things we’ve been selling to teenagers for 60 years and now we’re prepared to encounter the 21st century with new ideas, new breakthroughs and new cuisine, especially the ones you drink to while celebrating your passing the bar. We promise Sharkey won’t be on the streets all decked out. He doesn’t want to get hit by the Milford Street Sweeper. The Sopranos have given us their word.

We’re ready for change and I don’t mean Susan B. Anthonys. Are you?”

 

Comment away, Gang. I’m going to Milford Chiropractic tomorrow morning. I knew I shouldn’t have done the YMCA dance.

 

Filion’s in a nuthouse

Got to see a shrink

Has to gather sanity

Or the story’s going to sink

 

Down the john

Gotta yawn, gotta yawn, …

 

Golf is not much better

It shows when things break down

Get tired of taking Gil’s advice

Much rather pump a clown

 

From the town

Circus town, circus town…

 

Ooooooooooo, Baby (Ooooooo, Gilberto)

It’s drivin’ us crazy (This plot is so spacy)

Everytime we hit the ground (From a bomb)

Everytime we hit the ground (feels like ‘Nam)

Everytime we hit the ground

We lose face