This Week in Milford

October 15, 2021

Close only counts in car washes

Filed under: actual action, football — robmize2013 @ 9:39 pm

More football action as Spiller worries about Claxtons emotional status after a pick. Claxton in typical confident QB response assures him it was almost a completion. Hey, if almost counted that often, the cheerleaders could play.

Of course we never see what the defense did, but who cares? Chance Macy is off to the races, with 2 defenders wondering where the hell the rest of the team is at. If I had that kind of room I’d look good too.

I think I’d tell Boyd to shut up about every little thing and worry about his game.

October 14, 2021

Will I-285 Thorp Eventually Make It To The Football Field?

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 2:13 pm

During the 1982 Baseball season, the Atlanta Braves started out 13-0, masterminded by Joe Torre, a solid player himself who turned into a master strategist and motivator. Able to bring together the brilliant talents of Dale Murphy and Bob Horner, Torre also shrewdly used Chris Chambliss as a solid anchor at 1st base, an unflappable player who was a steady and smart fielder and decent bat. Torre also had Phil Niekro, a veteran pitcher whose knuckleball was a dangerous weapon (The great Willie Stargell once called it “a butterfly with hiccups”) .

The Braves were sailing along until late July when they proceeded to lose 19 of 21 games. The Los Angeles Dodgers were catching with them at a furious pace. Tommy Lasorda, their manager, a master strategist and motivator himself, willed his Dodger Blue on to the Braves’ heels (Lasorda just BLED Dodger Blue. Don Sutton, a Hall of Famer himself, so no joke as a pitcher, once said “I PITCH for the Los Angeles Dodgers.” He was promptly traded) . Things looked bleak for the Braves.

Then Pascual Perez, newly acquired by the Braves in exchange for the lanky and crafty Texan, Larry McWilliams, to bolster their somewhat struggling pitching staff which was arguably their weakest link of the team (many times, they were outslugging the other team to victory, with Murphy, Horner, Chambliss leading the team with their home run bats, Glenn Hubbard and Claudell Washington not far behind in that category) , was scheduled to pitch one night but was not present at the ball park as game time was approaching. Torre was understandably concerned and got Niekro to warm up just in case. It was becoming clear that Perez wasn’t going to show so Torre went ahead and had Niekro on the mound for the game. Whatever happened to Perez, Torre would handle later.

Boy, what a story. Pascual Perez, who hailed from Dominican Republic and therefore spoke about 20 words of English, had just received his American driver’s license and was able to drive to the ball park from his residence in Atlanta. Trouble was, he was new to Atlanta so he did not know the way to the ball park and took the first interstate available, in this case, I-285, the perimeter around Atlanta. Anybody who has taken I-285 knows how long this piece of endless black ribbon is (trust me) . As he kept driving, it was becoming more evident that he was not going to get to Fulton Cointy Stadium any time soon. And he was running out of gas. So he took the very next exit and got to the first gas station he could find. He frantically tells the cashier “I peech four Aht-lahn-tah Braves!!!!!!!!!” and the cashier naturally responded “Yeah, sure, bub, they all do.” Fortunately, another employee who was a huge Braves fan and knew about the trade recognized him and was able to help him get gas on credit, since Perez was on nickels and dimes, and gave him directions to I-20 which led straight to Fulton County Stadium.

As Perez FINALLY arrived at the game, his trying to explain to Torre what happened, his broken English just making his case that much funnier, had the team laughing in stitches. And it was arguably the turning point as the players from then on were more relaxed and played better. They went on to win the National League West that year, beating the Dodgers by a game. He was nicknamed Perimeter Pascual and Wrong-Way Perez. In fact, one night, when I was watching a Braves game on WTBS, a camera showed Perez on the steps of the dugout watching the game, the back of his warm-up jacket saying it all: “I-285 Perez”.

But that had a happy ending. I-285 Thorp is still driving around Milford with no sign we are EVER going to get to the football field. The strip today is a prime example. Boyd is still being a jackass and Tevin is still choking and you KNOW Boyd is going to be talking more than broken English after this Perimeter Plot gets back to him after the game. When do we get to the gas station? Yeah, I peech a fuuu-tbahl four Coach Dork!!!!!!!!!!! I wouldn’t be surprised if the Milford 7-11 employee gave directions AWAY from the football stadium.

Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Able To Make Oakwood Stadium For Adult Flag Football League Championship Minutes Before Kick-Off!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“The map Milford Parks & Recreation sent me is 20 years out of date, no question.”

Oh great. We have Butch, the bully from The Little Rascals, yelling at Spanky, Alfalfa, and Buckwheat not to let up on the gas pedal. And as Frank mentioned, what in the blankety-blank is he doing on the sideline ANYWAY???? Coach, I got diarrhea bad, you mind if I sit out a couple of downs? Or Coach, I have to call my mom because she’s my ride home. Can I go use the phone? Or Coach, Tevin’s going to fart the game away and I don’t want to be in the huddle when he does it, can I go hide under the bleachers? Yeah, Butch, just show up after we score. I want you to lick Tevin’s cleats in contrition.

And Butch is becoming another (brace yourselves) Heather Burns. Barking out like Benji only Benji would be soldiering with the rest of the team. And then if the team loses, he and Heather will be shoveling the most garbage at Tevin. That’s right, a bad version of a catalytic converter, dumping a lot of sewage and not being around to clean up the sewage when the team bites the big one. But never afraid to boss people around and then have the audacity to walk into the film room and brazenly spout your analysis. Lord knows, you’ve given plenty of analysis to Tevin, Butch. Why stop being Heather Hussy now?

Maybe one day, I-285 Thorp will find his way and start taking charge. He’s in Marietta now. That’s okay, Coach, I-75 is not that far. That should get you right back on the perimeter. Make sure you have a full gas tank.

“I peech four Meel-fourd Muuuuud-Lahhhks!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Wonderful. I still have to have your transcript if you want to enroll, Mr. Perez.”

And what made it funnier, the Braves staged a promotion where the first 15,000 fans got a free map on where Perez went all the time he was desperately trying to locate his destination. Needless to say, it was a well-attended game.

Lord Almighty, I could make a mint selling maps on the direction I-285 Thorp is going. That’s assuming there’s a stopping point on that particular map. Uhhhhh, maybe I need to go to Milford Realty and get my Realtor’s License. I’m not about to circle I-285 25 times and discover Mudlark Stadium is in Macon. But P2 is getting us down that very road. Just when you thought that Tevin Clapton was getting us out of the Okefonokee, he throws a pass that bounces off the Mudlark fingertips (we don’t THINK he was throwing the game by throwing straight to Mr. Goshen with the other flailing fingertips trying to prevent bringing closure to this plot) . He may have been in a long line of Milford players ignoring Gil and running the prison himself but as long as he didn’t complicate the plot by throwing the football in I-20 rush hour traffic, we weren’t going to complain.

But that’s what we’re faced with. More Tevin gaffes, possibly more Boyd garbage-spewing, more Gil head-in-the-sand rituals, repeat. Really, what does anybody expect, Boyd to turn off at the Decatur sign and pat Tevin on the back? Oh, there, there, Tevin, I know you didn’t intentionally throw to that Goshen cornerback, you were just going for broke and trying to break this one wide open. That way you didn’t have to listen to my complaining about the way you drive when you are hungry and trying to get to The Varsity off I-75 and get a chili steak before it closes. Well, you were finally off the Perimeter anyway. Did you use that map Coach I-285 got that he won at the raffle?

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Pulled Over After Traveling On I-285 For Several Hours!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Georgia State Police spokesperson: ‘Mr. Thorp appeared to be at least 500 miles from his destination.”

And yet another person introduced to us that may as well been riding with Perez when he was looking for his work venue. Dallas George sounds like Willie Nelson’s bass player. Toured with Tom T. Hall before he latched on with Willie. Now he’s stuck in a time warp and playing wide receiver for Milford. Another example of Thorpiverse trying to lay it on us with a name that was read from a music program of some Polka band that performed a conccert at Milford VFW Lodge. Yup, he’ll do nicely making the transition from playing the accordion to putting on pads and running double out rights and fly patterns.

Too bad that playing “Beer Barrel Polka” was not enough to help his dexterity when attempting to field a slightly errant Tevin Clapton offering. He could jump up and down when going to town on “Roll Out The Barrel” but not high enough to inevitably watch a Carolina Blue recover the pigskin. And you get this sick-gut feeling Dallas will be with us in the future. Not obscure enough to be hauling in tips for Nick’s Pizza at Milford Donkey Softball Charity Event To Eliminate Breast Cancer (No pink donkeys, puh-lllleeeaaaasseeeee) but not notable enough to take Heather’s place and not holding my breath on the latter possibility. Maybe get the put-back when some Mudlark blows the dunk. This can be adjusted as Gil keeps driving and this time doesn’t drive to Savannah.

At Milford Comedy Caravan

“…what do I look like, someone driving on the Perimeter, trying to find the gym?”

A heckler simply answers


And what is it with all these trapeze artists lately???? Now Goshen is getting in on the act. The Goshenite in P3 resembles what happens when Batman beats The Joker to a bloody pulp and is sent reeling to the ground. Don’t let the ground jar the pigskin loose, Joker. Indiana University has long been an NCAA Swimming powerhouse, paricularly under Doc Councilman. Mark Spitz, 7-time Gold Medal winner in the Munich Olympics, was one of his pupils. I swear, Doc could have used that Goshenite given his diving technique in the 3-Meter Platform. Or maybe that’s the form to use when engaged in the 200-Meter Breaststroke. Shoot, Lilly King, put on a helmet, with your style you’ll get Goshen back in the game. Heather Burns isn’t the only female to step between the hedges and you have more class and Gold Medals than Heather will ever concoct in that seedy brain of hers. Now I’d hold off on the 100-Meter Backstroke. Goshen, we’re going TOWARDS the end zone, remember? Oh, you could take I-285 like Coach Thorp is currently engineering but why dance around the mulberry bush to spike the ball when you score? That’s like swimming the 100-Meter Freestyle around Lake Michigan.

“And that ends the third quarter. Milford is leading Goshen, 23-10, thanks to Coach Clapton’s masterminding the offense. Coach T. must still be wiping his gluteus in the Port-A-Pot. We’ll be back after these messages. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

At Milford Comedy Caravan

“If you’re feeling salty, then I’m your tequila

If you got the freedom, then I got the time-

Mimi and her kids bolt tbrough the emergency exit doors

“There he is, Mommy. Why is he getting smoochy-faced with Dr. Pearl?”

“Keri, sometimes Daddy gets a little misguided when he’s trying to satisfy Mommy. Pssst, Gil, get off stage!!!!!!!!! You’re setting a bad example!!!!!!!!!”

“There ain’t nuthin’ sweeter than naked emotions

So if you show me yours, Hon, I’ll show you mine”

“Mommy, is he and Dr. Pearl going to get naked on stage? I saw Granny Clampett undress on TV. Her boobs hung like those gourds in the kitchen.”

“Don’t be silly, Honey!!!!!! He knows if she does any undressing, I’ll be hanging something and it won’t be Dr. Pearl’s gourds or Granny Clampett. My gourds and EREC-3500 will solve his problems and end this awful rendition.”

“No Ma’am, I know this ain’t all you’ve ever been used to

You with your rings on your fingers and time on your hands”

“Mommy, are they going to get married? I thought he was married to you.”

“Oh, he’ll have time on his hands if he continues rubbing noses with Dr. Pearl-“

“And she keeps massaging Daddy’s butt. Is she trying to get his wallet?”

“Pssstt!!!!! Gil!!!!!!! Get off stage and come home!!!!!!! Don’t make me leave you over Fred Flintstone’s mother-in-law!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Sometimes it’s nice to have somebody nice to be close to

God know I’ve been there before you and I understand”

“Mommy, is Dr. Pearl going to sleep with Daddy tonight? Because I have room in my bed. I’ll move all my teddy bears and E.T. dolls out of the way.”

“Jaime, you will sleep BY YOURSELF and so will Gil only out in the tool shed if Dr. Pearl intends to Lay Down Sally. Now Gil, it’s now or never. Tomorrow will be too late. My love won’t wait either for Mrs. Clampett or Marge Simpson.”



Dr. Pearl’s dentures drops in a patron’s martini glass

“Mommy, yuk, I’ve never smoochied Lassie when she had no teeth.”

Heard from the audience

“The show’s over. Is Kris Kristofferson going to be here like he promised?”

“I kissed and made up with Mimi but made sure I used Poly-Grip before I did. It was all an act, a fundraiser to get more textbooks for Milford High. But it didn’t disguise my Erectile Dysfunction and Granny Clampett was not getting me any more sexually excited than a tree stump. It was time to confront my problem. The EREC-3500 came to the rescue. One pill and a glass of Nestea and I was more erect than a natural land bridge. Come to the professional and friendly staff at Milford Men’s Clinic and get your own hard part of Mother Nature. Life will be sweeter and so will your wife.”

Gang, that’s not The Riddler in P3. He’s green and has question marks all over him. Okay, okay, this plot has a lot of question marks all over it but it isn’t green!!!!!!! But God bless you, Gang.

“I wish I was the answer to all of your questions

God knows I know you wish you were the answer to mine”

“Gil, come to bed. Now.”

October 13, 2021

Anywhere’s Better Than Delware

Filed under: actual action, Colorist Error, football, Goshen — teenchy @ 7:49 am

Well this is a bit of a cluster, innit?

Besides the obvious spelling and naming errors in P3, we also have a Milford player colored as a Goshen player at the bottom of the pile. Don’t think so? Look at the dark numbers on his back. Faithful TWIMer hitorque noted yesterday that no teams in the Thorpiverse ever wear white uniforms. I think that when Whigham draws these strips in black & white, he intends the teams with dark numbers on their jerseys to be in white. There have been a few color-on-color games in college and pro football in the recent past (the WLOCP comes to mind along with those NFL “Color Rush” games) but, with a few exceptions for the red/green colorblind, most provide enough contrast to tell the teams apart.

Good thing that Delware T-Wing is clicking. Odds are it’d click even better if Milford had more than ten men on the field.

Then they might not only be in sync but also able to move in one direction.

Post title from the occasional live lyrics to this song. Couldn’t find a clip meeting those criteria so here’s the original.

October 12, 2021

“…’Til I Saw The Quintilateral, In Your Eyyyyeeeess.”

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 2:14 pm

It was late one night

I was feeling something wasn’t right

There was not another ‘Lark in sight

Only Gil, only Gil

But we played along

Though we knew the Delaware was wrong

And some Goshen hit me, oh so strong

Lost the ball

Then I gazed up at Gil

And the Lego light was shining still

Cauterized the light

In our eyes

In our eyes

I’m sure you’ve heard me say this before, I am a HUGE Todd Rundgren who was long overdue to enter the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame and I have always loved “I Saw The Light” (not to be confused with the song performed by the great Hank Williams) , off his vintage Something/Anything? record. When I saw that Lego light, the inspiration was all academic.

And we continue with Bobble head Moon who passes for an egregiously bad Charlie Chan stand-in, still continuing to be a lion with no teeth. The Moon we all knew and loved would have been more than a crippled metaphor offered in P1. Like the offense is stagnant and really isn’t scoring the 7 touchdowns by halftime like Gil practically promised but of course failed to fulfill. That the Delaware Wing-T is in serious need of bowel movement and that Gil needs to shit or get off the field, and heck, get off the field whether he’s pooping on the 50-yard line or not, and that this constipated offense needs Tevin AND some Maalox to make it exciting once again and that the only thing coming out of this stadium is pentagons and bad lighting, certainly not points and victories in this game anyway. This 5-sided figure of an offense belongs in a used geometry book in the Milford School Corporation Textbook Warehouse, not with Tevin Clapton, who’s doing his own thing anyway. Yeah, the Delaware River was only useful when General Washington crossed it.

I saw the movie “Honeysuckle Rose” which was panned by critics but I thought gave a good workable Good Bad & Ugly of touring as a Country Music band. Willie Nelson does an admirable job playing Buck Bonham, a struggling but persistent performer and still tries to do justice with his wife, Viv(played by Dyan Cannon) , as a husband. His guitar player (played by the venerable veteran actor, Slim Pickens) retires so the guitar player’s daughter proves to be a more-than-adequate replacement. The problem is, Buck and this girl start to get, shall we say, warmer and warmer with each other, at the risk of Buck’s wife finding out.

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Mimi Thorp Upset Over Questionable Behavior At Milford Comedy Club!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I would never get kissy-faced with Hadley V., that wasn’t the plan anyway.”

Marty, people who eat Diet Van Camp’s Beans are on low-octane gas. People who pump Dasani Water in their gas nozzle are on low-octane gas. Dr. Pearl when she skips her Shredded Wheat for breakfast is on low-octane gas. If you’re going to be the Queen of England in your broadcasting booth, i.e., spouting farting from lentil soup with nobody listening to you, make the analogies stick. You can start by saying this plot is on no-octane gas. Farting without the smell. Some of the time, for that matter. Now we’re getting somewhere.

At the Milford Comedy Club

“…you show me yours, Hon, and I’llllllll show you mine!!!!!!!!”

“Does Will and Terry know that Gil is singing with Peppermint Patty?”

Though we ran the Wing

We had not a clue to run this thing

We prayed little bells would start to ring

In our heads

In our heads

So I tried to run

Though I knew it wouldn’t help me none

‘Cause we couldn’t pass or stop no one

Or so I said

But our feelings for Gil

Were just something that is buried still

And we caught that light

In our eyes

In our eyes

What is it with all these hyphenated words that are backfiring like Archie’s jalopy???? At least the latter got Archie to Riverdale High School on time. Can we just say IN PLAIN ENGLISH that Goshen has the ball, is playing on its field, and got stopped by the Mudlarks so the game isn’t a barn-stomper, to use T-versespeak. So far, the Delaware Wing-T (this is raging out of control) has been Gil-Thorped and Tevin is having to Barry-Bader the offense so that Milford doesn’t go directly to jail or get Mr.-Bader’d. I mean, I let the low-octane slide because even if it was a poorly-expressed analogy, a real Marty-Mooner-when-his-sex-life-is-on-low-octane-when-Peaches-slam-bam-jams the sheets, it was within the realm of what was transpiring on the gridiron. Thorpiverse is cluster-pooped after spoon-feeding his thesaurus to his dog and now is having to impress the readership with bloated-Jell-o words that sound good but really create hardly any home-field advantage. But I’ve been cluster-pooped before.

And let’s see what would happen if Thorpiverse were to write parts of the Gettysburg Address

Four score and seven dog years ago

Our Fathers brought forth on this home-field,

A new nation conceived in Delaware Wing-T-lacking behavior

And dedicated to the don’t-end-a-sentence-with-a-preposition

That all men are created equal, except for those Gil-Thorped in untimely-fashion.

I think I’ll stick with Lincoln’s version.

“You show me yours now and I’ll show you mine.”

“Gil, not yet!!!!!! Sorry, he’s still learning Old Maid.”

And if we’re not careful, this Carolina Blue Concept will not be confined to football uniforms. I don’t think that Mudlarks will embrace the color scheme on their baseball, table tennis, archery, Major Modified badminton, basketball, donkey basketball, rowing, cross country, outdoor figure skating team uniforms but I’ve been Gil-pooped before.

It still scares me that when Chance and Charlie go through the cafeteria array, they’ll be purchasing Carolina Blue Twinkies and Carolina Blue meat loaf. And to think, I thought The Diner cornered the market on the latter. Or that Dr. Pearl will be getting files out of her Carolina Blue file cabinet and write Due Process forms in triplicate and Carolina Blue. Marty Moon will be sporting a Carolina Blue goatee. Bobby Howry stating “Gil Bites The Big One!!!!!!!!!!” on a Carolina Blue billboard.

Then there’s the hands. I have the Mudlark accounted for, he resembles the paw positions when Lassie wants a Milk Bone. But what happened to the Goshenite’s right hand? We know he has a left hand, that’s not chop-brocaded but his right hand disappeared and MAYBE emerged on the other side, via the carpal tunnels of his left hand. He won’t get first downs that way. Abracadabra, the amazing Gilberto has made your hand disappear inside your helmet. He certainly does magic tricks better than the Delaware Wing-T.

If ya run around on yore wife by sneakin’ round Willie Nelson’s wife but he runs around on his wife by takin’ Mimi ta Mudlark Lake Resort but Gil can’t run around cuz he’s still tryin’ a locate Delaware, ya might be a redneck.

When I was in high school, I had an excellent English teacher named Mr. Wootton. He taught Semantics and the class was a blast. Basically, he taught not to take things at face value. He showed a film and one of the things it talked about was what happened if people were deprived of their senses and placed in a room in solitary confinement, no sight, sound, touch, taste, smell. The results were interesting.

People were seeing all kinds of strange things and hearing strange things, well, because their senses were under wraps. I think one of the things they saw is emanating from that Lego block. Evidently, Thorpiverse has been sensory-deprived, judging by the monsters and ghoulies under and in the night light. It’s bad enough that this plot is reality-deprived but we’d really not care to see tangible evidence of it.

And what else would you expect Clapton to say?

“We gotta stick with the game plan. Coach says sometimes you have to stick with the Delaware Wing-T’s in life if you’re searching for a new house with your fiancee.”

The ball’s in your court, Clapton.

“And that ends the 1st quarter with the score, Goshen, 7, Milford, 0. Coach T. still has something to show me to convince me that this Carolina Blue-T is going to score points. We’ll be back after these messages. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“Life can be difficult when you’re 678 pounds. It’s no fun waiting until everybody gets off the elevator before you can travel solo to your doctor’s appointment. When the Milford City Fire Marshal bans you from taking the escalator at Milford City Mall, it’s time to take action.

Greetings, this is Mabel Ruth Pearl, and yes I’m kin to Dr. Pearl, but no, she did not weigh in at the truck scales like I was ordered to do by the Milford Appellate Court. It used to be frustrating when you were the only car pulled over by the Milford DOT for carrying excessive tonnage on the streets and roads.

Thank Heavens, Milford Liposuction Academy was a Godsend. I loved their prep activities. I was to drink eight glasses of water the day before the procedure. They wanted to make sure I was cleared of any excess stoolage. Then I was given sodium bicyclahexanoltertiaryacetiphrine that I had to drink every ten minutes to ensure that my system was clear and easy for the tubes to maneuver while attacking the globular structures in my physiological components. It was a nasty version of Nestle Quik, what happens when you mix that and stewed tomatoes but I only regurgitated once so I patted myself on the back. Oh, and I was required to stop my medications until I was sucked dry but a small price to postpone Bufferin, Hayley’s M-O, and Ridelin to experience liberation from the Body Mass Index demons that were becoming impossible to exorcise.

The procedure could not have been handled better if the Milford Synchronized Swimming Association were on top of this. The IV needle felt like a gentle invasion into my forearm. And when they stuck the local anesthetic up my nose and put me to sleep, I could dream about the load being taken off, Fanny. I wondered where some of the hoses were going and why some were connected with the EKG machine but when I was light as a feather and could race ten times around the Academy parking lot in my Red Ball Jets, it was not for me to wonder why but simply lose or die. And losing’s better than dying. Just ask Coach Thorp.

I am a new person. I am no longer declared a safety hazard on the Golden Gate Bridge. The ban was lifted this week. If you have weight issues and they are issuing problems when you in a pedway, you owe it to yourselves to consult the professional team at Milford Liposuction Academy. Bring your life in harmony by shedding the discord in your gluteus maximus.”

Gang, Eric Clapton is a great guitarist but doubtin’ he can Michael Vick this one. He needs to read the playbook more. But God bless you anyway.

But this sucks the best

This whole playbook is performed in jest

It’s the worst schemes above all the rest

Under the lights

And we’ve run this before

But we won’t run it anymore

Can’t you see bad lights

In Gil’s eyes

In Gil’s eyes…

October 11, 2021

Goshen Time. Sorry, No Song For That.

Filed under: actual action, football, shadow figures — nedryerson @ 5:57 am

Look, The Great Chance Macy doesn’t want to talk about college and which programs might or might not be recruiting him. If he wants to you to know what he envisions as his future in athletics, he’ll tell you. At this moment, he’s concentrating on the next game against Goshen, so back off, Tevin. Also, check out that shadow person! It could be one of those creepy horror movie nuns! Halloween is approaching. Is Rubin gonna go John Carpenter on us? Of course not. Nothing exciting will happen. It’s just more dithering high school students.

Let’s get to the action, shall we? Goshen is in Carolina Blue unis, just like the last opponent. Can you imagine how nerdy the colorists would have to be to maintain a coloring bible for the different Valley Conference teams? Of course they wouldn’t do that. It’s enough for them to interpret the narration correctly and keep not male everybody red.

Goshen’s ball carrier is levitating over the goal line for a score. Why he was diving for the pylon, we can’t know. Goshen jumped on top. Will the Great Chance Macy go beast mode and power the Mudlarks. Nobody cares.

Happy Columbus Day.

October 9, 2021


When it comes to convos, does depressing beat boring? Tevin’s fixing to find out! He might’ve found Kianna depressing, but Chance Macy has already put the kid sitting next to him asleep before Tevin even showed up.

Let’s not mince words, gentle readers: as Milford sports stars come, Chance Macy has been a pretty boring one. Except for getting situationally mad and going off on a Tilden cheap-shot artist, he’s been completely low-key. The whole Charlie Roh/Chet Ballard thing barely fazed him, and nothing else has since.

Maybe that’s by design. Have we seen someone so explicitly anti-their own postsecondary educational and athletic futures since Golden Boy True Standish’s #gottabetrue campaign attempted to set the college recruiting machine on its ear? Why yes, I think we have. Just like Little Miss Fire Hydrant this past spring, Chance will have his future decided for him by his parent/guardian and a coach named Thorp.

I can only imagine Rubin keeps feeding us these aw-shucks types ’cause he imagines his GRIT-reading base eats ’em up like flapjacks, but for once I’d like to see a college prospect in the Thorpiverse whose approach falls somewhere between this faux humility and the Jaquan Case hype machine.

October 8, 2021

I also shrunk

I never heard of someone describe a 3rd place finish as ‘second-best of non-winners’ until now. In other words, I hate my life because Im not the best. Or 2nd best for that matter.

Tevin and Kianna are chatting in the hallway on Monday, and he’s all set to give her a high five for her great weekend activities, and she stops his freak hand cold. Again the plot doesnt really move, as she repeats what we already know– she’s competitive. Really, all the athletes are at a varsity high school level. The gymnastics team Im sure spends a lot of time practicing, and if they dont want to do it bad enough, they wont get that far to make the team. Volleyball, same deal. And it gets even more so in college and, heaven forbid, national team level, where the Olympians are made. Ol Kianna looks like one of those who will only be satisfied with being the best, and that can lead to a lot of heartbreak when, odds are, she wont be.

But she can at least say- Thanks for the compliment, and move on. Nope.

October 7, 2021

Look, Kianna, Second-Rate Is Better Than Third-Rate.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 2:03 pm

We are not certain what planet Mimi landed on but she did manage to snare some serious hardware to fly back to earth with as she shamelessly brandishes the trophy in P1. I’m going to go out on a limb to say this is volleyball we’re talking about although Thorpiverse is sending us in so many directions with too many props that could have us guessing either way. Now if there is no goal post by the volleyball net, okay, we’re going to see a volleyball match. Scratch that, the Mudlark fans and the other teams and fans will see this coffee-enriched affair, we’re naturally left hanging as to what went on. We’ll just take Thorpiverse’s word that they didn’t stick a Ouija board in the middle of the court and try to summon Principal Ek or Jim Morrison from the dead. Oh, Morisson’s autobiography, “Nobody Gets Out Alive” has merit except what would happen if Gil or Mimi got killed off? Who’d continue the cluelessness? No, Jim, we have to get out unscathed, at least until the week’s over.

And the balance beam is throwing the proverbial monkey wrench into the gears. So while we’re getting our eyes adjusted to the set, we go back to the original premise, i. e., the Mudlarks are not hoisting mediocrity from participating in a shuffleboard tournament. Was Cindy Brady, to the right of Coach Mimi, the leading scorer? Yeah, we whupped some behind beating Aurora, some Valley doormats, and a couple of tongue-twisting out-of-town schools in that All-Comers Lawn Jart Invitational. Yayyyyyyyy, Coach Mimi, that inspiring pre-game speech before they competed in horseshoes really did the trick.

And as a couple of readers have astutely observed, we’re still in No-Man’s Land on whether Mimi is the gymnastics coach along with her duties (loosely translated) as volleyball coach. Maybe. But she is already committed (see last quote in parenthesis) to bocce, basketball, bowling, badminton, co-ed horseshoes, double-oar creek-modified girls rowing, donkey basketball (sometimes confused with the regular basketball team) , water-skiing, hog wrestling, table tennis, asphalt-court tennis, ailanthus-free concrete tennis and water polo. These pursuits take a lot of her time and if she wants to do justice to any of them, she has to stay on her girls when the sapling is attempting to pin the hawg to the mat. Juggling rasslin’ hawgs in the mud vs. teaching a gymnast to flip on the balance beam can take its toll. I’m needing more information.

Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Coach Thorp Upset Over Ramifications At Milford City Co-ed Horseshoe Tournament!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“After the third ringer, I told the judge he had to throw with his other hand.”

I am honestly trying to differentiate what’s in everybody’s hand in P1. Let’s get the easy part first. Cindy is giving a thumbs-up in victory, no sense in flipping the bird when you’re facing the Fourth Estate. Take your hard-fought mediocre status and get out of the building. That’s logical. And Mimi does have the trophy by the throat and appears to send a message that she will crown anybody with it if they try to snatch it out of hand. No, the Kettering nose tackle will not jar this one loose. Mimi looked mediocrity all the way in the tuck.

But WHAT is the girl on the left holding? Foghorn Leghorn’s scalp? His jew’s harp? His afro pick? I realize she may be slap-happy, you get that way when you win but do you grab the first thing you see in the gym? Thank God cows weren’t roaming the volleyball floor. She might have been waving a cow udder next to Mimi’s trophy. I love The Rolling Stones but “High Tides and Green Grass” raised in triumph next to a $25 trophy really looks out of order. Wait a minute. Foghorn dropped his dentures and she picked them up right when the photographer snapped the picture. Good Samaritan and Volleyball Champ, Milford received a stellar image and a trophy. Now wipe that Play-Doh off your smiles, Ladies.

If ya got 3rd place instead uv 2nd place in the Milford Foundry Company Picnic Horseshoe Tournament cuz ya ate too many jowl bacon sandwiches and th’ PBR wouldn’t wash it down, ya might be a redneck.

And having let this sink in some more (like the college professor at Milford Community College used to say “Get your Gil activated before you open your mouth”) , Mopman makes some very keen observations. There is really no way that could be Mimi in P2, especially if you go back and look at Mimi in other panels and note that her hair is not at bathroom-towel length like Chance Macy’s piece of cloth the other day when he did an Ozzie flip in the end zone. But I completely understand Jive Turkey’s consternation as we are running ragged from football to volleyball and with Kianna not shown in the display of Milford Solidarity in P1, the 3rd place medal could easily get confused with the 3rd place trophy. That’s what happens when Milford Volleyball are a united front on Bastille Day but Kianna didn’t make it because she was at a car wash. Oh, after she won the medal that day, of course.

And with the plots crossing wires with each other, it reminds me off the sound systems at Woodstock. But at least there they eventually came out of the same speakers. In Thorpiverse, try to imagine Joe Cocker flailing his arms on “With A Little Help From My Friends” and the music blaring out of a 5-and-dime in Warwick, Rhode Island. Yeah, the T-verse Way makes me want to buy tube socks in the Men’s section while my eardrums are being shattered. I pity the patrons at the 5-and-dime snack bar.

Just days ago, we had Beaver talking smack after he himself started his own mini-plot by being an idiot on stage and now we have Mimi convincing us that the key to winning mediocre volleyball tournaments is to tip better at a Starbucks outlet, you’ll get better coffee and raised coxcombs in victory that way, before we are compelled to deal with Kianna’s semi-anger issues. That’s her problem, she should have drunk more Taster’s Choice. And what was Gil doing getting off the bus? Are we starting another plot? I can’t travel in my own car, let alone make football practice because my Lexus needs an overhaul which will take until the end of the football plot. Oh, don’t worry, Coach, T-verse will find a way to mix it in with the rest of the Chili con Shitty Plots. We’ll be farting in technicolor by Thanksgiving, rest assured.

I’M GOIN’ HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’M GOIN’ HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’M GOIN’ HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


“Dr. Pearl, would you mind turning that down? They can hear you on the second floor.”

“But my RCA Victrola is unplugged.”

Then there’s the, I presume, gymanastics hall in P2. But it reminds of the time that Jay Leno called the mini-theaters at a Cineplex a Communist de-briefing room. The surroundings where Kianna and her tutor, the latter evidently using mulch to regularly grow her hair, are standing certainly match the description.

Are those towels on the seating area/possible heating unit/part-time gymanastics vault/occasional bar counter when it’s Miller time? I ruled out curtains because there’s no way on God’s green earth they could cover the windows being presented. I wouldn’t even say cleaning cloths to use when you’re applying Windex, unless you’re using brocaded curtains for cleaning materials. And don’t even mention tutus. Now who’s going to dump their tutu on the heater to go do WHAT? Order a pizza? They have to strip themselves of their tutu to call Domino’s? Go take a whiz? Somebody’s racing butt-naked to a Port-a-Pot? They had to change clothes? Where were they going? Yeah, they left their tutu on the bar counter to take the subway home. The conductor wouldn’t allow any more people to wear their tutus to work. That included return trips. I could see his point, I reckon. I wouldn’t want my Allstate agent dressed in a tutu. I feel more comfortable when he’s in a suit and tie.

And what is in the corner? Is that a medicine cabinet or a liquor locker? I’m trying but Miss Elongated Pony Tail surely can’t be stashing Jack Daniels or Bud Lite under all the tutus in that compartment. She can drink on her own time. It’s hard for me to imagine her consoling Kianna when she’s downing Jim Beam with a glass of Tropicana as a chaser. Pep talks are really outcof the question when she has Bacardi on her breath. And are those gas cans below the liquor cabinet? When you run out of gas, don’t push your car, get your butt into the gymnastics room, there’s plenty of unleaded or diesel. That’d make sense. We wouldn’t want cars left in the parking garage overnight.

At Milford Comedy Club

“…what do I LOOK LIKE when I get off the bus? The same as I’ve ever looked when I coached the first time. Only with Don Knotts on the baritone and Adam West on the tuba.”

Complete silence

Heard somewhere by the piano

“Think we should play ‘Tea for Two’?”

“Nahhhh, that only works on Carson.”

And what did anybody EXPECT in P3 outside of a pissy-faced visage we are currently encountering? Oh, yeah, Coach Mulched Hair, it’s all about the sportsmanship anyway. Even if I finished 224th at the Vault Competition, it’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game. The other gymnast is simply superior and I’m an insouciant myrmidon in this gym. I’m simply happy to be here and it’s another extracurricular activity in my development of my teenage years and something I can stick on my resume when I interview for assistant manager at McDonald’s. No big deal.

And what’s complicating the picture is all the other plot developments thst are swimming around in the water and never coming to shore. DON’T attempt to fish in this lake. We got blind-sided by Beaver’s inane commentary only to now step into Kianna’s doggy-doo. And is anybody really expecting closure to either one SOON, if at all. This is like getting dragged to a guillotine, only to watch the executioner and the town official talk about the latest ramblings in Milford. Talk about a slow death. Could anyone imagine your head not getting chopped off in a timely manner because all the townspeople are arguing over who’s going to win the Valley Conference in Football this year? There’s a Stay of Execution because the Jay’s Subs driver just pulled up? Thank God Mike Knappe didn’t get his head chopped off for having one too many table knives in his locker. Who’s gonna want to eat Nick’s Pizza Deep Dish Pepperoni when we’re farting around before they FINALLY let the blade drop on Mike’s neck? Talk about the Cubs’ Postseason chances before the execution with a Nick’s Breadstick in your mouth? Do you see my point? I hope?

“And that wraps up this Valley Conference Volleyball Round Robin Tournament. Milford High School.has just received its Best Average Team in the Conference. We’ll be back for final thoughts after these messages. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

“Damn, I’m glad my wife won that Tournament. Raising her arms in triumph means The Revolution won and that all the other volleyball teams will literally go to the chopping block. Price you pay when you compete.

But i am not here to talk about Kianna not heading to the gallows because she was busy earning 1st place on the uneven bars. Hi, this is Coach Thorp on behalf of Milford Beverage Warehouse and we have a serious problem that makes me want to barf all over my Joel Gott 815 Cabernet digitalized coupon. Some people out there are making a mockery out of our Depend Undergarments promotional. They think they can come in here with their Grandma Moses wig and walk out with Busch Light 30-Pak and a free pair of heavy-duty Fruit of the Looms. Well, Grandma, you may have hocked something to literally help you hold your liquor the first time but if you think you’re going to come in again and we’ll throw in a free bag of Milford Vending Pork Rinds, you’ve been snorting too many gas fumes out of your getaway car.

How dare you put on make-up and try to pass as Grandpa Jones from Hee Haw just so you can purchase Maker’s Mark Whiskey and some Captain Morgan Spiced Rum and throw in a box of Cap’n Crunch just so you get over the $30 limit and get the finest in the undergarment industry!!! Was it worth getting the Depend Flatulation Repellent Senior Adult Undergarments at the expense of some 83-year-old man who missed out on The Good Life, especially the Finlandia Vodka in his flat, and couldn’t get to his water closet without leaving a trail?

But we’re onto you, Mr. Pseudo-Senior Adult. At every cash register there will be Milford Pinkerton Security Personnel who will monitor transactions of liquor and Depends. And you better have your ID’s ready. Anybody trying to purchase Jack Daniel’s #7 Tennessee Whiskey, Menage a Trois Red Cabernet, Michelob Ultra, some Keebler Sandies out of the cookie aisle and Milford Vending Diet Beer Nuts just so he or she can get a free case of Depend Ultra Hold Faberge Scented Undergarnents better have proper papers available. Believe me, we can tell the difference between your appearing as Grandpa from The Munsters and your Pebbles or Bam-Bam photo on your driver’s license. We will nip this urinary tract leakage in the bud. Nice try, Bam-Bam.

And most people won’t show their faces or their crotches for that matter because of all the moisture lingering on either facet of their body. But for those who are going to bring in Pretty Boy Floyd, we have Milford SWAT team on call 24 hours to combat the abuses of the Senior Adult Internal Products Industry. So Dillinger, don’t even think of bringing your machine gun with you just because you failed to fool anybody when getti g carded. The Warehouse is prepared to confront any Al Capone-wannabe who tries to strong-arm his Risata White Moscato del Vino Fresco e Poma Rica Al Dente, Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc, Miller High Life 24-Pak, Milford Dairy Sea Salt Caramel Truffle Ice Cream plus the Depend Constipation Control Organic Processed Undergarments past the cashier. Actions have consequences, Mr. Capone. They’ll also have you accompanied by a SWAT soldier to a paddy wagon. Me, I couldn’t take my grandpa’s Edy’s Ice Cream, His fifth of Jack, and his Hanes by force. But that’s me talking.

Come to Milford Beverage Warehouse today where the booze is fine and the promo items are scrutinzed for our customer’s protection. Send your Grandpa and Grandma to The Warehouse with newfound confidence in the Lyft car and tell them that Coach Thorp sent ya.”

VIVE LE FRANCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, sorry, Gang, that’s the Milford Volleyball team getting its Sportsmanship Award. I’ll get it right one day. God bless you, Gang, in the interim.

At Milford Girls-A-Go-Go Club

“Why is Butterfield Blues Band playing in the men’s room?”

“Dunno. Lemme talk to the manager.”

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