Im back from my vacation in the South Bay. My friend was a fantastic tour guide; we walked to 3 piers by her place and drove to Point Vicente, Malibu, Venice Beach, Will Rogers beach, Trumps golf course, Pacific Coast Highway, Santa Monica, Solstice Canyon, and the pier at the end of Route 66. Plus saw Jay Leno at a comedy club and had a rooftop dinner, lunch over the water and watched the sunset over the ocean. Next time I come out we’re going to Disneyland at Christmastime. So I really have it made.
Looks like the big game is underway and we’re at halftime, and the 2 coaches are giving a halftime speech. Good lord, Gil is quoting Shakespeare. I read Hamlet in senior English, and it was a relief to pass that course. The only time I was awake was when the teacher would play his guitar every so often on Friday. Apparently this is from the play Henry V. spoken by King Henry.
Anyhoo, yet another non-sports analogy by ol Henry B. who will never be confused with Henry V. No adjustments to the defense or offense? Play suggestions? Nope. Meanwhile Gonads is spewing his usual blustery BS, and its all about him, not the players. He’s more tiresome then those Progressive ads on TV where the adults are turning into their parents.
Gil cant even try the Knute Rockne approach. Even Rudy mimicked him in the movie bearing his name.
We will see how the 2nd half unfolds, and all I’m praying for is a semblance of reality that so far has been nonexistent.
Naturally, The Bad Guy gets his comeuppance, at least temporarily. It really isn’t The Final Countdown but a 15-yard penalty might slow up the trash talk for a while. Maybe.
The real issue for me is how Dick Dastardly or Snidely Whiplash used to look, either on Saturday morning cartoons or in Gil Thorp. True, they were cowardly fiends destined to conquer the world with their illegal ways. But they both used a comb every once in a while. Coach Geriatrics looks as if he climbed the nearest power line in anger after the last call. I’d hate to see what happened if Dudley Doonothing actually beat Goshen or was in the process thereof. Coach G. could get electrocuted by halftime.
Moreover, not even Dick Dastardly is honestly going to pose that question he’s miserably posing and say so with a straight face, about the only thing on his head that is straight. Yes, coaches have always been guilty of spitting that one out but every time out of frustration. Like, what’s Coach Funky Hair going to do, go consult the ref’s CPA for a confirmation????
And whattup with the lines on the field???? I guess if the Valley Conference had a Midget Division for football, this would be acceptable. The 50-yard line would be half the distance to the goal and there’d be no problem moving the chains up and down the field; you could get from 1st down to 2nd down by the time the microwave heated your burrito. Or maybe that’s the boundary as part of the tunnel when the players take the field. I reckon midgets get pumped up, treading those narrow lineages, not wandering to the Left, nor to the Right. For that matter, that may be the path that leads a person to the passageway of the Great Wall of China. Joe Tourist should wander by a hash mark any time.
One thing I know for certain. If Alec Baldwin were to give that same speech in Glengarry Glen Ross when Coach G. is in the room, Baldwin would be exhorting everyone to ABC. Always Be Combing.
Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer
“Coach Geriatrics Released From Milford General Hospital Under His Own Cognizance!!!!!!!”
sub headline
“Frightening incident occurred when his hair was entangled in the cotton candy machine and officials found it difficult to sift the difference.”
REX ALERT!!!!!! REX ALERT!!!!!!
Well, well, if it isn’t the Moron, er, Morgan children. I wasn’t surprised that they somehow would get snared in this plot-o-Rama. And if they aren’t at their stinkiest, I’m Alice Cooper.
Not even your daily brat can dive as low as these urchins today. Halloween candy for breakfast???? Yeah, I’m so sure. I mean, Kit Kat bars and Wheaties, that is so last year. What did you expect, Johnnie and Michael???? A bag of candy corns and scrambled eggs with turkey bacon???? Orange juice to down the whole combo???? Rex, those days on the road with Cheap Trick definitely took time away from your ability to teach your children reality.
And just when you think they couldn’t reek of putrid elephant droppings any more than a designated EPA disaster site, they deliver the elephant AND its droppings. Rex is attempting to call a truce but he might as well have offered the Hand of Fellowship to Hitler at Sudetenland. I understand that Halloween decorations must be taken down but trying to instill the values of hard work in the Morgan children is like trying to flush a sack of potatoes down the toilet. Rex, you might as well change the vacuum hose because it isn’t picking up the cigarette butts. And boy, are these kids butts, Lucky Strike or Winston.
But let’s just stink up the dining room with your attitude, Morgan children. Let’s order extra fart bombs and have at it with smells raging like the Cimarron River. Rex commits the mistake of confronting hippo farts with a canister of Glade that passed the sell-by date three years ago. Telling them that taking down Halloween decorations so that the family can prepare for Christmas decorating apparently got lost on the Morgan children. Not that they were going to find their way away from the Appalachian Trail even when equipped with a AAA road map. Rex may as well have handed the map to Dumbo the Elephant. Shoot, the Morgan kids have visions of turkey and Snickers bars dancing in their heads and that’s saying something, given their fragile IQ stance. Let’s hope the woodwork in their head structure holds firm when harboring little Thanksgiving demons. Because no angel would touch their idiotic mentality. Even Chris from Get a Life had more of one than these coneheads.
Have them help set up the Christmas tree???? You might as well call HeeHaw.
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Gang, I still think that Coach Geriatrics should use a blow dryer every once in a while. Because it looks like his hair got blown by a hurricane. Gil at least uses Prell.
And God bless you all.
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“Buck, I’m going to the Glenwood Thrift Store. You want anything????”
“Do they have male enhancement products???? Because Truck ran out of Milford Men’s Clinic injections and Wanda’s losing patience.”
A player that I knew just came from Ukraine, oh no
He smiled ‘cause I cared not to understand
Then he held out his paltry IQ, ha-ha
He said he was the dumbest in the land
And Gil said
No, no, no, no, I want Mimi no more
I’m tired of waking up on her floor
No thank you please
Her kissing made me sneeze
And then she fled with Ericka out the door
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This is a nightmare. That is not Ivan Drago talking trash with Gil and grabbing his crotch while the Milford player apparently receives a taste of what that one DB in The Longest Yard received, let’s just say it was one way for Paul Crewe to avoid getting sacked. I will wake up and beeline to The Bucket and splurge on Bucket O’ Spaghetti.
Were I so lucky.
It’s really not a bad plot idea. But the art and the silly elements extending all over the page, as if that’s the wrong method for conceiving of a Connect The Dots page, just takes the Bucket O’ Soaghetti. As Teenchy mentioned, we weren’t sure who was Ivan yesterday. Today he’s grabbing his crotch with those overbearing hockey gloves, then he embodies all that represents bad art when he’s talking smack with Gil. I’ve seen better Rock ‘em Sock ‘em hands on an ape on Gilligan’s Island. Then there’s that body only Gumby could fit into on any given day. The Milford players aren’t much better. In P2, I have great-nieces and nephews that could connect the dots better than that. If you’re studying geometry, you’re getting a firmer grasp on what non-collinear points look like. Thank goodness nobody was assigned to draw dinosaurs. I couldn’t imagine Dino from The Flintstones caught in the middle of Picasso’s freewheeling chimerical fantasies. Football players depicted as questionable Play-Doh structures, a new approach in Thorpiversean art history, how this year.
Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer
“Ivan Drago Suspended Three Weeks By Valley Conference Rules Committee!!!!!!”
sub headline
“Rules Committee Spokesperson: ‘We regret to inform Mr. Drago that spitting Corn Flakes into a player’s helmet while that player is on the field merits a significant penalty. We’re asking him to refrain from future endeavors.”
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A man named Luke just plowed from Valley Tech High, oh Lord
He smiled ‘cause he lacked to understand
Then he shoved out the couch he always snores on
He said he was most comfy in the land
And Gil said
No, no, no, no, I coach with Lunkheads no more
I’m tired of lifting Luke off the floor
No thank you please
His BO makes me sneeze
And then I have to thrust him out the door
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REX ALERT!!!!!! REX ALERT!!!!!!
It looks as if we’re going to be stuck with Corey and Parker the next few days. Run out of plot concepts, Rex???? Come on, man up about it. Don’t hide in the closet on this one. Lord knows that location is familiar ground when you don’t have your cranium lodged between your butt cheeks.
And what possible medical conception could mount any defense from Frick and Frack conjuring Halloween Show ideas???? Or just Halloween PERIOD???? Corey TP someone’s house but gets bludgeoned by one of the rolls and Parker has to call 9-1-1???? They go as Sam & Dave at the Glenwood Elementary Halloween Assembly and sing “I’m a Soul Man” only if the kiddies throw enough Tootsie Rolls on stage???? And Corey races to Glenwood MEC when a kiddie gouges one of Corey’s eyeballs with a Tootsie???? Rex, take the suggestions. Lord knows, you’re not around, so accept the input and shut up. And throw some Tootsie Rolls at your kids while you’re in hibernation.
I mean, there are surely more ways for Buck Wise to be spending his time than to inquire if Angela is going to the Halloween party as James Brown. And Rex, I couldn’t imagine you and June going as Sam & Dave. Hold on, I’m barfing. I’ll even accept Angela going as Wanda. Hey, that’s better than going as Truck Tyler. Really, what do you do, glue broccoli on your cheeks for sideburns and bring an Oscar Mayer mold job to represent Truck’s lifeless follies in bed???? I hope neither Angela nor Truck is riding shotgun in the Wienermobile. Let’s just embrace the costume that Angela will be donning, especially when it resembles the waitress uniform that Wanda wears as an addicting habit. Does Angela have any training in serving up squash???? Might help. She wouldn’t have to worry about Wanda’s smooching affairs. Watching two newts kiss gives you an idea of Wanda and Truck attempting the same. Not to worry, Angela. Nobody will ask you to embark on projects considered unreasonable in their scope.
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Well, we know that Ivan Drago can massage his crotch when it counts. Way to rise to the occasion, Drago.
God bless you all.
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A woman we’ll call HeeHaw rose from Deathstate, ha-ha
She smiled ‘cause she was dead to understand
Then she held out her rancid dentures, oh yuck
She said they reeked burnt poop throughout the land
Long ago when dinosaurs roamed the earth, then died and got combined with lead to run cars, yhs teenchy played high school football. Occasionally on the Friday afternoons before home games, one of our coaches would pick two of us players out of our sixth period US History class to go chalk the field. The fact that said coach also taught said US History class made this a moot point.
We’d lay down the lines along the perimeter of the field and at each goal line, then the sidelines, then the yard lines at ten-yard intervals, then the hash marks 60 feet in from each sideline at each ten-yard line. Some schools chalked their yard lines every five yards, as did some colleges (mine did), but they were becoming fewer and further between. If we laid down chalk every yard or every yard-and-a-half like Milford apparently has, Coach would’ve made us scrape them up then run Death Valleys from every one of those yard lines ’til we puked.
One can only hope that Merrill’s increasingly shoddy artwork is indicative of a non-renewed contract that is coming to its end. In addition to abandoning any ability to stay on model with characters she has abandoned not only the human form but three-dimensional perspective. Not sure which of the Goshen players in the last panel is Orlov – the upright one or the one lifted from Picasso’s Guernica – but Gil should have that giant Mudlark on him like white on rice. Makes sense why Gil wouldn’t be worried about Borys with that guy on the team; why weren’t we introduced to this secret weapon sooner?
meta: I was wrong about the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders as being the inspo for Monday’s Milford cheerleaders. Faithful TWIMer Downpuppy suggested they’re based on the Ada Steppers of Oklahoma, but I couldn’t find a photo on point. The Hutto High Hi-Steppers out of Texas look to be on model, as do the Texas Hi-Steppers out of Texarkana, the McAllen McHi Steppers and the Cedar Hill Highsteppers. A novel concept for this East Coast flatlander.
Speaking of inspo, here’s the musical one for today’s post title.
I really hate to barf and gripe but is there ANY way we can halt the confusion when drawing sports scenes???? I realize people make mistakes and I work with people who try to execute a fine product. But it just seems that nobody was concerned about the obvious, i.e., why is Goshen forced to punt when it appears Milford has the ball???? Sometimes, as i learned as a coach, you have to call the obvious. And this one stinks all over the page.
I daresay that most of us can tolerate the inchoate, craggy art work. We can maintain a stiff upper lip when plots are like exchanging papers in class for our peers to grade. But no way is there ANY excuse to say Goshen is in possession when the reality otherwise splashes all over the page. Nobody proofreads these comedy of errors???? Someone is that lazy to correct the blatantly unwatchable????
And I’m not even going to express my gratitude for the sports action being halfway respectable. I’m glad Napoleon didn’t invade America but he still invaded Russia, hardly shedding his greedy dictator image. Please stop presenting sports action as if it was low priority on the to-do list in favor of mowing the grass because it’s too high. Either hire a lawn care dude or get your head out of your ass long enough to watch some ESPN. I don’t care which. But the gross negligence of accuracy needs to stop if we want to call this a competent sports strip.
Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer
“Valley Conference Weekly Teleconference Votes 7-2 To Change Rule!!!!!!”
sub headline
“Teams must now punt to other team; hidden ball trick to manufacture yards for own team a thing of the past.”
REX ALERT!!!!!! REX ALERT!!!!!!
Are you still on the merry-go-round that Rex appears to be imposing on us at this juncture????
We just completed Augie and Summer huddling up over how Augie is going to approach Steven Spielberg on pitching the idea of Encyclopedia Brown solving how to withstand the Gremlins who have eaten half of Bugs Meany’s gang. This is going to require more than a quarter on the gasoline can. We’ll have Sally Kimball furnish her body with a bullet-proof vest, a couple of M-16’s, and a bazooka. I’m secure in the belief that Augie doesn’t desire to kill off Sally. Someone needs to be a Yin to Encyclopedia’s Yang, or is that the other way around???? I want to get it correct for Credibility in Publishing so that Augie doesn’t get blacklisted At Milford Community College Book Store. Augie must take the high road when pawning off ideas about Gremlins going up Summer’s nursing apparel. And speaking of which, Summer can be that detective, Autumn Rook, that would very likely appear in Augie’s Encyclopedia Brown Tases The Gremlins. She can show Sally Kimball the ropes about detective work, how to search for clues, how to dust for fingerprints, how to sit in a car with Joe Friday and Bill Gannon when they’re on stakeout for Gremlins. And if Autumn has to portray Rambo to destroy the whole Gremlin Nation, she can teach Sally how to launch an ICBM. Sounds like a win-win to me.
We can situate Dionne Warwick at Iwo Jima. Hey, I know we’re stretching it but you can’t tell me that Marines didn’t fight Gremlins in the Pacific Theater. Until I’m informed to the contrary, Dionne will have to remain as the radio woman who monitors troop movements and facilitates Encyclopedia’s and Sally’s tasks at an optimal level. Kinda sorta act like Paul Revere, i.e., “The Gremlins are coming!!!!!! The Gremlins are coming!!!!!! This should synchronize with Joe and Bill and Autumn putting the Gremlins ringleader behind bars thanks to an anonymous tip.
Therefore, why are we wasting time exploring the gamut with the other Rex characters???? We’ve already strayed enough from the Morgan household as it is. Not that I’m beefing about the welcome respite from Johnnie and Michael and their bratty adventures that excite about as much as nematodes in a Big Mac but if we’re to bring about true justice to Rex Morgan, there’s no sense in Three’s Company dominating the comic strip forefront. Just avoid the bedroom and Rex should maintain a level of interest equivalent to riding the Wild Mouse.
Come on, I’ll concede that Mae Mae and her theater restoration ambitions piques my stake in this arc but let’s not race over to Truck Tyler and find out what’s going on between him and Wanda. Reading about Parker and Corey isn’t much of an alternative. Must we be subjected to Truck learning how to French kiss Wanda???? We might as well watch Parker attempt the same maneuver on Corey. Thank God that Corey wasn’t applying Revlon. This could have been a hospital trip if this transaction went unsupervised. Therefore, let’s ditch this and Truck trying to be masculine because I’m not even sure he can even spell the word, let alone embody the ideal. Truck can’t even do a Jimmy Swaggart with a women of low standing, what makes him think he can test the waters with Wanda???? I bet Truck needs directions to the motel Swaggart pumped the issue and that’s just compounding the lack of panache for this medley of Rex’s recycled plot ideas. Let’s just go back to Iwo Jima and find out if Dionne’s eaten lunch and leave the French kissing to Beaver and the neighborhood girl. We can catch up with Truck at the Three Bean Salad Bar at Nick’s Diner and avert any embarrassment.
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I have always loved Black Sabbath’s “Wheels of Confusion”. Never thought that’d be the title of today’s strip.
In the real world, the Dallas Cowboys will be in Philly tonight to take on the Eagles. Both teams have been struggling but the Eagles are under greater pressure, given they’ve been one of the better teams in the NFL over the past few seasons and will be without starting QB Jalen Hurts. Hurts is out for the season with blood clots in his lungs, which developed from an initial blood clot in his calf after an injury in a game. How the Eagles handled the injury – clearing Hurts to take flights to and from London and play in a game there – has placed the franchise under the scrutiny of both the league and the players’ union.
One thing the Eagles apparently won’t have to deal with are the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, who are on loan to Milford High this week. Then again, these cheerleaders might be home grown, kickin’ up dust clouds on the horizon as they stomp across an open prairie. Small town high school football on the radio and TV? A bar full of people glued to the screen? Milford in Texas now? One way to find out!
Gotta nitpick the dialogue though, HB: the radios and TVs in Milford aren’t broadcasting the game. They might be tuned to it, but it’s WDIG and… WDIG-TV? that are broadcasting it.
We’ll have weeks to break down the Milford-Goshen game so might as well lie back and think of England settle in for a spell. Hey Beth, take your eyes off your man for a sec and freshen up that old dude’s flat beer!
Well, this wasn’t the idiotic, non-reality-based solution I was expecting, but it was close. Looks like Ochoa was the Coach Without a Face and the coach who takes orders from Gil. Ochoa benches Keri in favor of Sandra Jr. and Milford proceeds to lose to the Jets. That’s the Jets, not the Jeffs, so guessing this isn’t Jefferson; a non-conference loss is a little easier to stomach in the grand scheme of things. Still, why Sandra Jr. couldn’t get subbed in during garbage time or start in place of another player not named Keri Thorp brings the entire plan into question.
Ah, but with the explanation comes a touch of the Gil we all knew and loved from days gone by. The Gil who embraces defeat, turns every loss into a teachable moment and spews enough platitudes to hang onto his job despite decades of underachievement. The one secure in the knowledge that the he is the straw that stirs the drink in Milford and, by extension, so are his progeny. The one who makes sure Jami never becomes aware of that fact.
Has Gil himself become indispensable? Talk amongst yourselves. teenchy out.
Bouns talk: What kind of vehicle is Gil driving that has curtains behind the driver’s seat? Wrong answers only.
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