Back on March 27, we were told “this year’s golf program is going to get very interesting!” When exactly did that happen?
On April 14, there were enough kids standing around the first tee to fill a short bus. How come we only ever saw two of them play?
Both Lucas and Dorothy learned from the best. They learned to keep their golf gloves on when shaking hands. Meanwhile Gil stays identical from P1 to P2 less getting his left arm amputated and a slightly different handshake grip.
Whichever member of the Gil Thorp brain trust is responsible for lettering should run Death Valleys ’til they puke for adding the superfluous comma in Dot’s last word balloon in P2. Instead of telling Gil not to call her Shirley, she’s calling Gil Shirley and telling him not to call her, period. Surely Leslie Nielsen is rolling over somewhere.
Monday being Memorial Day, expect an awkward holiday strip with even more awkward artwork. Whigham’s “Gil Thorp, Flying Leatherneck” is becoming a distant memory.
Tuesday? Peanut’s latest social justice crusade: battling the climate change in the Valley that turned Farmyard Golf Course from green to brown to the barren desert it is today.
Another day, another strip worthy of the MopMan treatment.
And now for the actual strip.
Once again we have a coach glued to the side of a player, following them around the course. Pretty sure that’s not how this works. We also have the ex-spouses getting the Goofus and Gallant treatment: “Goofus Emily praises her players when they do well and scowls at them when they make mistakes. Gallant Gil gives constructive advice to all his players… well, at least to one of them.”
This golf match has dragged on for two weeks now, with no plot advancement beyond showing what a horrible human being Mimi has become. Barajas might’ve chosen to work ICE into the strip this spring, but tbh the results look more like the work of another governmental agency. Bringing in a younger writer and artist to destroy what works in the name of modernization, all while drawing a paycheck? Barajas and Merrill are to Gil Thorp what DOGE is to the federal government.
Today’s post title is a shout-out to any of you Pennsylvanian TWIMers.
Drought conditions have stricken Farmyard Golf Course. That, or the greenskeepers have spread manure over the greens. Not a problem for VT’s Alana Trinkle, she of the magical disappearing/reappearing/jumping from hand-to-hand golf glove, who places her shot from the bunker two feet from the pin. Then what? Time to turn to her coach and Wonder Twin Powers… Activate!
Shape of… a gender-ambiguous teen!
Form of… a bitter lesbian ex-golf pro!
Powers thus activated, Emily fawns over Alana publicly, showering her with the praise she never bestowed on her own children. Meanwhile, beady-eyed Gil stares at Dorothy, who looks like she’d rather be in France with Beldar and Prymaat.
What is it with these coaches constantly appearing at the side of players who just hit their shots? There are multiple foursomes on the course. Do Gil and Emily have residual Wonder Twin Powers of their own? Talk amongst yourselves. teenchy out.
meta: tdrew, will be glad to let you take Monday’s post. This cliffhanger is too suspenseful for my delicate constitution.
Ahem. Calling a good young Black golfer “the next Tiger Woods” because he’s a good young Black golfer doesn’t make it any less stereotypical when you put those words in a Black character’s mouth. Has anyone called Henry Barajas “the next Gabriel Vargas“? Didn’t think so.
How far back does Gil’s memory go? Is he thinking of the Tiger Woods who dominated professional golf for the entirety of the 2000s, the one who was the youngest to win the Grand Slam? Or of the Tiger Woods who was hobbled by injuries in the 2010s, the one who can’t be trusted behind the wheel of a car? Either way, Lucas would have to be much better at golf to be mentioned in the same breath, not some poor kid who decided to try golf instead of playing baseball this year. What’s with calling him a “poor kid,” anyway? He beat Gerads’ ass, spent some time in juvie for it, then transferred to Milford basically so that Gil could use him to intimidate Gerads? Not enough backstory to jump to that conclusion.
Lucas Martin’s future as a golfer may be uncertain, but if he can continue to pull off that disappearing/reappearing dreads trick, he might have a future as a magician.
At this stage complaining about the art is like beating a dead horse, especially since neither the art nor the horse get better.
It has occurred to me more than once that, by making Emily increasingly fatter, squatter and generally repulsive with each successive drawing, Merrill is trying to create some visual shorthand for Barajas’ writing Emily as increasingly bitter, spiteful and generally unsympathetic. That doesn’t explain why Merrill can’t draw the character – or damn near any character – consistently. It also doesn’t explain Merrill’s latest fascination with drawing everyone with little tiny shrew eyes. I mean, I get it, Emily’s a shrew, but is everyone else?
Today we continue down that path as, under the guise of sportsmanship, Gil asks Emily if she’s coming to his and Beth’s wedding. Em’s response lacks emphasis but implies that she’s coming solo. Gil asking why Ericka can’t come seems innocent enough, as he probably has no idea there’s any trouble in Lesbian Golfer Paradise. Not to Emily, who immediately decides she needs to twist the knife and insult Gil’s golf, or golf coaching, or golf-adjacent something-or-other. Good thing she doesn’t have eyes in the back of her head to catch Gil’s little limp-wristed backatcha pose.
Taken as a whole, this little encounter just serves to reinforce the ongoing narrative that Gil has moved on and is happier with his post-divorce life than the one who initiated the divorce. Now if the strip could just move on and not make Emily and her obsession with her ex-husband one of the main plot devices. Leaving her in the Arizona desert, with occasional glimpses into her career and relationships, would’ve been more believable than bringing her back to the Valley, having her take over in the same role as her ex at her ex’s most bitter rival, and becoming obsessed with defeating him at every turn. Before you say “well, she just wanted to stay close to her kids,” remind yourself how she doesn’t do jack with them and basically blames Gil for anything that goes wrong in their lives.
I know you think you’re the Queen of the golfing grounds
You can
Send me dead rodents every morning
Send me dead rodents by the mail
Send me dead rodents at Beth’s wedding
And I’ll never forget to put roses on your gravvvvvvvvvvvveeeeeeeee
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O Gang O Gang, what better opportunity to expess my love for my Rolling Stones than with a selection off of their blockbuster album, “Sticky Fingers”???? The song “Dead Flowers” is a fave among many Louisvillians due to its reference to the Kentucky Derby. Hey, when it slays the Gil, all the more reason to raid the vaults and bear it proudly for public domain. More fun than pursuing the Holy Grail.
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Gram Parsons was an excellent Rock musician who made tracks with groups such as the Rock heavyweight Flying Burrito Brothers.
But Parsons bored easily. He wanted in the worst way to crack the Nashville scene, given his love of Country music. But love could only travel so far. You didn’t just walk off the street and plop on stage at the Grand Ole Opry. Then there was the issue with his hair. You have a lot of long-haired male Country stars now(David Allan Coe comes to mind plus that perm artistry by Conway Twitty as well) but in the 60’s and early ‘70’s, the Nashville contingent were hellbent on not allowing any hippie Communist gracing the stage with the likes of Tom T. Hall or George Jones. This was unfair because Parsons was not trying to send any messages other than that he loved Country music.
Boy, when Emmylou Harris found out about how Nashville was mistreating Parsons, she went ballistic. And because she was well on her way to winning fourteen Grammys, Nashville listened. Her contention was, dammit, the man loves Country and wants to play it at fever pitch. Who cares what his hair looks like???? Do we blackball George Jones because he drank his way into a bitter divorce(which was true)???? Nashville backed down.
”Return of the Grievous Angel” is to die for. The duet of Parsons and Harris just sends me. Check it out.
Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer
”Milford Musicians Association Still Protests Gil And Mimi Crooning ‘Return Of The Grievous Mudlark’ At Milford Outdoor Amphitheater!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
”Doesn’t she tee off that day????”
REX ALERT!!!!!! REX ALERT!!!!!!
Remember the movie called Masada???? It was about a small contingent of around 900 Jews who found themselves in a no-win situation with the Roman army around 73-74 A.D. They were trapped on this mountainous fortress mainly built by Herod the Great when he ruled c.37-4 B.C. The fortress is in the southeast part of present-day Israel, located in the desert overlooking the Dead Sea.
This small group of Jews had no chance against the powerful Roman army. It was a valiant effort but it looked like these Jews would have to surrender and be enslaved by the Roman government.
Then something unusual happened. These Jews poisoned themselves, all 960 of them, and snatched victory away from the Romans. What could the Roman army do now? To round this out, Masada is a UN World Heritage Site today, commemorating this noble gesture.
But isn’t that what Fatty Butt is doing???? Pulling a Masada on Sharp Dressed Oreck Man???? As she mentioned, if Snake-for-Ethics finally put two and two together and came up with the Bertha Butt Boogie, don’t you think other people will eventually sing the same damn tune????
C’mon, Snaky Ethics, if Candy is laying in the grass as if she had a severe case of diarrhea and you see a plate of brownies, a bowl of red onions, two cans of Alpo Chicken ‘n’ Grits, a London broil in Reynolds Wrap, and some Gala apples all splayed out on a picnic blanket, do you honestly think she contracted the poops digesting red onions???? That she OD’d on collared greens???? And how would a dog know how to use a can opener to indulge in Alpo or for that matter rip up the bag of Kibbles and Bits???? Use your head, Snake-for-Ethics. That’s what deductive reasoning is for. Candy ate the brownies which caused the pseudo-DOA in the same way that Grandma Moses, given her similar ability to figure that a fatass duck that walks like a duck and smokes Tarytons like a duck and pigs out on pepperoni slices like a duck, will finally conclude that by gum, it’s a fatass duck who will sing a duet in the near future with ol’ Mud on “Them Muddy Boots.” You can take that to the bank. Oops, perhaps the wrong way to put it, given the situation, but you know what I mean. You should have left this with Friday and Gannon and split it three ways. You could have still quit your day job.
As it stands, you can’t even finance a toothpick they keep in a little container by the cash register. Way to blow this golden opportunity, Mr. Snake-for-Ethics.
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This is absurd. I’m not even about to do Reductio ad Absurdum, a method of proving an argument correct by reasoning through the process of its opposite. Proving that nobody but nobody broaches Vegas odds in relation to high school sports???? We prove otherwise by coaxing Coach Dale to throw his paycheck away at the Hickory craps table in front of Jimmy Chitwood???? Have Roger and J.P. send their allowance to a bookie and the Angels in the Outfield go bankrupt with George Knox flashing a bull whip on their behinds to teach them to never raid the piggy bank when the Angels are projected 1,000,000 to 1 that the Angels will win their Division????
I do believe some idiotic notions speak volumes for themselves without my having to loan Coach Dale a Grant.
And I’m with Teenchy. I have fewer rays of hope and less confidence that we are going to escape from Plotline Hell if many rodents dominate much of the landscape. More or less.
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Well, we don’t think Ben or Willard will raid the Valley Conference Golf Tournament. I heard they sprayed #5 Dog Leg Left with several cubic feet of Janitor in a Drum. The putting should roll the same.
God bless you, Gang.
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Ericka and you sitting back
In your trash-filled Cadillac
Making bets on Kentucky Derby days
I’ll be in my office room
With old-fashioneds and a spoon
And some Delaware T’s to melt my pain away
Take me down, Little Mimi, take me dooooowwwwwwwnnnnnn…
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Afternoon Edition to the Milford Enquirer
”Keith Richards Denied Rumors Of Nuptials With Heehaw!!!!!!!!!”
sub headline
”They tol’ me that Heehaw nidded ta wayke up so me ‘n’ th’ band wawlked into th’ rume ‘n’ stawrted awn sum Dead Flowers. We even gayve hawr tikkets ta tha Kintuhky Dawrby cuz she lukked like she nidded ta get out uv tha casket Mimi’.”
Multiple days of watching Gil watch his bride-to-be try on granny gowns and nun costumes. Now I know why half of y’all pay more attention to Rex Morgan, M.D. Still, with joints like that we know why Gil keeps the bartender around instead of grabbing anything that’s thrown at him.
Pity Beth has no female friends or relatives who could be helping her out with this decision. Or with her life decisions in general. Honestly, what more backstory has she been given besides having admitted to previously having had an abortion? Otherwise she has been nothing but a blank canvas.
Again cutting the post short today so I can go watch the Braves game. No wacky Captain Ted hijinks but at least I’ll get to see Bobby Cox lay into an ump. Wait, wait? Oh no, not again. Please enjoy this video tribute.
Today we have another strip worthy of the Mopped Up Thorp treatment.
Heilig-Meyers was a retail furniture store chain founded in Goldsboro, North Carolina, in 1913 by two Lithuanian immigrants, W. A. Heilig and J. M. Meyers. Its corporate headquarters was in Richmond, Virginia. The chain grew to become the largest furniture retailer in the United States in the 1990s, ultimately having over 1,000 stores nationwide (including Puerto Rico). Its over-expansion—by purchasing over 100 McMahan’s Furniture stores based in Carlsbad, California, in 1993, as well as other stores and chains in the West—contributed to its failure. The company also bought the L. Fish furniture chain in the Chicago area; those stores were closed in 1999. Heilig-Meyers filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy on August 17, 2000, and subsequently announced the liquidation of its inventory, with all of their stores closing by mid-2001. – Wikipedia
For the record, here’s a store display image of the Heilig-Meyers mascot.
And now today’s original strip.
Besides the implausibility of opposing golf coaches standing shoulder-to-shoulder on the course, I reckon there’s a bigger takeaway we’re supposed to get from yesterday’s and today’s strips. Gil is so distracted and shaken by his trip to the ICE detention center that he’s forgetting how to describe not only Gerads’ antics but also the actual game being played in front of him.
Then again, Gil might find golf as boring as everyone else involved, including the writer. He’s canonically bad at it, remember? Gil, that is. Canonically bad at golf. The writer is not canonically bad at golf. Or writing. At least not yet.
This Week in Milford 