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Gil Thorp, 6/7/05

I realize that I haven’t been keeping you in the loop much since the big police bust in Gil Thorp a few weeks ago. Basically, through a ludicrous sitcom-style contrived overheard conversation, the Milford jocks/compulsive gamblers now know that there’s a card cheater in their midst, but they haven’t figured out who it is. Today’s installment manages to drag out the supposed drama of the situation for another day before the shocking denouement. It’s a transparent attempt to make us care about a not-so-interesting kerfuffle. And yet … it works on me! I’m interested, nay, eager to know who’s making this dramatic off-camera announcement, even though I know that he or she will be so poorly drawn that I won’t be able to tell who it is! I’ve been sucked in! Damn you, Gil Thorp! Damn you straight to hell!

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I’ve been plugging the merchandise steadily, but you and I both know that it’s been getting a bit stale. That’s why tonight I’ve taken some of your ideas and some ideas the Future Mrs. C. and I have been percolating on and revamped the Comics Curmudgeon store! You can still buy the Fence Post Frank hat (our latest model) and the “More Zippers, Mule!” shirts (timeless classics), but the mugs and other t-shirts have been replaced, and we have some sexy new items for you!

First, the new shirts. Show your solidarity with Milford’s unjustly accused by sporting a “Free Hutch” shirt.

Next, prepare for the inevitable spit-take with this fine mug, a desperate attempt to sex up America’s lamest burg.

And finally, what better way to show that you’ve “been there” than to sport boxers, a camisole, or (no, really) a thong that showcases your roadside status?

Thank you to the many fine posters who came up with the ideas for these. Alas, nothing is available from Cafepress in that hideous electric blue color.

Now, once you’ve bought this stuff (as I’m sure you will immediately) you are of course going take a picture of yourself wearing and/or using it and send it to me, right? Of course you are. I’m especially interested in some pictures from the ladies here — almost all of our current models are menfolk! I know the Future Mrs. C. is hard to top, but we strive for gender balance. (Please, though, no thong photos, or at least no photos of your thong on your … thong … area.)

What’s that address again? Glad you asked. It’s http://www.cafepress.com/joshreads, of course. Now go forth and purchase!

Oh, and I almost forgot to add that when I was making the underwear, I said, “I need to find a slutty font for this.” There’s a sentence you don’t get to say very often.

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Gil Thorp, 5/17/05

How — I mean how — can you people keep calling for the death of Gil Thorp when he consistently provides this level of entertainment? Honestly. You might choose to see Milford as so stultifyingly lame that this counts as a major vice bust; I prefer to see this whole storyline, taken in conjunction with the legendary Marty Moon’s arrest and sentence to mildly difficult labor, as a cautionary tale about the reign of terror enforced by an out-of-control police force. Prepare to see Coach Thorp make a To Kill a Mockingbird-level impassioned courtroom speech to free his wrongly imprisoned nickel-ante student-athletes. Because if the court doesn’t set them free … then Milford’s baseball team will be short of players and need to forfeit! Surely the good townsfolk won’t allow that to happen.

A review of last week’s strip reveals that Brent was in fact just at Hutch’s as a spectator. Still, the fact that Officer Bebow didn’t have him thrown in the clink for uttering the phrase “just chillin’ with the peeps, brah” indicates that she has special plans for him. Look at the Rap-Dog in panel two: that luxurious, fluffy mane of hair, that stunned, vacant expression, the mouth slightly agape and threatening to start drooling at any moment. He and the lady policeman are even wearing the same t-shirt, and his breasts are almost as big as hers. Yes, being an undercover cop is tough gig, but there are compensations.