Happy Fifth, America!
There were fireworks all over America last night, and indeed we have great cause to celibate, because Jesse the Clown has finally died! Let the celibations begin! In the immortal words of George S. Kaufman as spoken by Groucho Marx: "Let there be dancing in the streets, drinking in the saloons, and necking in the parlours." Or to put it another way, someone has just shot to the top of The Good Riddance List!
All right, I've squished together two longed-for deaths: Former-ex-Senator Jesse Helms has relocated from South Carolina to Hell (Poor Hell.), and Bozo the Clown has gotten out from under the Big Top (Where he was crowding me anyway. Diesel Washington is a Big Top, but not that big!), and gone on tour in Oblivion.
Jesse Helms was, to put it in a demure, tasteful, ladylike manner, an Evil Piece of Shit befouling the USA for 86 miserable years. His death is a cause for jubilation, and eating Jubilation T. Cornpone. Hopefully Jesse's remains will lie in state in a public Men's Room, where the happy citizenry can come by and piss on his corpse, before he is unceremoniously dumped into a cesspool. I know this is very disrespectful to Piss and Sewage, but what can you do?
As for Bozo the Clown, well he was never Evil, like Jesse, but circus clowns are creepy, and so the fewer clowns, the better. I mean honestly, Which picture makes your flesh crawl more: Jesse the Clown above or Bozo the Clown below? (I hate it when my skin crawls. Sometimes it gets a damn good head start on me before I even notice, and I have one hell of a time catching up with it again. Did you know that your skin is your largest organ? Well, except for the above-mentioned Diesel Washington.)
Okay, Jesse was creepier, but it was close.
As it happens, Little Dougie made his TV debut in 1958 on The Bozo The Clown Show on local Los Angeles TV station KTLA-5. Dougie was 8 years old, and sat in the circus stands with the other kids behind Bozo. However, the Bozo Dougie appeared with was not the Bozo who died today, except during the cartoons. Bozo was first played by Pinto Colvig, best known as the voice of Goofy. When Little Dougie was on the show, Bozo was played by Pinto's son, Vance Colvig, who is already dead. I'm lucky I wasn't Vance's mother, as I apparently had a romantic relationship with Pinto, because folks have been saying I was "Fucking Goofy" for decades, and this being a democracy (Except for Presidents. They're appointed by the Supreme Court.), when a majority says something is true, it's true, and believe you me, a vast majority think I am fucking Goofy.
Bozo The Colvig ran (barely) animated Bozo cartoons. The voice of Bozo in the cartoons was Larry Harmon, the "Real" Bozo. Little Dougie was confused by the fact that Bozo live, and the Bozo in the cartoons of "His" adventures, had different voices. Of course, Little Dougie gets confused easily. In fact, he's been sexually confused since birth. Anyway, it was the "Real" Bozo, Larry Harmon, who slipped on Eternity's banana peel and fell into Oblivion's elephant dung yesterday.
Meanwhile, my thanks to all of you, well, both of you, well, Bruce and Tarquin, who attended the ceremonial dedication of my star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame last week, a long overdue honor, given that I have spent considerably more time as a Famous Hollywood Street Walker than the other stars already there. (Except for Joan Crawford. That goes without saying.) I'm sure that there would have been more people in the crowd at the ceremony, but they are required to have Honorary Hollywood Mayor Johnny Grant preside over all these ceremonies, and, since he died about 7 months ago, the aroma he was emitting was even worse than mine, plus the Ironman impersonator in front of Grauman's Japanese Theater was just back from lunch, so everyone but Bruce and Tarquin were queuing up to have their pictures taken with him. I can't blame them. I love an Iron man myself!
Adorable doughball Matt Damon (See below. Complacency) took this lovely photo of me with my star. I wasn't posing. I just happened to awaken recumbent and Matt snapped the picture. I often find myself unexpectedly lying on and/or under all sorts of things. When I said I had experience as a "Famous Street Walker," I should have said, "Famous street Staggerer."
I seldom celibate on the fourth. It just doesn't say "Happy" to me. I prefer to celibate the Fifth. Nothing says "Happy" to me like a Fifth.
Tomorrow is Sunday the 6th. If you're thinking of taking the kids to church (Or perhaps I should say "Not thinking." Faith is, after all, the Traditional Alternative to Thinking.) for some reason, or lack of reason, or to attend Jesse's or Bozo's funerals, Take a gander at this stained glass window first. Let's just say that not just the glass ended up stained.
Anyway, enjoy a fifth on the Fifth, and on the Sixth. In fact, anytime is a good time for a Fifth.