Lightning Rod Gets The Zot

The Poet's Eye ^ | Lightning Rod

[Lrod]

A character like Christine O'Donnell presents a unique problem for a humorist. Few elaborations are called for since the caricature is self-embodied. All that is needed is a dead-pan Jack Benny look. You know, the one where he just stares blankly at the audience without saying a word and eventually someone titters and before you know it the whole place is in hysterics? Her very existence as a major party candidate for US Senate is the kind of comedy which arrives ready-written and would only be spoiled by embellishment. I mean, what can you add to rabidantimasturbationtarianism, rats with fully-functioning human brains and her famous Witches of Eastwick campaign ad that looks like it was produced by Tim Burton? I had fully intended to leave Ms. O'Donnell to the other comedians and the pundits who were wearing her out on cable TV. But then came the most recent revelation that she has claimed that her father was Bozo the Clown. Here I had to break my silence, not in the name of humor, but in the cause of veracity. This is a subject I happen to know something about.

Long ago, for one magic season, I was related by marriage to Bozo the Clown. I'm not making this up. My father was a semi-notorious lothario in the television and advertising business. Sometime after he turned 50, he married the 17 year-old daughter of one of his professional colleagues, Larry Harmon, the guy who owned the franchise to Bozo, the Most Famous Clown in the World. He was Bozo Primero, not one of the many FauxZos who were franchised in every major media market. I was much closer to the power center of the Bozo world than Ms. O'Donnell ever dreamed of being. It gave me an intimate glimpse into the backstage life of clowns. I knew little of the inside workings of the clown business in those days. Like a naive child, I had assumed that, you know, Bozo was Bozo. It never occurred to me that there was a school, like a Bozo boot-camp, where imposters went to learn how to walk like a Bozo and talk like a Bozo and draw the red rictus of a smile on their faces with greasepaint. It was like learning a dirty family secret and it was a big disappointment. When you go to see Bozo, you want it to really be Bozo, not some guy dressed up in a Bozo costume.

I hadn't thought about my brief inclusion in greasepaint royalty for years until Ms. O'D surfaced with her claims of actually being a blood relative of Bozo the Clown. The marriage between my father and Princess Bozo, which was chronologically challenged to begin with, barely outlasted the honeymoon. They had about as much in common as Christine would have in common with the 99 other US Senators. Suddenly the whole subject bubbled from my subconscious and made me wonder about franchises and politicians and the authenticity of clowns.

Since John Quincy Adams carried forth his father's political legacy, American politicians have campaigned on the richness of their family's past public service. Roosevelt and Kennedy and Bush all represent minor dynasties and it is entirely in keeping with this tradition for Ms. O'D to claim descent from Bozo. Clowning is as present in the current of American politics as populism, liberalism or conservatism. But in light of Ms. O'D's penchant for resume enhancement, she fibbed about her college career and has downplayed her wiccan studies, her claims to clownly ancestry are also suspect. While she seems like a natural and can certainly get a laugh and works well in the side-shows, one has to wonder if she is really ready for the Big Top, the center ring.

The US Senate is the Big League of Buffoonery. Even pros like Colbert have trouble hanging there. It's a tough room. Notice that Al Franken, even with all his years of practical comic experience, has been keeping mum in deference to the mime-masters of the Senate. These clowns can juggle, ride unicycles, do pratfalls and get shot from cannons, all with the perfect dead-pan of their painted-on media faces. They are consummate clowns adept with all the tricks, the seltzer bottle, the pie-in-the-face, the filibuster. I don't want to get all Stephen King on you but these aren't nice clowns. Ms. O'D should think twice before she alienates her witch constituency, she may need some strong juju to avoid the dunking stool. They'll make her the senator-punk-clown. Every troupe of clowns has one, the smallest clown, bottom of the pecking order, the one who all the other clowns slap and when there is no smaller clown for her to slap, she turns to the audience with her out-turned palms and pitiful Emmett Kelly frown and says, "I am you."

Two of the greatest Senatorial Clowns, Lloyd Bentson and Dan Quayle, in their famous vice-presidential debate in 1988 demonstrated the type of cut-throat comedy these jokers are capable of. When Quayle set the joke up by comparing his inexperience to the inexperience of Jack Kennedy, Bentson spiked it with this punch-line, "Senator," he said, "I served with Jack Kennedy. I knew Jack Kennedy. Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine. Senator, you are no Jack Kennedy."

The Poet's Eye would like to say to Christine O'Donnell in this same spirit, "Ms. O'Donnell, you say your father is Bozo. Well, I knew Bozo. Bozo was briefly my step-grand-father-in-law. Christine, your father was no Bozo."

Yes I’m stuck in the middle with you, and I’m wondering what it is I should do. It’s so hard to keep this smile from my face. Losing control yeah I'm all over the place.

Clowns to the left of me! Jokers to the right! Here I am stuck in the middle with you. ---Joe Egan and Gerry Rafferty

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[HKMk23]

Sorry to hear that ‘Face lost her hard drive. Any info on what kind of machine she’s got? Brand spankin’ new 250GB drives are out there for less than $30. If she’s got her Windows operating system CD on-hand she could be resurrected by this evening. At that point, the “dead” drive could be connected as a “slave” so an attempt at data recovery could be made.

[Anoreth]

Driving is all kinds of fun.4 wheel drive was a good choice.

[Tax-chick]

Yeah, I guess it was.

[Tax-chick]

I texted your info to ‘Face. And the Teaching Textbook looks interesting. Tom’s having a time with algebra, although that’s mainly a lack of effort on his part.

[Tax-chick]

I texted your info to ‘Face. And the Teaching Textbook looks interesting. Tom’s having a time with algebra, although that’s mainly a lack of effort on his part.

[HKMk23]

Son #1 was in that same position; trying to learn Algebra from a text-based curriculum, and not making the kind of progress we’d hoped he would. We found the teaching Textbooks Algebra 1 at a local homeschool curriculum fair, and set him up with it on a trial basis. That added in a “missing” component that we found indispensable: computer-based lectures. Having those lectures explain in detail (and repeat as many times as may be necessary) the material presented in the text was just the added help my son needed to get him down the road. That “trial” was made permanent in short order, and the textbook totally abandoned. He’s since completed Algebra I, and carried right on into Algebra II without interruption.

We have added the motivation of reward by agreeing that, when a member of the family finishes an entire math level, the whole family celebrates with them by going to dinner at the venue of their choosing.

[Darksheare]

My voice has been described as between geeky and what the heck was that.

[nicmarlo]

I don’t recall how mine’s been described, only the instructions given: only sing in the car with the windows rolled up while no one is in it with me. :))

[Darksheare]

I’ve been beged to stop singing.
So I don’t, unless it is a weird song.

[nicmarlo]

poor you. lol

[HKMk23]

...unless it is a weird song.

[HKMk23]

Or, perhaps...

THE GREAT BELL
(Denis King, John Junkin)

In an old village called Churdling-Cum-Strando
Whack, Whack, go kick a neighbour
They did have a church with a steeple so grand-o
Fol diddle diddle di doh I hate my old mum
For hundreds of years now the bell in that steeple
Whack, Whack, spreading the muck round.
Had never been heard by the village's people
Fol diddle diddle di doh may I leave the room
CHORUS
Rum tiddle tiddle tum tiddle tiddle scum on the water
Lint in your navel and sand in your tea

In old days the squire had a beautiful daughter
Whack, Whack, Nina and Fredrick
She loved the poor verger and one night dad caught her
Fol diddle diddle di doh I just hurt my foot
I love him dear dad she said, tears she was shedding
Whack, Whack, half-day on Thursday
Quite likely said father and battered her head in
Fol diddle diddle di doh superfluous hair
Rum tiddle tiddle tum tiddle tiddle scum on the water
Lint in your navel and sand in your tea

(minor key?)And then as she lay there all dead-like and messy
Whack, Whack, go burst your ulcer
The bell stopped its ringing to mourn for poor Bessie
Fol diddle diddle di doh I think I feel sick
Then (upbeat again) just yesterday a young couple went walking
Whack, Whack, go stand on your head now
Beneath that same bell of which I have been talking
Fol diddle diddle di doh and one for his nob
Rum tiddle tiddle tum tiddle tiddle scum on the water
Lint in your navel and sand in your tea

They stopped and he cuddled her waist young and supple
Whack, Whack, Lord Baden-Powell
And down fell the bell right onto the young couple
Fol diddle diddle di doh Here's mud in your eye
The moral I give more in sorrow than anger
Whack, Whack, egg, beans and sausage
Make love 'neath a bell and you might drop a clanger
Fol diddle diddle di doh and that's your damn lot
Rum tiddle tiddle tum tiddle tiddle scum on the water
Lint in your navel and sand in your tea
Lint in your navel and sand in your tea

(spoken) Can you take your hand off me knee vicar? I'm trying to play the piano.

Performed by Marty Feldman on "The Crazy World of Marty Feldman" (Decca SPA 134) previously released as "I Feel A Song Going Off" 

[HKMk23]

Well, 'tain't my first choice, but there's a Fry's Electronics in Vegas that'd VERY likely have a cost-effective replacement available on a "come 'n' get it" basis.

Las Vegas 	6845 Las Vegas Blvd 	(702) 932-1400

[NicknamedBob]

"These guys here appear to be working on some really interesting technology we could tap into to get the castle resupplied from low Earth orbit."

I read about that system a few months ago. It's an interesting idea. Basically, you build a big gun. In this case, the extra long barrel is supported by mid-ocean deep waters.

Pump the barrel full of hydrogen and air, or hydrogen and oxygen, or propane and air, (and so forth), put in a launch capsule, and light it off.

The acceleration is tremendous, and the g forces on the capsule are quite extreme. That's why the proponents suggest using it to send fuel and other substances that would not be crushed in the acceleration.

It reminds me of my suggestion about using an extremely long launch rail and magnetic coils to launch at a more moderate acceleration.

My proposal was to use Antarctica as the launch point, and to use ice as an ablative material, because this type of launch hits maximum resistance as soon as it clears the muzzle. Many people have suggested that my scheme would be impractical, but I simply respond that you have to think big.

If you scale it big enough, it has to work.

One aspect of my suggestion may well be impractical, though not necessarily impossible. I also proposed to send large chunks of relatively pure ice into suborbital trajectories, and disintegrate them with onboard demolition charges at the appropriate re-entry altitude. My purpose for this was to be able to deliver rainfall at any location on Earth, on time and on schedule. We could make deserts into food-producing regions without any land-based infrastructure.

It appears that my rather ambitious ideas may have to wait for a new generation of ambitious people unafraid to dare large dreams.

[Darksheare]

TeleFRAG as propulsion.

[HKMk23]

I also proposed to send large chunks of relatively pure ice into suborbital trajectories, and disintegrate them with onboard demolition charges at the appropriate re-entry altitude.

What about a process to just "machine-gun" thousands -- perhaps millions -- of ice chunks into doomed sub-orbital paths to seed the upper atmosphere with excess water vapor?

There's no guarantee that a given mini-berg detonated into fragments on return to atmosphere would produce rain at the Earth's surface, but hyper-hydrating the upper atmosphere by a rapid-repeat version of your suggested process (albeit sans explosives), might get us a more globally distributed effect.

[NicknamedBob]

Such a process could be used as a quick cool-down for an overheating Earth.

Unfortunately, building the infrastructure for such a launch facility would take many decades, so it becomes the least likely device for a quick solution to anything.

My idea in devising it was that we would be able to substitute electricity, (no doubt nuclear generated), for the rocket fuel currently used.

A really big facility could launch hundreds or thousands of loads to all destinations. It would open a window into space through which you could almost walk.

[sionnsar]

Where are you? It is 11F right now for us.

Seattle area. (Redmond WA) Cold all day, still below freezing tomorrow.

[sionnsar]

I’ve been beged to stop singing

As a longtime piper, I recognize there is money to be made at this. "Will be silent for money."

[sionnsar]

Fol diddle diddle di doh

An ancient Gaelic tradition relatively recently contributed to the English language: song syllables with no meaning at all. (The Irish were the main promoters of this.) In English today they're called "vocables."

You'll find them in Gaelic songs older than the English language -- and so formally established one can instantly identify the song by its vocables.