Posted on 10/23/2010 5:17:52 PM PDT by 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
You have entered the realms of the *ahem* Flying Castle. One does not so much “accept terms” as “allow options.”
If you have never been here, speak up. We will provide a Guide for you. Should you choose not to have a Guide, please leave your name, number and Next Of Kin with a Verifiable Inhabitant. They can be recognized by the badge they wear, stating that they are CERTIFIED FOR CASTLE TOURS. Otherwise, good luck!
Remember how that works? You can check out, but you can never leave....
*e-vil laughter*
And we, of the Undead Thread, bow to the Badge that feeds us!
Would you care to be honored by being on one of the ping lists? We could always use a heavyweight!
Is that the VK emblem?
*bowing before VK*
Sure, please put me on a ping list.
If you could pass my name and address off to some junk mail distributors, that would be nice too.
Oh, and if I forgot to check the “email me updates and specials” box, well... just click that baby too... we old farts have little better to do than sort through everything that comes through. Add a touch of dyslexia, and presto... woo!
No, wait, what?
You jest, yes?
Don’t fool the ‘Face. She is too old to suffer young studs looking for a “Mae West.”
A ping list would be honored to have your name. Only insofar as the emblem accompanied it. ;o]
(Awesome, isn’t it, Sis?)
(Off to the side and down.)
Ahem. *sound of quietly clearing throat*
Face. I think we are being mocked for our silliness.
;-)
Brian smiled. It almost looks like some kind of a town or city in space, with artificial lights in the night sections, and gardens and parks in the middle of the built-up areas. There are even trees and small lakes. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make themselves comfortable out here in the asteroid belt.... and then they went shopping, and to the other Habitats.
She nodded. It was built by a consortium of industrial, civilian, and quasi-governmental organizations. I think youve heard of the RKBA Corporation, and youve probably caught mention of the German industrial group Beeber-Stuner. Theres also a political entity called the Free Manitoba Project.
She shifted position slightly. It was one of her mannerisms to which he had become accustomed. The construct was launched in secret, after an extended period of subterfuge. Everyone who ever saw it thought that they were building something like a floating casino, perhaps something to take the place of the failing cruise ship industry. In fact, those cylindrical structures were taken to resemble cruise ships in an artistic extravagance. The entire world was stunned when the whole structure lit up the ocean like a second sun as the nuclear rockets blew a trail of fire nearly two miles long from hundreds of rocket exhausts, and the casino lifted off and went directly into orbit!
Brian nodded. Ive heard the story. After circling Earth several days, they took off and made a loop around the moon, flinging themselves outward toward Mars. Didnt they actually land there and set up a colony?
Yes. It was the first colony introduced on Mars, and it is the basis of much of the Martian economic activity today. She looked again toward the structure. We could go there.
. . .
The shuttle landed on the rim of the habitat like a coat hung on a hook. Brian and Jade were pushed gently back into their seats. Slowly the shuttle was raised and turned into a horizontal orientation, and pulled forward to enter a small tunnel cavity. The air-locks aligned and signaled. Brian, Jade, and the other passengers and crew released their seat-belts.
Without hurry, the small group exited the shuttle and made their way through the tunnel space to a bank of circular elevator doors. Brian selected the Grand Entrance route and seemed surprised that only he and Jade chose it. The spherical car moved smoothly for a short time. When it stopped, and the eyelid door opened, they were greeted by a stunning panorama.
They stepped out of a rustic stone building onto a grassy plain. Behind them on each side were trees and shrubs in a forest setting. Stretching to the left and right were meadows which were marked by small fences and signposts giving directions to various activities.
But the most striking thing to appear before them was the magnificent castle in the center of the vista. Brian had seen such a castle before. In another life he had helped to build one. This one looked the same, but there were slight differences. The castle of his youth had been made of a pinkish stone. This one looked more grayish, like granite. And it had a soaring minaret on the left side, in partial counterbalance to the magnificent tower on the right.
As he took in the scene, Brian realized there was a path to follow, that would lead him to the castle gate. They began walking.
Jade was looking up. Through a slight haze, which cast the overhead in a bluish mist, Brian perceived a network of arches and struts like a bridgework, but this spanned the entire dome of the enclosure. The artificial lights emplaced on the crossbars matched the brightness of the sky, and tended to make the beams disappear. Unless one studied it, as they were doing, it was easy to accept the illusion that they were under open sky on a planetary surface. This place was enormous!
As they approached the drawbridge, Brian listened. He could hear only sounds of domesticity. Animal noises, birdcalls, voices of children filled the air. For a moment he was carried back to his early days on the island.
In crossing the drawbridge, they could see and hear that people were swimming in the moat. One bald-headed fellow was industriously swimming around the castle, but he was swimming with the current. Brian thought for a moment about how he knew that the water was circulating around the castle. He shrugged. It wasnt at all uncommon for pieces of information to just appear in his mind. He had grown used to it.
Entering the courtyard, after the momentary darkness of the tunnel through the thick walls, they were again impressed by the scale and majesty on display. There were fruit trees and flowering shrubs in profusion, as well as a sort of parade ground where ceremonies and celebrations could be held. Many small windows faced into the courtyard from the thick wall surrounding it. In the corners, a balcony effect seemed apparent as faces appeared to look out from time to time from large sections of glass.
The main part of the castle appeared before them. A large staircase with circular steps led up to the massive main doors of the castle. They climbed up the stairs. Pausing on a terrace at the top, they again looked around at the courtyard. Brian pictured it with pennants flying, and horses and knights in shining armor on parade.
They turned toward the massive doors, which opened automatically. Inside, the room they entered was a large hall, seeming to fill the interior space. Opposite the door, a standard size desk seemed dwarfed by the scale of things around it. A girl with red hair was sitting at the desk.
She looked at Brian for a moment, then at Jade. A smile illuminated her face.
Oh, of course! You are Brian Hawthorne and Jade Regalo! Welcome!
Yes. Brian Hawthorne, Jr. He nodded at Jade. My very good friend, Jade Regalo. Putting out his hand, Brian inquired, ... and you are?
Very pleased to meet you! And my name is Pip.
Hi, Pip! said Jade with a smile and a proffered hand. Thanks for a warm welcome!
No problem. We like having visitors. Will you be staying overnight? We can put you up right here in the castle if youd like.
Jade looked at him.
I think wed like, Brian answered.
Pip looked at the two of them for a moment, Why dont you take room E-202? Its on the second floor, inside the courtyard walls, near the corner dayroom. She smiled.
Brian hesitated. No key?
Pip looked surprised. Whatever for?
A slow smile spread over Brians face. I like this place!
Stick around! It grows on you! Pip smiled again.
It's a small world, you know.
Nope. Being series. check the other thread. Needs must have pings. Nascar season is ending!
Needs must have pings?
O’rely?
OK.
;-)
Thanks, ‘Face! I needed that after the debacle that was last night. Sionnsar’s work laptop DIED in the middle of us trying to sign up for next year’s health “benefits” - ugh!!! Always more money and less service (sigh!) and with ObamaCare it’s only going to get worse. Chronic illness is catastrophic for families’ (and single people’s) budgets. Long term care is a nightmare.
We haven’t even made simple wills or executed advanced health care directives (what to do if we are too ill to make our own decisions) or put our assets in trust - things we should take time to do... but there’s never a time that’s “good” for that sort of thing. We don’t own much but anyone we name as executor/trix will have a job for a while. Yes, I know this is sorta morbid thinking but I wonder every time he takes a flight if he will be coming back to me in one piece or in a casket.
This time, I get to sit home and wait for the call or the text that says “go get it!” - (the laptop) and ship it to him (wherever he is at the time). What a nightmare to have a work machine crap out the eve of a major trip! As I recall, the last meltdown had similar timing.
I am learning to roll with the punches ~:+
Your first post was near #50 and you waited until #800 to agitate me??? It’s a dam good thing I have had several glasses of Bob’s Really Good Red...
Wait, what? (To coin a phrase.)
'Scuse me; I gotta check my wine cellar.
Drink...If your wine stock cost over $9.00 a bottle you don’t have any BRGT.
What is a nice girl like you doing in a dive like this???
Ooppps I’ve had to much BRGR (brgt?)
If you knew me better you wouldn't accuse me of that.
I've been known to con people into stomping out the grapes for me.
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