Tag Archives: ventriloquism

Clown Redux: The Christmas Miracle

25 Dec

I woke up pissed, sore, and groggy.  There was no good reason for this.

Of course, 2014 has been a generally pissy year for me: my dad was hospitalized twice with various mysterious alcohol-induced illnesses (one of those times he was bleeding profusely all over his house before the ambulance came, and so a week later I was the one cleaning all of that up); my estranged mother has cancer; my dog died; my grandma died; my job continues to be dissatisfying, injurious to both my physical and emotional health, and low-paying.

I wasn’t thinking about all of this consciously when I woke up pissed off this morning.  But after grumbling internally about a lot of suddenly prickly past grievances and new annoyances–a grumbling that lasted all through my shower and putting on make up and running around forgetting things as I left the house–I stopped myself.  I took a deep breath, and I prayed the same thing I always pray:  that I would be forgiving and loving and generally be God’s woman today.

And yeah my life is crummy by certain measurements, but it’s also very blessed. I have life. I have a steady–albeit rather crummy–paycheck.  I have Eternity.  I have friends and family who love me.

And I have clown.

creepy puppet

Not only that, but I also have New Clown, The Christmas Miracle.

new clown

Let me begin at the beginning.

In the year and a half since I wrote about the original Clown, what started as a purely electronic, one-sided trolling has become something more:  I printed a hard copy, and Tish and I have been exchanging it on and off in disparate locations and circumstances.  She’s put it in my sheets, in the dryer, in the shower, in the medicine cabinet.  I’ve slipped it into her lunchbox, in her wedding present, in a Thanksgiving card.  All our friends know about it and reference it.  Her husband speculates with her about where to put it next, and my new roommate tries to get in on it misguidedly.

Me: What is this picture you just sent me? Roommate:  Is this not how you do Clown?

Me: What is this picture you just sent me?
Roommate: Is this not how you do Clown? Like you just send a picture of a clown, right?

Meanwhile, another roommate and I had had a standing date at CiCi’s pizza every Saturday night for several months, not only because we loved gorging ourselves on bad pizza but also because we loved gorging ourselves on bad karaoke sung by off-tune pre-teens, which one could also find at a particular CiCi’s Pizza in town (alas that roommate moved out, and that CiCi’s has gone the way of the dodo).

It was a strange and close-knit community we observed there.  Our favorite act was a twelve-ish-year-old boy who would always sing “Glad You Came.”  The kicker was that he was a ventriloquist with a professional dummy.  He was neither a good singer nor a good ventriloquist, but we enjoyed his enthusiasm and confidence regardless.

Now imagine my surprise as my family is opening gifts this morning to find that my one brother has bought my other brother a homemade ventriloquist dummy.

Given my track record, I already find this hilarious, of course.

But then out comes the real, actual best part.  My brother special-ordered this dummy (to look vaguely like my other brother) from his teenage neighbor, who not only makes homemade dummies but also owns several professional dummies and goes to ventriloquist camp.

And that teenage neighbor is none other than THE BOY FROM CICI’S PIZZA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We live in the smallest, strangest world.

new clown and andy

New Clown scares my brother, but he doesn’t scare me!

 

And in conclusion, I’m glad you came, New Clown.  And, of course, Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Why You Might Find This Picture in Your Text Message Inbox

12 Apr

We take a break from our regularly scheduled Poem a Day to bring you this special message from Mrs. Columbo:

creepy puppet

Behold this screencap from an episode of Mrs. Columbo called, “A Riddle for Puppets.”  Mrs. Columbo, for those not in the know, is a short-lived Columbo spin-off (kinda) that chronicles the adventures of Columbo’s never-seen wife (kinda), who is a housewife/part-time reporter for a tiny local newspaper that is mostly coupons.  Except Kate Mulgrew is about 15 in the series (while Columbo is about 60 always), and I guess later the producers decided she didn’t have a husband at all and the whole thing is just weird about that aspect of it.

Mostly, it’s just a show that follows the same format as Columbo except with a plucky lady in the lead investigator role.

Oh, and also, the show is completely absurd.

And Kate Mulgrew is the stagiest actress ever.  Which makes the show watchable.

So in this episode, a ventriloquist murders another ventriloquist.  And this puppet that Kate Mulgrew is holding had “witnessed” the murder (the murderer ventriloquist is crazy and thinks the dummies are sentient), so the murderer ventriloquist tries to get rid of this dummy by giving it to Mrs. Columbo (to take home to her daughter.)

I’m already loling as I write this.

I grabbed this screencap as I watched because. Well. Lol.

It has amused me ever since.

I have been texting it to people ever since.

And that has also amused me.

Oh how I love it; let me count the ways:

  • For the purpose of clarity so far in this post, I have called this lady alternately Mrs. Columbo or Kate Mulgrew, her name on the show and the actress’s name, respectively.  But at home, in texts, and on twitter, I almost always call her Baby Captain Janeway.  Because Captain Janeway.  Circa 1979.  This cracks me up for some reason.  Tish was watching the show with me the other day, and she said (about the sometime boringness/straight up weirdness of the show):

“I’m glad she went back to school to become a starship captain.”  

  • This ’70s outfit.  Double-popped collar!  Holla!
  • That facial expression.  You can tell she’s thinking, “WTF am I supposed to do with this thing?”
  • That dummy.  And his hair.  And his everything.
  • That dummy’s name is Clown.  He is a clown.  And his name is Clown.  They did not give him a name like “Bobo” or “Laughy-Smiles” or “Stan.”  His name is Clown.  And everyone says it with a straight face.  I can’t even write it with a straight face.  Clown.  LOL!

And so, because of the listed reasons, you may unexpectedly get Clown Bombed (as I’ve termed it).  Don’t worry; you’re in good company:

A coworker’s watching documentaries while recovering from knee surgery. So, of course, Clown Bomb.

A middle-aged-lady friend had invited me over the night before, but I couldn’t make it. So, of course, Clown Bomb.

I always text Tish about where we’ll go eat after church. So, of course, Clown Bomb.

I’m sure no one loves this quite as much as I do.

Ask me if I care.

creepy puppet

Cuz Clown sure don’t care.

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