No Bozos Here, Says World’s Leading Bozo Expert
Breaking BozoGate News! A visitor to our original Christine O’Donnell Bozo post thickens the plot:
My name is Pat Cashin. I have a daily clown history blog called clownalley.net and am on the Board of Directors of the International Clown Hall of Fame and Research Center in Baraboo, WI.
I’ve researched the Bozo character for many, many years. I have NEVER heard of Daniel O’Donnell portraying the character.
Our deep and sincere thanks to Mr. Cashin for confirming our initial suspicions. (And happy first birthday, Jamie! Yo Gabba Gabba!) Now if the Lamestream Media will just step up to the plate, we might get some action here.
Update: New York Times covers BozoGate — and us:
“They would leave, I would come in and work for two or three weeks, whatever, until the regular Bozo came back,” Mr. O’Donnell said. “I was the fill-in Bozo.” He worked out of a local station in Jenkintown, Pa., he said, adding that station employees did his make-up and hair. He would also do remote appearances, got to supermarkets, meet kids, sign autographs and ride around in the Bozo Mobile. His son Daniel was his assistant.
And finally, The Truth is Revealed: Christine O’Donnell’s dad was a Second-String Bozo.
BOZOGATE: THE COMPLETE SAGA
1. A Very Special Stinque Investigation
2. “Where’s the Bozo Certificate?” Billboard
3. Channel Your Outrage Into Our Bank Account
4. The Times Rides Again
Meanwhile in more important news no word back from Queen Margrethe. Which, I must admit, is a little disappointing.
However, I was at the opera tonight – Nabucco, essentially a sword and sandal epic with tunes. It has something to do with them trying to find a jewish virgin. So right off the bat you know it’s not going to end well. There was a certain amount of bondage and girl-on-girl action plus the bearish daddy-type got put in a straight-jacket. Fairly ridiculous design with distracting bling at unexpected moments. Plus, it’s hard to take soldier-types seriously when they’re wearing white puttees which just scream ‘band-call’ to me. But in the 2nd act there was a very satisfactory outbreak of virility among the men of the chorus with back-slapping and wide-arm man-hugs in the best operatic tradition. Just in passing I should note that Happy Villagers were all over the damn place singing about shit. Which was okay since it’s an opera. However, when they started telling each other their nipples were hard from fear I did want to point out that there was no need to do that since everybody else is frightened too. The best thing might be to tell the fucking audience. The chorus of the jewish slaves was pretty grand though I have no idea what they’re singing about. The lack of a decent chinese restaurant perhaps? But even better was an extended chorus sung a cappella with solo lines and such as that really took off. Plus the mezzo, a Christiane Amanpour lookalike who had to sing her first big number lying down on a fucking sofa, finally got to sneer at the audience and let it rip. But.
Towards the end of the first act there was a commotion in the first row behind the conductor. He stopped and it was discovered that a woman was having what looked like a heart attack. The stage manager came out and actually said, “Is there a doctor in the house.” The curtain was lowered, a doctor appeared, the woman was helped out, the brass section vanished, the conductor returned, the curtain rose and the interrupted scene was performed. All done with no fuss, no shrieking and running about, no scenes in the aisle as the stricken lady was helped out, no calls to Jesus. Just calm, practical, good-natured coping. And I thought, these people would so rule the senate. They would just go down the list. Health-care? Done. Schools? Done. Infrastructure? Done. Green energy? Done. Universal access to Bang & Olufsen? Done. Plus the hotness. Sigh. We could all be so happy. Maybe not Jim deMint, but he’d be in exile in Ala so who gives a shit.