Don't like gross? Move along, nothing to see here...

There is one truly magnificent thing about being sick, and that is the getting better part. Did you ever notice that the day after you leave your premature deathbed, you feel more alive, more fit and more able to tackle the evils of the world than you did before you entered your semi-coma?

After the recent battle with whatever wants to live in intestines, I must say that I feel, well, good. Good is good for me as the most I usually am able to muster is a faint peachy, which is the sarcastic version of good, and therefore something a tincture less than good, but still not fucking awful. So, it is good to be better than peachy, if even for one day.

But seriously, let us reflect on passing through the stages of food poisoning to the final days...past the vomitting and fevers and the fire drill evacuation of the bowels.

There is a fear and dread that enters the mind when one has been so liquid for so long. The little coffin room mocks me. But yogurt and cheese have prevailed. Gatorade has kept me alive.

Now, I must tempt the gods again with undercooked chicken, and day old Taco Bell. I must leave the bread in the sun just long enough to grow fuzz. The poisons could very well be the ambrosia that gods left behind.

Or, ambrosia could merely be a Martha Stewart recipe, appearing next week on her show.

What do I know, I am a klown.

Bored, boring, and foodbourne illnesses....

Nothing like a bout of food poisoning just as I am about to enter the "busy season" at work. Must have eaten some undercooked or tainted something or other whilst I was away on vacation in the Northland because when I got home, well, let's just say I completed dehydrated myself in 48 in an attempt to rid myself of the evil little buggers that had crawled inside my body and leeched themselves to my soul. Not all Vietnamese food is created equal, I guess. Which stinks, because, as I have mentioned before, I am acutely addicted to Pho', a Vietnamese soup that is a li'l bowl of heaven.

In other news, well, there is no other news. Garrison Keillor continues to live. Lord only knows why. And if I am not mistaken, George Bush's eyes have actually gotten even closer together.

The Doppler radar indicates that there is a klown front moving in tonight, so cover your pumpkins. That's CODE!

you are not alone...

Faire

Ain't that the way they spelled it in the olde days? So, the vacation is slowly winding down and I have only managed to read one of the books that I set aside for the week off of work. You will all have to wait until I am on my home computer before I reveal which one. WHOA! The first really suspensful event inside the Klown Complex.

As the vacation is coming to a close, the Klown family has decided to spend it in klown style. See you on the Midway!

I got a bit bored playing Poker Superstars last night, so I decided to finally take the seal of this Pirates game that everyone has been oooohing and aaaahing about. Six hours later, around 4 AM, I called PA (Pirates Anonymous) to find out where and when the next meeting was being held. I had taken the first step to admitting my addiction. Pirates for the XBOX is deceptively simply at the start (once you manage to learn how to steer your ship). I may have gotten a bit lucky and obtained a rather large warship early on. With my 32 cannons and crew of 300, I continued to rise in ranks amongst the Pirate elite. My progress was scored alongside the likes of Blackbeard and Captain Kidd on a familar XBOX scoreboard. There is also an engaging story of lost love and revenge to keep you port hopping as you chase your nemesis around the Caribbean. The dueling controls are a bit, well, clunky if you are used to playing fight sims. Don't expect huge Mortal Kombat button combos in this one. At lower levels it seems easy enough to just mash away. The voice work is reminiscent of the Sims...wahk wah wah- gooly wan wah wah. Annoying for only the first hour, then it grows on you like a barnacle on your hull. Pirates! also has online content, which I can only imagine is some ship-to-ship dueling, capture the flag, or "yawn" some other format that has been done to death. With the fresh pirate theme though, even Master Chiefs may want to take a break from blasting Covenant ass into oblivion. Cry "Aaaarggh!" and prepare to board. 

Overheard at the local bong shop today, "I need to get clean." Well, if that didn't perk my floppy ears up just a bit. First of all, the kid was in an absolute panic, "I just smoked this weekend for the first time in years." Apparently some pretty good shit, too, as the paranoia has yet to wear off. I could not imagine that he was an airline pilot, neurosurgeon, or longhaul trucker, any of which could be faced with a random piss request. The cashier on duty had to call the manager over to get some advice on the best product and all of this was discussed quite openly even with me in earshot. I do not blend well into crowds in any situation, but in a head shop, I look more like a TV detective than Karl "Streets of San Francisco" Malden himself. Before I could get a "are you holding" out, however, the towheaded boy with eyes of fire was out the door, gone away home to drink his XXXTRA GOLD Cleansing Drink and pray to all that is holy that his pee-pee will come out THC free. There is hope, yet, that some sweet-leaf relief may be found in this tundra land.

Yes, a thousand miles, on my knees, through broken glass...

Every Klown's fantasy girl...we love you Jane.

Vacation is all I ever wanted. Or something along those lines. Hoping to knock some backlisted reading out of the way this week. Chuck's book has been sitting on the shelves since it hit the streets, only managed to make it two chapters in. Also looking to savor Eco's latest; it even has pictures! Then off to everyone's favorite amputee obsessed author, John Irving. All this and some sweat inducing projects on the parents' homestead. If there's time, I may also enjoy a brew or two by the campfire.

I-cons of the industry

Indeed, it was movie day at the old Klown shack today. I had seen the Spanish Prisoner when it was first released, but I was still drawn into this "personal" rerun. David Mamet wrote and directed this con-job picture. If you are looking for anything closely resembling The Sting in this one, turn the other way. Grifters? Yes? Then, hide your wallet in your sock, grab a bowl of buttered Orville and prepare to be fooled again and again. Highly quotable lines mark most of Mamet's work and this film delivers on that presupposed promise. Oddly enough, Rebecca Pidgeon (David Mamet's wife) and real-life con-artist Ricky Jay could have easily been overshadowed by Steve Martin, Ben Gazzara or Campbell Scott in this picture, yet they outmock, outhustle and outshine in every scene.

Haiku This!

Okay, I am a little late on this one, which is okay, because I often discover things long after the rest of America has passed judgement. Not that I read the reviews anyhow. I just watched Haiku Tunnel this afternoon on IFC. Not only is it sharply written, Josh Kornbluth wrote, directed, starred and mailed his own envelopes. If you even remotely enjoyed Office Space.....

Better Red than Dead Dept.

MSN - News - Lucille Ball Tops List of Dead Celebs

So long, good by, hasta la cheerios. 

But what did his guildmates do with his gold?

MSNBC - Man dies after 50 hours of computer games

Hey, Chris!

It says so, right here....only eight commandments for clowns....No, seriously...eight. That's what the tree said.

Scared yet?

It's a shitty job....(sorry couldn't help myself)..... 

Can't sleep, clowns will eat me..... 

Too cool tattoo design.

Klown Porn!

Should probably be reading this---RIGHT NOW.

A whole nebula just for klowns.

Cousin Sean Klown at the "wedding of the century." He is actually diluting Uncle Carl Klown's Bushmill with prune juice and Lipton Tea. The dance floor has never seen so much action. 

I love googled translated pages. This one reads about as well in English as the origninal Italian.

Highlights revisited....remember sitting in the dentist's office when you were a kid? A four year old copy of Highlights perched on your lap, desperately searching the page to find the clown hidden in a sandwich? 

Ah, love..... 

Dust this.

Yeah,,,,I have never understood the fascination either...The true American Idol before William Hung ever came along.

I'd like to make a ship to shorn phone call, please

Well, it finally happened. I have been threatening myself with this since the good o'l days of high school swim team. Completely shaved the head last night. It is one of those projects that once started, one is kind of committed to seeing through to the end. There is no "well, I will finish this later," on this one. There were surmountable difficulties, for sure. Such as : HOW THE HELL DO I SEE THE BACK OF MY HEAD! A word of caution to any that are thinking of undertaking such a task, buy a hand mirror in advance.

So my recently cleaned pate glistens with morning dew. It did little to beat the heat and humidity of this midwestern swamp, and there are already signs of stubble. I have, however, been invited to the summerstock production of Annie as a late season replacement.