RESURRECT DEAD ON PLANET JUPiTER

Rebirth of liberator76, part I: be a clown

Many years ago, I wrote for epinions.com. Epinions was a site wherein consumers wrote reviews of the products that they consumed. It still exists, although it’s now a little different. Before the dot com bust, reviewers earned cash. The better the review, the more clicks and the more cash earned. There was a comment system, web of trust and pretty much all the other essential pieces of today’s popular blogs and networking sites. The only difference was that it was centered around product review, not  narcissism, gossip or semi-anonymous sexual encounters.

During my ‘career’ at epinions, I became associated with a small group of dissident reviewers. Largely ignoring actual product review, we’d use the platform for creative, satirical and darkly humorous writing. Eventually I lost interest and at some point after that, epinions decided to block all reviews penned by my handle, liberator76. Because these little gems have been lost to the world, I’ve decided to republish some of them here. The other day, after seeing Cirque du Soleil (free tickets) I remembered my review of the video “Be a Clown.” I went back and read it and then decided to share:

Everyone loves a Clown

Back from break and into my chair at work. I was in no mood for the boss. Alcohol makes me surly. Everyday I cap off my lunch with a couple of shots of vodka from the flask I hide in my right-hand desk drawer. Today I had three times as much. It was a bad day. The boss had been grilling me hard about some reports or something.

I hid in the bathroom stall huddled by the toilet drinking. I was damn tired of pushing paper for “the man,” my boss, Howard Elsner. Hands shaking, I crushed two tablets of my prescription valium on the back of the toilet, scooped it up with a fingernail and snorted it straight. Some of the powder stuck to my sweaty hands. I wiped it off on my stomach hair and left the bathroom.

So, there I was back in my chair. Over my shoulder, I heard the boss.

“Liberator!” He yelled. “Where the hell are those reports?”

“I’ll have them ready tomorrow.” I mumbled. The pencil I held snapped for some reason. Bits of wood flew all over my desk. I must have continued squeezing the jagged shard of pencil, because when I looked down, blood was dripping from my hand and all over my desk. I took a few deep breaths and wiped my hand with a towel from my left-hand desk drawer.

“Are you all right?” Asked one of my co-workers. She wasn’t really concerned. I could tell by the tone of her voice. She didn’t really care. They were all phonies. Damn phonies.

“Fine.”

Life Change

That night at the shooting range I decided to quit my job. After leaving, I stuffed my handgun in my jeans, threw my larger guns in my plain black duffel-bag and went straight to happy hour. After a few drinks I continued on to my neighborhood video store. If I was going to quit, I was going to rent movies and watch them all night. Life was going to be good. And there, at the video store I saw it. The movie that changed my life. The Ringley Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus production: Be A Clown

Nobody Hate’s a Clown

I rented the movie and never returned it. The beast wasn’t getting this little gem back. Be a Clown taught me all the basics of clowning. What to wear, what to say, what gags to pull, how to act, how to react and how to entertain.

I’ve always loved clowns and I’ve always loved children. So small, so innocent, uncorrupted and pure, children are God’s gift to the earth. From his hands to our own, God lays into each child an untainted soul. As a clown, I hoped to recapture some of that innocence. To use it to entertain. To convert my anger to innocent joviality. To capture my breath in a long cylinder of rubber and reshape it into a funny animal. It would be my art, my life. What joy I would bring. What hope. What innocence I would seize hold of, never to let it escape. Never.

The next day I bought my clowning gear. Making up my face was very important. Would I be a smiling clown or a frowning clown? I decided to be a dual personality clown. I painted on my face a wide and happy smile. It stretched from ear to ear. Above my eyes though, I painted my eyebrows at an angle downwards in a scowl. The face most captured my own personality. From then on I wore the clown suit everywhere. At home and in the supermarket. At the bar and on the street, I spread joy everywhere. Nobody hates a clown.

A Joyless World

I found little employment as a clown. No one would hire me. I ended up spending most of my time in the bar. From morning to night, I would drink in that place, my clown-suit sagging, my smile hiding my true emotion. Eventually I was evicted from my apartment. Being unemployed, I couldn’t afford my old life.

With nothing but my clown-suit and my duffel-bag full of guns, I found myself on the street. Wandering alone, a desperate drunken clown, I was lost. When I would see a child I would follow them, sometimes for hours. Eventually I would run to them, dancing and singing picking them up and throwing them into the air. I would spray them with water from my plastic flower and pretend to fall down. Usually the children would cry and scream like nothing I’ve ever heard. How could I scare them? Everybody loves a clown.

One day while hanging around the local playground, I was arrested for loitering. It seems that in this joyless world, there’s no place for a clown.

Now I roam the streets at night, under the cover of darkness. I am taunted and spit on by drunken men. I’ve been beaten by mobs of drug-crazed teenagers. I’ve gotten foot-rot under my giant shoes. Clowns are shunned at the free-clinic. Taunted on the mean streets. Robbed by the heartless masses. I feel that my own heart, once full of the hope and joy of being a clown is clouding over with darkness. My heart is now black as the caverns of h*ll. I’ve learned that there’s no room in this bitter world for a happy clown. I am no longer a happy clown.