Apparently, a lot of people are dressing up as creepy clowns.  And they are acting creepy.  If you are someone who dislikes clowns, I am sure this knowledge just affirms your general impression of them.  However, if you are a lover of clowns, you are probably a bit dismayed.  You are probably also a foot fetishist.  But that is off topic.  If there is anything I hate, it is when people get off topic.  I also hate clowns.

And those Himalayan prayer wheels.  They belong on a game show.  Joe Sherpa spins the prayer wheel.  What will he get?  A trip to Rangoon?  A new yak?  An all expenses paid day trip to the Everest Base Camp?

Tick. Tick. Tick. Buzzer.  The crowd groans.  Bad news.  You have to run up the mountain and grab a red flag before the Yeti drags you to your death.

The camera pans from the stricken face of Mr. Sherpa over to the stretching Yeti.  The Yeti is wearing running shoes and an orange sweat band over his eyes.  Mr. Sherpa’s prospects do not look good.

Historically speaking, clowns have been associated with tomfoolery such as when many of them squeeze into a tiny car.  Granted, they occasionally play a malicious prank (the eye squirt from the fake flower springs readily to mind), but even that is relatively benign in the annals of dirty deeds.  Yes, I realize John Wayne Gacy was a clown.  Even so, it is safe to say that Mr. Gacy was an aberration.  Not to mention a likely Cubs fan.

I guess the clowns people are seeing haven’t been doing much.  They are just hanging around, sometimes following people, sometimes just staring creepily.  Think mimes with looser fitting clothes.  To be honest, that is the only way I can think about mimes.  Those body suits leave little to the imagination.  A mime with an erection need say nothing.  We know what you are thinking, white faced pervert.  If there wasn’t a pane of glass there, I would knock your ass out.

While I don’t think anyone should panic, it is also important to note that dressing up as a clown in order to frighten other people is not normal behavior.  Unless it is a Sunday and you are in Cleveland.  I know that is a cheap shot.  On the other hand, I will never go to Cleveland and thus there are no ramifications.  All hail the Internet!  The giver of the courage brought on by anonymity.  Maybe I am DonaldTrumpSucksBalls568.  And maybe I am not.

I am KanyeWestSucksBalls414.  I completely cop to that.  Bring it on, Mr. Kardashian.  Pow. Pow. Pow.

Perhaps I can get myself a celebrity boxing match with Kanye.  I will even wear an orange wig when I kick his ass (to split the MO thing with the clown motif).  We are all only slaves to our art.  I’m not calling Kanye a slave.  Because that is not art.  Even the Joker wouldn’t like it.

I accidentally created a segue there.

Disclaimer:  Muffet’s Orange is not responsible for anyone dressing up as the Joker and going on a shooting spree, knifing anyone, or exposing him/herself to minors.  If someone dresses up as the Joker, gets drunk and sticks a hose up their ass while yelling “this clown needs an enema,” Muffet’s Orange will take partial responsibility.  But this has to be an independent act and not done as a celebration of one of the aforementioned crimes.

The other day my stepson had a flag football game.  He is a third grader.  It was raining to beat hell.  It was also thundering.  “Hmmmmm,” opined MO, “methinks this not to be a good idea.”  Several other parents who were standing around also voiced their misgivings.  Of course, everyone’s child was still on the field.

It could have been worse.  Most of the onlookers were sitting in metal bleachers.  Luckily, this monument to the stupidity of human beings was halted when the head of Parks and Rec decided to cancel the games.  The upshot is that everyone made it home safe and sound and able to remain in denial about the fact that they had put their nine year olds in mortal jeopardy in an attempt to beat the Hu Hot Buckeyes.

Then again, life is all about denying reality.  I guarantee there will be climate change deniers standing on top of their flooded beachfront property screaming their protests to anyone in a hovering helicopter.  “This is just a natural change in the weather,” they will yell.  “It happens all the time.”

Or they will just say that god did it and figure there was nothing anyone could have done anyway.  Well, I suppose someone could have sacrificed a virgin.  Good luck finding one of those in these decadent days.

A person can deny whatever she wishes.  This is America.  In Norway that is apparently not the case.  Those Scandinavians are notoriously cynical.  Not long ago three hundred reindeer in Norway were killed by single lightning strike.  Pow.  Pow. Pow.  Zzzzzzppppthhhhhh!  Smolder.  Expire.  Ho ho ho ho noooooooooooooo!!!!

There are pictures on the internet.  The carnage is significant.  And the poor elves.  They look so very distraught.  I hope they can get themselves together.  The world needs its X boxes.

It makes me wonder if the reindeer were cooked from the inside out.  And what reindeer taste like.  I don’t see the sense in letting them go to waste.  Rudolph steak, coming right up, Santa.

“Good,” says Santa, pouring a bit of whiskey into his morning coffee, “I never liked that little smartass.  And how in the hell did he get that stupid nose, anyway.  You talk about a genetic anomaly.  Science never could explain it to me.”

Misses Clause pats Santa gently on the forearm.  “Eat, Santa.  Eat.  Who ever heard of a skinny Santa?”

Santa looks up and sneers.  “Shut up, bitch.  I’m still grieving over the reindeer.  You have any idea how much work it is to train reindeer?  No.  You don’t.  You’ve never had a damn job in your life.”  Santa takes a sip of his Irish coffee.  “And why don’t you get rid of those stupid glasses.  You look like a damned old woman.”  Santa starts munching on his Rudolph steak.  “I think this is underdone.  This look pink to you?  Should have had him struck by lightning twice.”

Apparently, while this sort of lightning disaster is rare, it is not without precedent.  In 1939 in the state of Utah 835 sheep were killed by one strike of lightning.  Apparently, the wet ground served as a conduit for the deadly electricity, leading to their mass demise.

To this the climate change deniers say, “Baaaaa.”

Interestingly, the sheepherder was in his tent and managed to escape death.  The only explanation was that his tent had provided enough insulation to mitigate electrocution.

There was no explanation, however, for the sheep that was in his tent.  Actually, there were probably several sheep.  This was in Utah, after all.

Phew!  It’s been a while.  I’m sure you missed me.  It is okay to admit it.  The MO is all about building community.

Maybe you wonder where I had gone.  It is quite the story, I assure you.  You see, the MO was minding his own business when Pow!  Pow!  Powpowpow!!!  The MO was suddenly being whisked down a wormhole towards a strange, and decidedly melon-hued, universe.

“What in the hell is this,” I said when I finally came to a stop.  Certainly this certainly was rude.  I have other things to do rather than gallivanting around parallel universes.  (Yay for you, M-theory dorks.  It must be nice to be right for once.  Now, if you can only knock off a piece once in a while you can rule the world.  But I’m not holding my breath on that one.  Jesus, you guys are annoying.  On the other hand, we can now piss on all the string theory books.  Pissssssssss.  Back to teaching Freshman Physics, Mortimer.  Play that one on your imaginary, giant celestial fiddle.)

Anyway, this universe was like ours in most ways.  Well, except the fact that everything was orangeish.  And they had a word that rhymed with orange.  And Donald Trump is still doing reality television in their universe.  They laughed like hell when I told them.
“You must be a bunch of morons,” they chortled.

“At least we can tell carrots and dildos apart,” I replied.  We agreed that both of us have a good point.  Though, they did point out that mistakenly using vegetables for sex play is not quite as serious as allowing a moron access to the nuclear codes.  To this logic, I humbly submit.

After a while, I got used to everything being orange.  It really was no different than wearing tinted sunglasses.  The people there were really nice.  Of course, it is a lot easier to be nice in their world.  Somehow, they have managed to avoid a fair amount of shitty history.  For example, in the Orangeverse Hitler gets syphilis from a whore while he was trying to be an artist in Vienna.  By 1939 he is incapacitated.  The whole Third Reich collapsed on the eve of the Polish invasion.  Venereal Pow.  Many a Pollack in the Orangeverse owes their life to the orange vagina of some unnamed trollop.

The people of the Orangeverse also manage to avoid the great smallpox outbreak that kills two thirds of the world’s population.  In the Orangeverse, vaccination has always been mandatory.  Jenner is a damned hero.  They have statues of him everywhere, shooting a syringe into the ass of a crying child while his long, flowing locks flutter in the wind.  It is quite heroic.

Not that Jenner, dumbass.  For Christ’s sake.  And, no, I will not make that joke.  I mean it.  I have returned from the Orangeverse a better, more urbane individual.  (Ok.  I’ll meet you halfway.  Bruce Jenner, javelins, asses.  Happy?  I should be ashamed of myself.  Certainly, you should.)

Curiously, there is no Muffet’s Orange in the Orangeverse.  Yes, I found it ironic as well.  No matter.  One universe is enough.  I’m happy here.

What’s that?  No, there hasn’t been a great smallpox outbreak lately.  I suppose I should mention the Orangeverse is running a few years ahead of us.  Apparently, the universes aren’t strictly parallel.  Some universes run a little fast, some a little slow.  I guess it is just the way it is.

If you are looking for a moral to the story, there isn’t one.  Maybe vaccinate your children?  Vote Democrat?  It could be don’t run a police sweep of Viennese whorehouses when there is a potential mass murderer on the loose.

Yes, they did throw me out.  Something about being snarky and unsympathetic to others.  At least I flipped them off on my way to the wormhole.  If there is anything that epitomizes the Earthling of this universe, it is the futile and childish gesture.

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