Have no fear good citizens - I, Knockers The Klown and my polk-a-disgusting posse are here to run that powder-puff mime Marcel Marceau out of town! His acts non-clownisms will not be tolerated. Not only is he performing but he is teaching other people to mime as well! Is that not a crime!!?! He has come to NYC to build his silent army and us loud mouths won't have it.

According to his interview in Time Out New York, Marcel wants "to make miming stronger in the American culture." It's time that we Americans stand up and tell him that we prefer not having culture, television teaches us all we need to know and that miming is a French thing and not American at all. That is why they don't speak. Because we don't speak French and wouldn't know what they are saying anyway. Get it? He gushes on with his artsy-fartsy blabber to say he "wears the weight of his soul in his performances..." Blah, blah, blah... Welcome to New York City Marcel! Where us clowns throw our souls in the toilet and slop our poop water everywhere!

Maybe there are a few of you who don't know or understand the problem with mimes.... HAVE YOU EVER MET A MIME YOU LIKED? The answer is no. Mimes are not likable and frequently lumped in with clowns. Mimes are not clowns.

New York City is CLOWN TOWN!
by Knockers The Klown

It seems every damn paper had to smear it in my face. That powder-puff mime Marcel Marceau has come to town. Not only was he performing but he was here to teach other people to mime as well! Is that not a crime!!?! He has come to NYC to build his silent army and us loud mouths won't have it.

Give me polk-a-dots and cream pies and filthy messes. I want fart noises and fake poops everywhere! Make a ruckus, piss people off! I love that shit!

You'd never see a mime blowing a wad of snot on the floor and then slipping in it would you!!?! See? Now slipping in snot is REAL entertainment! The only entertainment I could get out of mime would be the round of obsenities that would blurt as I try to sit through a show! I got a foul mouth and that's funny!

I brewed over the matter for a few days. I turned to everyone one I knew and asked them if they were as disgusted as me over the fact that this mime had come 'round stinking up the world with his tippy-toed show. Everyone agreed. New York City is CLOWN TOWN. Mimes aren't welcome.

It was up to me to protect our fair city. I gathered up all the clowns I could on such short notice and told 'em where to meet. We would march down to the spot where we knew we could find mimes and mime sympathizers. YUCK! Mime sympathizers. They are as bad as a mime. They were selling these tickets for freaking $45 bucks a pop! Hey - Marcel ain't no stinkin' Janet Jackson here! He don't have fifteen dancers showing belly buttons in hot pants trying to make something out of nothing! He's got nothing making nothing out of nothing. Who's got $45 bucks to spend on a mime? One clown made a good point. People who pay money to see a mime are the same people who eat goose liver and call it patte and don't realize they are eating they bluckiest part of the bird. They think they're fancy with the bluck parts. BLUCK!

According to Marcel's interview in Time Out New York, he wants "to make miming stronger in the American culture." It was up to us clowns to tell him that we Americans prefer not having culture, television teaches us all we need to know and that miming is a French thing and not American at all. That is why they don't speak. Because we don't speak French and wouldn't know what they are saying anyway. Get it? Miming is un-American.

He gushed on with his artsy-fartsy blabber to say he "wears the weight of his soul in his performances..." Blah, blah, blah... Welcome to New York City Marcel! Where us clowns throw our souls in the toilet and slop our poop water everywhere!

So anyways, we meet up at this secret location. We got our picket signs and they say shit like "NO MIME ZONE" or "GOOSE LIVER!" We get a few six-packs and start drinking and greasing up. It's like war paint. We were blasting DEVO and laughing like clowns do. Bald wigs in place, Pumper was sporting some new fine big floppy shoes, Cock Ring the Clown put on an extra evil face. We were feeling good.

It was pouring rain. That rain that goes side ways and pokes you in the eye. Half the clowns didn't even have coats on much less umbrellas. I had this big blow up dog in a wiener bun (a hotdog dog) and so I put that over my head and gave my umbrella to God. God the Omnipotent Clown. So I keep bashing in to people with this dog on my head. We were all busted broke and looked it too.

Cock Ring was wearing this cat tail with a condom on the end and a cock ring holding it in place. I took one look at that cock ring and asked him if it was gonna stay on there. He just brushed me off and was like, "Yeah, don't worry about it." So I didn't. As soon as we hit the subway station he was moaning about his missing cock ring. (Man, these fucking clowns never listen to mama Knockers. I try to take care of them...) So he just tied a knot in the condom to hold it on there. He said that cock ring didn't work for shit anyway.

So were all sort of drunk and as it turns out one of the clown was passing out some pills to the other clowns. Now everytime they try to hide this shit from me. I don't do pills. It's always half way through the night when I realize that some of the clowns are a little "TOO HAPPY." It's hard to tell because we are always drinking and then those painted on faces makes it even harder to tell when they've been doing the funny stuff. But clowns are dumb and they always slip up and I find out and have to scold the whole bunch of them. That's what I do. I make sure their flies are up and that they all have their big red noses on and then I scold 'em all periodically. Whether they've done something wrong or not. Maybe it's my experience as a professional dominatrix, but I know that clowns respond well to be scolded. I'd rather have it be one us clowns doing the paddling so that they can continue to be completely unruly with the general population.

So all this drinking and drugs and scolding and lost cock rings slowed down considerably. By the time we got to the Marcel gig the doors were closed and everybody was inside. So we stayed there for a few minutes bad mouthing him behind his back! Boy! We were really ruthless! But we had totally fucked up, theopportuinity for face to face mime bashing that we had worked ourselves up for was gone. Our pickets signs were getting floppy from being so wet and with the rain poking our eyes out and our beer buzzes wearing off we had to think fast. And you wonder what they mean by "tragic life of a clown..."

One of the clowns had sort of been invited to this foo-foo cheese party. Clowns just adores cheese so we headed over there. Sopping wet with our wigs dripping hair color we just barged right in! It was good and warm at this party and there was lots of food and liquor! They had this huge bowl of sticky punch that was a real ass kicker! Us clowns just huddled around the liquor for warmth.

Most of the people at the party turned their backs towards us. We appreciated that. Periodically one would come up and say "So, what's with the clowns?" That would give us a chance to mime bash for a minute, then one clown would start in with some incorrect talk about how cheese smells musty like a teenage girl on the track team's pussy and scared the person off. That is so true. Next time you smell cheese, think of a teenage girl on the track team's pussy.

We lasted all night. Our wet asses went to a bar fromthere. God had slipped out at thechees party. Last timeI saw Nappy she was covered in choclate syrup and some guywas wearing her wig! Jake the Cake, Cock Ring, me and Pumper managed to find more beer on the Lower East Side. We danced to James Brown's Sex Machine and harressed five chicks from Kansas. We had a successful protest! We had free beer and cheese and chocolate syrup!