I think only Bob Ross can best convey my feelings about what I am about to show you. (Which includes clowns, as a warning. I’m almost constantly berating him, though.)
Friday was an immensely shitty day for me. You won’t care why, so I won’t bore you with it, but in the search for some Bob Ross Good Times, I found this.
Ladies and Gents, meet Buffo. The New Bane of My Existence. Sorry, Kim Jong-Il.
Go ahead, click on that picture if you want. Enjoy the music. I know I did. It’s haunting me now, providing the soundtrack to dreams of my friends abandoning Asian children at The Gap and having to hire Chuck Norris to chase them down a mountain. (Off topic but a dream I had last night.)
Want to meet Buffo? Learn a little more? Well, he balances children on his face.
There’s no part of this description that didn’t sound like a BDSM show at an underground club. The man brings his own stage of horrors right to your front door, and then he’s going to juggle meat cleavers around your Aunt June, and then he’ll escape from the handcuffs, and then if you’ve been good he’ll beat you. Then he brings the dog into the mix, and it hits a whole new level of Jesus-Christ-Rollerblading-with-Randy-Savage.
I have to admit though, this motherfucker is talented.
I couldn’t even fit his whole list of accomplishments in this one screen shot. He’s that good.
Walks on broken glass? BET YOUR MOM CAN’T.
Balances child in chair on his FACE? NANA DOESN’T HAVE DICK ON BUFFO.
Bowling Ball Juggling? YOU CAN’T EVEN JUGGLE YOUR OWN BALLS.
(I just realized right now that I may pull some search traffic for Buffo, and for that, I am deeply apologetic to the Schools for the Deaf and other sorts of people genuinely seeking his services.)
Buffo has a variety of shows for you to choose from, for a variety of different occasions, including an, “Adult Party.”
But not one part of me would want to see the optional surprise ending at said Adult Party, because the words, “Adult Party with Clown Surprise,” brings to mind horrible dildo juggling acts and disappearing labias. You know what? I’d really fucking like to see that, actually.
Buffo is also a more sparkly version of McGruff the Crime Dog.
You bet your ass Buffo Salutes ‘Merica, because only in ‘Merica can a frighteningly large clown describe himself as a gentle giant and work for the White House. And, if you just can’t leave without a piece of the hot Buffo action, he has a STORE.
For $20, I’ll bust up a CD and sign it with my nipple dipped in Carmex. For $20, I’ll throw a knife at your Aunt June on the back of my Jeep. For $20, I’ll hang sparklers off my eyelashes and dance the Samba for you while juggling rubber vaginas.
Who the fuck am I kidding? I’ll never beat this guy.
Have you ever been subjected to a terrible motivational speaker? I was hypnotized once for equality. Tell me about your horror.
–Favorite Comment from the Last Post: From BSchooled Herself: “I think I love you. And not just because you pimped my blog.
I keep telling Elizabeth that she and I are sisters, separated at birth. She says my Caucasianness/Canadianness renders this belief not likely. Still, she’s agreed to become a sister wife, if I ever find a man old/rich/dying enough to take us on.
You are the other sister wife we need to make our reality show complete.”