Surviving Prison

Most ya’all don’t know how easy it is to get sent ta’ prison. It’s as simple as not doin’ your taxes proper like or not payin’ your parking tickets and even crushing a clown with a two ton Farris wheel. So if ya’ find yourself being carted off ta’ the Big House good ol’ Gil has a sure fire method of keeping you from being shanked full of holes and the holes ya got not full of stuff you don’t want them filled with.

There are two types of people in the Pen who don’t get messed with: the big tough guy and the scary crazy guy. Now let’s not kid ourselves and just focus on learning to be the crazy guy. These are sophisticated times so just craping in your hands and rubbing it in your hair isn’t going to cut it as the crazy guy any more. You have to sell it and REALLY be that crazy guy. Just follow my ten step program to Crazy Prison Guy and you too can confidently pick up the soap in the shower.

1. Talk to your meals. Really communicate with that cheese sandwich and explain why you have to devour it for you own sustenance. Sob softly with every bite and make sure the other inmates can hear you apologizing to your sandwich with every mouthful. Show spite for all things fruit.

2. Punch yourself in the neck every time someone mentions toothpaste.

3. When talking with other inmates replace the word “and” with “roisterer subterfuge”.

4. Train yourself to blink each eye out of sequence.

5. Stare fearfully at over head light fixtures and with your head tilted up make sure you allow saliva to build up in the back of your throat. Then quickly inhale deeply driving the spit deep into your lungs. This will create a very dramatic and spastic coughing fit. Once you’ve regained your composure loudly proclaim, “Wow, that was a tasty lemon”.

6. Every chance you get, insistently deny that you’ve ever eaten a baby giraffe.

7. From time to time, forget how to enter rooms.

8. Pay off another inmate to tattoo your back with one of the following phrases:

Puss Monkey

Mommy, NO!

Brown Lumps

Infected Blister

Waffles

9. Thoughtfully lick your scabs.

10. Constantly compare the prison guards to “that guy from the Sling Blade movie”.

February 21, 2006

Killing a clown isn’t as easy as it looks… and, believe me, neither is trying to hide it.

The Death of Señor Swats-o’lot

As any Carnie worth his weight in candied apples will tell ya’ that local rubes can be trouble so if ya’ ain’t packing protection you’re gonna’ be sucking on redneck knuckles.

Mary-Lou carries the standard 12oz canister of teargas, Bodo has a length of pipe he keeps tucked in his overalls, Sweats has a pocket full of rocks for some reason and Dwarf Mel was always a little partial to a roll of quarters in a sock, but for me it was Señor Swats-o’lot. A yard long hunk of bamboo frayed at one end like truck backed over it or like a fairly devious fellow had skillfully carved out strips into the end of the stick possibly with his Leatherman® SuperTool® 200.

The beauty of Señor Swats-o’lot was in it’s unique multi-punishment design with the sturdy brutality of the bamboo and the humiliating stinging of the rapid slapping of the frayed end. Nay, there’s nary a delinquent teen who’s felt the business end of Señor Swats-o’lot an has dared to attempt thievery in the lair of the “Whack ‘em Cats” booth.

Yes, in the past 12 years Señor Swats-o’lot has served me well in the teaching of lessons to mouthy hillbillies, dirt covered children and charitable organizations, but all painfully humiliating things must come to an end. While in a rousing game of “Drunkin’ Frog Bludgeoning” I lost Señor Swats-o’lot to the creek.

I’ve been experimenting with new side arms like those cardboard tubes from paper towel rolls, a hammer, ping-pong paddle and heck, even a cattle prod, but it’s just not the same. I’ve been hearing a lot about these Titanium Pipsticks®, hmmm.

Carnie Neologism

ne·ol·o·gism
NOUN:
1. A new word, expression, or usage.
2. The creation or use of new words or senses.

Like most industries and cultures words are created specifically for that industry/culture as it doesn't exist in general use; ie, computer industry, film industry, Star Trek freaks. Here are some more typical Carnie words ya’ might hear while getting a snow cone or shooting water inta' a clowns mouth.

Rube – The dictionary defines Rube as “An unsophisticated country person”, but the Carnie definition is “Obnoxious carnival patrons dumb enough to spend $50 trying to win a $3 sombrero and then get mad at you when they don't.”

Gravispewer – This word applies strictly to rubes blowing-chunks on the Gravitron as it is the most applicable. Other tummy tumbler rides also have their own regurgitating terminology: Squirrel Cage-Purger, Tilt-a-Hurler, a Zipper Stomach-Spiller, Barf-Bag Bouncer.

Durnerber – A too intoxicated rube. Ya'all think this would be easy pickings for a Carnie, but they ain't nothing but trouble. Sure you can work over a drunkard into spending every thing in his wallet to knock over a couple of milk bottles with a really squishy softball, but Durnerber's are the fallin' down knocking over your display, screaming about cotton candy with spiders in it, chasing the dwarf, scaring away the customers, urinating in your booth onionheads.

Shakings – Stuff that falls outta' rubes pockets while on rides and after closing time becomes the property of Badger Boy Carnival Extravaganza and Hootenanny, but more specifically the Carnie who got to it first. In the case of two Carnie's reaching it at the same time a seven round Carnie slap fight determines the rightful owner.

Cripesanwoolly – An undercover cop desperately trying to be undercover. They mostly go around tryin' out games to see if they're legit or investigating us to see if we're running some sorta' gambling/prostitution/white slavery/drug ring. Explaining to these guys that we're not the circus doesn't work as they just fire back with their “I'm not a cop, man. I just want to play a little Ring Toss an see if I can score some pot or maybe an infant.”

I'm Number 1! Whoot!

Mel the Dwarf has been trackin' my web slaps an' page peeps (er… some thin like that) since I was on my forced sabbatical. Sos Mel hooked up this search trackin' thingamagig to my site and found that I'm number 1 on several Google searches. Here are the top searches leading to my site based on actual search referrals by some seriously silly people.


Number 1 Google Searches
carnival folk
carnie games
carnie carnival
carnie pictures carnival
teenagers who are jerks
trainspotting ceiling baby (thanks Latigo)
girl buts
folk da gang (?)
carnie sarah polley (Hey! That's outta' 164 pages)


Other Google Searches
boobs and buts #2
whack-a-cat #2
carnival games, skee ball #3
carnie folk #4
carnival vs circus #4
dwarf phrases #5
circus freaks carnival #6
corndog batter #6
boobs ans ass #7
clowns eat children #8
carnie #9 (damn you Carnie Wilson)
skinny boobs #9

Sos if you're here to read the drunken ramblings of a carnie or jus looking for some skinny boobs I feel we can all agree that butt has two Ts. It's girl butts not girl buts and if you're looking for that you're going to be even more frustrated going to this site. Nothin' sadder than an illiterate deviate.

A Day In The Life O' A Carnie

Nows the time to confess, I've been back at Bader Boy Carnival Extravaganza and Hootenanny for about a week now. Eh, it was anticlimactic, sos I figured I'd just skip it. I caught up to the carnival in a frightening part o' Los Angeles an found Mel the Dwarf between deworming a goat an scrubbing down the fruit bats at the pettin' zoo. Alls I got was a "man nod" followed by some grumpy mumbling about always disappearing when there’s work ta' be done. Sweats just yelled at me for not finding a proper substitute for the "Whack 'em Cats" booth while I was on vacation then I comes to find out that Sanders had completely forgotten himself as my archenemies when he got promoted to the side show as the new Alligator Boy. Well at least my severed head in a pickle jar, Headly, seemed glad ta' see me. Eh, so I'm back now and trying to get back into my routine.

6:00am – Depending the debauchery from the night before I either wake and roll outta' Mel's spare bed in his trailer, my tent, the "Whack 'em Cats" booth or a tree.

6:05am – 7:00am – Wash up at the nearest gas station, creek or garden hose then a quick breakfast o' day-old corndogs and Orange Pow!® with Mel. Sweats usually makes his rounds assigning who's on puke patrol and stuck with the punishment of running the "Lost Kids Corral". Me and Mel are usually hiding in the "Bonking Badgers" game around this time.

7:00am – 8:00am – Repairs to rides, touch-ups to game booths, grounds clean-up and running around with a high pressure fire hose trying to knock the crouch stink off of the more pungent carnies.

8:00am – I stand before my booth taking in the mingling smells of fried food and diesel fuel with the sounds of popping balloons and air-breaks. I know my day's begun.

8:00am – 10:30am – Working the rubes, though at this time in the morning the only rubes available are elderly speed walkers and kids under the age of 12. Both have the uncanny ability ta' ignore you to the point o' wanting to hit them with some thing or if they do come up to my booth will only spend $2 and talk to ya’ until you want to shove sharp objects inta' your own ears.

10:30am – 11:00am – Playing "Slap and Gargle" with Mary-Lou.

11:00am – 12:00pm – Stuck at the "Lost Kids Corral".

12:00pm – 12:30pm – Having a Gyro power lunch with Mel and Bodo Diddles while Tina tends to my torn scalp and child bite wounds.

12:30pm – 1:00pm – Back to my booth to wrangle a few more rubes then restocking of Coors mirrors and oversized stuffed Scooby-Doo's.

1:00pm – 2:00pm – I'm watchin' my stories!

2:00pm – 3:00pm – Back to the booth to catch the mid-afternoon rush of surly teenagers ditching school and middle-aged businessmen taking their large breasted secretaries out for some platonic fun. If ya' press the right businessman you can keep him for hours trying to win a plastic lobster for Miss Jugs.

3:00pm – 3:30pm – Smoking.

3:30pm – 5:00pm – Daydreaming about beating up those jerks my 8th grade class, Sarah Polley, that bottle of hooch saved for later, Sarah Polley cooking me bacon, having a million dollars, Sarah Polley washing my hair, being shot in the shoulder while stopping a bank robbery that saves a bunch of peoples lives while Sarah Polley is watching, how many cigarettes I can fit in my mouth.

5:00pm – 10:00pm - Doing what I do best. Working the game on the rubes.

10:00pm – 10:30pm – Close up shop.

10:30pm – With a hard day behind me. Mel an I get gussied up to crash the underage parties and high school dances. Hey kid, you think you're impressing people by talking loudly about the party you're throwing with your folks outta' town, but as far as me and Mel are concerned it's just an open invitation.

I'm Freakin' Out Here

Okays, to really understand Gil The Carnie ya' have to understand what causes him to wake up screamin' frum a drunken' coma at 3 in the morning. I’ve made a list of da' creepiest things that I typically have ta claw off ma' body in my hallucination-tic booze-haze.

(Warning: If ya' can take pictures of creepy bugs and animals may I suggest DarthMoridin with his Star Wars fetish, Latigo who's probably talkin' about how manly it is to be kicked by a horse or look at John Bosco's funny pictures)

Aye-Aye



Look at it! Look at those fingers! *shudders* Waking up in cold sweats wit that on da' pillow next to ya'. Yeah, you’d scream like a little girl too.

Draco Lizard



Flying freakin' lizards! Nuf' said.

Tawney Frogmouth



I think it's a bird, but it's more like Jim Henson nightmare.

White Nosed Guenon



I love monkeys, but come on! It looks at ya' with those big sad eyes then it goes fer your throat.

Clowns



In my closet with a big knife, under my bed waiting ta' grab my ankle and on ma' ceiling when I’m lying in bed.

Stargazer Fish



Why God, why?!

Potato Bug



Sweet sunny carpet tacks! Arrrggggh! No seriously, arrrrgggh! I've had arguments wit Mel about how I'd rather have a cobra stuffed down the front o' my pants than have ta' have one of these bastards crawl on my arm. One more time, arrrrggggh!

Nows don't worry about me too much. When my little friends start gettin' me a little too freaked I likes ta' go to my happy place.