I broke 100 views for the first time ever yesterday, and it’s taken me over 3000 views all time. Those are really exciting numbers to me, though they are somewhat tainted by mime stink. Still, I’m thrilled that so many people have taken the time to check out the blog, it really means a lot to me. For those of you who were lured in by the tantalizing post titles, sorry for duping you. Unless you know how to read mime, then I imagine the day was pretty exciting. For those of you who came here for the mime, my apologies again, but you’re stuck with me.
Also, a big thanks to Glenn Robinson of The Glenn Robinsons for designing my new banner image, he does a lot for this site for nothing in return and I can’t thank him enough for it. So at least go check out his music: http://theglennrobinsons.bandcamp.com/ He’ll be a guest on my podcast once his new album “Full Scale Assault” (named by yours truly) is complete, so keep your eyes out for that.
Now then, given the subject of yesterday’s joke, I feel it’s as good a time as any to tell this tale. You see, I fucking hate mimes. This is a fact that cannot be overstated. Now, I’m not a fan of clowns either, simply because I believe they are not to be trusted, but mimes, that’s a different story altogether. I didn’t always feel this way, I once had the same feeling of indifference that you probably have towards them, but then I was exposed first hand to their true nature, and was changed forever.
A few year’s back, my hometown of Westerly, RI decided to hold an event called River Glow. It’s a shameless rip-off of the Waterfire event held in Rhode Island’s capital city of Providence, where little bonfires are lit upon the river. Not a bad event, so I was of course curious to see what my town’s version of it would be like. Admittedly, it wasn’t so bad. There were fires on the river, live music, crazy puppet things, lots of carnival foods…and a mime.
To this day, I have no idea what the mime’s name was, but I remember his face very distinctly. Most noticeable was the lack of the trademark white mime face paint, which seemed fitting for a mime performing at a knock off of a popular event. Being young and naïve, I decided to watch the mime’s performance, and I’ll admit he wasn’t that bad. That quickly changed however, as he decided to single me out for mockery. I like to think he looks back on this decision as the worst of his life.
As I stood observing him, he noticed me and began to imitate my leaning position, much to the delight of slack jawed onlookers. Worst of all however, was the gleam in the eyes of the mime. It was a look that told me he was positively thrilled to be making a mockery of an innocent on looker. A mere teenager no less! My screams of “I will not be made a spectacle of!” only seemed to further amuse him and feed his ego. It was in this moment that I saw mimes for what they truly worth. Twisted creatures who pray on the innocent for their own selfish delight, under the guise of entertainment. Needless to say, the mime had to die.
I left his little show, no doubt giving him a sense of victory that would not last very long, and enlisted the help of a local youth. The young man needed no convincing, as he was already well aware of the true nature of mimes, and was more than happy to help. From there, a plan was hatched and we quickly set it in motion. The youth would scream random things from one side of the crowd, and as the mime’s attention was averted, no doubt formulating ways to mock and belittle the child, I would position myself behind him and mimic his actions! The tables were turned, ha! Needless to say, the mime was less than amused, and attempted to mock me mocking him, but the whole act become rather convoluted and he retreated, bringing his huddled mass of onlookers with him.
Some would consider his retreat a victory, but not I. No, after what he had done, I was out for blood, and thus our attack continued for the next hour. He’d move to a new location, we’d assault him, he’d retreat. Rinse, lather, repeat. As we again swooped in for our seventh attack of the evening, everything changed. The mime saw us coming, retreated from his act for a moment and approached us. Taking one knee, so to be at eye level with the youth, the mime did the unthinkable. ..
The words “Leave me alone” may not seem particularly scary when read in text, or even uttered out loud, but when they come from the mouth of a character who’s sole purpose in life is to NOT talk, they’re absolutely terrifying. The youth, horrified, retreated immediately and I soon followed. I did however linger long enough to confirm that onlookers had heard the mime speak, ruining his act entirely.
That, my friends, is what I call a victory. Now, I don’t claim to be an expert on mimes and the inner workings of their society, but I assume talking during the act is a cardinal sin, no doubt punishable by death. I don’t think it’s going too far out on a limb to assume that he was suffocated inside an invisible box. Perhaps his death was more like that of Socrates, a court ordered suicide, and he hung himself with an invisible noose. Or maybe it’s a little less strict and he’s just not allowed to perform as a mime anymore, which I would like to think at least makes him die a little on the inside. Whatever the case, there have been several River Glow events since this time, and I can happily report that they have all been 100% mime free.
The town of Westerly has yet to thank me for my heroic actions.