Spindle the Clown

Spindle the Clown was really old, so he went to Miami for rest          but drank more vodka than he could hold and collapsed with a pain in his chest.

He died that night in his hotel suit but not before fouling his shorts and hurling his lunch from his chest to his feet in retching, heaving, snorts.

Nobody knew he was there, by chance, having very few friends, to be sure, and his room was paid for the month in advance with “DO NOT DISTURB!” on the door.

So his body sat in the heat to bloat and his organs turned to soup and flies laid eggs in his nose and throat and beetles infested his poop.

Rats and roaches came up through the shower, the odors were pungent and fresh and feasted on Spindle for 93 hours, stripping his bones of flesh.

When housekeeping finally entered the room, hardly a crumb remained. Spindle the Clown was completely gone, except for his creepy brain.

***We met Spindle the Clown a few years ago while researching death rituals among the Clown species.  We spent a week  documenting his demise – only to witness him defy death in the end.  Sadly, his brain grew up to be a corporate banker…..very tragic.  John insisted that we use this image for our first post (back in Oct., 2015) for some strange symbolism that only idiotic artists understand.  Whatever!  We’re recycling some of our old favorites while everyone is busy setting up our websites and shows to make our new book, “Bludgeon the Clown” available for sale.  Contact me through www.sallemander.com if you want an advance copy (only $29.95).  -Marsha

A High Steaks Problem

 

Oh man…not again!  They are NOT going to be ready for dinner.  Why do they DO this?  Every time I marinate the steaks, THEY treat it like a wild hot-tub party.  They invite their weirdo friends – honey ham, sausage links and chicken thigh – and make a gigantic sloppy mess of the fridge.  They drink all my cold beer, they turn my soft tortillas into soggy pulp, using them as towels, getting in and out of the sauce all day…and the Mariachi Brother’s Hot Sauce breaks most of the glass bottles, blasting their ‘Cha-cha-cha’ music!  I can’t even describe what they’re doing to my poor hotdogs and fresh vegetables, eeeeeew, but they are NOT going anywhere near MY mouth after that!  This has gotten to be a high steaks problem.  Those steaks are LIT!  They’re high as a kite…again!?  UGH!!

***We finally have advance copies of our new book, “Bludgeon the Clown.”  We were able to have them in time for the Lehigh Valley Comic Con on Saturday…it was amazing!!!  E-mail me through our website (www.sallemander.com) if you want a copy.  It’s only $29.95, 100 pages of full color clown delight (horror), and it explains…everything.  Meanwhile, we’re working on getting the book posted up on our ‘buy it’ page, as well as onto Etsy and Amazon.  We’ll also have new 4x4in stickers and a bunch of new original prints for sale, asap.  WOO-HOO!!!  I’m so excited.  -Marsha

Diplomat

    

I do nothing all day but sit in my cell, chained to the wall in a puddle of rancid liquid.  The place is filthy, the toilet hasn’t worked in weeks and that awful television box is my only form of entertainment.  It screams at me and blathers their inane, selfish ‘culture’ all day, it’s all I can do to block it out, lest I lose my sanity.  The only decent people I have to speak with are the cockroaches, who seem to come and go as they please…

They take me out twice a week to show me off to their military luminaries while their (so-called) scientists run ‘tests’.  They mostly probe my anus and shock my genitals and laugh like lunatics as they torture me.  I don’t understand their obsession with my junk – and I don’t get the reference to it as “payback”.  My people have never visited this place before.

They are an ugly people.  I don’t mean their pasty, bloated flesh, two meager eyes and stubby fingers that make them look like deformed infants.  I’m referring to their brutish indifference to justice, authoritarian rule and the cognitive dissonance of the masses.  The racist, nasty things they call me…well, I can’t even begin to repeat in polite company.  This is certainly no way to treat an ambassador.

I would never have come to this primitive cesspool if it wasn’t for engine trouble – and a spread of ballistic missiles that took all the dignity out of my crash landing.  These people ignored my distress calls and now refuse to honor my diplomatic immunity…..boy oh boy, when the mother ship gets here to rescue me, they are gonna FRY this place!

***This piece was first posted on Dec. 8th, 2015 as our 10th post.  The image was a cover illustration that John did for Analog Magazine for the June, 2007 issue.  We needed an easy break this week as we gear up to release our new book, “Bludgeon the Clown.”  It’s with the printer now and we’re hoping to have advance copies to bring to the Lehigh Valley Comic Con on Oct. 7th, where John will be a featured guest artist.  Come join us (I might be there too).  -Marsha

Talking to a Cock

I guess I was a little drunk, I was definitely over stimulated.  The boardwalk carnival was an intoxicating menagerie of sound and light, of beautiful bodies still in their skimpy beach wear, smelling of sweat and suntan lotion, of sweet & salty junk food deep fried in sugar and cheese.  I wandered like a leaf on the pungent breeze, my bare feet barely touching the sticky wood.

The hawkers, luring people into sideshow attractions were on fire tonight.  Business was booming at the Snake Boy house, patrons screamed in anguished pleasure.  The ‘Winged Pigs’, ‘Dragon Lady’ and ‘6 Jesters Conjoined’ had long, eager lines waiting.  But the one which caught my eye was the only booth whose crier didn’t look like an ancient, cigar chomping, sticky pocketed circus clown with mirrored shoes.  SHE was a sultry, middle aged woman with curves and lumps and hair and eyes that melted my…bones, which is probably why I didn’t read the sign on the booth properly – or even care.  I just handed her my money and walked in.

There on the podium, in the center of a dark room with red satin curtains, stood a raging red COCK…..no…I mean, it was a red rooster with bright flaming plumage.  The other people in the room sat on benches around the bird, enthralled.  I stood for a long moment, puzzled and awkward…until the cock looked over at me and said, “Take a seat there, Sparky, I’m just getting started…” in a voice that sounded remarkably like Noam Chomsky’s.

You know…I may have misheard the writing prompt today…  What?…OH!!!, “Talking to a Cop”…yeah, I don’t talk to cops.

Our new book, “Bludgeon the Clown” is all done and off to the printer.  Our publisher, EEW Books uses a tiny, local printer in Bloomfield NJ, a mile from our old studios.  There are plenty of excellent printers up here in the frosty north, but none better than Tom DeStefano and his team at Budget Print (332 Broad Street).  It’s a family owned, very professional, highest quality, friendly business whose integrity is rare nowadays.   If they were located in Reykjavik or Kathmandu or Djibouti… we would still travel there for their services.  -John

First Contact

 

While Marsha is away (once again), I get to post something I like.  This illustration has some awkward bits in this context, but it made for a good cover and was (strictly) scene-specific to the story/ assignment;  The Earth delegation approaches, having landed their shuttle (by invitation) on the surface of a massive alien starship orbiting Jupiter.

“First Contact” is the cover illustration for the May, 2006 issue of Analog Magazine.  This is the first of 5 images (a cover and 4 interior illos.) for a 4 month serialized story by Edward M. Lerner called “A New Order of Things,” part of his ‘Interstellarnet’ series  It’s a great story and well worth reading.  I got to meet Lerner at the 2010 Nebula awards – nice guy.  I’ve read a few of his books over the years and highly recommend them.  -John

Always the Quiet Ones

 

Bilious Blunt was a bloviating buffoon.  He was the loudest, most opinionated fellow in town.  He lacked social skills and self control and nobody could stand him.  He smelled funny, had a constant menagerie of food and grease on his shirt front and dressed like a clown without even trying.  He spit and defecated in public and his Sunday sermon belches were epic.  Worst of all, he cultivated an unusually long, phallic nose that made everybody…uncomfortable.

People avoided him like a social disease and spent most of their thoughtful energy focused on his awfulness…perfect!…because nobody suspected him.  He didn’t ‘fit the profile’ and hardly a spare idea could penetrate the obnoxious, tasteless distraction he presented…..and nobody EVER found out…

Jack the Clown

I once met a clown named Jack                                                                           who shoved a grenade up his crack.                                                                  They recovered his penis                                                                                         halfway to Venus                                                                                                            and both of his balls in Iraq.

***Today we celebrate our ‘100th post’…and every100 posts we publish the most offensive dick-n-balls, exploding clown limerick we can find.  This one comes to us from Venus the Clown (a major contributor to our new book “Bludgeon the Clown”).  John (the artist) claims Venus lifted it from his notes and reworked it to put his name in it.  He says he heard it a decade ago from an old friend, Robert Kopecky, when they worked on ‘Codename: Kids Next Door’ together.  I think John just hates my good friend Venus and likes to ruin my ‘100th post’ celebration…  -Marsha

*P.S.  The only problem with Venus’ limerick (besides being disgusting) is that you have to mispronounce Iraq, like an American (eye-rack), for the rhyme to work properly. 

Making An Entrance

      They called it ‘Body Piercing.’  It was very rare, very risky…for both the acrobat and the victim.  Frisbee the Bouncer contemplated the origins of the maneuver he had just failed to properly execute.  Willy the Clown (the victim) was finally settling down a bit, allowing Frisbee some time to think: you see, audiences had gotten bored with traditional tumbling and acrobatics, even parkour had lost it’s charm…free-runners traversing buildings, flipping and spinning across rooftops and bridge rafters, bouncing about from car to car in midtown traffic…I mean, it’s not as if everybody could do it nowadays, but people got bored seeing it all the time.

New ideas evolved to shock and awe the masses, each more extreme, risky…deadly.  The ‘Tongue In Cheek’ was already banned in 17 states, the ‘Cockeyed Cock’ was responsible for 3 temporary deaths, 12 online divorces and 41 spontaneous abortions (in Tennessee alone)…then came ‘Body Piercing.’  It was like a grizzly car crash on the turnpike that you can’t help staring at.  Frisbee recalled that the most difficult part was the need to make an entrance (not what you’re thinking).  How does an acrobat bounce right through the center of an unsuspecting victim’s body (without using an existing entrance – or exit)?  Well, Frisbee was quite certain he had it all figured out…but…..well, look at the picture!

Willy the Clown went quickly from surprise to horror, screaming bloody murder for 30 minutes straight…now he was just pissed off at Frisbee, who simply mumbled, “That should have worked!…Why didn’t that work?” over and over and over.

Somebody call an ambulance…!?!

***I wrote this piece last week, sitting out in my new back yard, atop the loveliest snowdrift in the midnight sun, watching flying reindeer dogfighting overhead.  I’m so happy in my new house at the North Pole.  The image is one from my “Creepy Clowns Coloring Book,” which you can find for sale by following the links to my website.  -Marsha  

The Common Clown

 Book Excerpt

The Common Clown

Common clowns are often disregarded as low bred buffoons.  They are, in fact a surprisingly talented, hard working lot, although, for much of what they do, it hardly matters whether they’re ‘real clowns’ or not…and most people can’t tell.  Many have families and live in homes like regular folks.  Despite being the most steady and conservative of the species, they take the brunt of people’s fear and hatred and bigotry – as they are also the most recognized as clowns.  I encountered some heavy drinkers, rabble-rousers, dysfunctional lovers and one or two creepy invitations to get into a van for some free ice cream…but most were essentially harmless.

***This is the 4th of 4 in the series which originally had 6, but the other two were nixed from “Bludgeon the Clown” and repurposed earlier.  The intro to the book simply took a different (better) direction as we hammered and honed it into shape.  Now John is stuck in the new offices of EEW Books, finalizing the page layouts piece by piece.  This book is gonna be a dooozy when it’s done.  -Marsha

The Jester

 Book Excerpt

The Jester

The jester of today doesn’t (often) look this way anymore.  The ‘jester’ best represents the incredible influence clown culture has had on human art, music, literature, (engineering) and especially fashion.  Jesters are considered dangerous and subversive for inspiring creativity, craftsmanship and integrity.  While they often blend in with intellectuals, they are easily exploited by the corporate aristocracy.  Jesters have integrated with humankind more effectively than any other species of clown, though, many have no idea of their unique heritage.