Category Archives: Freaks

Church Bans Clown Book!

 

***Oh thank God!  We’ve been praying for this for a long time.  The banning of our book finally came through.  Not to be TOO cynical about it, but nothing helps spread good ideas, good art and important issues like telling God’s children they can’t have it.   What a wonderful prize!  This announcement is better than any prestigious book award (and far less expensive).  None of our competitors has a church ban…ooooh, we are gonna be so rich!  …but our ‘thoughts and prayers’ are with them.  Meanwhile, ‘Bludgeon the Clown’ makes a terrific CHRISTMAS gift.   -Marsha

What’s The Sense of it All?

Larry had no objection to toes.  He never thought much about them, really.  Sure, they help us to stand up straight and balance on two feet…but so what!?  They’re just little nubbly things.  They’re not sexy or cool like fingers (at least you can pick your nose and scratch your ass with fingers).  Toes are shit.  They make lousy ear rings, smell worse than ass crack and are too bony to eat (even sautéed in olive oil with mushrooms and onions) and they taste like chum, anyway.

So why?…..What’s the sense of growing one right out from the center of his forehead?  How could he have gone to bed last night, feeling like a perfectly normal modern man (with hypertension, diabetes and chronic back pain) …and wake up the next morning with such bad luck?  What kind of rotten cosmic karma did he upset for nature or god (or whatever) to decide to put a big gnarly, fully grown toe, right smack between his eyes?

Seriously though, wasn’t it bad enough that he already had a whole festering patch of them growing down his back?…..UGHHH!!!  What’s the sense of it all!!?

***I’m pretty sure Larry isn’t the only one who wakes up every morning with awkward growths or nasty lumps.  Some are easy to dispatch, others we just have to live with.  But…all is not lost, the solution to all your woes can be found in the pages of our new book, “Bludgeon the Clown.”  You can find it by following the link above to www.sallemander.com.  (This piece is reposted from June of last year.)   -Marsha

Our New Book Is Out!!!

 BLUDGEON THE CLOWN

“Bludgeon the Clown” is a fully illustrated ‘graphic novel’ exposing the grizzly details of our ongoing, nationwide clown conspiracy and cover-up. The material in this book could irrevocably alter life as we know it (for the better)…unless we’re really careful.  Written by Marsha Mellow (with over 100 illustrations by John Allemand), it is 100 pages, perfect bound, stiff cover, 8.5x11in. size – of candy-coated, yummy clown-infected goodness.  Price $29.95

***Hooray!!!  Our new book is finally out.  It’s big, it’s beautiful, tastes great and smells like filthy blue-ish nose crystals dipped in spleen juice, slathered in gooey irony and deep fried to a crispy hubris.  Check it out on our website (linked above), as well as Etsy and Amazon.  BUT…even if clowns aren’t your thing, it makes the perfect gift for your most annoying in-laws – or that estranged sibling you only ever argue with on the holidays.  -Marsha 

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

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

Dragon Man Dan

Dragon Man Dan had a lot of nice pills.                                                                Some made him better and stronger.                                                                    One for his asthma,                                                                                                          one for his heart,                                                                                                                 one made his pecker longer.                                                                                      But all of his pills,                                                                                                              for all their delight,                                                                                                            killed him as you might expect,                                                                               though they kept his body                                                                                          preserved for years                                                                                                          and left his penis erect.

Dragon Man Dan was the tattooed freak of the ‘Bitsy Bopsy Travelling Circus Side Show.’  His one and only tattoo snaked around over 90% of his body.  His fellow freaks swore that it came alive and flew off into the night at the moment of his death.  They also swore that they never touched Dan’s illegal stash of colorful pills, which he was known to chew like candy…constantly.

***Another page cut from my new “Bludgeon the Clown” book by the editors at EEW Books.  At least the poem made it into my “Blue-ish Freaks” book.  -Marsha