Bozo The Beatle Killer

 

Just seeing this song-wrecking prick still makes my skin crawl.

Just seeing this song-wrecking prick still makes my skin crawl.

 

I was lounging around listening to the White Album and using home remedies to cure my glaucoma when my ears suddenly perked up like a dog’s and I uncontrollably bolted upright to immediately turn the goddamn track as soon as humanly possible.  No, it wasn’t one of George’s ridiculous and universally terrible sitar songs, it was my most dreaded Beatles song of all: Birthday.

I can’t even stomach that garbage for ten seconds, but it’s not The Beatles fault.  It’s that cocksucker Bozo the Clown.

When I was a young lad that piece of shit was invading my television set every goddamn Sunday morning with his particular brand of rampant fuckfacery.  Lord have mercy how I hated that fuckin show.  It was on at like 6am—aka little kid Happy Hour—and I’d have to suffer through his hour-long horseshit fest until the good cartoons came on.  Bozo’s only saving grace as far as I was concerned was Mr. Peabody and Rocky and Bullwinkle.  The rest of the show sucked a fat one.

The camera was shit, the costumes were shit, the shit was just…shit.  But nothing was worse than when that dunce announced the fuckin little kid birthdays.

Every damn episode one of the supposed “highlights” was some asshole parents would get their little snot-nose’s name and age mentioned on the air in a succession of poorly scribbled cards that would appear on-screen.  It would announce the names like “Jenny Twatlips, 6 years old” over and goddamn over as they endlessly blared the chorus to “Birthday.”  See, because it’s the kid’s birthdays…(crickets).  That’s the brand of alleged humor this Bozo character was shoveling out like steaming hunks of manure every goddamn week.

But the song, my god the song.  It’s been permanently burned into my eardrums.  It was such a sack of shit, I was convinced as a youngin that Bozo himself must have written and performed the fuckin thing.  I had no idea it was a Beatles song until many years later when I first heard the White Album.  The song came on and I threw up instantly and went into convulsions.

My biggest torture in life would be to get strapped down like Alex from A Clockwork Orange and be forced to watch that goddamn Bozo birthday bullshit over and over.  Water-boarding my balls, that shit’s a real enhanced interrogation technique.  Al-Qaeda operative Khalid Sheikh Mohammad supposedly endured 183 water-boardings before spilling bean one.  I guaran-damn-tee if they showed him an old Bozo episode he wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes.

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