every day is fucking magical

Job Application #2

I once tried to work at Walmart.

I took a personality test. There were a lot of questions about stealing. The scenarios were very Jean Val Jeanesque. There were a lot of questions about loyalty. The scenarios were very freedomy™. I think there were questions about pooping or I may be confusing the test with the questions asked by priests during premarital counseling sessions.

I did not get the job.

I am now applying for a new job. I’m a bit late to the game, and nearly missed the deadline. This weekend, I became intimate with the toilet and forged a bond that is usually reserved for war buddies.

This special relationship caused me to miss the love blooming between Blank and the 753 women he is dating on The Bachelor. I can only assume someone said they weren’t “here to make friends,” and Blank blandly stated his connectivity prospects with another lifeform or inanimate object. So basically this paragraph is my recrap of episode 3.

Anyhow, I am here to apply for the president of the Bozo the Clown fanclub. I’m sure I have gotten this wrong, but I am too lazy to refer back the original post written by Le Clown. Here I’ve linked it. You can tell me in the comments if I got it right.

I vaguely recall some rules, such as writing a post to show why you deserve it. I probably don’t. I’m uncomfortable with power. I’m socially awkward. I lasted in the Girl Scouts for about a week.

And yet, I seek it because I’m looking to jolt some Jolt Cola back into my own blog and writing. I figured if anyone could create inspiration it would be the magnificent™ Le Clown himself. I heard he once took a turtle turd and turned it into mashed potatoes.

If you did not know (i.e. you are one of the three people on earth who have never heard of Le Clown), every day is fucking magical. I believe this is true. Did you know that you can throw up several times and still feel like shit? That is kind of magical.

Before I virtually met Le Clown, I was a sad little man, seeking to restrict a woman’s right to everything:

The Before Picture

The Before Picture

And then something happened. Le Clown commented on a blog post. I believe he wrote:

“Speaker7,

Fuck™.

Le Clown”

And I was sucked into a magical world, one where unicorns make out with white baby jesuses.

Now I’m a happy little man seeking to restrict a woman’s access to everything:

The After Picture. You can too! Only 3 installments of $99.99!! Call today!

The After Picture. You can too! Only 3 installments of $99.99!! Call today!

I feel at this point, I would even be able to land that job at Walmart.

Le Cult of Le Clown

I am a full-fledged carnie, I’ll admit it.

I pretty much do the bidding of a French-Canadian clown who can flex a singular ab muscle like nobody’s business.

Why do I do this?

I think it’s safe to say that I’m in a cult…or rather le cult. Le cult of le clown. I think that’s how French works; you put a “le” in front of everything and ruin freedom fries.

Le Clown first appeared on the presses of word back in February and the wordpresses have not been the same since. I believe his first post was:

“WordPress no longer sucks.”

I might have made that up, but who has time to research when you’re writing a post every day?

Le Clown professes that every day is fucking magical, and I believe it. Even when my slice of pizza fell on the dirty floor a couple days ago and I had nothing else to eat but a jar of pureed turkey and sweet potato, I felt pissed off the magic.

Le Clown can write anything, literally anything, and 200 people will show up to comment about his magnificence™. (He’s also trademarked the word magnificent™)

He could write:

“Poop is magical.”

And it will be pressed fresher than a steaming pile of cow manure–that’s just how powerful his reach is. And you know what? Poop is magical.

What is Le Clown’s greatest gift?

Well apart from his incredible charisma, he gives the gift of viewership. He features you on his site, and suddenly you have 30 new followers. It’s almost as if you, yourself, have become a cult leader.

You feel that way until a half-man puppet named Hugo reminds you of your place on the food chain. Never join le cult of le Hugo, by the way.

Le Clown recently launched a new venture, a press releases page that highlights blog posts featuring his le clowness. I am not on there, and I made it my Life Goal 2: Electric Boogaloo to rectify that grevious injustice.

Which leads me now to present the greatest interview in the history of interviews. I should know, I used to work as a reporter and got to interview the local dairy princess.

Without further ado, Speaker7 presents™ Five Questions with His Magnificence™  Le Clown™:

Q: Which cult figure are you more like and why?

  • a. Jim Jones
  • b. Hugo
  • c. Papa Smurf
  • d. Fred Phelps
  • e. Ronald McDonald

A: f. Tom Cruise

Q: Why is your following predominately made up of dames and/or broads?

A: Le Clown likes to think women dig him because of his Charles Bukowski charms. And that giganormous red apparatus of his.

Q: How do you lure us under your spell? Is it hypnotism? Or that dorky thing Eddie Cullen does? Or something clownesque?

A: Le Clown is more like herpes, the gift that keeps on giving. And because every day is fucking magical on A Clown on Fire, and Le Clown is something of a handsomer Santa (or any other non-denominational fictitious character like White Baby Jesus) there’s a bad case of clap for just about anyone on his blog. It’s the latest craze, and all the cool kids want it. As for Edward Cullen, fuck him, not just literally, unless you’re into glass shards.  

Q: What is the difference between magnificence and magnificence™?

A: The trademark™. Obviously.

Q: Usually cult leaders have some fantastical idea of how they’re going to kick the bucket. L. Ron Hubbard apparently discarded his body and went to some planet. What will happen to Le Clown?

A: What’s this crazy talk about kicking the bucket? Neil Gaiman will soon write Le Clown into a new installment of his EternalsAt least, that is what Scientology told him. Dying is for the weak anyway… everyone knows that, right Hugo?

Dearest Reader: Speaker7 is attempting to write a post every day in November so she doesn’t have to participate in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). This is the eleventh post. She hates enjoys doing this because every day is fucking magical.