Sunday, October 12, 2008

Bedtime for Bonzo

I recently read Jenn from Cabbages made a list of all the family rules, some spoken, some unspoken. It was all part of the Humorbloggers Carnival. I'll have more info on that tomorrow.

Anyway, it triggered some memories that I had managed to repress for so long. Thanks, Jenn. Photobucket

Anyway, the first painful memory concerned my bedtime back when I was only a Little Crotchety. See, my parents had decided that rather than engage in the battle of making me go to sleep, they would assign this duty to Clowny. Yes, that's right, a TV clown--no wait, a TV clown puppet--announced that it was time for bed. At the end of TERRY-TOON CIRCUS on WOR Channel 9 in the greater NY area, Clowny, announced that it was time to go to bed. And if I protested, it was met with, "But Clowny said it's bed time."


Go to Bed, ya little bastages

Just imagine for a minute my emotional trauma. TV, the single most important thing in my life, using a program, my favorite one, hosted by my favorite puppet clown, had given me a direct order. What terrible forces in the universe would I have unleashed if I didn't go to sleep then? So, I trundled off to bed, ignoring that it was still light out, and Mary Santalucia next door was still out on her swings.

Eventually, Clowny went off the air, so I could have a bedtime freed from bossy puppet clowns.

But it was not to be. Right around this time, I got a dog named Skippy. Skippy was a great little, albeit excitable, dog. This pooch, a part terrier, part cocker spaniel, had some weird bathroom habits. Skippy piddled when he was happy, he piddled when he was sad, when he got scared (which was pretty damned often and quite unusual for a terrier) and sometimes, I believe, just when he was bored.

So, guess what happened? During my teen years, my bed time was determined by, of all things, Skippy the dog. I swear I'm not making this up.

Around 10 or so, this dog would sidle up to me where I sat on the couch, and stare at me. He would then run like a maniac down the hall, sort of to entice me to follow him so he could go to sleep for the night. If I ignored him, he continued the behavior until finally, the parental units would tel me to go to bed for the sake of the poor, exhausted dog. Bear in mind that the mutt spent 87% of his day napping, and the rest eating and peeing. Apparently, he decided that his job was to tell me when to go to bed. That right, I was being bossed around by a 20 pound mutt with a weak bladder, and the parental units sided with him.

And you wonder why I have issues.Photobucket

The birthday extravaganza weekend continues as today is the birthday of a friend of the blog, uber doodler Claire from Best wishes, my friend.


And finally, don't forget to vote for your old pal Crotchety at Humorbloggers. Haven't I suffered enough?


Anonymous said...

Ah, that all makes me consider just what I'm doing to traumatize my kids.

My primary rule for the kids is simple -- don't piss off daddy. Violating that rule is a cardinal sin around Casa de Hawg.

Here's how it works. My 11-year-old son called me at work yesterday after he got home from school. The conversation went like this.

"Hey, dad."

"Hey, boy."

"My leg hurts."


"My leg hurts. It really hurts. My leg. You know my leg? It hurts."

"How did you hurt your leg?"

"I don't know. It just hurts. My leg. You know my leg? It hurts."

"Where does it hurt?"

"In the leg! I just told you that. My leg. You know my leg? It hurts."

"But, where does your leg hurt?"

"The whole thing hurts. It hurts on the inside, you know? Not on the outside like a bruise or anything. It hurts on the inside. And it hurts. My leg hurts on the inside. Not the outside. It really hurts. My leg. It hurts."

"Son, is there anything you can do to make it feel better?"

"I don't think so. It just hurts. Oh, my leg! It hurts!"

"OK, is there anything I can do to make your leg feel better?"

"I don't think so."

"Then why are you calling me?"

"Just to tell you that my leg hurts. My leg. You know my leg? It hurts."

"I'm starting to get mad as hell, son."

"Bye, dad..."

That's not so bad, is it?

HumorSmith said...

Geez...a clown puppet and a dog? I think it was a conspiracy!

A New Yorker said...

Mom used to talk about Bedtime for Bonzo. We just had Channel 5 at you know where your children are? Times really changed eh?

eve cleveland said...

Hey, Joe...
I would have to bank bed time points so that can I could earn the right to stay up later on Carol Burnette night. It is a pretty good way of triangulating the point to have a clown ad tell you to go to bed. I'm guessing your parents are non confrontational types. Hawg, my youngest son does the leg thing too,WTF? Lauren, I remember that too and I still say it ;)...

This Brazen Teacher said...

For this week's next "caption this" mine is going to be:

"But Clowney said Brazen should win."

Da Old Man said...

@ The Hawg: Sounds like a fine bit of parenting. Now, if you would have had a clown puppet handle the call...

@ Humor: Pretty much.

@ Lauren: I was married and out of the house before I was allowed to stay up to 10. Had to get away from the puppet and the dog.

@ Eve: They just liked laying down inflexible rules, and thought it was better to have them enforced by a puppet and a dog.
Made them look like it wasn't them being mean.

@ Brazen: Normally that would work, but I have a team of captioning judges and that may not work on them. They have a squad of clown puppets to keep me more or less honest.

ReformingGeek said...

I think a clown puppet might have scarred me for life. ;-) October has got to be the most popular birthday month. Hubby's b-day is today! He's 31 in hex.

Anonymous said...

LOL... that's fantastic. I never had a bed-time... my parents decided they didn't want me in bed before they went, 'cause they didn't want me waking them up in the morning. I DEFINITELY would have went to bed if a clown told me it was time to go... then again... I definitely wouldn't be watching a clown (or clown puppet) before trying to sleep!

Da Old Man said...

@ reform: It must be. My Spawn, Rubba, ex S.I.L., and 2 of my friends named Lisa all share Oct 11th as. And the Spawn has a couple friends with b-days today. It is one popular month for them.

@ Shadow: You'd think I'd be anti-clown or at the very least have PCDD (post clown distress disorder) but I still like clowns. And puppets, for that matter. It must be my sweet disposition and forgiving manner. LOL.

Paul Eilers said...

Thanks for the insight into your psyche.

(Now gently take him away before his meds wear off. And make sure the walls are nice and padded...)

Da Old Man said...

@ Paul: Those meds are what keeps me happy. They never wear off, because I keep steady dosing.

Chat Blanc said...

in my world, anything commanded by a clown puppet is tantamount to child abuse!!

Anonymous said...

That reminds me of the cat I had that used to repeatedly slap me in the forehead until I shut off my alarm and got up to go to school. And our pets always had human names, Louie was very abusive.

Da Old Man said...

@ Chat: So I've heard.

@ Rusty: My sister does that. Gina, Bonnie, Ashely, Sophie, and Tyler are her pets.

I went more traditional with Skippy and Butkus.

crpitt said...

Birthday wishes are much appreciate my pole dancing/vaulting crotchety man :)


Oh my you are funny! I wonder what my kids are going to say I did to them one day.

Da Old Man said...

@ Claire: Hope you're having a very nice special day :)

@ Healthnutmom: Probably something to do with tofu, I'm sure

Janna said...

Actually, "napping, eating, and peeing" are all on my top ten list of ways I want to spend the rest of my life.

Da Old Man said...

@ Janna: Don't we all?

Unknown said...

So you were sent to bed after seeing a scary clown puppet-- man, oh, man, that just doesn't seem right. It's enough to scar for life.

Da Old Man said...

@ Jenn: I know, and it did.

savvy said...

Very funny post, more like this, please.