Many people are aware. Often they are aware of more than one or two things. We take this for granted, but this is besides the point. This morning I heard a man talking about how he believed in free speech with limits and I thought this was like believing in love with conditions. This is also besides the point.

In 1973, a mime named Jordan Lisbee was seen in a schoolyard in a small town outside of Wichita, Kansas. School officials approached him, curious about his behavior and saw he would not speak. He would only do as mimes do, acting out his reponses with odd body jerks and gyrations.




"Not in this county."

Little is documented on the number of schoolyard mimes who have been outed in America over the years, but apparently the library has microfilm. Documents of historical importance are placed on microfilm, with the approval of the government, and by people known as librarians. They go to college to become librarians. Libraries also have books and bathrooms. Since they do not sell books, you are welcome to sit and read a book in the library because to them it really doesn't matter. Some would go so far as to say they don't give a fuck as long as you behave properly and do not have an offensive odor.

No one is sure why mimes paint their faces white, despite evidence that there are people who are sure. A mime known as Louise Johanssen was seen in a Southern California town in 1981. As she went through some kind of routine meant to demonstrate what it was like for someone to be in a box to disinterested onlookers, she slipped and fell in a puddle of mud. This is not related to recent California mudslides, but there may or may not have been a prediction made by mime Louise Johanssen.

Another mime known only as "Richard" was seen at a quaint New England school in Vermont where "smart kids" were supposedly sent, provided their parents were born into wealth and privilege or they submitted to humiliating tests. Richard was putting on quite a show for kids who were trained to pretend to like opera when police arrived on the scene. There was a murder down in barrio town at the same time, but the mime in the schoolyard where the rich kids went was a more pressing matter. Richard was able to demonstrate this point without words. He also wore ballet shoes. He sometimes wore them even when he wasn't being a mime.

Are mimes always quiet? Do they ever have a beer and a burp night with friends? Do they watch foreign films all the time or do they like pornography? People shy away from friendships with mimes, so no one knows but the mimes. And we want to go into space. For shame. For shame.

"Are you a mime?"

"Mimes do not talk, sargeant."

"This one will."

The milk of human cruelty is often poured out on the heads of otherwise worthless mimes*. We treat them terribly, even though we know in our hearts that they deserve no better. In the time of the cave men, mimes did not live past infancy. The cave men were more successful at commerce than we were. They had a pile of rocks for a kitchen set. Instead of the latest Madden-related football video game, the cave men smashed rocks over their little brothers' heads for entertainment. Reducing the involvement of government in the lives of the people could bring more of that kind of thing. I know my social security number by heart.

Ricky DuBuque, a world class mime from the Memphis, Tennessee area once had the unfortuate experience of having to mow lawns for extra income, since his mime hat was often destitute of cash at the end of the day. Since he practiced his primary trade of miming while mowing lawns, he was unable to call out when he fell off his tractor and had his leg caught in the blades of an industrial capacity bush hogger. He died in the emergency room before his mother could arrive from Trenton, New Jersey, where she lived selfishly away from her son because he was a mime.

* Not true. Mimes have not always been regarded as "otherwise worthless." In times when traveling fairs were popular and live entertainment was the only option, they were generally considered entertaining. You have no buddies at the pub, so I won't worry about you telling them this.

Sometimes it really is just a cigar Bill Clinton puts in her mouth.

This is dedicated with love and respect for the one known as prole. Nice to see her back around these parts. (She approves of this in the spirit in which it was intended. Rock on.)

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.