Jorge and His Unending Weirdly-Accented Disgrace

Jorge, I've just about had enough of your less-than-Five-Times-better way of speaking and commemorating the dead. You pretend to write a nice eulogy for Marcel Marceau but then it devolves into a rambling tone poem about how he gave children nightmares and you're basically glad he's gone because now you can sleep in peace. You're a sick, sick man, Jorge (if that IS your real name). Jorge and Linus are two forces of questionable moral purpose on this blog. Fortunately, one of them (Jorge) has been in prison for a swimming pool incident with Danny Devito so he hasn't posted often, and the other (Linus) has dropped off the face of the earth like a soft boiled egg Elmer's glued to a brick and thrown through an open gateway into the Land of the Lost.

Well, look, I know I've been gone for a while. I had places to go, people to see, things to do, betternesses to achieve and Mark Northovers to grieve. But I'm back, so zip up and listen. Here is the real, true and appropriate tribute to the former King of All Mimes, Marcel Marceau, who recently abandoned this earth like ethnicity abandoning the face of Michael Jackson.

The Five Times More Respectful Tribute to Marcel Marceau

by Nuffy Noe

Marcel, the wind blew you around the stage and right into my heart,

Deep down into the emotional cortex of my fondest part,

You pulled invisible ropes out of my mind and freed my dreams,

And now I can be anything I want, even a supernuclear space horse, it seems.

You made all things possible, and did so without a single spoken word,

With mere gestures, you set joy free, like a cotton candy-colored bird.

Formerly, I did not know what it meant to live the dream and dream the life,

But you showed me the portal to both, to a silver-shimmering city without strife.

You climbed unseen ladders and pushed unknowable objects, like angels moving the sun,

You were the one, Marcel, you were the one, yes, you were the one,

And when you made your noiseless flatulence, it burst out like starbeams into the sky,

A rainbow of sparkling moon stinks from your pants, it sparkled so high.

Unforgettable Marcel, the King of all Mimes, why did you have to leave?

You can't be gone, not silent old Mime Lord. This I shall not believe.

I choose to believe that you have faked your death, silently faking your end,

And that you lurk in the forest now--to bears and acorns and feral children, the eternal friend.

end.