Showing posts with label Clowning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Clowning. Show all posts
Friday, November 15, 2013
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Friday, July 27, 2012
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Sunday, September 4, 2011
BART SIMSON YUGOSLAV @BARTSIMSON_REAL SPINGFEILD
"THE SIMSONS. IM BART, OFFICAL BART. REAL. MY DAD HOMTRE AND MAM IS MAGRE. BABY AND GIRL SITSER ARE OTHERS. BART SIMSON. OFFICAL YUGOSLAVIA SIMSON. THE SUMSONS."
Tweets.
This parody account flamed out after a few feverish months. "Bart Borat," the anonymous author described it as, before turning on his "geek" followers, and turning the account into a much meaner, personally directed parody of a saccharine, mawkish deaf motivational speaker's tweets ("I Respect Females").
Tweets.
This parody account flamed out after a few feverish months. "Bart Borat," the anonymous author described it as, before turning on his "geek" followers, and turning the account into a much meaner, personally directed parody of a saccharine, mawkish deaf motivational speaker's tweets ("I Respect Females").
Monday, August 1, 2011
Transcripts of Buster Keaton Films
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Friday, September 17, 2010
A Can-Can on the Tightrope of Logic (Notes on Eccentrism)
From the good folks at Toronto culture blog: Back to the World.
by Chris Randle
Most of the radical modernist ideas circulating in 1920s Russia, whether Alexandra Kollontai’s Soviet feminism or extreme forms of artistic abstraction, were snuffed out scant years later by Stalinist repressions. Eccentrism wilted from lack of interest. I came across the short-lived movement’s hyperactive manifesto last week. In the introduction to that republished edition, translator Marek Pytel writes that its original 1922 printing was limited to 1000 copies; many were destroyed in a house fire. The Eccentrists did find some temporary popularity, or at least notoriety: Pytel describes them “disrupting the performances of ‘academic’ theatres with whistles, rattles and catcalls…they astounded guest speakers rash enough to mention the words ‘sentiment’ or ‘emotion’ by smashing every stick of furniture in the place.” Punk rock?
The basic Eccentrist thesis was that Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton represented the truest avant-garde yet seen. Slapstick’s physical impossibilities were a model for political aspiration. I imagine this got a lot of contemporary reactions akin to the early gnostic sect which believed that Cain was Christianity’s real martyr. One member of “the Factory of the Eccentric Actor” (FEKS) wrote: “life requires art that is hyperbolically crude, stupendous, nerve-wracking, openly utilitarian, mechanically-precise, momentary, rapid.” They openly urged “Americanization” of the theatre. The implication was that the masses will be their own vanguard, artistic or otherwise.
The central Eccentric text can be maddening reading – its authors were all young men (a couple still teenagers), and even by manifesto standards their rhetoric sometimes overheats. At one point they declare: “THE 200 VOLUMES OF GERMAN EXPRESSIONISM DO NOT OFFER THE EXPRESSIVITY OF ONE SOLE CIRCUS POSTER!!!” There are several citations of Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, a like-minded Italian Futurist whose aesthetic fixation on speed, violence and machinery soon led him to stridently support Mussolini. Not long after the FEKS manifesto was published, Marinetti argued that “imposition of [Italian empire] will be an act of faith-force, a defiant youthful improvisation, a work of art miraculously blossoming.”
But the Eccentrists didn’t turn totalitarian, perhaps because they were too playful for that. Their theoretical writings are remarkably sly and self-mocking; they charm rather than bellow. A typical slogan says: “Charlie’s bum is more precious to us than Eleonora Duse!” They exalted roller skates over ballet pumps, and declared themselves the children of jazz bands, slang, torch singers, cinema, dance crazes and cheap pulp thrillers – might as well throw Marx and Coca-Cola in too. They once distributed their manifesto by randomly tossing it from a moving car. They’re very easy to like.
Although that original Eccentrist document had little immediate influence, several of its main authors continued experimenting with these ideas in the nascent Soviet film industry. Most of their ’20s productions are lost, and I haven’t watched any of the survivors. But I know that affection for mass culture became a broader intellectual trend over the period. Socialist utopias were explored in literally hundreds of SF novels and “Red Pinkerton” detective thrillers (lone Soviet blockbuster Aelita, Queen of Mars posited extraterrestrial revolution amidst Constructivist sets). Shostakovich wrote the score for one Eccentric-directed picture. Eisenstein shook hands with Mickey Mouse. You could place all this near the beginning of a narrative about shifting notions of cultural taste, one extending onwards to Warhol and camp and music-critic “poptimism.”
If that story doesn’t quite have a happy ending, at least it’s a fruitfully confusing one. Whereas the Soviet experiment congealed into a lethal bureaucracy, for art and so much else, after one chaotic decade. You can see it coming onscreen. From what I’ve read, the Eccentrists’ later films were identifiably Marxist, but in tense, ambivalent and even subversive ways that would soon be absolutely verboten. In 1927 director Abram Room, who knew the Eccentrics Grigori Kozintsev and Leonid Trauberg, made Bed and Sofa. It’s about a revolutionary young menage-a-trois who try to love one another as communists before realizing they can’t. The USSR’s film industry devolved into grotesque spectacles like 1949′s The Fall of Berlin, a WWII epic I stared at for three hours in a class last year; in one scene Stalin tells the lovelorn hero “don’t be afraid of poetry.”
There’s a DC Comics outfit called the Doom Patrol, a trashy superhero team that the Eccentrists probably would’ve dug. Each member was a freakish misfit, maimed, traumatized or alienated from society during the same event that gave them bizarre powers. The characters were relaunched multiple times until a new creative team took over in the late ’80s and infected the series with psychedelia, conspiracism and copious Burroughs.
Their new arch-foes were the Brotherhood of Dada, supervillains with a grudge against “consensus reality,” whose totally irrational schemes included transforming Paris into a giant artwork and mounting a surreal presidential campaign via the lysergic resonance of Albert Hofmann’s bicycle. The Brotherhood’s creator has said that he felt forced to kill them off when they became more popular than his ostensible heroes. I mention all this because it sounds like the logic that Stalin applied to actual artistic eccentrics. In 1949 Leonid Trauberg was fired as director of the studio Lenfilm. His offense? Being “a leader of cosmopolitanism.”
by Chris Randle
Most of the radical modernist ideas circulating in 1920s Russia, whether Alexandra Kollontai’s Soviet feminism or extreme forms of artistic abstraction, were snuffed out scant years later by Stalinist repressions. Eccentrism wilted from lack of interest. I came across the short-lived movement’s hyperactive manifesto last week. In the introduction to that republished edition, translator Marek Pytel writes that its original 1922 printing was limited to 1000 copies; many were destroyed in a house fire. The Eccentrists did find some temporary popularity, or at least notoriety: Pytel describes them “disrupting the performances of ‘academic’ theatres with whistles, rattles and catcalls…they astounded guest speakers rash enough to mention the words ‘sentiment’ or ‘emotion’ by smashing every stick of furniture in the place.” Punk rock?
The basic Eccentrist thesis was that Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton represented the truest avant-garde yet seen. Slapstick’s physical impossibilities were a model for political aspiration. I imagine this got a lot of contemporary reactions akin to the early gnostic sect which believed that Cain was Christianity’s real martyr. One member of “the Factory of the Eccentric Actor” (FEKS) wrote: “life requires art that is hyperbolically crude, stupendous, nerve-wracking, openly utilitarian, mechanically-precise, momentary, rapid.” They openly urged “Americanization” of the theatre. The implication was that the masses will be their own vanguard, artistic or otherwise.
The central Eccentric text can be maddening reading – its authors were all young men (a couple still teenagers), and even by manifesto standards their rhetoric sometimes overheats. At one point they declare: “THE 200 VOLUMES OF GERMAN EXPRESSIONISM DO NOT OFFER THE EXPRESSIVITY OF ONE SOLE CIRCUS POSTER!!!” There are several citations of Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, a like-minded Italian Futurist whose aesthetic fixation on speed, violence and machinery soon led him to stridently support Mussolini. Not long after the FEKS manifesto was published, Marinetti argued that “imposition of [Italian empire] will be an act of faith-force, a defiant youthful improvisation, a work of art miraculously blossoming.”
But the Eccentrists didn’t turn totalitarian, perhaps because they were too playful for that. Their theoretical writings are remarkably sly and self-mocking; they charm rather than bellow. A typical slogan says: “Charlie’s bum is more precious to us than Eleonora Duse!” They exalted roller skates over ballet pumps, and declared themselves the children of jazz bands, slang, torch singers, cinema, dance crazes and cheap pulp thrillers – might as well throw Marx and Coca-Cola in too. They once distributed their manifesto by randomly tossing it from a moving car. They’re very easy to like.
Although that original Eccentrist document had little immediate influence, several of its main authors continued experimenting with these ideas in the nascent Soviet film industry. Most of their ’20s productions are lost, and I haven’t watched any of the survivors. But I know that affection for mass culture became a broader intellectual trend over the period. Socialist utopias were explored in literally hundreds of SF novels and “Red Pinkerton” detective thrillers (lone Soviet blockbuster Aelita, Queen of Mars posited extraterrestrial revolution amidst Constructivist sets). Shostakovich wrote the score for one Eccentric-directed picture. Eisenstein shook hands with Mickey Mouse. You could place all this near the beginning of a narrative about shifting notions of cultural taste, one extending onwards to Warhol and camp and music-critic “poptimism.”
If that story doesn’t quite have a happy ending, at least it’s a fruitfully confusing one. Whereas the Soviet experiment congealed into a lethal bureaucracy, for art and so much else, after one chaotic decade. You can see it coming onscreen. From what I’ve read, the Eccentrists’ later films were identifiably Marxist, but in tense, ambivalent and even subversive ways that would soon be absolutely verboten. In 1927 director Abram Room, who knew the Eccentrics Grigori Kozintsev and Leonid Trauberg, made Bed and Sofa. It’s about a revolutionary young menage-a-trois who try to love one another as communists before realizing they can’t. The USSR’s film industry devolved into grotesque spectacles like 1949′s The Fall of Berlin, a WWII epic I stared at for three hours in a class last year; in one scene Stalin tells the lovelorn hero “don’t be afraid of poetry.”
There’s a DC Comics outfit called the Doom Patrol, a trashy superhero team that the Eccentrists probably would’ve dug. Each member was a freakish misfit, maimed, traumatized or alienated from society during the same event that gave them bizarre powers. The characters were relaunched multiple times until a new creative team took over in the late ’80s and infected the series with psychedelia, conspiracism and copious Burroughs.
Their new arch-foes were the Brotherhood of Dada, supervillains with a grudge against “consensus reality,” whose totally irrational schemes included transforming Paris into a giant artwork and mounting a surreal presidential campaign via the lysergic resonance of Albert Hofmann’s bicycle. The Brotherhood’s creator has said that he felt forced to kill them off when they became more popular than his ostensible heroes. I mention all this because it sounds like the logic that Stalin applied to actual artistic eccentrics. In 1949 Leonid Trauberg was fired as director of the studio Lenfilm. His offense? Being “a leader of cosmopolitanism.”
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
The Office - Jokes
Funnies at IBMD.
More funnies at Wikiquotes.
Quotes from the UK original of the TV series, The Office. The false conscience of the liberal workplace, pathetic jobbers, morons without futures, truly loathsome bosses in omnipresent cubicle farms . . . hilarious. The American version, sadly, seems to shy away from the obvious satirical target for a show called "The Office." It is certainly less narrow-eyed, ruthlessly bleak.
Excerpts:
Keith
Yeah.
David
That's your job though, that's, that's just—
Keith
Mmm. [nods]
David
No, Keith. What. I was sort of looking for your skills within your job. So is there anything else you could have put there?
Keith
[shrugs]
More funnies at Wikiquotes.
Quotes from the UK original of the TV series, The Office. The false conscience of the liberal workplace, pathetic jobbers, morons without futures, truly loathsome bosses in omnipresent cubicle farms . . . hilarious. The American version, sadly, seems to shy away from the obvious satirical target for a show called "The Office." It is certainly less narrow-eyed, ruthlessly bleak.
Excerpts:
David
Under "Strengths"... you've just put "accounts."
Under "Strengths"... you've just put "accounts."
Keith
Yeah.
David
That's your job though, that's, that's just—
Keith
Mmm. [nods]
David
No, Keith. What. I was sort of looking for your skills within your job. So is there anything else you could have put there?
Keith
[shrugs]
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
In full, with original illustrations, at project Gutenberg.
I Down the Rabbit-Hole
II The Pool of Tears
III A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale
IV The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill
V Advice from a Caterpillar
VI Pig and Pepper
VII A Mad Tea-Party
VIII The Queen's Croquet-Ground
IX The Mock Turtle's Story
X The Lobster Quadrille
XI Who Stole the Tarts?
XII Alice's Evidence
c/f 1903 film version . . . .
I Down the Rabbit-Hole
II The Pool of Tears
III A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale
IV The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill
V Advice from a Caterpillar
VI Pig and Pepper
VII A Mad Tea-Party
VIII The Queen's Croquet-Ground
IX The Mock Turtle's Story
X The Lobster Quadrille
XI Who Stole the Tarts?
XII Alice's Evidence
c/f 1903 film version . . . .
Labels:
Archetype Stock Character Caricature,
Clowning,
Crackpot Eccentric Armchair Philosopher,
Deal Riddle,
Dream Sleep,
Fancy (Whimsy),
Fantastical Journey,
Game (Gambling),
Meaning Perception Subjectivity Incompleteness,
Mirror World Underworld Multiverse,
Nonsense Absurdity Non Sequitur,
Party Ceremony Ritual,
Preciousness,
Psychedelia Hallucination Vision Ecstasy,
Stories within Stories,
Violence Fighting Sadomasochism
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Rube Goldberg's Artwork
A site dedicated to Rube Goldberg, the unlikely prophet of systems complexity.
Rube Goldberg mistakes a lot of broken glass for bath salts and when they pull him out of the tub he mumbles an idea for dodging bill collectors As Tailor (A) fits customer (B) and calls out measurements, college boy (C) mistakes them for football signals and makes a flying tackle at clothing dummy (D). Dummy bumps head against paddle (E) causing it to pull hook (F) and throw bottle (G) on end of folding hat rack (H) which spreads and pushes head of cabbage (I) into net (J). Weight of cabbage pulls cord (K) causing shears (L) to cut string (M). Bag of sand (N) drops on scale (O) and pushes broom (P) against pail of whitewash (Q) which upsets all over you causing you to look like a marble statue and making it impossible for you to be recognized by bill collectors. Don't worry about posing as any particular historical statue because bill collectors don't know much about art.
Sweet Sound, Sour Echo
Buster Keaton in One Week.
Although he is as light on his feet as an acrobat, despite his impeccable vaudeville chops, poor Buster Keaton suffers from one serious case of technical perplexity. It just so happens the world has become a super technical place!
The title of this post comes from a quote that begins One Week: "The Wedding Bells have such a sweet sound but such a sour echo." Intended to situate the viewer in the comfortable conventions of domestic comedy, nevertheless, the sentence tips off a second anxiety, an ill-ease recurring through each of the films balletic mini-epics. That useful things created by humans (i.e. technology, here, bells) initiate unintended bi-products into the world, demonic echoes of themselves, perverse and lethal uses. The Eden to be destroyed by the Demon-within is one dear to the founding myth of picture-postcard North-Americana: a house for all, and the pursuit of happiness.
The disorderly, dangerous reverse-world of a world of technical wonders and utilitarian plenty is trying to do our hero in. Oddly, the vendetta appears to be personally directed, conjuring up the specter of fate (the characters he shares his world with appear only ever harassed by the same unfortunate species of event insofar as they come into contact with him). He matches extreme cunning and athletic prowess against: not much, a car ride, a do-it-yourself stater home project, the number systems on new lots, a train crossing.
Despite our heroes most exaggerated efforts, the grinding, whipping whoop-ass of the vindictive machine wins the day, day after day, seemingly growing hazardous on an exceptionally steep learning curve.
On-the-surface plot trials of petty domestic frustrations with a new wife, or the occasional run in with his rival suitor are comparatively minor struggles. The villain is no more than a stock type. The new wife, powder-pale, ever-so engaging with her raccoon eyes, often the instigator of charming poetic revelries both of camera man and Mr. Keaton, ultimately suffers Mr. Keaton's same fate. The modern world is a bad dream wherein the greatest athlete-clown in town risks his hide even crossing a road, hammering a nail.
This film is remarkably consistent in this. Despite its apparent lightness in tone, the world-view is very dark. Buster Keaton plays straight man to a drastic foil: the daemon of accelerated technological fatalism. If that sounds very dramatic, the more human-scale insight (placing Buster Keaton in a typically modern milieux) is that the effects of technology are as much irreversible as they are universally applied: Once they are with us, they are with us.
Although he is as light on his feet as an acrobat, despite his impeccable vaudeville chops, poor Buster Keaton suffers from one serious case of technical perplexity. It just so happens the world has become a super technical place!
Packaged and simple-to-use, the fresh modern age, out of its container, ever-so slightly, ever-so inexorably is grinding against Buster Keaton. The ominous proof of this is the punchline for the bully's share of these physical comedy skits, accomplished via sight gags, impressively athletic stunts, elaborate theme-park-like mechanized sets, some intersession of a semi-truant villain and the piling excruciation of minor misunderstandings (i.e. reading a wrong lot number previous to building one's house).
The title of this post comes from a quote that begins One Week: "The Wedding Bells have such a sweet sound but such a sour echo." Intended to situate the viewer in the comfortable conventions of domestic comedy, nevertheless, the sentence tips off a second anxiety, an ill-ease recurring through each of the films balletic mini-epics. That useful things created by humans (i.e. technology, here, bells) initiate unintended bi-products into the world, demonic echoes of themselves, perverse and lethal uses. The Eden to be destroyed by the Demon-within is one dear to the founding myth of picture-postcard North-Americana: a house for all, and the pursuit of happiness.
The disorderly, dangerous reverse-world of a world of technical wonders and utilitarian plenty is trying to do our hero in. Oddly, the vendetta appears to be personally directed, conjuring up the specter of fate (the characters he shares his world with appear only ever harassed by the same unfortunate species of event insofar as they come into contact with him). He matches extreme cunning and athletic prowess against: not much, a car ride, a do-it-yourself stater home project, the number systems on new lots, a train crossing.Despite our heroes most exaggerated efforts, the grinding, whipping whoop-ass of the vindictive machine wins the day, day after day, seemingly growing hazardous on an exceptionally steep learning curve.
On-the-surface plot trials of petty domestic frustrations with a new wife, or the occasional run in with his rival suitor are comparatively minor struggles. The villain is no more than a stock type. The new wife, powder-pale, ever-so engaging with her raccoon eyes, often the instigator of charming poetic revelries both of camera man and Mr. Keaton, ultimately suffers Mr. Keaton's same fate. The modern world is a bad dream wherein the greatest athlete-clown in town risks his hide even crossing a road, hammering a nail.
This film is remarkably consistent in this. Despite its apparent lightness in tone, the world-view is very dark. Buster Keaton plays straight man to a drastic foil: the daemon of accelerated technological fatalism. If that sounds very dramatic, the more human-scale insight (placing Buster Keaton in a typically modern milieux) is that the effects of technology are as much irreversible as they are universally applied: Once they are with us, they are with us.
Monday, August 2, 2010
American Circus Lingo
Source.
Circus Posters.
Circus Posters.
24-hour Man — Employee who travels the route 24 hours before the rest of the circus, putting up roadside arrows to direct travel and making sure the lot is ready. A Aba-daba — Any dessert served in the cookhouse. Aerialist — Performer who performs suspended above the ground on a trapeze or similar equipment (wire walking is not an aerialist act). Alfalfa — Paper money. All Out and Over, All Out, All Over — The entire performance is concluded, the audience has vacated the top and workers can begin re-setting or tearing down. Annie Oakley — A complimentary ticket or free pass, also 'ducat.' The hole customarily punched in such a free pass recalled the bullet holes that Oakley, a wild-west-show sharpshooter, fired into small cards in her performances. Arrow — A paper sign, consisting simply of a large (usually red) printed arrow, used to mark the route between towns. Artist — Preferred term for a circus performer. B Baggage Stock — Horses used for hauling, as opposed to performing horses called "ring stock." Bale Ring — In a large tent, the canvas is perforated by holes where the support poles will be, and each hole is fitted with a sturdy metal ring - the poles are placed in the rings as the canvas lies on the ground, and the rings are raised up the poles by ropes using blocks-and-tackle. Ballyhoo — A spotlight cue meaning to sweep the light across the spectators in a figure-8 pattern (used in a different sense in carnivals and sideshows.) Banjo Light — A large round pan-shaped metal reflector containing a gasoline or kerosene flame, used to light tent interiors before electricity. Barn — Winter quarters. Basket Animal — A costume made with a basket in the middle, looking as if the performer were riding a horse or other animal. Suspenders hold the costume around the performer's waist. Bibles — Souvenir programs. Also, boards placed under the reserved seat chairs, so-called because they fold closed like a bible. Amusement Business, the trade magazine, was sometimes also called "the Bible." Big Bertha or The Big One — Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. Big Cats — Performing lions and tigers. Big Top — The main tent used for the performance. (A tent is a top plus some walls, so "the big top" would be the largest tent on the lot.) Bill — An advertising poster. Blowdown — When the tents are blown down by a storm. Blow Off — The end of the show when the concessionaires come out. Also, the visual "punchline" of a clown gag. Blues or Stringers — The general admission seats, usually painted blue (in engineering, "stringers" are long supporting members). Boiler Room, Phoneroom — System of selling advance tickets using teams of telephone salesmen cold-calling people. These advance sales are indispensable to smaller shows, but the system is open to many abuses. Bongo Board — Same as a Rola Bola. Boss Canvasman — The man in charge of making sure the canvas goes up properly and doesn't come down short of a major blow down. Also decides on the placement of tents on the lot, and sometimes functions as lot manager for the sideshow as well. Boss Hostler — The man who traveled ahead of the mud shows to mark the way for the caravan; sometimes used to denote the one in charge of all horses in a show. Brodie — An accidental fall (but one which has an element of stupidity or clumsiness, rather than disaster). From the name of Steve Brodie, who in 1886 claimed to have survived a jump off the Brooklyn Bridge. Bugs — Chameleons or green anole lizards sold as novelties by butchers. Bullhook or Ankus — The dull hook on a stick used by elephant trainers to "get the elephant's attention" and guide the animals to their tasks. Bullhand or Bull Handler — Employee working with the elephants. Bulls — Elephants (whether male or female). Also (mostly with affection) "rubber cows." Bull Tub — Heavy round metal pedestal upon which an elephant sits or stands. "Bump a Nose" — Some people cite this as the "good luck" phrase clowns use to each other before a performance, rather like actors' "break a leg." Bunce — Profits. Butcher — Strolling vendor selling refreshments or souvenirs. C Calliope — A musical instrument consisting of a series of steam whistles played like an organ. (From 'Calliope,' the Greek muse of music.) Carpet Clown — A clown who works either among the audience or on arena floor. Catcher — The member of a trapeze act who catches the flyer after he has released himself from the bar in a flying return act. Cattle Guard — A set of low seats placed in front of the general admission seats to accommodate overflow audiences. Center Pole or King Pole — The first pole of the tent to be raised. It is about 60 feet high and holds the peak of the tent. Charivari — A noisy whirlwind entrance of clowns; also called (probably through an uneducated attempt to read this unfamiliar word) 'shivaree.' Charley (v.) — To ditch a poster or group of posters or handbills instead of posting or distributing them as assigned. Cherry Pie — Extra jobs done by circus personnel for extra pay. Chinese — Extra jobs done by circus personnel without additional pay. Circus contracts often call for employees, in addition to the job they signed on for, to make themselves "generally useful," the meaning of which is often stretched to include all sorts of labor at all hours, until employees often feel that they are being abused by management as badly as Chinese laborers were while building the railroads. Circus Candy — Very cheap confections with deceptively impressive packaging. Often sold in a special intermission pitch, with prize premiums as an incentive to buy. Circus Fans Association of America — Fan organization established in 1926. Its local clubs are called "tents" and "tops." Publishes "The White Tops" members' magazine. Their mottoes: "We fight anything that fights the circus" and "We pay as we go." Circus Headache — A real ailment, named because prolonged exposure to the ammonia fumes generated by animal waste can cause splitting headaches. Circus Pole — Very early mass-produced candy hawked by candy butchers inside the tent. Stick candy, with a hard, brown, brittle outer layer and a soft coconut center. Circus Tape — Adhesive cloth tape used to wrap trapeze bars and other circus equipment. Cirky — Circus counterpart to the word "carny;" a circus employee. Clem — A fight. Cloud Swing — A bar-less swing, really just a "u" of rope, used in an aerial act. Most performers using the cloud swing never used safety features. Clown Alley — The clowns' dressing and prop area. Clown Stop — A short clown gag (as opposed to a lengthy routine). Cookhouse, Cook Shack — The place where personnel eat, not open to the public. D Dog and Pony Show — A dismissive term for a very small circus. Donkey Kick — The bareback rider's flip from a standing position to the hands. Donniker — A rest room or toilet. Derived from 'dunnekin,' in common use among lower-class Britons in the 1700s meaning 'outhouse.' Doors — Call meaning the house is open to the public. Downtown Wagon — A circus wagon featuring a simple exhibit, parked prominently on a downtown street as advertising on circus day. Sometimes a ticket wagon would be located downtown to increase sales. Dressage — An act by horses trained in dancelike stylized movements; the animals' paces are guided by subtle movements of the rider's body. Dressing the House — To sell reserved-seat tickets in a pattern so that all sections appear at least moderately filled with no obviously empty areas. Ducat (somestimes 'ducket') — Free ticket to the show, also knows as an 'Annie Oakley' (or 'comp,' a term shared with theater). Sometimes also used to refer to money. Ducat Grabber — Door tender or ticket collector. Dukie (or Dukey) Bag — Bag lunch provided for workers on the jump. Dukie (or Dukey) Lunch — The first circus cookhouse was jocularly nicknamed "The Hotel du Quai," after an elegant Parisian hotel across the street from the Louvre. When read by uneducated people it came out "Dukie" and the name stuck. Dukie (or Dukey) Tickets — Company scrip or vouchers distributed by management to staff and performers to use like money at the pie car and cook house. E (the) Educator — Slang for Amusement Business, a weekly publication for the outdoor entertainment industry. Equestrian Director — The "stage manager" of the show, in formal riding wear (top hat, red jacket, etc.) who decided and signaled the pacing of the acts. His costume, functions and whistle were later adopted by ringmasters when they became chief announcers instead of livestock-handlers. Exotic Animal Act — An animal act involving mixed species. F Feet Jump-In — In equestrian acts, standing with the feet together, bareback rider jumps from the ground or teeterboard onto the back of a running horse. Fink — Anything broken. Also 'larry.' First of May — A novice performer or worker in his first season. Shows usually play the season's opening spot on the first of May, and you'll always find new help hired on the first of May who have never worked shows before. Flag, or Flag's Up — The cookhouse is open. Flare — A kerosene torch placed along the route from the railroad loading spur to the circus lot, to light the way during a night haul. Flip-Flaps — Backward handsprings done on the ground. Flukum — Refreshment butchers' term for no-brand grape or orange drink to be sold in the stands (usually from cheap powdered flavorings). Fly Bar — Aerialists' swing with a bar instead of a flat seat. Flyers — Aerialists in flying acts, which involve jumping through the air. The flyer's partner is the 'catcher.' Flying Squadron — The first trucks to reach the lot. (After the title of a novel about the War of 1812.) Forty Milers — Newcomers to circus or carnival life, who (metaphorically speaking) have never been farther than 40 miles away from their home, and might very well quit before they get any farther away than that. Funambulist — Rope walker, from the Latin: "funis" (rope) and "ambulare" (to walk.) Funny Ropes — Extra ropes added to regular ones, usually at angles, to give extra stability and spread to canvas tent. G G-Top — A private club, generally under a tent, where staff drink or gamble. Gaffer — Circus manager. Gag — A short clown trick that is over too quickly to be an act of its own. Gallery — General seating area (the cheap seats), consisting of backless bleachers in the old days. Garbage Joint — The souvenir or novelty stand. Gaucho — Someone not born into circus life who takes a circus job. Geronimo — A "death dive" act, jumping from a great height onto a big air bag (as movie stunt men do today) or as "sponge plunge" into an impossibly small amount of water. Most of the time it would be a man; he would climb to the top of the building out on to the beams yell "Geronimo" and dive off hitting a big air bag on the floor and for dramatic effect a big bang would go off. Gilly — Anyone not connected with the circus, an outsider or towner. Gilly Outfit — Small circus, usually on the rural circuit. Gilly Wagon — Small utility wagon or cart. Giraffe — A unicycle with seat and pedals atop a long pole, putting the rider high above the ground. Graft — A piece of work, whether easy or hard. Grafters — Gamblers who often trail a show. Grand Entry — The opening parade, also called the "spec" (for "spectacle"), in which all the artists enter. Grandstand — The seating area facing the center ring of a three-ring circus, flanked by the less favorable viewing area called the "stalls." Grease Joint — The hot-dog or grill concession trailer. Grouch Bag — A small bag or purse worn under the clothing, carrying the performer's valuables (which are likely to be stolen from an unattended dressing room). (to) Guy Out — To check and tension the guy wires. Guy Wires — Stabilizing ropes that give horizontal support to rigging. Most things in the air use guy wires: flying acts, cloud swing, high wire, single traps, double traps, cradle, pretty much anything with a crane bar uses them. H Hair Hang — An aerial act in which the performer was suspended by her hair. More of an act was possible by this method than by the "iron jaw" method, because you can hang longer by your hair than by your teeth. Hammock Act — Act in which an aerialist is suspended by being entwined in one or two long cloths, alternately sliding down them, swinging from them, and wrapping them around the body suspended by friction. Applies particularly when there is no rope or loop hidden in the length of the cloths. Similar to the "strap act." Harmonica — Considered a bad-luck instrument. Haul Route — Directions through the city from the rail yard to the lot or arena. Heat Merchant — An unscrupulous advance-sale phoneroom ticket sale agent. Heralds — Circus advertisements of black-and-white type, approximately 9 x 20 inches, sometimes pasted down but usually handed out. Hey Rube! — Traditional battle cry of circus people in fights with townspeople. These days, more likely to be 'It's a clem!' or just 'fight!'. High School Horse — A horse who has been taught fancy steps in special riding academies (see Dressage). Also refers to a horse being ridden, or on a lunge line. High Wire — A tightly-stretched wire far above the floor, on which a wire walker performs. Hippodrome Track — The oval area between the rings and audience. Hits — Good places to paste posters, like the walls of grain elevators, barns, buildings, or fences. Home Run — The trip from Home Sweet Home back to winter quarters. | Home Sweet Home — The last stand of the season, when bill posters sometimes pasted one pack of posters upside down. Horse — One thousand dollars. Horse Feed — Poor returns from poor business. Horse Opry — Any circus (jokingly). Howdah — From the Indian term, a seat on the back of an elephant or camel. Elephant and camel rides would be sold for an extra fee during "come in." I Iron-Jaw Trick — An aerial stunt using a metal bit and apparatus which fits into the performer's mouth, and from which he hangs suspended. Most of the time used as an opening number — someone dressed as a butterfly was raised to the top of the arena, waved a round a bit then was lowered. J Jackpots — Tall tales about one's exploits on the circus ('war stories'.) Jill — A girl. Joey — A clown (derived from Joseph Grimaldi, a famous clown in 18th-century England.) Some sources say it only refers to an auguste-type clown, others say it is an amateur term not used on the lot. John Robinson — A signal to cut or shorten an act, or to give a very short show altogether. If you were headed out to the ring, someone would say "John Robinson" to call for an abbreviated performance, or in the middle of an act if the ringmaster made the announcement "Would John Robinson please come to the rear entrance," the performer should go right into his last trick. Jonah — A person who brings bad luck to everyone in his vicinity (from the Biblical story of Jonah, who brought storms down upon the ship he was traveling on, having disobeyed God, and so was thrown overboard to be swallowed by a whale.) A mother watching her child perform in the ring is almost certain to be a Jonah. Jonah's Luck — Unusually bad weather or mud. Jumbo — The popular use of the word "jumbo" to mean anything large comes from the name of a famous large elephant first exhibited in London, then sold to P.T. Barnum in 1882. London zookeepers named the elephant, probably drawing on "jambo," the traditional Swahili word of greeting. The elephant's popularity drove the word "jumbo" into general use. After Jumbo's death, Barnum stuffed him and continued to exhibit him, then donated him to Tufts University. Although the remains of Jumbo were destroyed in a fire, Jumbo is still the official Tufts mascot. Jump Stand — An additional ticket booth near the front door used to sell extra tickets during a rush by spectators. K Keister — Sometimes used to refer to a circus wardrobe trunk, or any luggage. Kicking Sawdust — Following the circus or being a part of it. Also 'on the sawdust trail.' Kid Pusher — Employee, usually on a mud show, assigned to the job of recruiting and directing local youths in setting up the tops in return for free passes. Kid Show — A sideshow. Kiester — A wardrobe trunk, or a pitchman's display case. Or anyone's rear end, or jail. Such as "he had a beef with the fuzz and landed in the kiester." King Pole — The main support pole or mast for the tent, sometimes one, two or four in number. Kinker — Any circus performer (originally specific to acrobats). Knockabout Act — Comedy act involving physical humor and exaggerated mock violence. L L.Q. — Living Quarters whether it is a show-owned bunk house, a railroad sleeping car, a crude rack in an 18-wheeler, or a private trailer. Lacing — The system of eyelets and rope loops that holds together the panels of a tent's walls. Larry — "Something's wrong with it." Might describe damaged merchandise, or something worn out beyond any usefulness, or even a person who's a loser (however affable) - "He's just a larry." Layout Man, Lot Man — The lot superintendent who decides the location of the various tents. Liberty Act — Liberty horses are trained horses performing without riders or tethers. Lift — The natural bounce with which a bareback rider jumps from the ground to the back of a running horse. Little People — Midgets or dwarfs. Long Haul Town — A spot where the lot was a long way from the railroad loading spur. Long Mount — When several elephants stand in line, each on hind legs, placing his front legs on the back of the elephant in front of him. Lot — The show grounds. Lot Lice — Local townspeople who arrive early to watch the unloading of the circus and stay late. M Main Guy — Guy rope to hold up the center pole in the Big Top. The March — The street parade. Marquee — The small entrance tent on most tented circuses. Mechanic — Safety harness used in practice sessions by flyers, trampoline, bareback riders, high wire, perch acts, and tumblers. Midway — In its broadest sense, the area where all the concessions, rides and shows are located in a circus. Mud Show — A smaller tent circus playing rural areas. N Night Riders — Bill posters for competing circuses, who posted paper for their employers in a gentlemanly fashion by day, and tore down or covered up the bills for their competition by night. O On the Show — Describes performers and all others connected to the circus. Opposition Paper — Advertising posters put up by competing circuses. P Paid Off in the Dark — When salary is paid in cash, "off the books." Paper — Posters, handbills or advertisements for a carnival. Papering the House — Giving away free tickets to fill up the audience, to give the impression that the public is anxious to see your show. Often done when the press is in attendance. Performer's Trick — Something the performer does with great pride but which only other performers would appreciate, like a magician who learns sleights so skillful they awe other magicians but seem to the public no different than what their Uncle Bill can do. Picture Gallery — A tattooed man. Pie-Car — The railroad dining car. After the shows stopped traveling by rail, someone opened a pie car on every show; it opened after the cookhouse closed. One could buy beer, cigarettes, sodas, chips, sandwiches but not full meals, socks, razors, cards. Ponger — An acrobat. Possum Belly — Storage box built into the underside of a work wagon to carry cable, stakes, rigging, etc. At times a place for a quick nap by a worker, and at times the temporary home of an unauthorized "traveling girlfriend" (a "possum belly queen"). Privilege — The fee paid to the circus for the right to place a concession on the midway. Punk Pusher — Supervisor of the work crew. R Rag Tag, Rag Bag, Stick and Rag Show — A small circus, never elegant to begin with, ill-kept and barely presentable from day to day. Rat Sheets — Advance posters or handbills with negative claims about the opposition. Razorbacks — The men who load and unload railroad cars. Red Lighted — A method of getting rid of you: the owner departs without paying while you're not looking (all you see when trying to pick up your check is red lights disappearing down the road); or tells you to meet the circus somewhere, but the circus goes somewhere else; some sources even use this word to mean that an unpopular person is thrown from the back of a moving vehicle. Also "Oil Spotted," the moment when there's just you and the oily stains where the bus used to be. Red Wagon — The main office wagon. Rigger — Worker specializing in assembling and managing the rigging. Rigging — The apparatus used in high wire or aerial acts. Ring — The circle in which circus acts are presented. Center ring was about 42 feet, it was also bigger and heavier made because that is where most of the animal acts worked. It was made strong enough that the horses could walk on it. The side or end rings were about 36 feet and not made as heavy. Ring Banks or Curbs — The wooden curbing around the ring. Ring Barn — A permanent, roofed regulation-sized circus ring for rehearsal at winter quarters. Ring Stock — Animals which perform in the show. Ringmaster — The show's Master of Ceremonies and main announcer. Originally, he stood in the center of the ring and paced the horses for the riding acts, keeping the horses running smoothly while performers did their tricks on the horses' backs. Risley Act — Acrobatic act in which one or more performers support another performer on their feet. Called "Icarian Games" by European circuses. Rola Bola — A board placed flat on top of a cylindrical roller. A performer stands on the board and balances while performing various feats. Roll-Ups — Tame American aerial planges. Roman Riding — A rider standing with one foot on the back of each of two horses. Roper — A cowboy. Rosin — Powdered dried plant gum used to prevent slipping. Rosinback — Horse used for bareback riding. Horses' backs were sprinkled with rosin to prevent the rider from slipping. Roustabout — A circus workman, laborer. Route Book — Like the "captain's log" of a ship, the route book contains notes about each stand: where, when, conditions, attendance, anything noteworthy about the performance or anything else that happened. Rubbermen — Strolling balloon vendors. Balloons were blown up with air and attached to sticks, since helium-filled balloons are expensive and unsold ones don't last long. S Screamers — Standard circus march tunes, so called because they are usually played with great vigor. Seventeen Wagon — The wagon where paychecks are distributed. Shanty or Chandelier — The man who works the lights. Showman's Rest — Two sites share this name. A section of Mt. Olivet Cemetery in Hugo, Oklahoma, is the final resting place of many proud circus and carnival veterans. There is a similar section of the Woodlawn Cemetery in Chicago, overseen by the Showmen's League of America, created when 86 performers and workers of the Hagenbeck-Wallace Circus were killed in a 1918 train wreck. 56 of the victims are buried there. Many of them remained unidentified because they were known only by their "handles." Sixteen Wagon — The show office wagon. Sky Boards — The decorative boards, sometimes detachable, around the tops of wagons used in parades. Slack Wire — A wirewalker's wire that is set up slightly slack, creating a much less firm footing than a tight wire. Slanger — Trainer of cats. Sledge Gang — Crew of men who pounded in tent stakes. Slide For Life — Usually performed by a woman, who would climb to the top of the building, hook a hand loop or a foot loop to a cable connected to the top beam and the floor, and slide down the cable. An acrobat named Herbie Webber would do such a slide standing on the cable, even sliding down backwards, adding a fake fall during his wire act; later, taking a fake fall became known as "Taking a Herbie." Slop Shoes — Wooden clogs with leather uppers, easy to slip on and off hands-free. Worn by performers over their performing footwear, to keep costumes clean while walking to and from the big top. Soft Lot — A wet or muddy lot. Spec — Short for 'spectacle.' A colorful pageant which is a featured part of the show; formerly used as the opening numbers, now presented just before intermission. Sometimes called "the Production Number." Spec Girls — Showgirls who appear in the spec. Splash Boards — Decorated boards, sometimes detachable, around the bottom edge of wagons used in parades. Stand — Any town where the circus plays, as in 'one-night stand.' Star Backs — More expensive seats (usually indicated by painted stars on the seat backs). "Stars and Stripes Forever" — The band reserved this Sousa march as a signal that an emergency had come up, calling for the clowns to come running out, directing public attention away from the emergency, or for the audience to be evacuated. St. Louis — Doubles or seconds of food, named because the St. Louis engagement was played in two sections. Straw House — A sold-out house. Straw was spread on ground for spectators to sit on in front of the general admission seats. Suitcase Act — A performer who has no costumes or equipment of his own (and so shows up with just a suitcase). Swag — Midway game prizes, or souvenirs and toys bought from vendors. T Tableau Wagons — Ornamental parade wagons on which colorfully-dressed performers ride. Tack Spitter — Banner man or bill poster. Tail Up — Command to an elephant to follow in line. Tanbark — Shredded tree bark, more durable and manageable than sawdust, used to cover the greater circus arena ground. Teeterboard — A board like a playground teeter-totter, usually about six feet long, used in an acrobatic act. The performer stands on the lowered end of the board and his partners jump onto the upper end, vaulting him into the air. Toby News — Circus-lot gossip, from the european/gypsy "tober," meaning campsite. Trouper — A person who has spent at least one full season with the circus, and whose response to the demands of life and work on the road are those of a seasoned veteran. Also used in vaudeville (and in theatre in general) to mean a veteran performer. Trunk Up — Command to an elephant to raise his trunk in a salute. Turnaway — A sold-out show. W Walls — Canvas side walls of a tent, as distinguished from the roof or 'top.' Walkaround — A clown feature in which they stroll through the crowd and perform comic bits interacting with audience members. Water Wagon — The water wagon circulated around the lot dispensing water for numerous uses: filling water buckets for performers to wash in, watering the animals, spraying the ground to keep the dust down, filling the drinking-water barrels placed around the lot (they had blocks of ice in them and a tin cup on a chain), and hosing down the elephants. Web Girl — Female who performs on the "Spanish Web." Web Sitter — Ground man who holds or controls the web for aerialists. (to) Wildcat — To change the announced route on short notice due to problems on the planned route, abandoning the benefit of already-placed advance advertising and possibly conflicting with the usual territories played by competing shows. Windjammer — A member of a circus band. Windy Van Hooten's — Name of the mythical "perfect circus" imagined by performers and crew, where everything is wonderful and everyone gets the money, respect and working conditions they deserve, plus some. Winter Quarters — Location where a show stays during its off season. Wood — Phony ticket sales slips submitted by boiler-room agents to inflate their commissions just before they leave. Z Zanies or Zanni — Clowns. |
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