Growing up, my skinflint parents would often take us to the Jersey shore for a day at the beach and a cheap vacation. With a pretty good assortment of shoreline choices, my parents would take us to Atlantic City - dirty sand, zombie seagulls, and a boardwalk that felt like the streets in BLADE RUNNER. We'd eventually end up on that boardwalk to shop for crap or to play games of chance to win crap. As if he were everywhere (or waiting for me), we'd ALWAYS end up bumping into Mr. Peanut. Confession: I was horrified of Mr. Peanut. Probably because of his creepy long black arms and legs, but the outdated and weathered fiberglass body costume didn't help. He seemed to be eight feet tall. I believe I whimpered [and/or cried] more than a few times in my youth after seeing the thing.
(In my mind, the legs and arms weren't so loosely clothed as they appear to be in this photo. Imagine one of the aliens from the film SIGNS wearing a black leotard and you have an idea of how it looked back in the day.)
Came across his photo today and it got me to thinking about irrational fears, because I honestly STILL hate Mr. Peanut. I wonder if he's still down there, skulking around the pier. Like a giant yellow mute
Tuesday, December 2, 2008