Timmy the Tooth could match your freak
I don’t know what’s worse. Thinking an egg and cheese with bacon, S&P and ketchup on a roll will fix me, or finding out that it usually does.
Thing 1: Pigeon report
You might wonder where I get all my hot pigeon news, and like any good journalist I have many ways of getting information. And like any bad journalist, I WILL take bribes from corrupt dictators, but that’s a different story.
One of the richest “streams” for pigeon information is my neighborhood Facebook community group. Not surprising, because I live in NYC, and we do, as I have mentioned on occasion, have many pigeons here. For example, check out this breaking news alert posted in the group recently:
I have a lot of questions, and if I’m being honest, most probably don’t have real answers. My first question is: HOW do you know this pigeon belongs to someone? Is it the look of longing in their eyes? That’s likely because they saw a chicken wing behind you on the ground. Is it the demeanor? It’s not like a pigeon is going to come up and say hi unlike 40% of the stray cats in this neighborhood. He’s just…sitting there. Like a pigeon. Because that’s what all of them do.
Second question is why are 90% of the comments some version of “OH MY GOD HE’S SO CUTE SAVE HIM!!!”
Third question, why? And just one more thing…WHY?
Grade: F, this pigeon has just bamboozled the hell out of you all, and now he’s living in your house, rent free, shitting on the urn with your grandma’s ashes and priceless heirlooms. Don’t come CRYING to me, when you realize you’ve been held hostage by a pigeon. NO SIREE. I warned you not to bring him inside, but did you listen? NO.
Thing 2: The “Timmy the Tooth” Truth
The other day on TikTok, I saw a clip of the 1994 show, “Timmy the Tooth” and I had a full-on Vietnam flashback except my Vietnam was seeing the trailer for this series before EVERY movie I watched between the ages of 4-7. I don’t know why but I wanted to see Timmy the Tooth SO bad. I YEARNED to watch these puppets, but I had no idea how to. We didn’t have cable (thanks a lot Mom and Dad, now look at me) and I don’t think it was at the local video rental store near the Colorado Ave Safeway, so I was poop out of luck.
Why I wanted to watch this so badly, I will never know. And what’s infuriating now is that I can’t find the episodes anywhere so I never WILL. Oh wait, never mind, I found this three-year old comment on a Timmy the Tooth “retrospective” on YouTube that says otherwise:
To quote garf6394: “Dang, nice.”
This helpful video also informed me that Timmy was created by the same people who made Alf, an ongoing obsession for me as Cracks readers may know. No wonder I wanted to watch these weird tooth themed puppets, but is STILL not on any streaming service, so another day goes by where I will never get to know this obvious queer icon (Happy PRIDE!!!!)
Thing 3: Is Somebody Gonna Match My Freak?
I really like watching old episodes of Hoarders on YouTube, because it’s disturbing but fascinating, and I can look around at the many piles of capitalist flotsam and jetsam surrounding me and think “well at least there isn’t a cat skeleton under that pile (YET!) I must be pretty okay.”
I then found a compilation of all the Hoarders episodes with people who specifically hoard dolls. A chill went down my spine, realizing as I watched that it was not unlike looking into a mirror, seeing my own cursed visage in these hoarders with their collections of 72000 dolls they all refused to get rid of.
What I am saying is that the chances of me becoming a doll hoarder…are not zero.
If you’ve ever visited my house, first, I’m sorry for the weird smell, and two, I’m NOT sorry about the stupid number of creepy dolls I have stuck into every crevice and corner. I’ve been addicted to creepy dolls from a young age. It’s a disease and I shan’t be looking for the cure, thank you very much.
Once, when I was about 8, I saw a dirty doll head on the street with its hair filled with seeds, bugs and dirt. I felt so sad for it I begged and pleaded until my mom let me take it home, with the caveat I had to soak it in cleaning liquid for several days. Not a problem, because I used those days to hand sew a body for the doll using some scraps of fabric from a dirty t-shirt and used toilet paper to stuff her new “body”. Sewed her head on the monstrous blob I had created and et voila, she was as good as new!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What I’m trying to say is that this is not a cry for help but *maybe* check in on me when I’m 85, to make sure that I’m not a veritable Miss Havisham, draped in weird porcelain dolls instead of a wedding dress, living alone in my crumbling Victorian. Please make sure I wasn’t killed when I was crushed under the weight of 1960’s Barbies and American Girl Dolls. Thank you in advance.