I Would Like to Put Kevin Clash's Penis in a Blender

Here's how my mom-mind works.

Last week I lost raspberry-coconut Zingers.

Now I've lost Elmo.

I love that goddamn little red furry creep.

Kevin Clash, the puppeteer behind Elmo, resigned from his "Sesame Street" gig today after a second young man came forward with allegations of underage sexual shenanigans.

Dude, get your hand out of Elmo's private area!
Elmo doesn't like it!

At first I was very sad about this. Then, pretty damn swiftly, I got mad. I got pissed. I'm grieving for Elmo, and I'm smack dab in the anger stage.

The Children's Television Workshop is all "Elmo is bigger than one person," blah blah blah. Bullshit. Elmo is dead, and this buggering bastard killed him with his Jerry Sandusky-ass boy-loving antics.

Godammit, just because you play an effeminate three-year-old Muppet doesn't mean you have to be an emotionally stunted man-boy yourself. I don't care if you're gay. I don't care if you like younger men. You work with children. You're a superstar to pre-schoolers everywhere. That fact precludes you preying on minors. Ever. For any reason. No exceptions, no excuses.

I dressed my Precocious Daughter as Elmo for Halloween just three weeks ago. And now that makes me feel dirty and creepy. How dare you take something as sweet and innocent as Elmo and make me feel like a bad mom for sharing and encouraging my child's love for him? How dare you, Kevin Clash?

My hackles are in full upright position right now.

Just go. Go away, you goddamn child molester. You Elmo-killer. I would like to put your penis in a blender. I may start carrying one with me, just in case our paths cross. You should probably hope our paths do not.

My mom-mind works like that.

I need a snack cake.

Aw, man.