Bear with me. It’s going to get real purple in here.
I think our Rube Waddell came back to us and burned quick, bright and eccentric again.
And, once again, he was known by his first name.
Bear with me and review the evidence:
He had no qualms about getting naked in front of the audience–on the way to his mark to perform, during the performance…
He loved sports.
He did not appreciate being told what to do by The Man. Contract, schmontract. I’m out.
He might very well eat your hot dog (or your date, let’s be honest) on the way to the stage.
And, finally, he did chase firetrucks with abandon and joy.
Double check. But the firetruck in his heart…was pussy.
And it loved him back.
I rest my sticky case.
Now, go do yourself a favor and buy Prince’s soundtrack to Batman.