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[Jim Allman <jim AT ibang.com>]

On Thursday, July 31, 2003, at 12:04  PM, K. Jo wrote:
> There was a great bit a few weeks back on Whad'ya Know which
> featured people calling in and talking about when they were 
> mascots/suited
> up and, generally, the horrible things little kids would do to them. 
> This
> was after the Sausage Mascot Fiasco in Milwaukee.

My story? You want my story? (apologies to The Jerk)

As a second-grader, I was recruited one afternoon to be Smokey the Bear 
for my elementary school's "let's all learn about fire" day. I guess I 
was flattered to be chosen, but (like my Confirmation several years 
later) it didn't really feel like an offer I could refuse.

So there I was, a midget Smokey greeting the nippers and shaking hands. 
Everything was going pretty well, and it felt weird to look out the 
eye-holes and see all my classmates, who didn't know it was me. I 
suppose they thought I was *him*. I think at that age we were just 
starting to question the reality of guys like Count Chocula and ol' 
Smokey.

So I was this kind of taciturn Smokey (he works in the woods all day, 
y'know), just saying things like "Hi" and "Yep" and shaking hands--just 
trying to get it over with--when one of the little bastards grabs my 
furry Smokey mitten and yanks it clean off.

I don't remember exactly what happened next, only the feeling that I'd 
failed the mission, with my little pink kid-hand dangling for all to 
see. It was the end of innocence for many in the room, I'm sure.

        =jimA=