No, Elmo: That is NOT Where We Put That!

*Warning. You already know what it is. You’re thinking it. I’m just saying it*

Lawd have mercy. Maybe Mitt was on to something after all. Maybe it was all the color and infectious reverie on every set that had us blind to something more sinister on America’s gayest (i.e. happy) street. Perhaps we judged Mr. Romney a little too harshly. We all said he was crazy; but who knows crazy better than a crazy man?

Today’s news concerning an alleged relationship between Kevin Clash, creator of the world renowned crimson colored puppet, and a 16 year old boy is about to go viral in T minus 45 minutes. I sense a steep drop in Sesame stock – but that’s just a hunch. Maybe some people are into furry puppet pedophile porn. I hope they remain in hiding, whoever they are. (That’s ‘crazy’ right? Trust me, they are out there!)

In private talks with friends this morning, there has been plenty of dismay to accompany their shock.

“Girl, I will NEVER look at Elmo the same again.”

“Girl, why he had to be Black?”

“Tickle me? Humph! That’s how it all starts, Elmo…with the tickling. That’s how they groom you!”

Indeed, it will be difficult to see Elmo through the lens of innocence from henceforth.

As we lament the falling of another Black hero, perhaps it’s time for some inward reflection. The mainstream has been on a 400 year campaign to paint Black men as hyper sexualized beings in the unabated search for booty. Black men, for their part, have readily succumbed to this description, to the point that they scatter their seed in ghettos all around the nation leaving little boys and girls with little options to find comfort and/or a friend. Enter Elmo. Sad part is, not one of those parents thought Elmo would be trying to enter their sons.

Perhaps this is a good time for all and sundry involved to point out to Black men that the search for booty must end abruptly when it’s attached to a little boy.

In his defense, Kevin acknowledges that he did have a consensual relationship with this young man, but is annoyed that the “victim” is painting this relationship to be something it wasn’t. He denied it. And if Bill Clinton and Shaggy and their “it wasn’t me” anthem have taught us anything, then chances are that Kevin Clash clashed with this young man’s private parts much earlier than the age of consent. I wonder if Antoine Dodson knows what a soothsayer he is. They really are “rapin’ everybody out there.”

I tried not to think about what that poor young man must have experienced on that days that he was assaulted by Kevin, but my mind won’t set me free. Imagine what it must have been like to walk into a wondrous red lair with silent, grinning Elmo dolls in every corner, giggling as you breezed past them. And then suddenly, there’s a sharp, painful poke and then this:

Come on Bert and Ernie. The jig is up. It’s safe now! Just come on out of the closet and confirm that Sesame Street is indeed the gayest (i.e. GAY) street in America!

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