This is the first time that I’ve had the opportunity to write about a resent death such that the deceased’s creations are almost certainly better known that the creator.

Gumby creator Art Clokey has passed away.

I’m just as guilty as the next guy … until reading the news above, I’d had no idea who Art Clokey might be. After reading said article, I’m pretty sure that, save for the fuckery toward the beginning of his life, Art was the type of guy that I should probably strive to be.

That would actually work out pretty well, when it comes down. There’s not much to my ego, so there probably wouldn’t be a problem if something I dream up becomes ubiquitous, but leaves me as a somewhat obscure footnote to later generations. I can get behind that.

That’s not to say that Mr. Clokey is altogether forgotten, mind you. It’s certainly not my intention to put that notion out there.

This past weekend, the venerable Casper Fox paid me a visit to celebrate the new year. In our random adventures, we passed Gumby’s Pizza in East Lansing, and Art quickly became the topic of conversation. Primarily, we discussed a random memory of Gumby sitting over the makeshift grave of a Blockhead, apparently to ensure that the damned thing stayed in the ground. That’s pretty dark and at least a little twisted, and I can appreciate the talent that it takes to work that sort of scene into what is predominantly a program for children without being lynched.

Good travels, zany, twisted guy. Let’s hope that should the reins be taken over that it’s done so by somebody suitable.