With a wistful hat-tip to the old Firesign Theatre (n.b., the old one) we kick off this edition of the Bonfire by stating the obvious:

Folks, we're ALL Bozos on this bus.

We'll remind you throughout - in fact, when this day is over you will never get the motif out of your mind - because every entry will be roundly saluted with a big honking blast of the Bozo nose-horn.

G'wan, kid, squeeze the wheeze. Many people like to.

HONK HONK.

See, it doesn't hurt me.

Now, in case you are new to this most ancient blog Carnival, I'd like to take a moment to provide some background and review the concept (some of you who are NOT new to the Bonfire may want to pay attention as well, in case you were dozing off during a previous lesson):

The Bonfire was established by WizBang the Elder as the final repository for all the self-acknowledged Bad Posts - 'your worst post along with any self serving excuses or clever self mocking.' You mail 'em in, we burn 'em. Your entry admits, 'I been a bad, bad blogger.'

And we say, 'Thou art truly a Bozo and thou hast understood well...Hop on the bus! HONK means LOVE. Good tidings, my child! Thy blogging sins have been forgiven thee.'

But, if you get cute and slip in a post which, in your heart of hearts, you secretly consider pretty decent, in the hope the inevitable avalanche of Bonfire-instigated traffic will propel you into the highest regions of blogospheric fame...

...Well, we shall say, 'This is not so foul. Thou hast broken the rules! Thou fool! Didst not thou expect to be found out? Thou art most truly a bad-faith Bozo. Get ye on the bus...and ALSO PAY YE FOR THE BEER!' HOOOONNNK HONK HONK! Eardrum-bursting Evil-Bozo foghorn blast for you!

Examples:

A proper Bonfire submission:

They said it couldn't be done but I have now posted every hour on the hour for 4 days, well on my way to lucky 7. My Sitemeter is going nuts and I'm a Large, Large Mammallian Creature. It's briLLiant, briLLIant, briLILILILient, briLILILILient, briLILILILient

 HONK, you adorable little rascal.

But, how now, sirrah! An interloper:

I'll trust a liberal with national security when they pry my brain from my cold, dead skull.

 HOOOONNNK HONK HONK!.

And if your post simply transcends the realm of ridicule, you get no honks at all. You get mindblown 'WTF' Bozo:

From my years teaching Yucatan archaeology, I learned a healthy respect for the Celestine Prophecies...

...wtf...?

Without further ado: this week's Bonfire Bozo Bus Bonanza:

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The Skwib provides a nearly letter-perfect Bonfire submission because in his recent attempt at satire he simply joins the rest of mankind in affirming: Man-Goat marriage is funny. Now, the notion of a dating service for Men seeking Goats is almost genuinely interesting were it not so ludicrous. A real man meets his goat in the cool of the meadow, and thus it shall ever be. Post torched: On the bus with you!
 HONK.

Comes now DC Metro Contract Attorneys, on the other hand, submitting an accurate post about evil which everyone needs to read. But there's no irony here, it's just plain evil. Nothing to burn, folks. So while you attorneys are heading out to grab some Tuborg, say hello to my little friend:
 HOOOONNNK HONK HONK!.

Mensa Barbie Welcomes You riffs on the al Qaeda HR department. 'Riffs' in the sense that she delineates the benefits package of the Mujahadeen. Now, gee whillickers, I love a stunning, blond Mensa more than just about any other Mensa in the whole wide world...but burning this post would be like putting her in a burka. Sorry, Barbie, Homey don't play dat:
 HOOOONNNK HONK HONK!.

Next stop: Andrew Ian Dodge at Dodgeblogium goes shopping in Mister Rogers' neighborhood, and reckons his tale might yield a snigger. No, it just makes us wish someone would wipe the porridge off our chin before we get a rash. Welcome aboard, Boze-meister, 'cause that's what we call good kindlin'!!
 HONK.

Jack Cluth at The People's Republic of Seabrook wishes he'd had something insightful to say about guys who see Jesus-faces all over the place, but instead he equivocates over whether hucksterism has a place in the modern economy. This hesitation, Jack, was your undoing. SO GET ON THE BUS ALREADY ya' big lug! Sit next to the sizzling gal in the fourth row and for $25 she'll tell your future.
 HONK.

Kirby on Finance is next in line, and just look at him: with his gleaming Bostonians, spectacular coiffe and perfectly knotted tie, waving his ticket and chomping at the bit. Settle down there, Sparky. Let's just have a little look-see at your warning that folks may be saving TOO much. It IS well-argued, so much so that I was about to feed you to the gnarly-toothed Evil one. But: Unless your entire readership is comprised of anal retentive 'Protestant Ethic' FREAKS who really manage to save 40 percent of their income, I must pronounce this post total hogwash which, if followed, would have us all speaking Chinese within a generation. Good work, old chap! We got us a MONSTER blaze going now. Please join our stern-visaged coolers who can take some of that irritating shine out of your smile.
 HONK.

Ohhhh-kay...up steps Mom from raising4boys.com, with a delightful little missive about 'Playgroup Connections' and I don't know whether to nod and wave her through or call the boss for further instructions. I ain't gonna sic the Bad Bozos on her - I don't have the heart - but she clearly does not mean for this post to be incinerated. I'm bringing her aboard, but with more than a little apprehension. After an evening on the bus, she might be dressing the kids up in clown costumes and teaching them to rob banks. On you go, lady, and sit next to that nice boy with the tan sweater. He knows how to make hats out of paper. (Christ, they don't pay me enough for this job.)
...wtf...?

This is more like it: Sinner at 7 Deadly Sins tries to emulate a blogfather with this exercise in one of blogdaddy's trademark blogging devices. But there's a hitch: the other party in the conversation was obviously not 'coffee', but 'ethanol'. Or possibly, 'psilocybin mushroom tea'. Anyways, THAT'S ONE NO-SENSE-MAKIN' POST, BUSTER. IT'S GOIN' DOWN! Toss it on the inferno and get your butt on board!
 HONK.

Grrr! Peakah's Provocations... has me a bit stumped, because forwarding a cutesy 'women can be dangerous so be careful' spam e-mail into your blog and calling it a 'post' is PRIMO Bonfire fodder, and rightfully it deserves an 'attaboy' - but I personally hate that crap so much I'd like to feed him to the ravenous Nasty Bozo jackals just on general principles. But my doctor says I can't do that anymore or I'm back in adult detention for six more months....[taking a deep breath]...So, sure, Cowboy, won't you join us, set that post of yours over on the woodpile, and please take the seat next to that man with the wry, condemning smile, who might have some valuable advice about courtship.
 HONK.

Random Yak learns the infinitely important lesson that ideas which seem clever at 2:00 am often seem less so in the light of day. Hmmm, interesting observation, that. Very interesting. My entire blogging career just flashed before my eyes...must reflect...Must. Reevaluate. Self....In the meantime, get on up here, old buddy old pal! Our resident space cadet has been waiting for just this bit of advice.
 HONK.

Freedom watch helpfully provides a thoughtful analysis of attitudes toward the less fortunate. Isn't that wonderful? But wouldn't such a torrent from the heart simply extinguish our mighty Bonfire? Are 'thoughtful' and 'analysis' really appropriate for the Bonfire? Sure they are, friend, sure they are. Now, if you'd just lean in a little closer, I need to tell you something REAL special. That's it, a little closer....closer....
 HOOOONNNK HONK HONK!. What kind of saps you take us for!? We need something with body so you grab a case of Carlsberg Elephant and make sure it's cold.

Radioactive Liberty has been cogitating for a while now about the UAE-ports controversy and delivers a joke, if you can believe it. A real humdinger, too, guaranteed to get a bunch of fifth-graders laughing their heads off. OOO-RAH, SON! Just the kind of dreg this Bonfire needs. Grab a cool one and find a chair!
 HONK.

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Well, that's it for this week. Remember, fellow blogger, when next you sit down and write, and the vague notion arises 'this post may be a total pile of crap'... listen. Just listen. That great honking sound in the back of your mind is your conscience.

And ask yourself: 'Shalt I continue writing and make a Bozo of myself?' If the answer is 'yes' we will expect to see you back here, at the Bonfire, on the bus.

 HONK.

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POSTSCRIPT: For the wholly unprecedented linkage, the following have our gratitude:

THE LLAMA BUTCHERS