Hi, Psychonator here with a traumafession inspired by the traumafession posted by Dr. Future about a Sesame Street milk related horror. I’m just a little too old for the Sesame Street traumas, since I was eleven in 1970, but there is a lactose related trauma I’d like to share.
When I was a small-fry (probably around seven) I used to watch a show sponsored by “Twin Pines Milk,” who’s spokesperson was a realllly creepy clown known as “Milky.” He hosted a show broadcast from Detroit called “Milky’s Movie Party.”
This clip is from a much earlier version of Milky. This guy passed away and the creepy-baton was passed onto an even creepier incantation.
Here’s the way I remember him. Kinda’ John Wayne Gacy, doncha’ think?
Now, if you think I’ve wasted your time with this account (what’s so creepy about a clown, right?) well…
At the tender age of seven, I missed my bus home and had a twelve block walk home in snow that came up to my crotch, so freshly fallen that none of the sidewalks had been cleared. I struggled the first few blocks in tears. Lo and behold, who should come along than a Twin Pines Milk delivery truck, emblazoned with Milky the Clown’s visage. The driver slowed, following my stumbling progress: an innocent, vulnerable seven year old child. He asked if I wanted a ride. Well, even with all my parent’s lecturing of NEVER excepting a ride from a stranger, I willingly took up the offer. I began rethinking my decision once we were on our way. I made it home without incident and the driver gave me an autographed copy of Milky, which I quickly destroyed once inside my house. I knew better than to ever breath a word of this lapse in judgement to my parents!