This morning brought a most wonderful and heartbreaking Hot Tip to Last Days. Sent by talented Hot Tipper Janelle, the tip concerns her quietly horrifying run-in with legendary Seattle clown J.P. Patches.

Janelle’s story is long-ish and intricate, but very well wrought and totally worth reading. You may find it after the jump.

FROM HOT TIPPER JANELLE:

I must start by stating this: Clowns are creepy, with the exception of local children's television star J.P. Patches. I grew up in the 70's here in Seattle, and watched J.P. every morning before school as did many then children. I could go on and on about how perfect the show was, but I won't. Either you grew up with him and you get it, or you didn't, and he scares the crap out of you just like the rest of those clowns.

Well, flash forward, and now I am a mid-thirties mom of 2 young kids. I was struck with the idea of my husband and I being J.P. and his unrequited love-interest and precursor to Dina Martina, Gertrude - Queen of the City Dump, for Halloween. I got freakier about this costume thing than I'd like to admit publicly.

Imagine my excitement as I found out that the real J.P. Patches along with Ketchikan the Animal Man would be making an appearance at the Aquarium the day before Halloween. For those who may not know, Ketchikan and Gertrude are played by the same guy—a 6-foot-something, lantern-jawed, ADD-addled ex-marine and comic genius named Bob.

Anyhoo, here's the not-so-weird-not-sure-why-I'm-writing-you-now-that-I'm-actually-doing-it-reason for writing you: The energy between J.P. and Ketchikan was so depressing. They didn't talk to each other, didn't stand near each other, didn't talk to each other, kept checking their watches, and appeared as if they might have even despised one another. I'm quite certain that Ketchikan was scowling at the more popular J.P. as he smiled for cameras. I mean, being Bob is like being Jazzy Jeff to the Fresh Prince, like every member of No Doubt to Gwen Stefani. In fact, sort of like being Ketchikan to Gertrude now that I think of it...

Sure, dressing up like clowns for 40+ years and having chit chat with kids and housewives about how great their show was over and over and over again is worthy of a head in the oven. More than I could ever bear. And to their credit, they were as professional as possible with our family. But man, when I stepped away and just watched them (since I was in awe and proximity of my childhood heroes), it bummed me out in a way I just cannot explain. To see these two old men forever stuck in this really weird vortex of local celebrity-dom, clowns and lame publicity was so beneath what they have given all of us. Isn't there something we can do to give back?