a short play

ACT I

dan miller: hey, where's john flansburgh?
david byrne: i, david byrne, cannot answer that question
john flansburgh: (miscellaneous raccoon noises)
dan miller: oh.

(stay tuned for act II)

flansburgh's meaty paws

"It's funny you ask that because I'm giving a seminar at The Learning Annex called, 'Clawing Your Way to the Middle.'" -John Flansburgh

note the use of the word
"clawing"

documentation

john flansburgh is a raccoon
(a short essay)
part I

there are many factors which point to the strange, non-human relations between john flansburgh, evil walrus with a thirst for human blood and simplistic guitar-playing abilities, and the friendly neighborhood raccoon, friend of few, consumer of garbage. for starters, both creatures are ravenous, seem to be eating constantly, and plump and around the mid-section. featuring somewhat square complexion and torso, not to mention oddly-shaped, long ears abound, the two figures of political impressionism are obviously one and the same. one may even have noticed flansburgh's tendency to sport dark-lense'd glasses, with thick, rounded frames. this is an attempt to harken back to his simple beginnings, and also let potential mates know that he is potent, single, and ready to mingle. his nose is even slightly upturned, resembling the ridiculous snout of a 'coon. and could you not imagine american hero davy crockett slaying evil platypuses* in a john flansburgh hat? i can picture it.

so there's no need to stop the presses. let's all just accept that john is a different kind of mammal. and he's actually a reasonably good guitarist, considering his species.


*"platypi" is not correct english or latin, god dammit.

the proof, the proof.

a few minor modifications to the iconic image of flansburgh

john conant flansburgh

born 1960

were you aware of it?

John Flansburgh is indeed not a human, but a raccoon.