Dead Beat reads that they want to exhume the Mad Trapper once again (see Cranky Meets the Mad Trapper). People want to nail down once and for all just who he is.
We're like that, you see. We need to know people's names, where they came from, what nasty little secrets they have locked away.
It's a way, is it not, of finding out something about ourselves without having to look too closely.
We laugh at the guy slipping on the banana skin because we are grateful it is not us.
Slapstick you see. The Brothers Marx. Beckett too stole the hat swapping roputine in Godot from Duck Soup. He made Film with Buster Keaton. Bim and Bom (entertainers from civil -war time Moscow) are mentioned in his work.
The heart of comedy is tragic.
The tragedy of The Mad Trapper will not be undone by digging up his body. The mystery of who he is remains the most relevant aspect of this whole story. As long as we do not know his identity, he will always be you and I.
Who is he? Just who is he?
He is. He really is.
Alter Egos - I Am Done Watching This
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