I started using a raft at my shows in 2009, and in 2011, I started caking people.
Harry Styles threw a cream pie at my face in front of 15,000 people to thank me for the months we spent on the road.
Pie throwing is kind of a lost art, and although it may be a rather rudimentary, burlesque humor, there's something inherently funny about taking a pie in the face, under the right conditions.
There was a rivalry - and some pie-throwing. But that was probably because Gawker and Radar had more in common than they wanted to admit. Each was the other's future. Radar served up the exclusives I always envied. Gawker was actually comfortable on the web, in the medium Radar should have made its own.
Whatever happened to a good pie-in-the-face joke?
You can't imagine what satisfaction can be gotten from throwing a pie into someone's face.
My biggest fantasy was to have a pie thrown in my face, and I always said whoever did that, that's the guy I'd marry.
Clowns have no respect for pie.
Fred Rogers was a children's-TV host, but he was not Captain Kangaroo or Officer Joe Bolton. He was an ordained Presbyterian minister who was so appalled by what he saw on 1950s television--adults trying to entertain children by throwing pies in each other's faces - that he joined the medium as a reformer.
I always wanted to host a show, throw whipped-cream pies. Theater is not my cup of tea.
We resort, frankly, to pies, which is a comedy staple that's gone back, I guess, to since the first pie was ever baked.
And what's interesting about him as a comic character is that the custard pie hardly ever ends up on his face.
