If You Can't Take the Clown, Stay Out of the Circus.

Lou.

Posted to Etcetera on Thu Feb 22, 2007 at 09:03:32 AM EST (promoted by port1080). RSS.

Augusta Civic Center, May 2004 - Shriner's Circus

Think clowns. Clowns everywhere. Hobo clowns being chased by police clowns being watched by fat scrufy clowns with invisible dogs on the end of a leash. Too many damn clowns.

You think to yourself...let the scotch and xanex do their magic. This is only for one night. Do it for your girlfriend and her brother. You think, "if I can just stand still and not make eye contact with a clown, they won't talk to me."

Better to smear yourself with shit to keep the flies away.

Like a Doberman who savors the sent of fear, the clown can sense anxiety and disdain. And like the Doberman, they can hone in on a target with a frightful tenacity. They don't understand disdain...they can't comprehend anxiety. They just want you to be happy. Is that so much to ask?

You have been spotted.

"Hu huuu huuu huuuu! Hey big fella. Are ya havin' a good time?" It's one of the fat scruffy ones. He's making his invisible dog sniff your leg like it's considering a piss. You fight the urge to kick it.

"Yeah, great. Wonderful. Thanks for asking."

"Ha! You're welcome. What's your name, big guy?"

You look to your girlfriend and her disabled brother. She looks at you adoringly...and her brother's eyes are wide with delight. He loves clowns. There will be no easy way out tonight.

"Ummm, Robert."

The clown slaps his knee and bellows out a hearty guffaw. "Ummm Robert? That's a silly name. Ha! Do you want to know mine?"

You look back to your girlfriend...she's giving you the "be a sport" look. You have entered the gates of hell.

"Ok sure...what's your name?"

"Well, `ummm Robert', my name is Busta."

"Well, it's great to meet you Busta...oh look! There's a girl in a wheelchair!"

"Hey, you're right! But it looks like Spunky has her covered. Hey, guess why my name is Busta. Go ahead guess. Can't figure it out? Ha ha hah.... Give up? Ha...my father named me that `cuz he busted the condom on the night I was conceived. Ha ha ha ha! Isn't that funny?*"

There is no amount of liquor, no number of pills that can quell your revulsion. Did you hear that right? Did you just hear a clown, a fucking clown; describe the condition of his conception in terms of his father's penis breaking through a condom during a frenzy of lust? Visions of a dark trailer park come to mind. As do visions of rusted out F150s with Confederate battle flag bumper stickers and gun racks. In your mind's eye, the F150 is rocking ominously. You look back to your girlfriend. Surely she wouldn't object to you dropping Busta. Too bad she and her brother are giggling at the antics of Spunky with the crippled girl. They didn't hear a thing.

God damn it...you hate clowns.

---

Ok...for reals. I don't really hate clowns. They just annoy me. Mimes annoy me too, but at least they don't talk. It's not like I have to see a therapist. Yet there are those that do. Coulphobia is a real affliction. Why? Clowns are supposed to make us happy. Without clowns how would Shriners bring joy and disturbingly shaped balloons into the lives of children?

So where does this fear and revulsion come from? Is it the anonymity ? Or is it the bad rap clowns get in, popular culture and modern society? And of course, there are those that go out of their way to demonize and sexualize (nsfw) clowns.

So, what's your story? Are clowns worthy of fear and hatred? Are people just making a big deal out of nothing? What's the deal with clowns?

*This part is true...horrifyingly true.