Damn Clowns

March 28, 2010

Rebo, Coco, Buffo, Doodles, Blinko, Bozo, or Ronald fucking McDonald, I don’t care, I hate them all. They’re just damn creepy.

They never used to bother me, even when I was a kid living in a dark scary basement, terrified of the shit my brother used to pull on me – grabbing at my feet from under the bed, hiding in the closet and waiting until I was asleep to pounce on me, donning a skimask and leaping out Jason-like from around the corner (I think my brother was the concept for the movie Friday the 13th). It’s a miracle I didn’t turn out to be a psychotic axe-murderer. 

Yes, werewolves and my brother were my terrors as a child. But I have to admit: my greatest fear as an adult is clowns.

Ever since I saw Poltergeist, way back in the day when my kids were still just part of “the plan” I’ve been scared shitless of those cheerful painted bastards. The sight of that grinning clown-doll climbing out from under the bed and wrapping his upholstered arms around that poor kid…well, it sent me over the edge. I don’t think I’ve watched another scary movie since.

But I guess I’m not alone,  because there’s even a web-site out there (I wish I’d thought of it, damnit)  called  http://www.ihateclowns.com. I’m hoping one of my loved ones orders me an “I Hate Clowns” t-shirt for my birthday (XL, please). And don’t even get me started on mime-clowns, because they are quite simply the worst. Seriously, what’s up with these guys? Their behavior is just plain wrong.

The mental health profession has invented a name for all this – Coulrophobia – I suppose because it gives psychiatrists another affliction they can treat and therefore an excuse to charge $300 per hour to help poor saps like me get over this stupid paranoia, when the simplest solution would be to ban people from dressing up like clowns. Is that so hard?

Hey…they are just dressing up, right?

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