Quit Clownin'!

It never fails to amaze me. More than amazed really; I'm astounded actually. Befuddled. Confused. Bamboozled. Run amok and lead astray as to why people, in busy metropolitan New York City during rush hour in the subway actually stop - stop! - what they're doing, stop hustling to where they're going, and crowd around some whack, lame-ass break dancers and actually seem like they're being seriously entertained by it?! These guys are not even break dancing really. They're doing the initial steps BEFORE you start to break dance. You know, like "I'm warmin' up to do some shit now" and they keep doing that step before you get on the ground and spin on your head but instead they keep doing that step over and over and they might freeze with their hand on their head or their crotch and then just abruptly pass it to their man who's just as whack?

Then there's a mime artist or whatever they're called. Freaks with makeup, berets and horizontal stripe shirts. And he or she is doing their I'm-stuck-in-this-glass-house routine and I can't talk or scream for help because I'm a mime bit and again there's this crowd in awe. What's that about?

(The only one saving grace about clowns and mimes is the hand held horn. Probably just the concept of it though. Imagine you're slaving away for massa at CSS - Corporate Slave Ship per my West Coast homie Supasister Lil B Wafflebuns - when one of Massa's underlings comes up to you and's like "Yeah, I can see you're busy and you know how I really hate to bother you but"

HONK-HONK-HONK.

"I'm sorry I don't underst-"
HONK-HONK-HONKHONK-HONK-HONK-HONK-HONK-HONK!!!!

I don't know, but I just really believe that would be some incredibly, hilarious shit. But you'd have to do it with a serious face, almost annoyed actually until they just go away. HONK-HONK-HONK-HONK-HONK-HONK-HONK!!!! In fact, holla at your boy if you come across a hand held horn or if you wanna surprise me for my birthday. I'd love that shit!)

But I digress.

I was in Amsterdam a couple of summers back and I'm on the second floor of a Coffee House with this outdoor patio. We're kicking back, blazing with some guys from Scotland and all of a sudden this mime appears in the courtyard downstairs and starts doing his thing. Now a couple of hours earlier someone in the same place was on their cell phone and a bouncer told them that wasn't allowed. I asked the guy why and he said, you know, people come here to get high, they don't wanna hear someone making arrangements for later or on the phone arguing with their girl. Understood. So now a mime appears downstairs intentionally, I believe, trying to kill everyone's buzz. So one of the guys from Scotland, this rugby player dude just loses it and tries to get downstairs to try to kill this mime and his friends are basically tackling him and trying to talk him out of it, telling him it's not worth it and I find myself screaming "let him go!" This guy - yeah it looks likes he's taken a fair share of blows to the head, is missing a few teeth and basically resembles Woody Harrelson's character from "Wag The Dog" - understands something that the average circus-going, child toting adult does not fathom. And it is this: clowns, mimes and vantriloquists and their dummies are inherently evil. They must be stopped by any means necessary and at any cost to yourself, family, country, and fellow man.

Case in point: John Wayne Gacey. Need I say more? One of the worst serial killers this country has ever produced. Side note: the good 'ol US of A has the world's market cornered as far as serial killers. No other country can even come close to touching us in that category. Doesn't that do you proud?

Now, John Wayne Gacey was a fun guy to be around. Perhaps he'd meet you at a bar or maybe you were unfortunate enough to be a clerk or stock boy at his store. So he'd say, 'hey Ray. When you finish stocking, why dontcha come by my house to watch the game and have a couple of cold ones?' Now, maybe he seemed innocent enough and you don't wanna say no to your boss too many times, so you go by his house have a few beers and then John asks you if you like magic. You hate magic, naturally, but you say you don't mind so John goes in the back and comes out dressed like a clown. Full makeup, big red nose, floppy shoes the whole nine yards. Me? I wouldn't be at dudes house from the get go but when I see him decked out in the clown regalia I automatically figure he's threatening me so I just start swinging. But that's me. You, Ray? Well you don't have anything against clowns so when he shows you the magic handcuff trick you oblige him but abra-cadabra there is no key, next thing you know you're getting "Marcellused" Pulp Fictionized and there aint no Bruce Willis to save your stupid, trusting ass and either they find you years later in storage bags in the freezer or under the floor Tell Tale Heart, Edgar Allen Poe style. Trust me on this, there has to be nothing worse than getting killed by a clown. Nothing funny about that.

And he didn't even have the courtesy to have a hand-held honker!

I know I'm not crazy because a clown has never made me laugh. Also, there's a word for hating/fearing clowns and it's Coulrophobia. Why would there be a word for it if clowns weren't direct spawns of Satan?

I remember being punished by my mother and sitting in Madison Square Garden during a Ringling Bros. Barnum and Bailey's Circus show - at least it felt like I was being punished - and just never liking anything about the show. Then the clowns would come out between the segments and do their ten people in a Volkswagon bit, throw a bucket full of confetti "water" and people would just roar with laughter and I just felt they were annoying and nothing else. And it always seemed like I was near the front row so they'd fuck with me and try to get me in on the act and I always brought an extra sharp pencil in case I'd have to accidentally stab one of them to death. I abhorred everything about the circus. I was afraid the tiger would go tiger and maul Gunther; a trapeze artist would fall to their death; the elephants seemed like they were abused; the bears on the little tricylcles wearing the stupid little hats seemed pissed the fuck off, the whole vibe was just wrong, man.

And do you remember the movie "Magic" from the late 70's about that vantriloquist dummie that was evil. I can remember the commercial like it was yesterday. It was a pitch black and all of a sudden it was a closeup on the dummies face and he'd say:

Abra-Cadabra we'd take her to bed, magic is fun....when you're dead!

Vlad the Impaler, the ruler of Romania and the person it is believed the fabled "Dracula" was fashioned after, once had a huge banquet for all the poor and sick people in his kingdom. It was a feast that none of them had ever had or could imagine. When they were done Vlad stood up at the head of the table and asked them "How would you like to be rid of your ills and concerns forever?" He then proceeded to have the castle boarded up and burned to the ground killing every single one of them.

I'd like to do the same to all the big red nose wearing, hands up the back of a little wooden doll having, lips not moving but still speaking members of our society. It would be my version of Michael Jackson's "Heal The World". Then I'd like to get on a tiny tricyle wearing a little hat and cape and circle round their evil remains. Then, in a final show of victory, I'd get my hand held honker out: HONK-HONK-HONK-HONK!