If you ask most people in an informal survey they'll say their lucky # is 3, their favorite color is blue and yes, they're afraid of clowns. Why? Three is a special number going back to the Holy Trinity. When you find yourself in a situation where you're hiding behind a parked car and the zombie who's been following you and your friend all afternoon is approaching, you and your friend will catch your breath and whisper, "One, two, three. GO!" and run for it. Sometimes 3 is not a good number as in '3 on a match', allegedly from WWII when 3 soldiers would huddle in the darkness of night lighting their cigarettes with 1 match. The time it took to light all 3 gave the enemy time to aim and ... well, you know what happens. And the ancient game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. It just wouldn't be the same if it was Rock, Paper, Scissors and Fire. Even in modern humor, things are funnier in 3s.
Blue is the color of the sky on a nice day and the ocean on a beautiful day at the beach. It's pleasant to look at and soothing.
But clowns? They're supposed to make us cheer us and make us laugh. Hey, that bucket of confetti's a real knee-slapper. And that ear-splitting squeak of the twisting of those tubular rubber balloons into sculptures are meant to delight us. And why not? These people are professionals. Some clowns went to school for this. Only they don't call it 'school', they call it 'college'. Is that Clown College or Klown Kollege? Do the K's make it funnier? Like in picKle, chicKen, and cankles, etc?
Are they matriculated? Is it a two-year college? Do they get an Associates Degree in Clownology? Running in Slapshoes 101. How to Cram 8 clowns into a Smart Car? Is it a four-year program and they graduate with a BS - Bachelor of Silliness? Bachelor of Slapstick? Can they go for their Masters in Clownology? For a more in-depth study of intricate balloon animals, perhaps? Lectures on the art of sweeping up that spotlight until it disappears? How to Dance on Stilts. How to work with highly inbred, neurotic poodles whose hair has been dyed and shaved into 'clownlike' designs and have them hop through hoops.
There's a whole 'nother two-year program on Rodeo Clowns - How to Avoid Being Crushed by a Crazed Bronco With Ropes Tied to Its Genitals, How to Distract a Crowd From Noticing a Thrown Rider Being Gored by a Bull. How to Run in Slapshoes in Sawdust and Avoid the Steaming Piles of Horse and Bullshit.
You can paint a big friggin' red smile on your face and wear a big orange fright wig and a hat four sizes too small and a flower that squirts on your lapel, and you can throw buckets of confetti at us and make a poodle balloon for us to wear on our heads....the bottom line is we're still gonna think you've got a number of bodies buried in shallow graves in your basement.
Blue is the color of the sky on a nice day and the ocean on a beautiful day at the beach. It's pleasant to look at and soothing.
But clowns? They're supposed to make us cheer us and make us laugh. Hey, that bucket of confetti's a real knee-slapper. And that ear-splitting squeak of the twisting of those tubular rubber balloons into sculptures are meant to delight us. And why not? These people are professionals. Some clowns went to school for this. Only they don't call it 'school', they call it 'college'. Is that Clown College or Klown Kollege? Do the K's make it funnier? Like in picKle, chicKen, and cankles, etc?
Are they matriculated? Is it a two-year college? Do they get an Associates Degree in Clownology? Running in Slapshoes 101. How to Cram 8 clowns into a Smart Car? Is it a four-year program and they graduate with a BS - Bachelor of Silliness? Bachelor of Slapstick? Can they go for their Masters in Clownology? For a more in-depth study of intricate balloon animals, perhaps? Lectures on the art of sweeping up that spotlight until it disappears? How to Dance on Stilts. How to work with highly inbred, neurotic poodles whose hair has been dyed and shaved into 'clownlike' designs and have them hop through hoops.
There's a whole 'nother two-year program on Rodeo Clowns - How to Avoid Being Crushed by a Crazed Bronco With Ropes Tied to Its Genitals, How to Distract a Crowd From Noticing a Thrown Rider Being Gored by a Bull. How to Run in Slapshoes in Sawdust and Avoid the Steaming Piles of Horse and Bullshit.
You can paint a big friggin' red smile on your face and wear a big orange fright wig and a hat four sizes too small and a flower that squirts on your lapel, and you can throw buckets of confetti at us and make a poodle balloon for us to wear on our heads....the bottom line is we're still gonna think you've got a number of bodies buried in shallow graves in your basement.
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