The Clown Problem

Part of me is afraid of clowns. Not afraid, really. Just suspicious. It seems like a weird identity to assume. To what purpose? I am suspicious of the ulterior, potentially sinister motives of clowns. Why are they in clownface? Why hide their features? What's with the circus suit? On one level, this ought to allay suspicion, because after all - they stand out like a sore thumb in that getup! This isn't a guise to assume for purposes of stealth.

And it feels like it's a long time since clowns have been trusted and beloved figures. Nobody could reasonably don a clown suit in this day and age and expect to ride the coattails of some general clown-based faith and goodwill. You might as well dress up in a roman catholic priest garb. Maybe that goodwill used to be there, but these days "sorry." So I can't see the clown identity as itself sinister, or lending itself to abuse, because there's no residual goodwill left to cloak their dark deeds under. If anything, a clown walks in everyone is going to be instantly on their guard!

But it leaves me wondering: why would they do it? Why do they do it? Are they driven to do it? Are they driven to it in one of those tiny cars?

I suppose trying to rationalize and analyze this thing isn't going to get me anywhere. What I've got is some kind of deep-seated anti-clown bias. It's not based in anything rational. I'm not going to be able to discover and articulate a basis for it. Just the look of a clown. There's something about it I don't trust.

But another part of me loves the idea of a clown. It's the secret identity thing, maybe. You transform into someone other, who can do peculiar deeds and has a sort of societal stamp of approval for them, as long as you're wearing the getup! At least for the doing of recognized, clownlike deeds, a clown outfit does confer certain permissions. It's perfectly excusable to douse people with buckets of confetti, or whatever. People start, it's still a bit of a shock when it happens - but then they're like, oh fuck it's just a clown. Ok.

But if I were going to be a clown, damn. I would not make my makeup or my outfit look like THAT.

I'd be like a super-colorful member of 1970's KISS, maybe.