Just So Creepy, Just So Wrong

I’m sure there is a legion of psychologists out there who would be more than willing to analyze my feelings about the following things:      

Clowns, mimes, and ventriloquists.       

I abhor them.  My skin crawls if I encounter one.  I fail to see the humor, the talent, the mere reason for their existence.  Entertainment!  Artistic presentation! you may say.       

I say bullshit.       

Let’s start with clowns. Why would anyone want to change their facial appearance into that of  something garish and evil with paint ? Why do they wear ridiculous wigs in colors unknown to nature?  Why do they dress in such outsized, mismatched billowy clothes?       

   

 Innocently entertaining a child? Yeah, right.   

    

   

 What’s not to love?   

    

They hate children.  They want to frighten them and watch them scream in terror.  If they approached a child dressed as a normal human being, they wouldn’t get much of a reaction other than perhaps a giggle.
Clowns don’t want to see children giggle. They want to turn them into quivering, sobbing, psychologically scarred little bastards…just as they, the clowns, were when they were children and some twisted bastard scared the bejeezus out of them. Behind all that grease paint, billowing clothes and outsized shoes is one very sick individual. That clown could even be a murderer or a pedophile.  All clowns should have a large balloon animal shoved down their throats. THAT would make me laugh.      

Next: Mimes.       

   

I would love to see an act where the invisible box keeps shrinking and actually crushes the mime.   

    

Ok…so you can make it look like you’re stuck in a glass box or pulling on a long rope.  You’re white grease painted face, blackened lips and eyes and striped shirt is supposed to make us believe you’re some kind of artist. Why don’t you just go through the same motions, only without the facade, and actually speak  to your audience? Here’s an idea:  Stop making us guess. Get out of that invisible box, wash your face,  make yourself useful.  Get off the street corner where you embarrass yourself by pretending to be drowning yet still motioning for passers-by to toss money into your beret.  People give their spare change only because they aren’t sure if you’re homeless or raising money for a cure for Tourette’s Syndrome.  Get a job.        

And last, but not least, ventriloquists.      

Timmy is NOT a graven image.  The Bishops shared a special hug and conceived with the help of  Elmer’s glue and a wooden spoon.   

    

   

How ventriloquists masturbate
 

    

I have never seen a ventriloquism act that didn’t make me squirm in my seat and shudder. Yes, it does take talent to speak without moving your lips. It also takes talent to sneeze and fart at the same time, but that doesn’t mean you should. To use some ugly wooden “dummy” to play the part of your alter ego just reinforces my theory that you are a bi-polar psycho who cannot communicate with others without some kind of clumsy disguise.  It’s bad enough to have to watch your lips while your “little friend” speaks.  Even worse is to watch your dummy clack his wooden jaw while streams of self-deprecating insults spew out through your frozen, smiling lips. Yes, people will laugh, but what they really want to do is beat you over the head with that wooden puppet.  I’ll bet your lips will start moving then . 

I know there are thousands of other people who feel as I do.  Why are there so many books and movies out there about crazed clowns, murderous mimes, and demonic ventriloquist dummies?   Why do parents continue to force their children to watch these acts and have nightmares for the rest of their lives?    

My next blog: I delve into the hellish world of  string puppets, contortionists, and Shriners in Fezzes driving little cars in parades.    

     

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

    

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