Fear of clowns/Evil clowns. Retarded/Retarded AND lame.

Having recently gone through an existential crisis that shook me to my core, a crisis with such grave mental repercussions that we will never, ever discuss it here, I know fear. I know what it is to stay up all night wondering why God even put you on Earth if he was going to make you suffer like this, and if my own crisis was so ridiculous that any of the world’s approximately 20.8 million refugees would be in full rights to bludgeon me to death for being such a self-involved fuck, my relationship to anyone with a serious fear of clowns is the same. You are ridiculous, and my fist would prove this to your face if given the chance. That this supposed fear has even been given a scientific, clinical classification, “coulrophobia,” makes me think that maybe those anti-science intelligent design assholes are onto something. At least they don’t indulge in this kind of retard enablement. “Symptoms tend to include: breathlessness, dizziness, excessive sweating, nausea, dry mouth, feeling sick, shaking, heart palpitations, inability to speak or think clearly, a fear of dying, becoming mad or losing control, a sensation of detachment from reality or a full blown anxiety attack.” Seriously, fuck you, you fucking circus freaks.

Evil clowns are simply unacceptable. Whether it’s those dudes in ICP, whose fans used to get dressed up in full face paint just to go to the local Denny’s in high school, spraying each other with Faygo and then returning to their evil dungeons, i.e. their bedrooms at their parents midwestern track houses, or that kid on Halloween who gets the evil clown mask but still just wears the same black trenchcoat he wears everyday to the arcade, the one who keeps pretending to stab you until you’re like “Seriously, burn out, either kill me or back the fuck up, because you’re sweating so bad in your latex mask that it’s getting on me, and I want to throw up.” Perhaps one of the most famous evil clowns in American pop culture is the paranormal villain in Stephen King’s novel, It. And do you know what happens at the end of Stephen King’s It? The clown turns into a giant spider. That’s right, evil clowns: one step below on the spooky ladder from giant spiders. Which are retarded.

What I think would be really cool is if all of you coulrophobics and evil clowns would gather together and I could throw a pie in your face, except the pie would be made of fire, and then I could put it out, hilariously, with a seltzer bottle spray to your face, except it wouldn’t be seltzer, it would be acid. And then, just to make sure, I would shoot you. With bullets.