Clowning Around

Name one you don't want to kill...yeah, that's what I thought

Clowns. There are very few words in the English language that are creepier than 'clowns.' Just typing the word, I sense the hair on the back of my neck standing and it feels like the skin on my back is trying to leap off of me.

On clowns, I am not a fan. That said I do not suffer from coulrophobia, which is an excessive, debilitating fear of clowns. It's a thing, a real one, and you can read all about it here. To prove it's just not a Wiki thing, read this on the topic from the good people at the Smithsonian.

Look, I just don't like them - clowns, not the good folks looking over our nation's attic over at the Smithsonian. Clowns are evil. The only one I can tolerate is Krusty the Clown. How can you not love a drug-addicted, four-fingered, Jewish, Borscht Belt clown with a superfluous third nipple, who is yellow on purpose and not from cirrhosis of the liver from his rampant alcohol abuse ~ allegedly!

My hatred and sheer contempt for clowns was set alight anew this morning as I came down our stairs and saw that pink-hatted spawn of Satan you see in the photo above staring at me through one of our entry way windows. I liked to have died. This was not my first run in with Lucifer's Lil Court Jester. At a 'white elephant' gift exchange at the Christmas holiday a couple of months ago, I was one of the last to pick a gift. The innocent, festive packaging  betrayed what lurked inside. Imagine my horror when I opened the package and saw it staring back at me. I recoiled in fear and revulsion and determined right then and there that Hellspawn wasn't coming home with us. And it didn't. Until today.

I am now left to ponder the fate of Lil Beelzebub. I think I've calmed down enough at this point to NOT put a "For Sale" sign up in front of the house because I'm not living in the clown version of "The Amityville Horror." This much I know. It will be disposed of and will be the recipient of the fate it so richly deserves. I can't wait.