Clowns and Gorilla Costumes Much like in the 1950s where science fiction movies such as Invasion of the Body Snatchers gave America a safe outlet to express their fear of communism and the recent zombie crazy is a representation of humanity’s mindless march off the ecological cliff, or maybe zombies are supposed to represent Nickleback fans, I can’t remember, but I am sure that the recent phenomenon of creepy clown sighting across the United States has something to do with Donald Trump’s run for the presidency. From North Carolina to California clowns have been spot roaming our darkened city streets and dashing into woods. The problem is creepy clowns are not a safe outlet for our fears.  It is like using a Ouija board while making toast in the bathtub. Something bad is going to happen, but you cannot be quite sure what. I am not saying that these creepy clowns should be hunted down and killed. Although, I would not want to be the deciding member on a jury. If you are considering purchasing a clown costume, let your family or friends know so that they can gather to hold an intervention for you. They love you and don’t want to find you passed out in some skid row alley surrounded by balloon animals and fake flowers that spray people with water. It is a slippery slope from terrifying children at birthday parties to becoming a mime. I have watched the best minds of my generation destroyed by the madness of pretending they were trapped in an invisible box.  Given the openness and tolerance in America now, the only possible remake of the movie Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner is for a modern day Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn to find their daughter has brought home a mime instead of Sidney Poitier. The tag line would be, “He’s snotty and French. A love story of today.” Who could not sympathize with them as they deal with the thoughts of having grandchildren who think it is normal to pretend to drink out of nonexistent bottles, bite into apples that never were, and walk down invisible steps?  What do you say to your daughter if while doing the laundry, you discovered smudges of white grease paint on the collars of her shirts and pretend juggling balls in the pockets of her coat? What do you tell the neighbors when the son-in-law is out in the front yard in black pants, suspenders, a stripped shirt and beret pretending he is riding an imaginary horse?  The property values in the community would plummet. Pretty soon the neighbors are burning a translucent, fictitious cross in your yard. What parent would not shed a tear having to playact march in a mime pride parade where nobody moves an inch?  It would be hard to wear a “Mimes Lives Matter” t-shirt because, let’s be honest, they don’t. How many police have risked their lives when confronted with a mime carrying an imaginary gun? For you parents out there that have found clown college material under your child’s bed, I feel your pain and heartache.  I know that you are probably telling yourself it is just a stage, that he or she will grow out of it, but it is not. Buy them a pair of size 20 shoes and a red ball nose because you are going to have to love them anyway.  Just be thankful you don’t get that call in the middle of the night, that call that every parent dreads, that sends you out to some deserted highway in the middle of the night, surrounded by floppy shoes and fright wigs, to watched paramedics pull your child and a 105 of his dead friends out of a crushed clown car. If you affirm their inner clown, and I know that is tough, one day you might walk into their room to find them swinging from the chandler with that make-believe rope they are always playing tug-a-war with.   At that moment, you will long for the memories of him going to prom on a unicycle, hanging out with angry, cigarette-smoking chimpanzees, and spraying seltzer in his pants. You don’t want that memory of being at your child’s funeral and having to watch the undertaker repeatedly have to push down on the lid to try to seal the casket because their floppy shoes are just too big and the haunting nose of that “beep, beep, beep” as it hits his nose. No other parent could possibly understand the pain of watching that coffin being lowered into the ground as a mournful calliope slowly plays “ra-da-da da-da-da-da-da-da” and that lid flying open as a thousand spring-loaded cloth snakes leap into the air. On the positive side, if your child is into clowning, you will never have to worry about having “the talk” with them. It is like introducing your child to Star Trek, but on steroids. Trust me, I lived next door to two circus clowns, Glen and Isabel, when they were in makeup, they would only answer to the names Pinky and Rupert. I lived out that moment of Marlon Brando’s Col. Kurtz at the end of Apocalypse Now  waiting for Martin Sheen’s Captain Willard to kill him, “the horror, the horror.”  I did not love the smell of clown farts in the morning.  Clowns truly are the anti-Viagra. Any romance in a moment will disappear when you see juggling pins flying through the air out of the corner of your eye and a dwarf clown running from a normal-sized clown after he has kicked him in the butt.  You might be in the mood for love but Barry White, Al Green and Luther Vandross never crooned to a calliope. All nudity might be good nudity but it is awful tough when there is a miniature tricycle in the room.  (BTW… Those of you wondering about clown farts, just like clowns themselves, they don’t smell funny.)  If you are thinking about traumatizing ankle biters at Chuck E Cheese or believe that you are really the love child of Ronald McDonald and Emmett Kelly, can I make a suggestion? We don’t need more clowns, even if every time a one dies an angel gets its wings. How about a gorilla costume instead? There is nothing that cannot be made better with a gorilla costume. Again, trust me. I had one. Want to learn if it is true love? Take your beloved home, ask her if she would like a drink, and excuse yourself so that you can change into something more comfortable. Come back into the room wearing a gorilla costume and a velvet smoking jacket as you carry two martinis. You will quickly learn if this young woman is for you. Granted, I got, “I’m in a relationship with emotionally stunted twelve-year-old,” but it might work for you. You want to make everybody’s day? Just go to the store in a gorilla costume with two beautiful blondes in leopard skin bikinis and jungle pit helmets, grab a cart, and dump every banana you can into it. Trust me, the checker will beam as she rings up the bananas as one of the blondes tells her that you left your wallet in your other pants. Wouldn’t you smile ear-to-ear if you pulled up to a stoplight and there is a gorilla driving a red convertible with two bikini babes and a backseat filled with bananas next to you?  Even the police officer that pulls you over cannot keep a straight face as he warns you “to be careful because it is a jungle out there.” A gorilla and two girls dancing together will make any party you will ever have gone to better, especially if they toss you a banana or two. A debate where both politicians are wearing gorilla costumes, better. Any Zac Efron movie, almost watchable if he was donning a monkey mask. The Academy Awards? Who wouldn’t want to watch Matthew McConaughey dressed as a gorilla in a tux holding an Oscar as he thanks his agent and fellow cast members? Just saying gorilla costumes make everything better. Don’t be a clown. Channel your inner gorilla.
Clowns and Gorilla Costumes Much like in the 1950s where science fiction movies such as Invasion of the Body Snatchers  gave America a safe outlet to express their fear of communism and the recent zombie crazy is a representation of humanity’s mindless march off the ecological cliff, or maybe zombies are supposed to represent Nickleback fans, I can’t remember, but I am sure that the recent phenomenon of creepy clown sighting across the United States has something to do with Donald Trump’s run for the presidency. From North Carolina to California clowns have been spot roaming our darkened city streets and dashing into woods. The problem is creepy clowns are not a safe outlet for our fears.  It is like using a Ouija board while making toast in the bathtub. Something bad is going to happen, but you cannot be quite sure what. I am not saying that these creepy clowns should be hunted down and killed. Although, I would not want to be the deciding member on a jury. If you are considering purchasing a clown costume, let your family or friends know so that they can gather to hold an intervention for you. They love you and don’t want to find you passed out in some skid row alley surrounded by balloon animals and fake flowers that spray people with water. It is a slippery slope from terrifying children at birthday parties to becoming a mime. I have watched the best minds of my generation destroyed by the madness of pretending they were trapped in an invisible box.  Given the openness and tolerance in America now, the only possible remake of the movie Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner is for a modern day Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn to find their daughter has brought home a mime instead of Sidney Poitier. The tag line would be, “He’s snotty and French. A love story of today.” Who could not sympathize with them as they deal with the thoughts of having grandchildren who think it is normal to pretend to drink out of nonexistent bottles, bite into apples that never were, and walk down invisible steps?  What do you say to your daughter if while doing the laundry, you discovered smudges of white grease paint on the collars of her shirts and pretend juggling balls in the pockets of her coat? What do you tell the neighbors when the son-in-law is out in the front yard in black pants, suspenders, a stripped shirt and beret pretending he is riding an imaginary horse?  The property values in the community would plummet. Pretty soon the neighbors are burning a translucent, fictitious cross in your yard. What parent would not shed a tear having to playact march in a mime pride parade where nobody moves an inch?  It would be hard to wear a “Mimes Lives Matter” t-shirt because, let’s be honest, they don’t. How many police have risked their lives when confronted with a mime carrying an imaginary gun? For you parents out there that have found clown college material under your child’s bed, I feel your pain and heartache.  I know that you are probably telling yourself it is just a stage, that he or she will grow out of it, but it is not. Buy them a pair of size 20 shoes and a red ball nose because you are going to have to love them anyway.  Just be thankful you don’t get that call in the middle of the night, that call that every parent dreads, that sends you out to some deserted highway in the middle of the night, surrounded by floppy shoes and fright wigs, to watched paramedics pull your child and a 105 of his dead friends out of a crushed clown car. If you affirm their inner clown, and I know that is tough, one day you might walk into their room to find them swinging from the chandler with that make-believe rope they are always playing tug-a-war with.   At that moment, you will long for the memories of him going to prom on a unicycle, hanging out with angry, cigarette-smoking chimpanzees, and spraying seltzer in his pants. You don’t want that memory of being at your child’s funeral and having to watch the undertaker repeatedly have to push down on the lid to try to seal the casket because their floppy shoes are just too big and the haunting nose of that “beep, beep, beep” as it hits his nose. No other parent could possibly understand the pain of watching that coffin being lowered into the ground as a mournful calliope slowly plays “ra-da-da da-da-da-da- da-da” and that lid flying open as a thousand spring-loaded cloth snakes leap into the air. On the positive side, if your child is into clowning, you will never have to worry about having “the talk” with them. It is like introducing your child to Star Trek, but on steroids. Trust me, I lived next door to two circus clowns, Glen and Isabel, when they were in makeup, they would only answer to the names Pinky and Rupert. I lived out that moment of Marlon Brando’s Col. Kurtz at the end of Apocalypse Now waiting for Martin Sheen’s Captain Willard to kill him, “the horror, the horror.”  I did not love the smell of clown farts in the morning.  Clowns truly are the anti-Viagra. Any romance in a moment will disappear when you see juggling pins flying through the air out of the corner of your eye and a dwarf clown running from a normal- sized clown after he has kicked him in the butt.  You might be in the mood for love but Barry White, Al Green and Luther Vandross never crooned to a calliope. All nudity might be good nudity but it is awful tough when there is a miniature tricycle in the room.  (BTW… Those of you wondering about clown farts, just like clowns themselves, they don’t smell funny.)  If you are thinking about traumatizing ankle biters at Chuck E Cheese or believe that you are really the love child of Ronald McDonald and Emmett Kelly, can I make a suggestion? We don’t need more clowns, even if every time a one dies an angel gets its wings. How about a gorilla costume instead? There is nothing that cannot be made better with a gorilla costume. Again, trust me. I had one. Want to learn if it is true love? Take your beloved home, ask her if she would like a drink, and excuse yourself so that you can change into something more comfortable. Come back into the room wearing a gorilla costume and a velvet smoking jacket as you carry two martinis. You will quickly learn if this young woman is for you. Granted, I got, “I’m in a relationship with emotionally stunted twelve-year-old,” but it might work for you. You want to make everybody’s day? Just go to the store in a gorilla costume with two beautiful blondes in leopard skin bikinis and jungle pit helmets, grab a cart, and dump every banana you can into it. Trust me, the checker will beam as she rings up the bananas as one of the blondes tells her that you left your wallet in your other pants. Wouldn’t you smile ear-to-ear if you pulled up to a stoplight and there is a gorilla driving a red convertible with two bikini babes and a backseat filled with bananas next to you?  Even the police officer that pulls you over cannot keep a straight face as he warns you “to be careful because it is a jungle out there.” A gorilla and two girls dancing together will make any party you will ever have gone to better, especially if they toss you a banana or two. A debate where both politicians are wearing gorilla costumes, better. Any Zac Efron movie, almost watchable if he was donning a monkey mask. The Academy Awards? Who wouldn’t want to watch Matthew McConaughey dressed as a gorilla in a tux holding an Oscar as he thanks his agent and fellow cast members? Just saying gorilla costumes make everything better. Don’t be a clown. Channel your inner gorilla.