facing the enemy

This weekend, I met a real live plainclothes clown. Not only did I speak to her, but I sold her one of my old Halloween wigs at my sidewalk sale on Saturday. I had marked the white, curly afro wig for sale "Rare elderly wig," and when she asked me how much I was asking for the wig, she added, "This is perfect for me, because I do clowning."

Notice her incorrect use of of clown as a verb. That disturbs me. You don't do clowning. If you got a red rubber nose and face paint, then you are a clown! Who are these people, trying to soften the image by adding an -ing ending, as if they are just dabbling or playing. If you steal things and kill people, you're not doing 'criming,' you're a criminal! If you touch kids inappropriately, you don't do molesting, you're a child molester! Sheesh!

The clown suit on the left was one for sale recently at the Bernal Hillwide sale. You can't tell just how gigantic that thing is from the photo. Big enough to stuff a few kindergarteners in, no doubt. I was so troubled when I saw this thing that I had to photograph it in case the police were searching from evidence from us locals. Not only was there one oversized clown already lurking in my neighborhood, but by the end of the day, if someone else fit into this creepy oversized killing suit, then there would be TWO oversized clowns living amongst us. The woman I met at my sidewalk sale on Saturday was rather tiny in stature, like a plump jockey. That's a total of three "out" clowns, which is enough for me to consider reloacting within the city.