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Meet The Real American Clown

You can imagine my surprise and chagrin when I was contacted yesterday evening by a professional clown. He had seen my intention of doing the WFME “Week Day of Clowns” and wanted to make sure that this wasn’t going to be a clown-bashing event. Apparently, and I had never known this, clowns are made fun of more than any minority in this country.

The reason we don’t see it, is because “laughter is blind to the clown’s struggle for equal opportunity perception.”

When I gave my “anonymous clown contact” the lowdown on this week’s today’s hilarity surrounding those “crazy-make-up’d silly looking bastards,” he wanted the opportunity to share some information about the real plight of clowns worldwide.

What could I say? I had to at least hear him out.

And so, without further delay, my interview with “Bubblehead Benny” and his tiny toy dog “Scrumptious.” Please be aware, this interview has been edited for content, length and humor. Interview with Bubblehead Benny — June 20th, 2004

Me: So. I guess the first question would be…why? Why contact me and for what reason?

Bubblehead Benny: Well, just because I’m a clown doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to use the Internet or that I don’t know what ‘blogs’ are. I do. I surf the net and read my favorite blogs when I’m not stuffing myself into a VW bug with eighty-five other clowns. And hell, with all the Wi-Fi hotspots all over the place, sometimes I can surf the web while I’m pinned under twenty-two other clown asses. Well, anyway, I saw your desire to do a whole week day of entries on clowns and felt that now was as good a time as any to communicate to your readers about the reality of being a clown. The truth behind the dark curtain of secrecy.

Me: Do you own your red nose?

Bubblehead Benny: Yeah, but that’s not the point. I am a person. A real person.

Me: A real funny person. How much does your dog weigh?

Bubblehead Benny: Three pounds. See, I’m not just a clown with a three pound Yorkie. I’m a man who had parents-

Me: Parents who think you’re funny!

Bubblehead Benny: Yes, but-

Me: So what’s the deal with this whole ‘clowns are the minority’ thing?

Bubblehead Benny: I know I’m going to piss off some of your readers for saying this, but my colleagues Bubbles and Sparkles have done the research to prove it. Americans put down clowns more than any other minority in the history of the United States. There are more Americans who are afraid of clowns than those who are afraid of other minorities. More Americans who refuse to sit anywhere near clowns…more than any other minority. Americans spit on clowns, they curse at clowns, they use them in movies as murderers and boogey monsters, they paint eerie portraits of us to toss fear into the souls of children everywhere…and above all they laugh at clowns.

Me: Isn’t that the point?

Bubblehead Benny: Not to laugh ‘spitefully’ at us, no. To laugh with an open heart, sure. But this isn’t the case. Americans are so afraid of clowns that they do anything they can to keep us from being treated as equals. We are the sweaty overweight wild-card of society. We pile into cars with hundreds of our kinfolk in an attempt to “pull the wool” over society’s eyes. Spotlights are shined on our faces like a primitive line-up. We are slaves to society and this must stop.

Me: Why don’t you just quit your job? Stop being a clown? Then you could just be a regular old guy and never have to deal with the harrassment. I mean, what’s your real name?

Bubblehead Benny: Benny Bohlbuhlched.

Me: Hungarian?

Bubblehead Benny: Croatian.

Me: Aaah.

Bubblehead Benny: I was born a clown, and I will always be a clown. I don’t know anything other than this. I mean, what do you want me to do, go be a waiter or something?

Me: You could become a magician. Or you could train dogs to do silly things for their owners.

Bubblehead Benny: Silly things.

Me: Yeah.

Bubblehead Benny: What, am I silly?

Me: Uh…

Bubblehead Benny: What, is all I am to you a silly clown?

Me: Aren’t you?

Bubblehead Benny: I am a person. Who deserves the same respect and acknowledgement that any other person does, no matter if they put on a simple shade of eye-liner or cake their face in white powdery crap.

Me: Well, you have my respect, sir. You and your freaky rat-sized dog, Scrumptious.

Bubblehead Benny: Thank you. We appreciate that.

Me: No problem whatsoever. Any last words before we start this week off with a bang?

Bubblehead Benny: Just one thing. I plead to all of you out there. I am on my knees in my flowery pants and loose suspenders pleading to you to open your eyes to the plight of the American clown. We are funny, yes. We entertain, of course. But we are also just like you, without the caked up make-up, tiny trick-learning dogs and a life on the road with people like Dolphinboy and the Siamese Trapeze Twins of Death. We deserve to be treated just like you treat your parents, assuming you don’t hate them and want to see them dead in the hopes of pulling a great inheritance.

Me: That it?

Bubblehead Benny: Yeah. That’s it.

Me: Good. Now we can talk about how scary you guys are to us human beings.

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