I am amazed how many people are afraid of clowns.
Number 99 on my 100 Things list reads
- I am afraid of clowns. I think they are evil motherfuckers and want them to stay the hell away from me.
I'll tell you how I got there.
I wasn't all that crazy about clowns as a kid. What tipped me over the edge? That scene in Poltergeist where the clown drags that kid under the bed. I think most kids have a fear of something hiding under the bed. To get dragged off of the bed by a clown is to bring a tingling fear to a screaming horror.
I can just see the director and producer on set, laughing: Ha! Kids will be shitting themselves for the rest of their lives after they see this.
Pure evil, I tell you.
Unfortunately for me, it doesn't end with that. When my grandfather retired, he decided to take up painting. He painted quite a few different things, but his absolute favorite subjects were hobos. Hobos on trains. Hobos around a campfire. And they all looked like clowns. Every last one of them.
The colors my grandfather used were garish. At least to my young eyes. Reds and blues that jumped off the canvas. There were hobo paintings in every room. Their eyes followed me every time I walked by. I didn't want to hurt my grandfather's feelings, but those paintings made my stomach ache.
Most adults cannot give you a concise answers as to why they hate clowns. My explanation may not make sense, but at least I have one.