If ever you traveled through Kansas you'll understand why a clown breaking the highway monotony would be both thrilling and startling.
I don't think, however, my desire to be a clown in retirement is why they gave me the nickname. It evolved, more than likely, from 8 years of interacting closely in my life: through observation, experience, conversation, and action.
Yesterday, Lossine sent me a piece from one of my very favorite Twitter accounts: @VeryShortStory.
I spotted the clown tailing me. They'd found me. Soon the whole posse would be here, giving me an "intervention" to return to the clownhood.I immediately started laughing and said, "This will be my post Thursday morning." Now, I recognize that there's been an onslaught of scary clowns trying to lure children into the woods across the country (it may be a publicity stunt for an upcoming film or psychopaths that should be arrested) and I want to write here that my comedy with becoming a clown in Kansas upon retirement is benign. I just think running randomly across a thruway would be hilarious, especially when one can go miles and miles without seeing another car, a house, or anything but corn. A clown would be a welcomed surprise.
And with that, I will leave with a few 4th grade jokes.
- Why did the clown visit the doctor? Because he needed expertise to check on his funny bone.
- What should you do if a posse of clowns attacks you? Go for the juggler!
- Why don't most go into a career of clowning? Because those are big shoes to fill!
- Why don't cannibals eat clowns? Ah, because they taste sort of funny.
- What is the pink good found between the toes of elephants? Slow clown that didn't move to get out of the way.
Ba dum dum ch'. And with that, it's time to get philosophical for my afternoon class.