The Ghosts of Clownville


When clowns were everywhere…

Sometime in the not-so-distant future a time came to be when Coulrophobia was added to the rapidly growing list of phobias. Curious (lazy) Wikipedia goers noticed that the list itself had been expanding at a breakneck pace.

Cloistered away in the grand ivory towers of individualism, humanity resided with an increasing sense of comfort, and unease. At interactions of any form. Social media had decisively despatched mainstream news into literary oblivion. Decidophobia ruled the roost. A systematic adherence to cultivating fear, of nearly anything, came to rule human lives.

Fears of the non-living and the living, the animate and the inanimate, the above ground to below ground, medicine and lack of it, water and the lack of it, food and too much of it, the world and the netherworld…there seemed to be no corner that provided a safe haven against human fear.

A group took sympathy at this pitiable state of human affairs. Clowns decided to don the role of smile mongers, hoping to be the social glue that melded a fearful society. They hoped that the exaggerated smiles, mostly of the fake variety, would serve as an alternative to the now-forgotten pastime of laughter therapy.

Instead, it repulsed humans. The Clowns’ fake smile, many widely noted, reminded them of their own long history with plastered U-s on their faces. Readily brandished in the (un)welcome presence of family, friends, the workplace, and just about any outlet which had the misfortune of hosting more than one human. The mutual smile-fakery had gone unnoticed then. More than a few wondered why it was a cause of such fear when the Clowns did it now.

The Clowns pressed further, opting to band together in imagined realities (society). The congregation, Clownville, soon came to assume an eerie personality. The gates to the town were always wide open. But it only served to slam the doors of human hearts shut. The gleeful personas seemed designed to camouflage melancholy realities that lay hidden beneath.

The Clowns’ phony facade resembled a mirror being thrust in the faces of humankind. An unfiltered reflection of all that was amiss in the human condition.

Clownville seemed bright, lustrous, even cosmetically prosperous. A few larger-than-life sized Clowns made a concerted effort at heralding further change. They made liberal use of patently unbelievable news, which had long ceased to be called fake news. Drummed up references to lack of viable governing alternatives flew to all corners of humankind.

The barrage had its effects. Clowns moved out of Clownville and landed in another imagined reality: Council of Administrators.

Matters of grave unimportance came to occupy center stage. Nearly everything worth jousting over – food, electricity, and other such glorious inanities – had already been conquered.

Some Clowns noticed that a long era of peace had descended upon humanity. In true Clown spirit, more than a few conjured up plans of a monumental firecracker show. Humankind was too seeped in a fear stupor to respond.

With ever-increasing Clown shows, fear rose exponentially. More than a few humans seemed to catch an apparition of talented jesters conjuring up a reflexive warp of fear.

The firecracker show was a stupendous success.

At long last, humankind was united.

The Clowns’ attempt at coagulating humans into a grand mould had succeeded.

The Clowns had moved out of their closeted caves.

Humanity joined them.

4 thoughts on “The Ghosts of Clownville

  1. Welcome back!
    Shakepeare’s lines, “All the world’s a stage,
    And all the men and women merely players” could well be, “All the world’s a circus,
    And all the men and women merely clowns”

    1. Thank you, good sire! I missed WP and your writings (been reading them on email, but my lazy alter ego inhibited response). Apologies!

  2. And there was a group of thinking people who decided to take on the clowns and stop the joke. But to fight an enemy, one needs to know one’s enemy.

    Yes, the good people recalled that master strategist – Sun Tze – and he said: Verily I say – yup, that means he is a dead fellow and therefore, he can’t be wrong – Verily I say, he who knows himself and his enemy will win a hundred battles.

    So, the good people – the thinking ones – mingled with the enemy to know him better. Alas, soon they too became clowns. And the people could not tell the difference. And the good people now aka clowns – laughed all the way to the bank.

    And Sun Tze reminded them – Unless you are fighting the 101st battle, then you are stuffed. But the good people, now aka clowns, were too busy with firecrackers.

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