I’m not afraid of clowns.  I simply acknowledge the fact that they’re evil.  I have a recurring dream in which I’m being menaced by a clown in full clown regalia, really slowly, and no one tries to stop it.  I used to think that this was because either a) no one liked me, which I haven’t ruled out, or b) everyone else was too scared of the clown to try to help me, which may also be true.  Upon deeper reflection, however, I think it’s most likely just because no one knows what to do when clowns attack.  We’re all too busy planning for the zombie apocalypse to prepare a defense against the imminent threat posed by those jumbo-shod, red-nosed, smirking agents of evil.  Let’s face it:  the clown apocalypse is inevitable, isn’t it?

To save the world from that crimson-wigged, pasty-faced, baggy-trousered scourge, and also so my dream self will know what to do in the future, I took the time to analyze the most common battle-clown tactics and strategies.  I then devised countermeasures just as soon as I’d stopped screaming.  But not crying, because I wasn’t crying, I don’t care what you thought you saw.  Because I am heroic and selfless, and because next time I’m dreaming about clowns I’d like you to get off your duff and do something about it, I will now share these plans with you so that we can work together when the clowns decide that the moment is ripe for their attack.  For heaven’s sake, don’t share this with the clowns.  In fact, you should make sure that no clowns are around while you’re reading this.  Did you check behind you?  Clowns love to sneak up from behind.  There could be a clown lurking behind you right this very second.  Go on, check.  I’ll wait.

A moment of silence, please, for the ones who discovered the clowns behind them just that little bit too late.

Okay:  for the survivors, here’s what I’ve learned.  Clowns are crafty, scary not scary but nefarious, terrifying not terrifying but depraved, and evil.  Really, really evil.  But they do have weaknesses, and they can be fought.  The two most effective methods of defense against clowns target the following weaknesses:

 1.  The tiny clown car

As we all know, clowns travel in packs, and they use those ridiculously small cars to fit dozens of clowns into an area designed to accommodate maybe two people.  They do this by manipulating the subatomic particles in their bodies into acting like they’re just empty space, thus bypassing the laws of physics and enabling the clowns to all occupy the same seat and thereby squeeze twenty clowns into a teeny, tiny car.

The manipulation of subatomic particles is a delicate process and requires perfect concentration.  Disrupt that concentration at a crucial moment, for instance just after the clown car narrowly avoids a humorous obstacle, and the entire pack of clowns will implode.  And possibly start a new universe, but no plan is perfect.

For maximum disruption, I recommend placing a small clown doll in the path of the car.  The clowns will become confused, thinking it’s an actual clown, and will believe it’s time to leave the car before they’re ready.  The clowns will then panic, lose concentration, and implode, with any luck taking the doll with them.  Finally, a use for Clown Barbie.

2.  The ridiculously oversized shoes

I know, you thought I was going to say the pasty white makeup. If you wash off the makeup, the clown will lose its powers, right?  The truth is, while I treasure the thought of a clown getting blasted in the face with a pressure hose, it turns out that underneath the makeup is just more makeup; you’ll never get through all of it before the clown gets you with that plastic flower that they claim only squirts water, but actually coats you with a slow-acting venom that gradually turns you into one of their hapless minions, also known as mimes.  Why do you think mimes are always acting like they’re trapped in things?  Poor devils.

No, if you can’t get the clown car, what you want to go for is the shoes.  Contrary to popular belief, clowns don’t have big feet.  Their oversized shoes are where they put the mind-control devices that keep everyone from perceiving them as a threat.  These devices have gotten so good that, not only do we not run away in terror at the very sight of them, we actually laugh, clap, and pay them money for the privilege of infiltrating our society.

The mind-control devices don’t work on children, though, which is why children start crying and screaming when they see clowns.  What you want to do if the clowns make it out of the car is this:  find out what the latest overpriced toy fad is, grab the nearest kid, and tell him there’s a furby/razor scooter/Tickle-Me-Elmo in the clowns’ shoes.  A kid’s greed will always outweigh his fear, which is how so many parents get their kids to go to the dentist.  Once the kids tear into the shoes, the mind control devices will go offline and the adults can recognize the threat and take action.  They won’t need to, though, because the children will have torn the clowns to shreds by that point looking for the toy.  I almost feel sorry for the freaky-wigged creeps.  Hey, I said almost.

So when the time comes and the clowns attack, make sure you’ve laid in a stock of clown dolls and rugrats.  In fact, you might want to start training your children right away to attack any clowns they meet, just so you’re ready when the time comes.  Oh, and make sure you film your kids when they come across a clown and go all Manchurian Candidate.  And upload the videos to YouTube.  I like to fall asleep to the sound of clowns wailing in agony.  Hey, we’ve all got our bedtime rituals!

This post has been brought to you by the good people at Charlie Cottrell’s blog (Sketches From Memory), who wanted a post about clowns.  Chuck, don’t say I never did nothing for you.  And let me know how that clown gladiatorial arena‘s coming.  Now that’s entertainment!