“I too hate clowns. When I was a baby I had two pictures over my crib of these clown like critters with sombreros on. (Don’t ask me where my mother found them!) It is my earliest memory, lying in my crib and seeing these eyes staring at me, following me. When I got a little older, apparently I broke the glass in frame and my mother walked in, freaked out that I was covered in blood. I guess I’d finally had it and wanted to do the nastys in.
The thing that REALLY annoys me about clowns or other “entertainers” that delight in tormenting children is the reaction of adults to this. They laugh and push the poor frightened child towards this menace. No one seems to give a damn that the poor kid is completely freaked out! I see this all the time and I remember experiencing this as a child. I hate clowns!”
“Clowns suck. When I was about 10 years old I joined a fife and drum band that marched in parades every weekend. Before I even learned to play the fife, the group made me be in the parade so it would look like they had more people. So I was just supposed to walk in the middle of the group and fake it. Well, everything was going fine until some stupid clown came right into the middle of our group and put his big ugly ear up to my fife. When he discovered I was not really playing, he laughed a sinister laugh and proceeded to skip around our group for the remainder of the parade informing every spectator along the way that I was faking. Needless to say I was mortified. From that day on I have hated and feared all clowns and clown-type things.”
“Ever since I can remember I have hated clowns. I don’t know why, but I thing the intense aversion can most likely be attributed to some childhood trauma involving clowns that I have subsequently repressed. Either way, they scare me. My band is playing at a Halloween Show on Halloween, and everyone is required to wear a costume to get in. However, because I refused to play if there was even ONE clown in the room, there is a strict ban on people in clown costumes at the show. I feel like I have done my part as a good citizen of the world to protect not only myself, but many of my peers, from having Halloween ruined by some freaky looking dork in big polka dotted pants, a Ronald McDonald ‘fro, and make up which is eclipsed in horridness possibly only by Michael Jackson’s. I shall continue to do anything and everything in my power to work against clowns and anything related to them.”
“My fear is not specifically of actual people dressed as clowns. (Or it may be, but I strenuously avoid places such idiots frequent.) I am afraid of clown dolls, specifically. Man, “Poltergeist” *still* gives me nightmares, 15 years later! I’m also terrified by movies wherein a ventriloquist’s dummy or some puppet becomes sentient and chases its owner around with point objects. Dear God! It’s witnessing those kinds of movies that really tests the limits of my sanity. I wish we could instigate some anti-Clown doll legislation.”
“My story isn’t as frightening as the others but I feel better talking about it. I think my fear of clowns comes from a cartoon I watched when I was young. The cartoon was Scoobie Doo. In the beginning that horrible clown would pop up and laugh a cynical laugh and then float around the screen. I never really realized that the clown frightened me so much until a few years ago when my town acquired a local Bozo (literally, he is an idiot). The man looks like a clown even when he is not in costume. It is hard to avoid him because the city hires him to show up to every major event. No matter how hard people try to convince me that clowns are good, I still think that there is something evil about them.”
“I live in Sydney, Australia, and there’s this clown in Manly (a seaside suburb, popular on weekends). Ooooh, he’s a horrible looking prick. He’s got these big hairy animal feet on and a big red nose on his hundred year old head, and these big, baggy pants that look like they were made by hand, in the dark. That’s the worst thing about him… he’s so shabby, he’s not a even a professional looking freak, he just rolls out every weekend to live out his evil, slavering fantasies surrounded by children (who I must say have the good sense to stay about a hundred metres from the lecherous old bastard).”
“(Clowns) scare the hell out of me. I have woken up in sweats after having nightmares about this one particular clown with huge purple lips… whoaaah, the thought of him makes me shiver.”
In the “Diula” language in Mali, the term « dugutigui » (chief of the village), literally translated, means: «owner of the village»; «dugu» means village and «tigui», owner. Probably the term is the result of the contraction of «dugu kuntigui» (literally: chief of the village).