For centuries, America’s clown industry has formed the backbone of rural economies, providing goofs and gags to hard-working American citizens. But clowndom is in crisis: rampant balloon animal inflation has driven up the cost of clowning essentials, leaving many jesters unable to sustain themselves on the industry’s already thin margins.
“It was bad enough that squirty flowers hit ten dollars, but when the price of cocaine started going up, I knew it was over. How am I supposed to make it through a birthday party without at least a gram stashed in my red nose?” said Beepo, a West Virginian clown who had been his town’s only source of mirth since 1997. “I quit. I turned in my wig and enrolled in online classes to learn accounting. But not a day goes by when I don’t think about being back in the tent.”
Other clowns attribute their economic struggles to shifting attitudes: “You can’t joke about anything these days,” said Boopo, an established figure in Cleveland’s clowning circuit and proud member of Clowns Against Progress.
Whatever the cause, the crisis has been taking a toll on America’s jesters. Take, for example, the heart-wrenching story of Pagliacci, a promising young clown who immigrated from Italy to chase the American Dream:
“I a-go to my therapist and I say, ‘Doc, I have-a been feeling depresso.’ And he tells me, ‘The great clown Pagliacci is in town! You should go see him. He’ll cheer you right up.’ I am Pagliacci! It’s a-me! That night, I a-go to my nightstand. I pull out my gun and I a-shoot myself, but instead a little flag that says ‘BANG!’ comes out. My life is a big a-fucking joke.”