OPINION:
In perhaps the most revealing snapshot of our time, scientists have finally conducted a comprehensive study of clowns.
They weren’t just any “scientists.” They were “psychologists.” From the University of South Wales. (That’s the one without the kangaroos.)
Professor Philip John Tyson got the idea after teaching a class about phobias for 15 years. Each year, he would begin the semester by asking students what they were most afraid of.
He would get the usual answers like snakes on a plane, asteroids hurtling toward our fragile, warming planet and Joe Biden coming in for a sniff. But there was one deep, abiding terror that lurked in the hearts of a persistent minority of his students: clowns.
Which, perhaps, is why they lived in South Wales instead of, say, America — a new nation founded on the radical concept of self-governance where citizens have a deep, abiding commitment to being governed by clowns.
Professor Tyson rounded up 500 people who suffered from this phobia of clowns, a condition clinically known as “coulrophobia,” and asked them a bunch of questions. The resulting study was published in the journal Frontiers of Psychology and was titled: “Fear of clowns: An investigation into the aetiology of coulrophobia.”
(Full disclosure: I only included the name of the study because I wanted to test the spell check on my typewriter. It tells me “aetiology” is not a word. Or I misspelled it, which is entirely possible. Either way, that is one crazy word. I wonder what is the clinical name of an irrational fear of spelling?)
(Even fuller disclosure: After some reporting, I have discovered that scientists have not identified an irrational fear of spelling, but, according to PsychCentral.com, the word for an irrational fear of long words is “hippopotomonstrosequippedaliophobia,” which literally means a fear of words that are so massive they eat watermelons whole, walk underwater and have little flippy ears.)
(Public service announcement: This serious condition is not a joke, and psychotherapists at PsychCentral.com warn against making fun of anyone’s irrational fear. Instead, you should direct anyone you know who suffers hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia to your nearest psychologist for expensive therapy. “Understanding the phobia can help you overcome it and live a fulfilling life,” according to PsychCentral.com.)
Anyhoo, the most surprising finding of Professor Tyson’s study of clown fear was that people who suffer coulrophobia are not usually triggered by a bad experience with a clown. They were not, for instance, all just children whose parents accidentally hired John Wayne Gacy to perform at their birthday party.
Nor were they on hand for Luke’s birthday on the TV series “Modern Family” when Uncle Cam dressed up as Fizbo and ruined the party, and everybody wound up in the hospital. As any true devotee of the show can tell you, Phil Dunphy already suffered profound couldrophobia before that episode, even though he himself was an experienced magician and had spent his college years performing as a cheerleader — which seems faintly clownish.
The real reason some people fear clowns, Professor Tyson discovered, is that painted smiles freak people out. Turns out that humans place a high value on the ability to trust a person’s facial cues.
“There’s something about not being able to read facial expressions,” the professor said. “And the fact that there might be something hidden and dangerous — there might be harmful intent behind the makeup.”
Which brings us to the 2024 Republican presidential nomination and, specifically, Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis.
Mr. DeSantis’ inability to connect with voters is well documented. The problem is so obvious that it has become an endearing quality among people who are already committed to liking him. But when you have to take actual laughing lessons and you have to practice smiling, it’s a problem.
People who have a hard time relating to others never make good politicians, no matter how spectacular their resumes may be. But Mr. DeSantis has presented himself as the straight man at the circus — the policy wonk for serious times.
He is awkward, but you can take him seriously.
Until, that is, he decides to throw all that away so that he can talk about testicles and the truly strange high-heeled boots he wears to make himself look taller.
“If Donald Trump can summon the balls to show up to the debate, I’ll wear a boot on my head,” Mr. DeSantis announced last week, whining about Mr. Trump’s refusal to debate while also defending himself against attacks over his silly boots.
Mr. DeSantis tickled himself so much to be talking about Mr. Trump’s manhood and anatomy that he is now selling golf balls — by the pair — on his campaign website in a package that says, “Ron DeSantis has a pair.”
Just pause for a moment and take the guy seriously again since he is supposed to be the serious candidate. What exactly does it tell us about Mr. DeSantis that he publicly declares he “has a pair” — and that he is willing to sell them to strangers online?
Who knows what that painted smile and lifted boots are hiding. But whatever it is, voters apparently are not interested.
• Charles Hurt is the opinion editor at The Washington Times.
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