There are two types of people in this world. People who hate clowns...and clowns.

Tell me this wouldn't give you nightmares!

Joker. It. Bozo. Krusty. Ronald McDonald. John Wayne Gacy. They’re all clowns. Terrifying, smiling clowns. I hate them, and my family knows it. In fact, my brother likes to text me pictures of the scariest ones he can find. Then there was my former father-in-law. He had this porcelain clown doll that he would randomly hide in closets, the shower, my car…and thought it was the funniest thing ever when he heard me scream when it popped out at me grinning like a demon!

But in case you’re not bothered by dangerous dolls and have a spare $900,000, you can be the proud owner of The Clown Motel. It’s in Tonopah, a couple hours outside of Las Vegas, and even includes a clown museum. It’s a destination spot for paranormal seekers and was founded in 1985 by a couple who purposely built it next to the cemetery where their family members were buried. As if that’s not creepy enough, Tonopah was the scene of a mysterious plague, that only affected grown men, and contributed greatly to filling up the cemetery. 

One of the stipulations on buying the motel is that the clowns stay- all 600 of them. Part of the charm, apparently. I read reviews on Yelp, and most of them are surprisingly positive about the experience. One review summed it up nicely, “Cleaner than expected. Amazing water pressure. Did not get murdered by Zeebo in the night.” Or how about this one- “Prices were great. I slept like the dead. Neighbors were quiet.” (Get it? Neighbors = cemetery. Ha) And one more- “Kind of like going to your grandma's house, if your grandma lived in a doublewide trailer behind the Barnum & Bailey Clown College. Far out!!!”

I end with this picture of my siblings and I from 1989. This was either my mom’s idea of punishment for me, or I hadn’t developed the terror of clowns yet. I don’t remember this Halloween at all, which probably means I blocked and suppressed the traumatizing memory.

So to put your stressful work week in perspective, unless it involves killer supernatural clowns, you’re probably going to survive till the weekend. Now please excuse me as I go watch a couple hours worth of happy shows so I don't end up dreaming about horrible painted monsters.

With Love,

Susanne