Upsetting Day: Clown Ministry Skits for All Seasons 🌭

Hi. Clown ministry. As someone who collects and writes about mistakes by maniacs, it’s hard to maintain a perspective on “strange.” And so I’ve ignored this 1990 clown ministry book in the clown ministry section of my library for years. It’s called Clown Ministry Skits for All Seasons.

In my world, this is boilerplate… background noise behind a thousand piercing screams. Call me when the clowns are children. Or when the author has contemplated Christian clowns so much he has forgotten the meaning of both words. This is not madness. This is more like an instruction manual you’d get with a wig.

Even the back of the book promises nothing outside the generic idea of clown ministry. The author, Floyd Shaffer, describes himself as a clown minister who made Clown Ministry and wrote Clown Ministry. And he writes clown instructions with that same dynamic and vibrant style. Let’s take a look at his introduction:

The book opens by explaining what holidays are and how the book is organized, and then describing the organization of books and how some events are called “holidays.” It takes Floyd four tries to explain “brainstorming” which he calls “Word Ticklers” but also “brainstorming.” So this is crazy, but I’m not sure it’s fucking crazy yet. Intros are hard to write, and I think I proved that when I said, “Hi. Clown ministry.” Let’s keep reading.

I see. This is a trap. All this dullness is some kind of clown gambit. ‘We are normal, this is no big deal. Some Christians are clowns, turn to page 73 for handwashing instructions for your Godlaffs “Real Human Hair”®️ wig.’ Well, I don’t buy it. This normal clown minister is about to reveal himself as a third kind of deranged.

Fine. Keep your secrets, clown. For now. We’ll begin with the religious holiday of Advent, which the author explains is a type of holiday and a kind of holiday.

Oh, I see what’s going on now. This is a land mine. Clown Ministry Skits for All Seasons is absolutely a plot to destroy the career of clown ministers before they become Floyd’s potential rivals. This sucks shit, would completely bomb, and it’s the opener! Floyd is telling the reader to have two clowns (or more) learn about air circulation from The (small) Bible and the only lines are coughing. You don’t do that if you want young clowns to have promising careers in Christ. This is designed to strangle baby clowns in the manger. The only other possibility is that this 20 year Christian clown veteran is a confused, joyless idiot, which yeah, okay. It could be that also.

People in church are used to allegories and metaphors stretched beyond recognition, but it would take such a generous audience to watch two (or, again, more) clowns cough at each other until they remember windows and think, “Oh, I get it! Christ our Lord is the ventilation! Wonderful! Three honks for all these remarkable clowns!” Nonsense. Clown-deflating nonsense.

Let’s check out another Advent one.

Th– what the fuck? I’m meant to dress like a hobo and silently assemble furniture? Over the course of a month? What kind of show is that? And the goddamn finale is “leave”? This is how an alcoholic father builds a bookshelf, not how you spread the message of Jesus Christ. And did Floyd describe the manger as “opened in readiness to receive the Christ-child”? What? Is the audience meant to say, “This mime intruder has built a babyless trough in our church, slowly, across several weeks, and I agree that’s strange, but… it seems about the right size to receive God’s son! Wow, can you imagine!? If God’s son was in there!? Majestic!!” I can’t stress this enough: nonsense.

I’m going to move on to Christmas skits.

So I need a homeless clown in a box with a canned fish cold cut sculpture. Fucking why? Are we phonetically acting out a Beck song?

This is nuts. Clown Two sneaks up on Clown One while he or she is sleeping and starts going through Clown One’s things. “Not a violent reaction, in fact no words at all,” says Clown One in this situation. And then the two clowns walk into the cold to die together. Or fuck? It’s weird none of these skits have endings. Less weird than the fish made from cold cuts, but still. Anyway, Christmas made Floyd think of gifts, so he did a skit about gifts.

Okay, new theory: a group of creatures crawled from an opening in our reality and Floyd Shaffer was the anthropologist who went missing while studying them. “Day Two: The giftless clown appeared to give itself to the others, who accepted by ritually removing two feet of their height and disguising themselves as gifts. They seem suddenly aware I’m watching them. Could my presence be violating some sacred taboo? They are approaching qui–”

Oh, good. There are Lent skits.

So a clown, or a group of clowns, hugs their way through your church amid incomprehensible manifestations of fear and then they vanish. Am I crazy, or are these starting to make sense? No, but seriously, what the goddamn fuck is happening? This is a dream I would describe if a clown ate thirty people and I was trying to get out of jury duty. Then disappear. Speaking of, “Then disappear.” is a chilling way to end your instructions on a clown fear skit, right?

It’s the only ending clowns know.

These are all real endings taken from other skits in the book. Floyd Shaffer has dedicated most of his life to clown theater and has somehow decided “unexplained vanishing” is the best closer. Maybe because he’s tried these skits and knows how crowds respond when prompted to “let the clown ministers know what you thought about that.”

I don’t know why they keep vanishing, maybe I never will; I only know I hate it. It’s bad writing and leaves the whereabouts of legitimately troubling people unaccounted for. I have finished typing this paragraph, I give you a clown hug and disappear.

I want to do another Lent one, the Christian holiday dedicated to resisting temptation:

Three or more clowns enter with something that dirties their hands? Say no more. I’m in.

Jesus fuck, this is what you’d write if you were the only survivor of a circus slaying. Clowns can’t kneel until they have washed their hands with pizza coupon-sized towels, and the clowns then disappea– wait, why did I use a pizza coupon as a unit of measurement? Oh no, did I conjure this? This was lurking on the next page of the book:

Clowns in Bellevue, Washington designed and photocopied their own Pizza Hut coupons and hid one in this book. And there is no expiration date. If Washington clown law is to be honored, Pizza Hut has to give me an $8.99 Medium Supreme Pizza, and then a second pizza at half price. Now and forever. Maybe? There are surprisingly few details on these bootleg Pizza Hut savings, and I don’t think it will be much help to tell the cashier, “I’m here for God on behalf of clowns. Now, before His watchful eyes, are you refusing to honor the homemade pizza coupon of clowns?” Ha ha what is any of this; all of reason is boiling into wigged lunacy.

Sorry, I’m having too much fun. Let’s do a sad one.

This routine uses something Floyd calls the “running gag” technique, a clown insider term meaning to get sadder and sadder every time you reappear. End by leaving, very sadly. As sadly as possible. I included a scan of the entire page because I didn’t think you’d believe me if I said the skit was a clown getting more depressed as his balloon deflates, the end. He doesn’t even disappear. This is not religious comedy. This is how a French filmmaker would tell 1921 he never loved his wife. What is going on? I hate to pull this card after only 1300 words, but look at this, what God would allow this?

Let’s move on to Maundy Thursday/Good Friday, though as Floyd’s sudden self-awareness explains, “the very nature of the observance may seem paradoxical for the presence of a clown.”

Okay, Floyd had me worried a pod of clowns might set the wrong tone for remembering the torture and execution of Jesus Christ, but finding out it’s only a single clown and he’s only crucifying a loaf of bread, it seems appropriate. I love that I’m not exaggerating in any way when I say this nutbag told his readers to make a hat for bread out of barbed wire, shake it in half with a crucifix, offer empty cups of nothing to a church, and run away. It’s such haunting senselessness. It’s something a fortune teller would say to a Subway marketing executive about to meet with a young man named Jared Fogle.

From the writer of “Sad Balloon Clown Grows Sadder” and “I Have Killed Your Bread Christ” comes the quote, “I truly believe that laughter is the only authentic response to God’s grace.” So Floyd does think these skits are funny? The month-long manger building project? The tiny towels thing? I’m not really asking. I’m almost positive laughing at those would be seen by any god as a betrayal of the natural order. I guess my actual question is this: is the message of Easter really “Death is conquered!” Because that rules.

“At first clowns are sad about the death,” types Farts Fartinson, the 38th century’s most popular time prankster before dropping this fake book in 1990. Untold eons later, an advanced and unknown prankster would add the pizza coupon.

By this point, it would have been fair for any reader to say, “Oh. Easter skit. Let me guess. A bunch of clowns get very sad and afraid and then disappear?” And yet that’s exactly what happened.

One thing I’ve learned from Clown Ministry Skits for All Seasons is there are no actual traditions in Christian traditions. You can walk into a church dressed like a clown, fuck a baguette inside out with their faith’s most holy symbol, brag about it in a book, and they’ll be fine with it. You can see Floyd almost realizing this himself when he says nobody knows how to celebrate a birthday for church, so go ahead and do whatever. No one will object if you bring in a group of mimes wearing flaming mouth headbands. Or whatever; that’s of course not a real sugges–

Freed from all constraints of tradition, Floyd has chosen to symbolize Christianity with a group of mimes wearing flaming mouth headbands. “Erect” ones, but that feels like bait left here in the past by another time prankster. It’s going to be tough to express this without accidentally giving a nu metal band its name, but we are reading the unmedicated rants of a clown disorder. The onl–

God damn it, I knew it. We’d better skip to the end of this skit.

“So the tongue of fire… headbands let the clowns play k-kazoo, or any such impossible task,” asks a man truly trying to understand.

“Don’t talk to the fucking prisoners,” says the other guard as their armored van is suddenly attacked. The clown has disappeared.

To celebrate Pentecost, why not have five or more clowns enter holding signs meaning nothing, intentionally nothing, before the hugs, before everyone’s hugs? Don’t give up, we can survive this! They seem to be weak to sonic attacks! Hold them back with these firecrackers while I read their skit idea for Transfiguration Day!

Something about this still feels a bit off. For instance, the subject of the book is clown ministry. But also, this passage reveals people who are not yet clowns are called “clowns” by other clowns, as if cursed by clown destiny. I don’t like how clowns spot future clowns magically, like Jedi recruiting children with high midi-chlorians. I honestly don’t like any of this, or where it’s going. These clowns are going to multiply and vanish and we are running low on firecrackers.

This is how clowns are born? Not eggs? Who would watch this, and why would they associate it with Jesus? Why am I still demanding answers when Floyd has just answered my most desperate question? Do you see what he did here? This skit about making more clowns has an ending! Floyd Shaffer wrote a big finish! I guess there’s no need for clowns to mysteriously disappear when all are clowns, honk, when everyone is clown.

We haven’t done a WORD TICKLERS yet. Let’s check the word ticklers for this skit.

This idea, clowns putting clown makeup on a clown and nothing else, was inspired by the words “eyes clouded” and “honor.” I can’t believe I ever, for a single second, looked at this book and thought, “That’s not so crazy.” Hey, I wonder if clowns celebrate…

I’m sure this will be fine. We can trust the judgment of an increasing number of sad and missing clowns.

This is how the words “you have a railroad spike in your skull” sound when you have a railroad spike in your skull.

Cutting people shapes out of red and yellow paper to represent ethnic diversity is a real celebration of Whiteness. “Does anyone have a non-white they can call about this,” Floyd asked his 1990 Lutheran church, accidentally writing his first good joke.

What.

Alright, fuck you. You’re telling me a clown minister wrote a skit about Martin Luther King Jr. Day with racial paper dolls, a “seed envelope” which he himself puts in quotes, and now someone has hidden a “deflated love balloon,” which has to be what Lutherans call a “used condom,” which has to be what the Amish call a “”seed envelope,”” in a Bible. This is an obvious prank by malevolent reality meddlers, and I will not fall for it.

So on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday, we do various insanities and genetic experiments to no effect and then celebrate the segregation of the paper races? There are only so many ways I can demand to know, “What the goddamn fucking shit.” This skit feels like the author was specifically inspired by the word “racism,” but there’s no way for me to che– wait a minute.

Hey, there’s our word tickler: “racism.” It’s second to last before “respect,” which is exactly where a cunning clown would put it to seem least suspicious. “What do I think of when I think of Martin Luther King Jr.? Well, certainly busing… justice. What else… opportunity. Personal worth… r-racism? And finally semen. In balloons, in envelopes, all over everything. I mean respect! Envelopes of respect.” Hey, while I’m losing my mind, let’s do Valentine’s Day.

Rookie clowns, you don’t need to make things complicated. The perfect Valentine’s Day skit might have been staring at you with glassy eyes from a dark bog this entire time. Hold completely still until your prey is close enough to grab!

Special thanks to trapdoor spiders for sending in this skit idea. If you have a clown skit idea, send it to Floyd Shaffer by whispering it to any Pizza Hut cashier while negotiating a homemade coupon covered in clowns.

I have a new concern. Did I, me personally, somehow do this? Because “Have one other clown enter and carefully examine this “Valentine” clown,” sounds like something I would Photoshop onto a fake clown pamphlet. And not in a first draft. That would be carefully calculated and polished absurdity. I’d look at the words “carefully examine this ‘Valentine’ clown,” and be certain I’d written the perfect joke. So I ask again, is this me? Am I Farts Fartinson from the year 3970?

This is getting too silly. Maybe there are some clown skits about honoring dead soldie–

Fuck yeah.

“I’m not here to be funny, I’m here to restrain you by your fingers as a reminder of the day’s significance.” – All Clowns

“The sad clowns tie the church’s fingers together. Clowns disappear,” says a voice from behind many layers of restraints. “Move closer, closer to my teeth so I can tell you the rest.”

We should do a nice, normal one. Like a birthday.

Maybe not this normal, Floyd. I was finally getting used to this dark world of unfiltered clown madness and his birthday tip is “get them a big card”? Come on, Floyd. I was fully prepared for something like an old sheet filled with clown holes.

Oh no, the book can hear me.

“Surprise! We are clown heads! Alright, goodbye! Unless you guys are partying?”

Okay, you’re not going to believe this next one:

Floyd Shaffer has written a highly critical 4th of July mime skit. The clown who has chosen to spread the one true religion through confusion, human seed, and vanishing has notes on how we’re running the country.

If you’re going to perform this skit, you should know it’s both very anti-American and highly clown intensive. You’re going to need at least five clowns, and an 8-foot cardboard Statue of Liberty. But don’t worry, all of those things should have spawned from the PEOPLE SEEDS envelope we made back on Martin Luther King Day.

Oh my god. This is something the Viet Cong would make John McCain perform for a prison camp’s Hùng Kings’ Festival. The clowns are going to call out the Statue of Liberty for every last one of her false claims. Oh, did you think we called your name, “Your Tired?” Well, it says here your name is “Your Getting the Fuck Back on the Boat, III.” Better luck next statue, assholes! I’m sure you already see where this skit is going, but let’s read it anyway:

Through the power of pantomime and shackled clowns, Floyd Shaffer puts the last of America’s hypocrisies on trial. Begone, “your poor.” Communicate your fear elsewhere, “your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” This is indistinguishable from Soviet Cold War propaganda. Floyd has to be pulling from his Maybe pile with this one, because there is no way he’s ever tried performing this in front of a bunch of Ohio Pentecostals. And when the authorities are breaking up a fight between a white church and a group of invading clowns calling the Statue of Liberty a liar, I think I know what side the cops are taking.

Back to the skit, the USA has kicked out “your poor” and “your huddled masses,” so I guess that’s the whole poem debunked. Time for the clowns to vanish.

What!? The IRS sent a clown to take down even the “Give me” part of the poem! I don’t know what to say. Floyd finally wrote a surprise based on disrupting our expectations rather than the random brain misfires of a man dying of clown’s disease. I wonder what word ticklers he used to inspire it.

Okay, I’m definitely using this book to send myself messages from the future. And speaking of me and my forbidden clown knowledge, I think Floyd eventually tried one of these clown army skits and it didn’t go well. Because I own his video, Clown Ministry Video, and it comes with a warning to the viewer to never clown in groups of five or more. If a clown cluster is too large it can have an off-putting effect on an audience, and I have never seen any concept communicated more clearly and in so many ways. I did not edit this in any way, it was made like this by a leading clown advocate:

Author Floyd Shaffer sat at his typewriter. “I’m not really going to suggest Christian clowns at a wedding,” he word tickled. “Hkkkk,” his mouth said as a skeletal hand reached out and tapped, “NO LONGER TWO, BUT ONE”.

A stickler for credits, Floyd Shaffer makes it clear he adapted this skit from a skit by Floyd Shaffer, with permission.

So the clown meddling with the drinks at your wedding has the groom mix a pitcher of blue chemicals with his new bride’s pitcher of yellow chemicals to symbolize the miracle when Jesus turned Mountain Dew into Mountain Dew Baja Blast. You might be so distracted by how fucking insane all this is, that you didn’t notice what was missing.

The clown has not disappeared. If you invite Floyd Shaffer to your wedding, he will put suspicious chemicals in your food and remain there until the union is consummated.

There’s another wedding skit idea:

It’s sort of a loose one. You basically get dressed up like a clown, show up to a wedding, and keep yourself busy. Whatever you, with your Christian clown judgment, think the married couple didn’t plan for. I’m sure you want more details, so Floyd offers all three:

First, try standing outside the wedding and greeting people. Silently. Call you and the other clowns “silent greeters,” but silently and to yourselves.

Second, wait for the wedding to start and begin decorating. Tie “love” balloons to things, wherever, an industry term for “normal” balloons with a tablespoon of clown semen added.

Third, go to the reception and tie the married couple up by their fingers, along with others as appropriate. That’s the whole thing, the whole skit idea, then clowns disappear. Amen.

I vanish silently.

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Cerril, the clown who enters with a bloody cross, points to three children, and then silently disappears. Those three children each die within three years. Seeds are planted. Plants are harvested. Clowns. Clowns.