Seen on a downtown Sanford semi-derelict minivan this back-window sticker:
“Clowns of America International.”
Does anyone else see the discontinuity? Or do I just distrust clowns? And just what is their nefarious plot: piling so preciously out of a car smaller than a Volkswagen? And the big flapping shoes?
Sanford has – and has had – its share of clowns. Many yet may be found at City Hall and even worse at the new (relatively) County Commission building out by The College, though the real tom-dick-and-jane foolery by the elected yet takes place downtown, though in a long-ago second-ever city hospital now given way to some big corporation’s idea of health care. You know: where worried people, especially the old and without much cynicism or the cash to indulge those kinds of whims, go to catch pneumonia and die.
Sue me. I have nothing to take. But that happens way too often for me to be clowning around. Either hospital flanking downtown – the one at which some very loved friends work wonders – and the other at which the elected and the appointed I used to have respect and admiration for gradually but finally was worn away.
