I have raised my older son right, and this proves it. He fetched out of the town recycling Dumpster a stack of The Cross And The Clown, the journal of the Fellowship of Christian Clowns. [Insert joke about synod/conclave/etc. here] The boy knew that his father would be all Prytania about this kind of thing. And he was right! I have about ten issues to go through. One of the most excruciating cinematic experiences I’ve ever endured was watching the movie version of the hippie-clown Jesus freak show Godspell. It’s the only time I’ve ever wondered if the Sanhedrin had a point.

Not a clown fan. Not a Christian clown fan either.

In other “no, really, this is a thing” news, I found myself in conversation late today with a group of delightful Southern women. Somehow the topic of Illusions, a double-wide strip club south of the small town of Woodville, Miss., came up (don’t ask me to explain it in public here, but if you see me, ask me, it’s funny). Illusions’ slogan: “We put the wood in Woodville.”

Said one of the women, “We have a camp near Woodville. You know what they call Illusions there?”

“No, what?”

“The Woodville Ballet.”

And that’s why I love the South. We have proper theology and geometry. Most of the time.