Any time you’re standing around at a party and the topic of phobias comes up, it’s inevitable that at least one person will profess to have, or have had when they were younger, a fear of clowns.

They’re lying.

I blame Seinfeld. Until 1992, when the episode The Opera went to air, coulrophobia was a relatively rare phenomenon most people hadn’t even considered. In their desperation to prove how quirky and Kramer-like they were, unimaginative Seinfeld devotees began claiming this phobia en masse as a ready-made point of individual difference.

Obviously, it doesn’t work when everyone else is saying the same thing.

These were the kind of people who railed against anchovies on pizzas in the late 1980s — not because they’d ever eaten anchovies and found them unpalatable, but because Michelangelo of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fame didn’t like them.

Eventually, the rash of people who claimed to have a fear of clowns became so virulent that it infected the next generation, so that now even people who were barely born when The Opera went to air — like 17-year-old Alamela from Australia’s Next Top Model* — carry on with the painfully unoriginal charade.

In short, when you ask someone about their phobias and they tell you they have a fear of clowns, what they’re really saying is that they have a fear of not being able to come up with a snappy, interesting enough answer.

Essentially, it’s a fear of being seen as dull — which is fair enough. So GrodsCorp is here to help.

Next time you’re tempted to succumb to the tired old clown meme, choose instead a fear from the following list:

       • Ferns
       • Black people
       • Margarine
       • Terry McCrann
       • Wheels

You’ll be an instant hit.

* Yes, I watch it. Get fucked.

Things that shit me #4: people who stop in the flow of pedestrians to answer their mobile phones

I realised as I rushed to catch my train yesterday evening, that not only do I loathe inappropriate and excessive ellipses used at the end of every sentence, I also hate people in general.

OK, let me modify that last statement, lest I should be accused of being a hateful lefty: I hate people who, in rush hour pedestrian traffic, will actually STOP to answer their ringing mobile phones, and may continue to stand still to have a conversation, much to the chagrin of rushing commuters walking behind them.

What? WHAT?! Why are you stopping in the middle of pedestrian traffic flow, just to answer and talk on your friggin’ phone? Why are you stopping right in front of me? Can’t you see I have a train to catch? Why? WHY?! DON’T YOU FEAR THAT YOUR STUPID ACTIONS MIGHT HARM THE GENERAL WELLBEING, HARMONY AND COHESIVENESS OF SOCIETY?! Never mind harm to your good self by me stepping on your heels, pushing my fingers into the small of your back in an attempt to stop myself propelling right up your arse, and murmuring a stunned, muffled “ooof” into the back of your head?!

And don’t you realise that there is a reason why a mobile phone is called a mobile phone, you git?!

Apart from that, I really do like people. Sometimes.

Also, admittedly it is less dangerous than trams and pedestrians and cars in Melbourne. I really shouldn’t complain. But it’s still so fucking annoying.

#3 The word “wellness”

This abomination of an empty corporate speak-style word used to describe, well, anything the person using it wants it to be, can usually be found adorning the brochures of yoga schools, vitamin bottles and cosmetics. But it’s also used to describe supposedly enhanced water filtration, pet food, and hemp. It’s the worst kind of touchy-feely Orwellian-ness word that should be the first dropped from the dictionary when space constraints require pruning.

The Queensland University of Technology defines wellness as…

The conscious choices and responsible actions one makes to balance many integrated dimensions (physical, emotional, intellectual, spiritual, occupational, social) of one’s existence to achieve the highest potential for personal health and well-being.

Bollocks. Might as well call it “lifeness” because what QUT’s just described is living.

* spit *

#2 Guys who undo their belts and drop their pants to piss at the urinal

You know the type. They’re usually wearing pink Industrie polos with the collar up. Guys who are so insecure about their manhood that they undo their belt and drop their pants to the base of their hips to piss at the urinal in order to give the impression of a package of above-average size. I’ve got a penis of average proportions (the Cosmo sealed section says so) and it fits comfortably through my jeans fly with room to spare; so why do these other idiots need to undo their belt and drop their strides?

It’s because they want to give the impression that they have “schlongs” as opposed to “dicks”. Men who don’t care about the size of their penis have dicks, men who base their entire self-image on the size of their penis have schlongs. Schlongs are no larger than dicks, but schlong owners try desperately to make other people believe that this is the case.

The only difference between schlongs and dicks is that schlongs are used more frequently in the act of masturbation.

#1 Televisions set to the incorrect aspect ratio

When Billybob moved out to Australia he bought a half-decent A/V package with which to watch Neighbours and other hideous programs. Unfortunately, this was just before widescreen televisions became the default choice so he ended up with a (then) standard 4:3 television. One night Goobermetrics and I rocked over for a big night of pizza and Lord Of The Rings on DVD and were shocked when the movie started up with its 16:9 picture stretched vertically to fit the 4:3 screen.

“Just press the aspect ratio button!” we screamed.
“There isn’t one!” screamed Billybob back.
“There has to be!” we pleaded.

But after twenty minutes of fruitless searching on TV and DVD player remote controls, and the TV and DVD players themselves, we couldn’t find any way to switch the aspect ratio.

“Are you telling us you’ve been watching movies this way for two years?” asked Goober and I, bemused.
“Um, yeah,” replied Billybob. “I can’t see what’s wrong with the picture.”

*****

Last year I rocked down the pub early in the season to watch Melbourne Victory play away on Foxtel. I’d seen a nice big widescreen telly in the corner the last time I was down there so I was looking forward to watching the game in style. But after purchasing my Guinness and turning to the screen I was shocked to be confronted with a 4:3 picture stretched horizontally to fit the 16:9 frame.

“Is there something wrong with your aspect ratio setting?” I asked the publican.
“Um, dunno,” he replied. “I can’t see anything wrong with the picture.”

*****

McBec hired a VHS video out from the store one day and I arrived home halfway through her viewing. She had forgotten to switch our TV’s aspect ratio mode to avoid the 4:3 video image being stretched horizontally to a 16:9 shape. All the black-and-white faces in the movie were beyond even Bert Newton width.

“I think you forgot to switch the aspect ratio setting, dude,” I reminded her.
“No, I prefer it like this,” she replied. I hate all that black down the sides and I can’t see anything wrong with the picture.”

*****

Maybe it’s because I’m a telly tech-nerd or just because I’m one of the most anally retentive people I know, but televisions set to the incorrect aspect ratio shit me to tears.