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How to Leave a Bar Looking Like a Clown photo

In one of Philadelphia’s gentrifying areas, below the underfunded rail at the border of Fishtown and Olde Kensington, there is a door engraved with the letters “NCDL.” Barely visible at night, despite a clown illustration around it, this door doesn’t adequately warn the coulrophobic. Its location is itself a sad joke: going off the rails, clowns have improvised ways through socioeconomic transformations on the margins of mainstream entertainment while navigating cultural perceptions. Yet, inside you will find a clown-themed bar in which clowns survive only as decorations, a museum serving clown-inspired cocktails (like the zesty “Clown Punch”). Unless you go on a night that includes a Clown Slam: the slutty Christmas clown concerned with rent prices, the clown underperforming because he had “bad Chipotle,” the clown injecting pathos into the question “What happened to the milkman?”—who knows what you will find. The scariest thing that could happen is leaving with aspirations to be a clown. 


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