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No Clowning

Believe it or not, before we started down the journalism path to Alt-Weekly Land, rodeo clown struck us as a glamorous occupation.

It was the early '90s, career day at our elementary school. Firefighters, doctors, and even an embalmer shared their respective lines of work, up-selling their job descriptions to wow an audience of 8-year-olds.

"We have one more guest, class," Ms. McNeal said near the end of the day. "He's very brave and incredibly unappreciated. Please welcome Johnny's dad, Woody the rodeo clown."

Wearing loose-fitting polyester, a ten-gallon hat, and a cartoonish grin, Woody walked through the door with John Wayne-like confidence and a can of snuff. He took a seat in front of our class, hunched over, placed his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands: "I'm here to talk to y'all about the rodeo."

For about an hour, Woody shared some of the most fascinating stories we had ever heard. He told us about a bull that almost ripped his leg off, how he got stuck in a barrel for 13 hours, and what Rocky Mountain oysters are.

Life as a professional rodeo clown seemed neat, but college got in the way of our dream. Thankfully, there's the 63rd annual Homestead Championship Rodeo at Doc DeMilly Rodeo Arena at Harris Field this weekend to satisfy our fix.
Jan. 27-29, 2 p.m., 2012


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