As if the northwest section of Grand Avenue isn't scary enough after dark, there's that giant Mr. Lucky's vintage marquee that's been putting the "yeeeeeeee" in "yee-haw" for coulrophobiacs (that's clown fearers to you) since the mid-'60s. For the mime dreaders, jack-in-the-box shunners and people who just plain freak out at the sight of Bozo, imagine cowering in the neon of a maniacally jeering jester springing some 40 feet high, balancing "COCKTAILS" and "DANCING" from each hand as if they were "HATE" and "FEAR" tattooed on his knuckles. By now you've guessed that we'd rather ride the live rodeo bulls you find every weekend at Mr. Lucky's than get a closer look at that marquee to see who's playing Saturday night. No, that would mean feeling Lucky the Clown's creepy peepers peering down into our souls, rightly sizing us up as pintsize wussies who can't even relax at a children's party if there's a juggler with drawn-on tears. Inside, Mr. Lucky's has real living, breathing clowns doing face painting, but even those white faces pale compared to the outdoor giant.