Well, it’s Monday and I’m still unemployed. It’s a grim feeling, to be sure, and when I see all the success and opulence that surrounds me, hell, all of us, it becomes brutal, frankly. But you know what? I may have no job, but I’m a fucking pioneer. No! Hey! Where are you going? I’m fucking serious! What’s that? You want proof? Okay. Okay. How ‘bout this:
Juggalos. Yeah, they’re all the rage right now thanks to “Miracles” and the subsequent “aw shit! That’s awesome!” that the song inspired, both from previously unincorporated fatties and turds and from smug hipster shitstains, ostensibly citing the ‘awesomeness’ of the song “Miracles” for different reasons. However, the fact remains: “Miracles” is the shot in the arm that may have pushed ICP into the category of ‘ironic awesomeness’ that COULD, and I’m thinking it’s probably already happening somewhere in the absolutely COOOLEST part of Brooklyn, result in hipster clowns.
Now, I know what you’re saying…Brooklyn is already chock full of hipster clowns, and yes, yes…ha ha. Very good. You know what I mean. Fully realized ironic juggalos are coming. Sounds far fetched? Well, I’d like to remind you that co-opting super uncool and laughable styles is exactly how we wound up with the wolf-shirt clad, mustachioed guy that’s looking at you like you’ve got three ballsacks on your forehead because your bike has brakes.
Hipsters LOVE taking ironically appreciated facets of humanity and co-opting their styles like a bunch of culture locusts. If molester chic and county fair chic have already plagued the appearances of all our food delivery guys and dishwashers. Why do you think that Juggalodom isn’t next? It could be. Thanks to “Miracles”. And THAT is a true miracle. IF ICP succeeds in getting all the hipster dumbasses that think they’re making fun of the Juggalos to dress up as clowns, then they’re like Kevin Spacey at the end of Seven and they’re even more genius than I ever gave them credit for being.
Now, I’ll get to why they’re geniuses in a second, but first, I need to address what you’re all thinking:
“Dude, seriously? Another post about Juggalos? Are you even reading what you’re writing? Not only have you worn a deep tread over this subject already, but you’re doing exactly what you’re talking about here. You’re lauding ICP from an ironic and smug distance. You’re the very hipster you decry, you dumb felch-farmer!”
Okay, well…firstly, I’d like to go back to my opening paragraph, where I discussed what a pioneer I am. This is exactly what I was talking about. I’ve been rapping about Juggalos for YEARS. Check out the song “On With the Show” from 2003 where I’m name dropping juggalos a full seven years before “Miracles” or any of this new jack juggalo-love-irony-fest. And I’m not appreciating the culture as anything more than a fantastic and bizarre anomaly that I want to observe from a distance, far from the sea foam like kisses of faygo spray and FAR from the big fat clowns and their meat on a stick, or whatever disgusting things they eat. I find face paint and back acne to be gross and I’ve maintained this opinion for the past ten years. The shit’s fascinating, but I’ve got no connection to this resurgence of pop recognition for the clowns, this is all part of my decade-long ongoing research, so suck it.
Now, why are J and Shaggy geniuses? Here’s why, by way of example:
In the 80’s when crack first started ravaging black communities, people, social scientists and various old white folks at cocktail parties started saying things like “you know, it’s really fascinating. These black drug dealers, they speak a completely vulgar form of English and they seem strange and disgusting to us but believe it or not (!) they’re actually very astute businessmen, and their acumen rivals that of an MBA grad!”
Now, this went from fascinating discourse to condescending racism almost in the exact amount of time it took to be uttered, and now we know that running an empire, be it drugs or McNuggets or Red China takes lots and lots of critical skills and we wouldn’t dare question the business sense of, say a coke trafficker in Brazil or a chop shop owner in Jersey. It’s obvious that these are smart guys and it’s become increasingly obvious that there are other ways to become incredibly specialized and intelligent besides going to college. But in the early 80’s, this casual racism was a bit of a revelation. When the Times started citing Ice Cube as a lyrical and poetic master (and he is. His shit on Straight Outta Compton” is the most ahead of its time hip hop in the history of the genre) people were flipping out. “He’s no genius!” (adjusts comb-over) “He says shit like ‘finna’ and rhymes about eating Burger King” but that was a pretty square critique. The kids knew that Cube really was pretty brilliant, and everyone who didn’t think so just looked like Mortimer and Lewis from Trading Places.
Now, you see where I’m going with this obviously. I personally find ICP’s lyrics and songs to be so terrible that it’s absurd. “What is a Juggalo?” they ask. “He’ll eat Monopoly and shit out Connect Four.”
I don’t get it. Clearly. It’s so fucking dumb and it celebrates things I don’t think are supposed to be celebrated (stupidity, being fat, murder, being dumb [did I already say that one?], having BBQ sauce all over your hockey jersey, etc) but that’s really no different than what my mom’s generation said about gangster rap. Now, yeah, big difference: I’m PART of the Juggalos generation. I’m fucking younger than those two dumb clowns, but the general idea is the same, and the numbers and everything don’t lie.
What I mean: These guys are probably, no, definitely the most successful musicians of all time. They have a complete vertical monopoly on all things ICP. They OWN the factories where they print their shirts, they own the factories that print their CD’s, they own the trucks that take those fucking cds and shirts to the stores. They own the studio they record in. They own the label that they’re on. They’ve got less people to answer to than Paul McCartney does. They’ve done something that NO ONE ELSE has ever done on such a massive scale, and that cannot be reduced to dumb luck. There’s something else going on there, folks. Something huge.
Yes, the reason that they started doing everything themselves is because no one would touch their dumb ass music with a ten foot pole, but that can’t be grounds for being dismissive about their empire. All great advances come from being ignored, marginalized, fired, pushed into a corner or otherwise stuck. Listen, if Einstein was getting regular blowjobs from hot twins every afternoon, there would be no E=MC2. That’s true. Being ignored doesn’t negate genius. In most cases, it’s the fucking catalyst for it.
So, there’s these two clowns (one fat, one ‘I smoked myself into a piece of beef jerkey’ thin) and they spray soda on one another and they sing songs about chopping up turds and they wrestle and they probably have something to do with nascar and they’re pretty clearly the most successful musicians of all time, just due to the fact that they’re the ONLY people that have ever existed on that scale that answer to NO ONE. And they’ve got a whole CULTURE that’s been created around their retarded mythology. There’s no way to ignore it folks. It’s the big fat, drunk elephantine clown in the room. They’re geniuses. AND, to go back to my earlier point, if they get those Brooklyn dipshits to ape their style, they’re not just geniuses, but they’re truly doing the work of a very hilarious god too.
I’m gonna go take a shower and pretend the world is a very different place. You should all maybe do the same.