Insane Clown Posse
“FAMILY! FAMILY! FAMILY!”
The chant rang off the draped plastic sheeting. It rose into the State Theatre balcony, rode the chaotic, root beer and rock ‘n’ rye-smelling air down to the restrooms, and drifted out into the theater’s teeming smoking section. “Family! Family! Family!” — and the juggalos gave it up without prompting from a hype man. It would’ve been poignant were it not for the predominance of “Fuck off!” hockey jerseys in the crowd, and the patina of sweat and high fructose corn syrup that lay over most of the clown-painted faces. The juggalos don’t get down with poignancy, as they had made clear a few moments earlier when Insane Clown Posse's Hallowicked 2006 reached its zenith during “Fuck the World.” “Fuck preschoolers, fuck rulers!” they’d yelled along with Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope. “Kings and queens and gold jewelers! Fuck wine coolers! Fuck chickens, fuck ducks! Everybody in your crew sucks! Fuck critics, fuck your review! Even if you like me, fuck YOU!”
And that sentiment is exactly why the solidarity chant was such a thrill. It was an organic thing, an oath they all felt, and one they all felt was necessary as a way to validate and protect what had just happened as their own. Observers could laugh, and dismiss a shock-rap group swearing like sailors and drop-kicking Faygo 2 liters into the faces of their adoring fans. But for the ICP faithful, that’s what they’d come for. “It’s a juggalo thing,” the sticker emblazoned across the back window of a loc’d-out Jeep Cherokee parked outside had read, co-opting the “
you wouldn’t understand” shtick of Jeep geeks everywhere. “And we’re everywhere.”
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