| Salami |
07-07-2012 05:50 AM |
It's one of the easiest music acts in the world to slate, but that won't stop me. Ever present, ever tiresome and immensely irritating, I think they are summed up for me in the delightful line from "Miracles":
'Magnets - how the f uck do they work?'
I also wish they were prevented from painting the faces of their kids in juggalo style, I am 100% sure it counts as child abuse.
Their existence is one of the most powerful arguments against God.
And of course the juggalo subculture... Could someone please confirm that it is localised to the USA and a few unfortunate parts of Canada because I really don't want to believe that I will ever meet a representative of it in the UK.
In fact, I'm going to quote from that 2004 article on SA which perfectly describes them:
Quote:
Originally Posted by David Thorpe
The World’s Greatest Dad Special Award for Lifetime Achievement in Sucking
With nine stunningly shameful studio albums under their belt, I believe that it is safe to crown Insane Clown Posse as the all-time reigning champions of crap.
To criticize their albums for being sophomoric, socially retarded, musically catastrophic and generally disgusting would be missing the point, as their albums are obviously meant to be all those things. Yet somehow, knowing this doesn’t make it any easier to accept the existence of these moronic trolls, or their legions of moronic troll fans who would buy and greedily chug a jar of cat urine as long as it had the official ICP logo on it. Being a Juggalo, as ICP fans are called, is sort of like the opposite of being in MENSA; only the absolute stupidest of the stupid have any hope of making the ranks. Juggalos are barely even human; they're creatures who have thrown away every shred of dignity in order to worship the s***tiest band on the face of the earth. They have the devotion of Deadheads, but their fashion sense is significantly more hideous. They wear makeup that makes them look like overworked gothic clowns, and their mode of human interaction usually involves hanging out at suburban malls and doing rebellious things like throwing french fries at old ladies and complaining that their Orange Juliuses are too cold. They're a bit like a gang, except harmless and direly uncool. On that note, I don’t normally encourage fans of the bands I make fun of to send me e-mail, but I would heartily, heartily encourage any ICP fans to e-mail me and defend their taste. Judging from this site’s history, it’s sure to end in tears of laughter.
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