“Alan Greenspan ain’t got nuttin’ on me, stretch nuts!”

It seems like there’s been a lot of stuff online lately pertaining to Juggalos, i.e. that unflappable subset of Insane Clown Posse fans who make members of the KISS Army look like junior ROTC. This is probably because last month saw the tenth annual “Gathering of the Juggalos” in some Illinois cornfield. That’s right—ICP’s fans have been getting together, painting their faces, and spraying each other with dime store soda pop for a full decade now. Seems the “Wicked Clowns” aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, and that’s scaring / irritating / amusing the pants off 2009 America.

Juggalos have never gleaned much respect from those outside the “Dark Carnival,” probably because they actively support the most ridiculous rap act since Arsenio Hall’s Chunky A. Yet something about relentlessly dogging these people strikes me as shallow and pointless. Who are Juggalos hurting by wearing greasepaint and worshiping blatantly stupid crap? No one.* I mean, taking a shower in Faygo and calling everyone you meet “stretch nuts” doesn’t seem any dumber to me than wearing a giant block of fake cheese on your head to a football game or participating in a Civil War re-enactment. Given the choice, I’d rather sit through ICP’s entire discography than put on a wool jacket and hang out with a bunch of accountants who wanna pretend it’s 1863.

The big hoo-ha concerning last month’s “Gathering” was Ice Cube’s headlining appearance. How could a founding member of N.W.A. lower himself to appear before the court of a thousand Juggalos? “Clearly this is his nadir,” critics huffed. I guess you all forgot about Cube’s recent cinematic quest to become the black version of post-Fletch Chevy Chase (“It’s always wacky when Ice Cube goes camping!”). We should feel lucky he still considers doing musical things at all these days, considering how much money Hollywood is probably throwing at him to make those lousy Hey, Are We Doing Something? flicks. Besides, Ice Cube isn’t even the most famous person to pal around with Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope. No less than Alice Cooper and Slash(!) made guest appearances on their breakthrough Great Milenko record.

ICP released a new album just this month, Bang! Pow! Boom! (guess they’ve been watching a lot of the old “Batman” TV series). Yes, it features songs called “Juggalo Island” and “Imma Kill U,” and no, I’m not going to bother listening to it. However, I will also not bust on anyone for listening to or liking it, nor will I bust on anyone who outwardly appears to enjoy the greater ICP oeuvre. There are better, more worthy targets out there, people. Let’s direct our ire and nasty humor towards those who really achingly deserve it, like Jon, Kate, Lindsay Lohan, the government, lawyers, Morrissey, Kanye West, people who brag about not owning or watching television, the Kardashians, George Lucas, banks, people who talk during movies, Sean “P Diddy” Combs, Jay Leno, and, of course, Brett Favre.

To all the crazy Juggalos potentially reading this—keep up the good fight, and try to play nice with those Slipknot kids, okay? They’ve had a hard time ever since their father got laid off.

* = Unless you’re talking to cops in Pennsylvania; the Monroe County district attorney’s office just announced they consider Juggalos a gang, like the Latin Kings, because last week four ICP fans murdered a contemporary with baseball bats over a snitching violation. Based on some of the stuff in this article (particularly the bit about the detective having “studied the Juggalos since they first appeared…two years ago” and marveling at the fact they “speak their own language”), it sounds more like Monroe County should classify Juggalos as blood-sucking aliens from the Z Sector. There are other pockets of this country where Juggalos are considered a serious threat to public safety, but there are also pockets of this country where it’s illegal for two consenting adults to have sex in any position other than missionary. My point is the law isn’t always right, you can’t judge an entire group of people by a few misguided strands, old people need to stop blaming music they dislike for everything.