Day 6, Sept. 22 – Boise, ID

I have the opportunity to have some friends come to the show and experience an ICP concert. I’ve tried explaining to a few people what goes on, and how this shit really goes down, but my description never does the Dark Carnival any justice. Unfortunately, you have to see it with your own two eyes to have a full understanding.

My dear friend Thom, who doesn’t seem to have any sort of grudge against me besides the money that I owe him, conjured up the nerve to come out tonight. I think he secretly wants to be a Juggalo. What I found interesting is that after the show, he didn’t have a single word to say about the music. His mind was blown away by the overwhelming smell of soda, the numerous costume changes, and the abundance of fat girls, but the music didn’t strike a chord in his mind. I hadn’t realized ‘til just then, but it hasn’t in my mind either. I mean, fuck, their music isn’t THAT bad. Don’t get me wrong, it fucking blows, but it is extremely catchy and if I was on enough drugs I wouldn’t mind dancing to it with a mildly attractive girl (this is to say that a mildly attractive girl would be in the same room that a ICP song happens to be playing.) The lyrics are a completely different story, but the music seems to just be a bad rendition of 90’s hip-hop. This makes me wonder how much the music really means to the Juggalo culture. I’m getting the impression that music may just be something of an excuse to live such a way, when in reality the reason that the Juggalos are here is to come together and justify to them selves that living the way they do is completely okay. What does it matter if you can’t spell your name if all of your friends can’t spell theirs either?