INSANE CLOWN POSSE JUGGALOS: RESPONSIBLE FOR MASSACHUSETTS GAY BAR MASSACRE?

by Doink, The Village Voice

Lawyers, Guns and Hush Money -- Burying the Truth at Columbine

Welcome to the show, the traveling ghetto. No longer will the ghetto just be that slum that you keep your kids away from, that slum that you drive through pointing and gawking at. No longer will the ghetto just be a slum that you hear about on the news. If someone from this hell hole wanders into your neighborhood he is quickly noticed and harrassed and shunned back into the home you've given him. As you watch the kids play in the park on your street you never even think about the kids in the ghetto. If you don't care, who does?

Years of breathing the souls of rotted minds has created a bad case of 'Ghetto Insanity'. You walk their streets and are stared at as a freak show, less than human, an ogre walking the streets paved with gold. If those of the ghetto are nothing more than carnival exhibits to the upper class, then let's give them the show they deserve to see. No more hearing of this show because you can witness it in your own front yard! A traveling mass of carnage, the same carnage witnessed daily in the ghetto, can be yours to witness, feel and suffer. No longer killing one another, but killing the ones who have ignored our cries for help. Like a hurricane leaving a trail of destruction, the Carnival of Carnage

The Ringmaster

The day has come, the time of reckoning. Who will perish in dreaded hell and who's soul will be content within the pleasures of heaven? Looking past the words spoken with a wicked tongue and looking past the evil deeds done in one's life, but instead looking into the conscious of man.

What is the real evil that seems to plague mankind? Who are the real demons that walk this earth? Is it those whose minds have become devious because of a lifetime spent inside of a caged hell, or is it those who invented this caged hell years ago and done nothing to help destroy it yet? Who's guilty, Frankenstein or the doctor that created him? The sword, or the man who has slain with it? Which is the real evil, the man who kills another for food or the man who does not share his food to avoid the killing? While you sit in judgment of a criminal, you may very well be the one who's guilty. Guilty of greed, deception and hate.

Those who are rejected at the gates of heaven, shall be dragged off into the pits of hell. Viciously torn from this life by the non-living, the phantoms of the dead. These beasts take the form of a demented carnival, that of a wicked, dark, circus, led by one. One who was created by your own evil ways. One who will judge your very fate. The one known only as... The Ringmaster.

The Riddle Box

Time flows like a dark horde, consuming all in its path. Man lives his life in the blink of an eye. Just as day becomes night, all life fades into death. In death each person will be judged for his deeds performed while alive. There are the few who walk a life of purpose, and there are those who trod the path of greed, their souls host to demons. Time slows near each person's end. Those whose deeds were evil grasp onto life as long as they can because, though they don't know what awaits them in the afterlife, they feel for them it is a horror beyond words. Time stops in this world, as the heart becomes still and the soul leaves the body. In the afterlife time is eternal, and even death is but a new beginning. For you see, when you step into death your soul steps upon the floor of a dark chamber and you look to see it empty, except for a strange looking box on an old wooden table. On the front of the box, you will see a painted question mark faded with time and a twisted crank handle on its side. Turning the handle, a sharp melodic tune will fill the air. For the evil ones this sound will be a deafening noise reverberating off the walls and building into a climatic terror. But the surprise is when the music stops as you slowly turn the handle... and then the top of the box pops. For the few, they will see a vision of God with a golden light warming their souls as they step forth into eternal peace. For most they will see a fog seeping from the box, stripping their sanity, as they witness an image of hell, spawned and formed from their own evil; a hideous reflection of their demented souls. The floor of the room begins falling away as they plummet into a bottomless pit full of shadowy creatures, forever to be lost in a sinister void. What will be in store for you is the mystery, but if you take a look within yourself you will find the answer. For now, you still have time to change the outcome of... the mighty Riddle Box.

The Great Milenko

From deep within the Netherworld of shadow walkers comes yet another exhibit of the Dark Carnival. He is the master of the art of using magic without magic. He is a Necromaster... the craft of using magic through the dead. Dead meaning both physically and mentally. This spectacle shall be witnessed only by those who are meant to see it. Look deep inside of your soul and ask yourself ... Do you hold a ticket to witness the show? The answer lies within yourself. He is the fourth to rise. He feeds upon one's own greed. He is powered by one's own jealousy, lust, and temptation. To envision yourself with something that rightfully does not belong to you ... that is the illusion cast by him. To act upon this vision and seek it out at the expense of another ... that is the magic cast by him. Continuous dreamers of profit at the cost of another are pledged and haunted by his wizardry. Others are content and satisfied with what they can achieve by themselves and have not the urge to tamper with another's well being for quick gain. They see him only as a hoax and see no illusions or magic by he. It is simple ... He is you. His illusions are your evil thoughts. Your evil acts are his magic -- yesterday, now and forever. You and he are the fourth to rise ... You and he are the master of Necromancy ... You the dead and him the magic. Together, you and he are The Great Milenko.

The Amazing Jeckel Brothers

His evil influence flows from the city streets like red molten ooze, filling every alley and gutter. There are those who are burnt by it, like the charred remains of a napalm strike. He moves in silence, yet with his heat comes ear-shattering screams as the masses are scorched in his choking smoke of corruption. His fire consumes like a lethal injection flowing through the veins of a dying convict. Hosts of small red ants crawl in the wake of his presence, biting and stinging flesh. His holocaust fills the woods of hope and prosperity like a wave of hungry piranhas on a newborn lamb. He goes by many names, but for now let it be spoken like the force of a fireball bursting into a crowd. He's Jack, pure and simple ... Jack Jeckel.

His glow of compassion kindles the heart, like a campfire on a cold winter's eve. His embers burn eternally, spreading the flame of mercy like a warm blanket over the shoulders of a vagabond. His kindness is fueled by sympathy for human suffering, but his inferno of righteous cause, incinerates creatures of sin to ash. The torch of his salvation guides wanderers in the dark abyss to freedom. Its flaring sparks float on the winds of change, like soaring birds recently freed from a dreary cage. Laughter explodes forth from the essence of his being, radiating the land with childish joy. He has many names, but for now let it be spoken like melodic music drifting through the air. He's Jake, true indeed ... Jake Jeckel.

Emerging from the Dark Carnival like phantom smoke drifting into the minds of men, they are the Amazing Jeckel Brothers. A chaotic duo of juggling masters, Jack "the sinister" and Jake "the just" juggle the sins of mortal men. The price of admission to their show is a mere human soul.

When death creeps around and life decays, the departed spirit will begin its journey. A vision of a candle will begin to form like a distant dream with billowing smoke rising from its eternal flame. In this thick haze the deceased will begin to see an image of Jake and Jack Jeckel juggling red balls between themselves. Each ball soaked in fresh blood and pulsating like an erratic living heart. For every sin committed in a mortal's life another ball is added to their unearthly performance and the harder it becomes. The deceased will witness sinister Jack throwing Jake curves in a vile attempt to see a ball drop. For if they should fumble in their act, a pit of infinite evil shall open beneath the feet of the viewer and cast the soul into an eternity of pain and suffering. Success on the other hand, opens the gates of Shangri-La and grants one ascension into pure enlightenment and peace.

Jack and Jake Jeckel rest in all of us for they are the very fabric of our being conscience and soul. There is no escape from their Juggling act because there is no way to escape from ourselves. Only in death will we realize this as we twist and spin to the other side?

The Wraith

A presence can be felt by those who have followed thy epic saga as told by thy Insane Clown Posse. It is a presence that is synonymous with thy crumbling of time itself. Thus emerges a being so powerful that he can exist between both the land of thy living, and that of the dead. He goes by many names but is known to thy living only as Thy Wraith. He walks upon worlds forgotten, and descends from Heavens; fade into gray to witness thy death of all mortal things, so that he may guide thy departed upon thy path that they have chosen. Only now will we truly understand thy meaning of thy saga, for this saga all along, each Jokers Card, is actually none other than ... thy echo of our lives.

Insane Clown Posse, by www.insaneclownposse.com

"Don't even get me started on Crazy Snake Collective"

Don't Bury the Hatchet Just Yet

Story is, really quick, that this 18-year-old kid from New Bedford, Mass., Jacob Robida, went ripshit through a gay bar with a hatchet, chopping dudes for thirty seconds, really gritty stuff. After that he fled the state and made his way down to Arkansas, got caught up in police shootout, killed a cop, then lost his own life.

Piecing together his family history, interests, apparently nutso myspace profile, etc., and making connections from the crime to the symbology, detectives et al. found out Robida was an enormous ICP fan -- considered himself a Juggalo. The term means "ICP fan" more or less, and according to the wiki entry, it debuted when one of the ICP members asked the audience at a show if there were any juggalos out there; somebody decided yes, there are juggalos out here, and it took off from there.

Despite the band's insane clown shtick -- serial killer clowns who kill those who deserve to be killed -- juggaloism's a self-reportedly non-violent music-centric subculture, no code except to "stay true to yourself" and other sorts of truisms. They paint their faces like clowns, which to me seems like a good self-selecting mechanism -- if you like a band so much, get them, that you're willing to walk around town looking like that, writing Dark Carnival on all your school binders, and calling the "condition you get for eating too much pussy" (love it) "Pink Eye." The fact that the band lets the fans dictate the terms of Juggalodom, giving them "Joker Cards" (their albums, which comprise the teachings and prophecies of the Dark Carnival, which is ICP's supreme being) but not explicitly laying down the law -- this is nothing but good business sense, especially when you're in the business of fantastically violent lyrics and anger unmanagement -- Shaggy said it best.

Thing is, Robida's was a hatchet gig, and the logo of ICP's label Psychopathic Records is the Hatchetman, "seen on everything Psychopathic Records." Psychopathic Records also throws big parties, has whole lines of Hatchet Gear, and even its own wrestling league (Juggalo Championshit Wrestling) -- they are, in their words, "the label that runs beneath the streets."

Too strong a connection, which is probably why the band made sure to play the "we're just entertainers!" card, and felt obligated to distance themselves from the Robida incident. Band manager Alex Abbiss posted on their website:

ICP has sold millions of records, and when you start dealing with numbers that large, it's not that unlikely that one of those purchasers may have already been suffering from some form of mental illness.

and

The perpetrator of this crime may have thought that he was a Juggalo. But clearly, after further review, it's quite obvious that this guy had no clue what being a Juggalo is all about. If anyone knows anything at all about ICP, then you know that they have never, ever been down or will be down with any racist or bigotry bullshit.

and as for "what a Juggalo really is":

Juggalos are just like any other kind of people. They share a common bond, through their music and culture. They like to gather together all the time and hang out with one another. They do this among themselves, and they also come out in hordes for our annual Gathering of the Juggalos. They rarely fight or have problems with one another. They stay down with each other and consider one another to be family. Even though many of them have started off with very little, or nothing at all, they do the best they can to live their lives each and every single day and in general, they are very good people, not to be looked down upon but to be respected by the rest of society.

And even beyond that, the Juggalo wiki entry curiously makes no mention of the Robida incident, as if the information is quickly removed so as not to indict the other Juggalos -- a pretty great example of the factual dangers/history vs. his-story stuff that Rachel Aviv talked about in her big wiki roundup a few weeks back.

Even if ICP were Robida's inspiration for the style of violence, obviously we can't blame them, fair enough. Naturally people point out the similarities, trying to make sense of how and why this happened, and it must be at least somewhat flattering to ICP for the media to think that "Night of the Axe" -- with that "I went psychopathic/ Chopping throats with a hatchet" -- inspired something more than a headbang or away message.

But maybe I do have issues with this "killing those who deserve to be killed," "punishing the wicked" look ICP pushes --slippery slope to be on just aesthetic terms, when they refuse to flesh it out into a bona fide creed. They want the benefits of being cult leaders/prophets ($$$ power respect) but shirk the responsibility, defining themselves negatively, as happened here: so apparently gays aren't part of the wicked. Check.

Meanwhile it's this total Lord of the Flies moment on Juggalo Island, nobody excited about setting rules for membership beyond the face paint and "getting what ICP are really about," such that hey, maybe it is completely believable for a Juggalo to take punishment of the wicked into his own hands, set his own terms, etc. -- I just don't see why this isn't a logical conclusion of a cult that indulges in self-ostracization, puts a few extra chips on its shoulder and revels in violent imagery but also being true to yourself ... if the Robida had gotten away with it, would this have been some sort of triumph, expression of devotion to the cause, etc.? What if it wasn't a gay bar, but a meeting of the Ku Klux Klan -- would that have made this ok? Turns out, maybe Juggalos don't designate what being a Juggalo is about too concretely, precisely so they can say, when the choppers crash their fantasy land, "that's not what being a Juggalo is about."

Shootout kills gay-bar attack suspect -- Robida slays officer, woman before being shot by police

(CNN) -- An 18-year-old suspected in hatchet attacks and shootings at a Massachusetts gay bar died Sunday after a gunbattle with Arkansas police, authorities said.

Investigators said 18-year-old Jacob Robida shot and killed a police officer and his own female companion, 33-year-old Jennifer Bailey of Charleston, West Virginia, before being mortally wounded by police.

Robida died in a Missouri hospital about 1,200 miles from his home in New Bedford, Massachusetts, where he was wanted on three counts of attempted murder and hate crimes.

He was captured Saturday night after he fatally shot Gassville, Arkansas, police officer James Sell during a traffic stop, prompting a 16-mile police chase that reached speeds of more than 90 mph, Arkansas State Police spokesman Bill Sadler said. (Watch Sadler describe what happened -- 5:12)

Authorities attempted to stop Robida with a patrol-car roadblock, but he maneuvered around it, Sadler said. One officer fired shots at Robida at one point in the chase, Sadler said.

The chase ended after authorities laid tire spikes across the highway to disable Robida's car, the same green Pontiac Grand Am sought by police in Massachusetts.

As Robida turned toward downtown Norfork, Arkansas, tires deflating, he lost control of the car. The Pontiac spun nearly 180 degrees, crashed into two parked vehicles and came to rest facing the pursuing officers, Sadler said.

Based on officers' statements and a preliminary review of the forensic evidence, Sadler said, "Investigators now believe Robida raised a handgun to the head of Bailey and fired. It is believed she was killed instantly by that gunshot."

Robida then pointed his gun at the officers, who shot him. He was critically wounded, and was taken to an area hospital before being transferred to Springfield, Missouri, where he died at 3:38 a.m. (4:38 a.m. ET) Sunday, Sadler said.

Authorities in New Bedford, about 50 miles south of Boston, wanted Robida arrested on suspicion of three counts of attempted murder and hate crimes in connection with the assaults late Wednesday at Puzzles Lounge.

Police said a man believed to be Robida used a hatchet and a gun to attack the men in the bar after asking the bartender whether it was a gay bar. Police believe the attacks are a hate crime.

Puzzles bartender Phillip Daggett, who witnessed the attack and called police, said that Robida came into the bar and had two drinks before pulling out a hatchet and hitting two patrons in the head. He then brandished a gun and shot the two patrons and a third customer, Daggett said.

'Easy way out'

Daggett said Sunday Robida's death was "not fair."

"He has taken such an easy way out of this, while his victims and others have to live with this for the rest of our lives," Daggett wrote in an e-mail to CNN.

Daggett expressed concern that others would follow in Robida's footsteps, but said, "Hopefully, we can all move forward and grow closer together as a community."

Authorities were not sure why Sell, 63, attempted to stop Robida, but believe it was traffic-related, police said Sunday. After the shooting, witnesses identified the car as a green Pontiac with Kentucky license plates.

Massachusetts authorities said earlier Robida was armed with a Luger, the same type of gun used in the bar shootings.

Sgt. C.J. Ellyson, a West Virginia State Police spokesman, said Robida had lived with Bailey from early 2004 to early 2005 before returning to Massachusetts.

In an e-mail to CNN, a friend of Robida's described Bailey as his ex-girlfriend, but Ellyson said authorities were not certain of the nature of their relationship

Sell's shooting and Robida's shootout with police remained under investigation, Sadler said.

In launching their search after the attacks at the New Bedford bar, police described Robida as violent, armed, dangerous and suicidal. Police identified him as a suspect after someone in the bar recognized him, said New Bedford Police spokesman Capt. Richard Spirlet.

One of the victims Robida is accused of attacking was Bob Perry of Dartmouth, who told CNN he was hit in the face with a hatchet and shot once in the back. (Watch Perry recount the attack at a gay bar -- 2:03)

A source familiar with the investigation identified the other two victims as Alex Taylor of Fairhaven and Luis Rosado of New Bedford, apparently a neighbor of Robida.

Robida's neighbors have described him as a racist who decorated his room with swastikas.

But a friend of his who asked not to be identified told CNN in an e-mail, "He had problems and hung out with the wrong people, who were really racist and homophobic."

The girl said she saw Robida about a week before the attack, "and he was himself, being respectful in my house and nice to my family."

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