The Juggalos are a beautiful national blight that I’m glad exist. A reminder of the banal hyperreality consumer driven identification scheme we all partake in. The FBI? They’re not really feeling them. At all.
I don’t think that anything makes me feel more old than my perpetually widening disconnect from pop culture. I’m like eight months away from doing the jitterbug and talking about how I remember when The Great Gatsby was released.
Evidently the VMAS were last night. I wouldn’t have known any better if it weren’t for the fact that Kanye West went and acted the fool again. Who could have suspected that? People were all OMFG, that’s so disrespectful to Taylor Swift. And I was like, “What’s a Taylor Swift?” Another Disney machination? A new American Idol abortion? Apparently she emerged from somewhere, another Happy Meal for public gorging.
But people were blown away by this corporate-package on corporate-package hate, and I wasn’t even aware who one of the parties were. I’m floating further and further into the real of the Out of Touch. It’s a frightening feeling, since all you do during your teenage years is say to yourself, I’M NOT GOING TO BE MY FATHER.
Yesterday I was walking around the mall, gazing at the storefronts. You know the shitty mannequins schilling the specific store’s slop. Pimping the wares.
Walking past Hot Topic, I was shocked. It wasn’t the shitty t-shirts and caps that blew off my skull cap. It was the fact that these pieces of crap belonged to the Insane Clown Posse.
The fucking Juggalos still live? I had no god damn idea. I thought that all the Faygo-pounding toolsheds had been put out to pasture. Just what the fuck was going on?! Had I slipped into some alternate dimension? All my friends who used to wear JNCO jeans and sport Jugga-faces have long since disavowed their face-paintery.
What the fuck! What the fuck am I missing?
I am destined to be another nerdy dad. I can see my kid now: