I Have Probably Whooped My Final Whoop
For a curious decade or so, one of the highlights of my year was the three or four days that I spent among face-painted lunatics at the Gathering of the Juggalos, Insane Clown Posse’s annual festival of art and culture.
The Tila Tequila incident happened on my very first night at The Gathering. It was surreal, disorienting, and one of the craziest things I’ve ever seen. It was a taste of what the festival had to offer.
I was hooked. My journey into Juggalo Land began when I started dating my now-wife when she was a graduate student at Brown. Being intellectuals, we would binge-watch Jersey Shore and then play the music video for “Miracles” repeatedly.
So when my agent told me I should write about cult acts other than Phish for a book that was sold under the title Confessions of a Pop Culture Masochist I knew that I had to go to the Gathering of the Juggalos and write about it for my fourth book.
I started attending the Gathering with my very indulgent wife out of a professional obligation. I was writing a book about Insane Clown Posse, Juggalos and the Gathering of the Juggalos. I wasn’t just having fun: I was engaging in important research.
I came to love the Gathering because it was unlike anywhere else on earth. The FBI might see them as dangerous gang members, but the Juggalos I encountered radiated joy and excitement. They were in their Happy Place, their Shangri-La, a little bit of heaven in the middle of Ohio.
I kept going back to the Gathering after I finished You Don’t Know Me But You Don’t Like Me, my robust-selling book about the surprising commonalities between Juggalos and Phish phans (which you can buy signed from me here).
I told myself that I was doing it for my career. I fancied myself something of a Juggalo whisperer. I thought readers would be interested in my thoughts about ICP’s world post-You Don’t Know Me But You Don’t Like Me but that did not seem to be the case.
The world was morbidly fascinated by ICP for a good long while and then they seemingly lost interest. They moved on. I did not.
I looked forward to the Gathering all year long, regularly checking to see which weird relic from the 1980s or 90s would be joining the lineup. Insane Clown Posse may be a cult act but they were somehow able to attract huge names like Ice Cube, Busta Rhymes, Charlie Sheen and Scarface.
It was a crazy vaudevillian rumpus with a wild mix of music, comedy, and professional wrestling.
I took pride in being part of ICP’s world. I was the last writer to speak at 2017’s Juggalo March on Washington. Just before COVID hit in 2020 I attended Juggalo Day in Los Angeles.
I was so eager to return to the Gathering that I had a crowd-funding campaign to pay for it. I ultimately ended up not going because I did not want to die from COVID and also because my nuclear family had just moved and needed me more than my Juggalo family did.
I made a point of going to the Gathering every year when possible because I dug the experience and the people and also the drugs but also because I know myself. I know that the longer I’m gone, the harder it will be to return.
Going to the Gathering entails a lot of effort. I needed to buy plane tickets, book a hotel, and try to get a freelance outlet to pay me to cover the festival. But I also had to secure transportation from the Gathering to my hotel every day and night.
It was expensive, and no one was interested in paying me handsomely to write about something I had come to adore.
It’s been five years since I attended the Gathering of the Juggalos. I’m starting to think of it as a cherished part of my past rather than my present or future. I’m too damned old to stay up all night doing drugs and watching weird cult acts from the Reagan and Bush era. I can’t afford it, financially or otherwise.
The sad fact is that I have probably Whooped my final Whoop. I’ll still see Insane Clown Posse, Violent J, or Shaggy 2 Dope solo when they play Atlanta, but it’s unlikely that I will ever go to another Gathering of the Juggalos.
I’ll be in my fifties soon. My life revolves around my children and my wife. You can only be Peter Pan for so long. At a certain point, you need to grow up and leave Neverland for good.
I will miss the Gathering. It was special and important to me. I met a lot of fascinating people. I left my comfort zone for a few days every year and had crazy pop culture adventures.
I made many memories during my six or seven trips to the Gathering. But that is what it is now to me: a beloved memory but a memory all the same.
Of course, if someone wanted to pay me a large sum to cover the Gathering, I might change my mind and give it one more go, but that’s probably not going to happen, and I have to be okay with that.
It’s bittersweet, is what it is. It’s melancholy, but it’s also the mature and right thing to do, and even a Juggalo has to be mature occasionally.
Nathan needs teeth that work, and his dental plan doesn't cover them, so he started a GoFundMe at https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-nathans-journey-to-dental-implants. Give if you can!
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