Remember how I said we had professional Photographers with us at The Gathering of the Juggalos? Well, they took a lot of photos, as photographers are wont to do. And so I figure, hey, you guys are cool, why not share them with you, am I right? That’s just a little window into my thought process, free of charge. So please, enjoy the photographic stylings of Tall Tale Productions‘ Matthew Downe, who takes a pretty kickass portrait. (Plus the occasional iPhone photo from yours truly).
Everyone likes Blooming Onions. Tall guys, short guys, fat girls, skinny girls, old guys, young guys, girls in bikinis, and dudes with face taaaats. (I submitted this new jingle to Outback Steakhouse, but I’ve yet to hear back).
It being your birthday seems to entitle the Juggalo to additional Faygo rations, boob squeezes, preferred seating at wet t-shirt contests and a host of other benefits. And they seem to function on the honor system, as a birthday assertion was never challenged.
In case you didn’t believe me about the “RIP Uncle Ken” guy. Just one of many times I felt like I was in a sketch about The Gathering rather than the actual Gathering. (Photo by Ben)
This man is a Tomatometer Top Critic, folks.
Laremy Legel of Film.com won the contest for “most Juggalo-looking non-Juggalo” going away. Lieb also pointed out that he sort of looks like a Swedish Glenn Danzig.
Yes, that is a Snakes on a Plane t-shirt.
Ahh, young love. I like to imagine she’s about to yank out his Prince Albert in this.
Most Juggalos seemed to be overweight, rail thin, or lunkish, but there were exceptions, like this guy. Too bad there weren’t any modeling scouts around. Too bad for both of us. (*flexes biceps, splits pants*)
I think this is SFW, right? Just barely. We like to ride that line.
And here’s Laremy’s brother, James. (Not really, but I could see it).
The camera loves Laremy. Why fight it?
It was tough to find people not wearing Psychopathic Records merch. Don’t worry, I don’t think he’s really a serial killer.
Yes, the golf cart had a chain-link steering wheel.
I kind of wish Juggalettes were just called Juggalas, all Latin like. Here we have a pair of Juggalae..
Nice enthusiasm, bud, now pull up your pants.
This six Joker cards refer to Insane Clown Posse’s six Joker card albums. As for the choke chain and wedding band on the pinky, your guess is as good as mine.
Note the guy in the background advertising his weed with a cardboard sign.
I didn’t swim in there because I was afraid of dick leeches, but Matt Lieb did and lived to tell about it, with nary a dick leech to be found, as far as I know.
He’s doing that Dave Coulier “Cut. It. Out.” thing.
Just trying to ride that SFW line as closely as possible. This is one of the Wolfpac girls. They stripped in that shed all weekend. My favorite one flashed her beav at an 8-year-old. An 8-year-old, dude.
Another Coulier fan. Who knew there were so many?
The idea that all Juggalos are Christians has been slightly exaggerated, clearly.
We described Juggalo Night Court as what it’d be like if the Joker ruled Gotham. Judging by the Batman gear everywhere, the Juggalos themselves seemed conscious of this parallel.
“Yo, what up, my ninjas? FAM-UH-LEE! FAM-UH-LEE! FAM-UH– WAIT, IS THAT COKE?!? Get the rope.”
I’d never seen so many adults drinking soda without booze in it before The Gathering. Adds to the whole stunted childhood vibe.
YEAH, SAME TO YOU, PAL!
This just means “hello there,” actually. Sort of like a Juggalo Hey Buddy, if you will.
Don’t tell anyone, but I don’t think that’s her real hair.
A Juggalo was telling me a story about trying to drug the bus driver by crushing up Seroquels in his beer. I’d already been there two days at that point and didn’t even question the idea that the bus driver was drinking a beer, or that people riding the bus had drugs for bipolar disorder at the ready and on their person.
Me and Matt Lieb, Gathering Gothic.
An ICP bowling shirt, for the Two and a Half Men fan Juggalo. This size also doubles as a tarp for a Mini Cooper.
Lieb, with the hatchet yarmulke. A lot of people didn’t know what it was called. One guy, struggling to come up with the word, ended up just yelling “Hey, Jew!”
But not in a mean way. I’d like to think we promoted cultural understanding.
It’s Juggalo Mac from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
Ref of the oil wrestling contest. “Can we take your picture?”
“F*ck yeah, dude! I’m so faded.”
Something sexual about her star tattoos. Be nice. (Photo by Matt Lieb)
Yep, there was a guy wearing an Equus on Broadway shirt there. I dunno either, dude.
“Yo, that play was dank, my Ninja! Homeboy from Harry Potter touched a horse’s neden.”
Oil wrestling MVP, before her first match.
Here’s a guy oiling her up. Someone assumed it was her boyfriend, and she was like “Oh no, we just met today.”
That’s our camp neighbor, Mike, who’d been deputized as a photographer. He’s wearing a shirt that says “I want to f*ck your corpse.”
This other chick kicked her ass though. The one winning said her wife had just beat cancer during the prefight interview. I’m telling you, this oil wrestling match had more backstory than a Chopped episode.
As grappling enthusiast, I have to say, there were some legitimately impressive takedowns, including this head and arm throw. (photo by Ben)
That’s me, Matt Lieb, and Frotcast Ben. The guy to my left was a dwarf with thalidomide arms who hung himself from his piercings during the Freak Show event.
Is that a Star Trek communicator over the right nipple?
Shoes on an abandoned Ferris Wheel. This should be a Mellencamp song.
This guy is excited about watching Vanilla Ice.
During Vanilla Ice’s set. (That’s not him in the mask). I like to wear this same outfit when I drive the ice cream truck.
“Hey, so can I get a salad?”
A Stoner Bowl is french fries, gyro meat, cheese, and gravy.
A carnival ride named after my favorite Michael J. Fox show. No riding Spin City after a stoner bowl.
Shooting in “Camp Ratchet,” a little tent city of Midwestern and Canadian Juggalos.
Also inside Camp Ratchet. This guy was telling us about feeding a bee acid and then eating the bee. I didn’t witness this first hand, but it was a good story.
His name was Ozzy, as you can see by the knuckles.
Probably one out of every six guys or so had a bullhorn. Bullhorns and laser pointers are ubiquitous at The Gathering. Also, you’re among family, so if you want to rock black socks with sandals, the world is your oyster, my ninja.
In front of the Camp Ratchet sign. You really do have to respect the eclectic fashion sense.
The big guy on the right was a bodybuilder from Ontario. I mention it only because I figured you were checking out his bod.
Ozzy seemed happy to give himself a Faygo shower, which Mike shot in super slow motion, but I felt a little like the wet t-shirt contest emcee egging it on.
Faygo is super watery, not as sticky as you’d think. One of many things I learned.
Check back for part two.