TheGathering of the Juggalos
took place over the weekend. And while Crossfade is generally disgusted by the Insane Clown Posse's mud-, soda-, and facepaint-obsessed "music festival," our interest was piqued, ever so slightly, bylast month's announcement that batshit drug addict of the year, Charlie Sheen, would be a part of the festivities
We should have known better than to keep up with this kind of crap, because Sheen's appearance was tremendously disappointing. He didn't wear any facepaint! He didn't smoke crack on stage! And he's still overusing the same non-catchphrases he started sputtering during his now-infamous flameout!
By the glory of YouTube, we have access to an excerpt of Sheen's appearance at the Gathering of the Juggalos. And it is our duty to break it down, in painful detail, for you, the faithful Crossfade reader.
The clip opens with a bountiful bouquet of technical difficulties: Charlie's mic isn't working, and neither is the camera filming this shit show. These malfunctions are especially disappointing as this footage is certainly part of the videographer's My Juggalo Wedding documentary, following he and his beloved's Dark Carnival-inspired sojourn to a sloppy party in the woods where they intend to tie the knot.
Prince Tiger Blood's first audible statement - "I feel like I'm back in Detroit" - appropriately inspires Juggalos to throw garbage at the stage. We can't help but wonder: will Charlie suffer the same fate as Tila Tequila at last year's Gathering? Tila at least had titties on her side, and still got the shit beat out of her.
Now that the mic is working, Sheen can finally launch into the very short stack of catch phrases he made up when he was a public cokehead. His very first "WINNING!" joke is met with more intoxicated Juggalos hurling trash.
He continues to riff on "WINNING!" because, like we said, the stack is short. What if you were invited to speak at festivals because you say great shit when you're fucked up and neglecting your children? Alternately, if you have a history of drug abuse, should you really be spending your weekend in the woods with a bunch of dirtfreax dressed up like an army of evil, glue-huffing Bozo the Clowns?
Eventually, someone - maybe the camera-Juggalo or an adjacent 'lo - speaks out to stop the madness: "Stop throwing shit at Charlie Sheen!" Can you make out their accent? Is this a Juggalo from The Bronx? Or do they just talk like a man-baby? Or has he accidentally swallowed enough face paint that his tongue has gone numb?
The plumes of smoke rising into the air resemble the mythological Phoenix. P.S. From least likely to most likely we imagine Juggalos smoke: blunts; joints; regular glass pipes; elaborate life-sized Insane Clown Posse blongs; and, lastly-slash-most-likely, a year-old empty can of Faygo.
In a particularly divine moment, a thick-necked miscreant screams "YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" out into the crowd, while a reefer mushroom cloud blossoms like a teen Juggalo's acne after a weekend of mud wrestling at The Gathering.
We don't need to dwell on this, but Sheen catching that garbage was actually pretty slick. Anyway, fuck him and fuck I.C.P.
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As the boos belch forth from the human farts in the pit, Charlie Sheen spends his final moments as MC avoiding a concussion-by-trash.
In conclusion, while Charlie Sheen may have cured his addiction to freebasing cocaine and ravishing porn stars with his mind, there is apparently no cure for being a Juggalo.