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Violent J's Weekly Freekly — 2003, September, 8th

Mental Voyage...
What up, y’all? It’s your boy, here, Violent J, and I bring to you good news. That is, if you’re a Juggalo you’ll find my news good. For any curious onlookers who might be out there checking out our web site for the first time, let me explain something to you about ICP, before you even read into this shit.

First things first, ICP is the shit, bitch. KNOW THAT. I’ll tell you why. Because we take our listeners on a Mental Voyage. We’re very, very different, and that has pretty much always been our only real goal. We’re hated, dissed, and slammed by the whole music press and industry all the time. We’re proud to call ourselves The Most Hated Band in the World. That’s only because we’re so misunderstood and different. See we don’t rap about bitches in clubs, and all that, or sing about lost or found love. Most of our songs are way too deep to ever be on MTV or most radio stations.

With the exception of WRIF here in Detroit, every once in a while showin’ clown love, there are just about NO radio stations out there willing to spin our shit. We used to think that was just because they all sucked ass, but not any more. Now we know and understand why they don’t like us. They don’t suck ass. The truth is, we’re just way too complex for their easy-minded listeners to dig.

See, ICP don’t make hits. We have no hits. Fuck hits. Our greatest hits album would have no tracks. We have not one hit, or even a half hit. We make full album concepts and lifelong stories out of our music, and we have from day one. Part one, part two, part three, on and on, for years. So naturally, somebody hearing just one of the songs out of our monstrous catalog would probably think it sucked. It wouldn’t make much sense to the fickle-minded music fan out there who only wants to hear about 50-Cent’s bitches and thug tails.

ICP’s music is for what most would call “the nerdy types.” But the nerdy types are only nerdies to you because they’re on some other level. They don’t walk with the masses. (I prolly lost you already). Them weak, day-by-day songs are not powerful, deep or colorful enough to entertain our much larger and diverse nerdy minds. Now, before you think, “What? Diverse minds? How is ICP deep and diverse? How is rappin’ about clowns, murder, and carnivals from the sky deep and diverse?” See, because that’s all our music appears to be to most. They cannot read its real messages and meanings. They cannot hear our music’s real qualities, mostly because they’re too fickle and stupid, basically. See we rap about Dungeons & Dragons, byatch.

Listen, I was reading the issue of Blender Magazine (out now) with the gay guy from Radio Head on the cover (the same guy my homie Billy Bill slammed around years ago in Cali, for those of you who read my book). Inside they had The Top 50 Worst Bands of All Time list. Now, naturally and expectedly for us, we made number one worst. That was fresh as all hell for us, because we made number one! THINK ABOUT IT: we’re the INSANE CLOWN POSSE!!! We’re NOT TRYING TO BE COOL, you fuck-asses! We’re CLOWNS!!! Making number one was the only way we’d wanna be on that list. And as I look out of the third floor window onto the small forest that I own, here in my paid off, big-ass house, I can only think to myself, “I hope we continue to suck this bad in the future....”

Anyhoot, inside this fagizine, they had a little column thing somewhere on one of the pages titled, The Top 10 Ways to Make the Top 50 Worst Bands List. One of the ways listed was to sing about dungeons, dragons, or Dungeons & Dragons etc. Most of the readers probably laughed when reading that. Why? Because they agree with that. They agree that music about dragons and dungeons would suck all day. Because the mere level of imagination and creativity that would be needed to enjoy some shit like that is, unfortunately, way out of their current reach. They need songs about chicks and love and club bitches. That’s all they can enjoy. That lame shit that involves some imagination and creativity immediately fuckin’ SUCKS to them. Shit about dragons, ANY shit, would straight up off the rip, SUCK. Understood.

That’s where we come in. We SUCK THE WORST. We have always said we hate keeping it real in our music; we’d way rather keep it entertaining. We’re fuckin’ CLOWNS! In clown paint! For us, the real world we all live and breath in everyday is enough. We happen to like our music to be an escape from all that.

It’s so hard for these magazines and shit to understand or ever respect the fact that some people happen to like their artists to keep it entertaining instead of always so fuckin’ real. We all gotta live and die in a real world; why does music have to reflect that so hard to be respected? For movies it’s OK to be creative and imaginative. For books it’s cool. But music has to always be lame, or it just sucks to everybody. Well, fuck you. Some folks like myself just happen to like it when music takes me away someplace.

Take me on a mental voyage. That’s what ICP’s shit does, it takes you on a Mental Voyage. Our albums are funny, scary, wicked, friendly, and sad, all in one long Mental Voyage. But, unfortunately, if you have no mental, then you take no voyage. Anyway, all I’m basically trying to say is FUCK YOU if you think we suck. And your mother is like the new 50 Cent single: “getting’ play everywhere,” you bitches.

I got good news for the rest of your asses, though. I got a lot of flavor to tell ya about. I, Violent J, bring you five facts of flavor and good news. To get to that, skip ahead, past this next shit.

If you’re still reading, this is an update about what’s been up with me and the Shaggolicious one. First, Shaggy, he broke his hand, y’all. He has given many reasons and explanations to many different people, but of course I know the real deal. He was at a party that he was having for his twin boys at his mom’s house when he got into a fight with the DJ kid. Shaggy knows the kid, but the kid was a lil' too sauced up on them Jager Bombs, I guess. (I know, I been there). So Shaggy had to repeatedly pound the kid’s skull in, thus breaking thy hand piece. Relax, he’s surviving the massive injury so far just fine, and his hand will be ready to masturbate with by the time the tour starts. Also, Shaggy has recently begun work and laid down some tracks for a new solo project that you don’t need to know about right now.

Me, shiiit. I been poppin’ up on a few of the Green Book Tour dates as of late. I been comin’ out with Anybody Killa again. See that’s my dog. Me and him been hangin’ even though he’s a fuckin’ bastard, and leaves me hangin’ sometimes. I included a free song for y’all from me and ABK called “The Train.” Twiztid’s partner and producer Fritz tha Cat did the beat, and I think y’all might like it. If you don’t, so what? At least it’s fuckin’ free, right?

Twiztid’s been fuckin’ schoolin’ it out there. Man, they got so much shit going on it’s crazy. Them boyz do the damn thang. More about them in a minute, though.

Esham’s new album, Repentance, is finished y’all. It’s done and ready for press. I’ll tell you what, me and Shaggy are on some songs, and so is Twiztid, Bone Thugs N Harmony, and TNT from Natas. The record is fresh, y’all. He really put a lot of effort and heart into it. I know because I was chillin’ there with him for most of the recording. He fuckin’ schooled it. He did most of the tracks, and Mike P did a couple too. It’s off the fuckin’ hook that it’s finally comin’ out. He’s on his own shit and has always been. Esham fans will not be let down.

Our Bootlegged in L.A. DVD came out. To those of you who have it, we hope y’all like it. We just got another fat shipment of the book in, so it shouldn’t be that hard to find. Get that shit at FYE if you got one around. If not get it from the web store. It’s fresh, and people like it!

Man, y’all better not sleep on the upcoming Psychopathics from Outer Space Part 2, because it’s ten times fatter than imagined. It features ALL BRAND NEW TRACKS. NO remixes, no redoes. ALL BRAND NEW SHIT from ABK, Zug Izland, Esham, Twiztid, and ICP, and even Jumpsteady and Blaze ya Dead Homie. It also features some shit me and Shaggy did with Bushwick Bill and 2 Live Crew. And the freshest shit about it is that it features mad songs that are just Hatchet Rydas with other Hatchet Rydas: various styles. ICP with Esham, ABK with Twiztid, Esham with ABK, and all kinds of shit. There’s like 22 fuckin’ songs on that bitch. There’s even one that features the entire Hatchet Family – everybody there is! Everybody had some shit for that! It even features the last two songs recorded and finished by Blaze Ya Dead Homie!!! I’m tryna tell ya, it’s a Juggalo’s fantasy record, damn near!

5 New Flavor Facts!

Number One: Dark Lotus fans…
You will be happy to know that Dark Lotus, the whole band, INCLUDING the retired Blaze Ya Dead Homie, has recorded two new tracks for the upcoming Psychopathics from Outer Space Part 2!!!

Number Two: The Wraith: Shangri-La fans…
You will be happy to know that me and Shaggy WILL be performing live, for the first and last time, Thy Unveiling (a.k.a. Track 17) on the upcoming massive Wicked Wonka Tour.

Number Three: “Shaggy Show” fans…
You will be happy to know that as soon as the Wicked Wonka Tour starts, the infamous and legendary Shaggy Show will return! Live from the tour! I’m told the new episodes also feature the return of Moony G! Speculation only.

Number Four: Video game fans…
You will be happy to know that Backyard Wrestling for the Sony Playstation 2 and X Box… you know, that one fresh-ass wrestling, fighting game that features ICP, Rude Boy, Evil Dead, Mad Man Pondo, and even Twiztid (on a higher up level)… is finally fuckin’ comin’ out! It will at last be available world mother fuckin’ wide on October 7th.

Number Five: Hatchet Gear merch fans…
You’ll be happy to know that me and Steve Stitch-a-Lot have hooked up to design seven fresh-ass different shirts, each one for a day of the week. They’ll each be funny and fresh as hell. The “Massacre Monday” shirt, “Terrified Tuesday” shirt,” “Wicked Shit Wednesday” shirt” – each shirt will be the shit for that day. That’s if ya into that shit. Within a week we’re about to unveil the first shirt. It’s a long sleeve shirt that looks just like a police cop uniform, with the badge and all that shit. It looks all normal, like a cop uniform, from the front, but on the back is three GIANT BLOODY BULLET HOLES. That’s “Massacre Monday’s” shirt. Freshness, I tell ya. I call my shit VIOLENT WEAR: “Shit you don’t even wanna wear outta the house.”

Man, I’m tryna tell ya now, Hell’s Pit ain’t some shit you’ll be wanting to play in public, man. It’s some really REALLY Wicked Shit. During these beautiful times of Family Love and Gatherings with all love, let us not forget what the Wicked Shit is. Don’t be offended or shocked by the shit comin’ outta our mouths. Shangri-La was for the few, the fam, you. Hell’s Pit is for the rest. It’s not gonna make you feel good. It’s mean and wicked – no care and no restraints. It’s gonna be drab, and don’t expect any different. Even with all the love we get from y’all nowadays, we really have to make this point and bring out the wicked in us. And we do that on this album. See, The Wraith takes you one of two places, y’all heard about what it’s like in Shangri-La; now you’re gonna hear about what it’s like in Hell’s Pit, and it ain’t nice.

Miscellaneous babble...
Man, I got this beehive out here on my balcony on the third floor. They go in through a hole in the outside of my house. They must have a humongous colony of ninja bees by the billions up in there, because they are in total effect. Thousands and millions of bees are workin’ out of this one hole by my gutter. Now, I like to sit here with the balcony door wide-ass open and let the wind blow in while I’m writing music and shit, so I can’t be having that killer beehive shit all right outside my door. I ain’t with gettin’ stung in the neck while I’m balls deep in a song.

So, being the single man, living all on my very own, that I now am, I went to Home Depo for some shoppin’. I would’ve figured a big-ass store like that would’ve had some shit to kill bees with, but the selection was weak. They only had three styles of bee killer sprays. So I bought all three types. I got home and I sprayed that shit right into the hole’s anus. Mad bees started flying around, pissed the fuck off. But I stood there, fearless, spraying all three cans into the hole. I even sprayed some on all the bees flyin’ around pissed off. Some of their wings got wet with bee killer, and they would just drop outta the sky.

The next day, I got up and took a shower, I came in here, sat down, looked over, and what do I see? Not a billion, but two billion bees all swarming around their fuckin’ little hole. What the fuck, man? What the hell is the fuckin’ deal in there? That day, I went to the studio up at Psychopathic. I told Steve at the Office to go someplace and hook me up with some bee killer shit. I figured Steve always knows what time it is, so he’ll find the good shit. He brought back three more cans, one of them I already sprayed into the anus, but the other two were new kinds.

That night, I got home and launched my attack on the bee butt hole. All three cans sprayed right into it. Next morning I jump outta bed and run to the balcony and what do I see this time? Right there spelled out in a giant bee formation in the sky was “FUCK YOU.” Might as well have been. Every bee was still alive and they each brought with them two more of their homies from other colonies to come live with them, probably chargin’ hella rent! The fuckin’ hole in the side of my house is home to 2/3 of Michigan’s bee population. It’s gotta be. I could sell wax and make millions. If I could only have my hole back.

The next day, I went to Meijer and I bought the ultimate bee-killing machine. It was called “THE FOGGER.” That’s right... this ain’t no fuckin spray can. You gotta plug this mother fucker in to work it! So I did, and I let it heat up just like the instructions said. Then I opened the sliding door and opened fire on all them hoes. They ran like bitches, too. One whiff of that poisonous fog gas, and they was quick to bounce. I sprayed it all in the hole, too. Steadily into the hole. My dogs were laying around half dead from the poisonous bee killer mist. Plus the hole was full and dripping poison down onto my barbecue, but I didn’t care, I just kept bustin’.

Finally, the whole neighborhood damn near had to be evacuated. The fog set off fire alarms for miles (not really, but–). I went to bed, peacefully assuming the morning would bring about a death to the Killer Bee Compound, and the hole would finally be vacant.

That following morning, I swear to you I was woken up by about 15 thousand bees knockin’ on my window. Them bastards had finally done it. Not only did the fog not kill them, but it attracted killer bees from Africa, Australia, and even the Columbian rain forest all to the hole. The hole was indestructible – a grand central station for bees.

OK, my stale story now brings us to today. Here’s where we’re at tonight, just hours ago. Right before I started typing this, I took another trip to the store. This time to a place called Kroger. It’s a stale-ass super market. There I found some no name, no brand-ass, bee killer spray. I figured this has gotta work. This shit is like the Faygo of bee killer sprays. Just some cheap-ass brand that didn’t even have a colorful picture of a bee on it, or a fresh-ass name. It just said “Bee Killer Spray.” I was like, “Hell yeah, that’s straight to the fuckin’ point.”

I bought that shit, and I also found a thing of Chaulk from outta my garage. If you don’t know what that is, it’s some shit. It’s instant solidness. I just spray that shit into the hole and it foams up and then quickly hardens up and seals it fuckin’ shut for 50 YEARS. It says so right on the shit: 50-YEAR GAURANTEE.

That’s exactly what I did. I first sprayed the Faygo-ass bee killer brand into the sphincter, and then I sealed that shit all completely shut with the Chaulk. Fuck yeah. That’s the shit, because they’ll all probably die a slow agonizing death of hunger, trapped in there. Shit, they’ll all probably turn on each other in there and start eating each other’s wings off. My only concern is I hope them bitches don’t find their way back into my house somehow and start flying all in through the vents and shit.

AAAHHHHGGGGGGHHHHHH! I let you know how it all works out in my next Weekly Freekly. That’s it – I’m outta here like Hallowicked ‘97. Peace and Clown Love.

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