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Violent J's Weekly Freekly — 2003, November, 24th

And then 2 days later after we got home, as soon as I finished doing all my laundry, and chillin' for a night in my own bed, BLAAAM!!! We were back off, this time over to Europe. Whoa, I forgot all about that. It’s been 5 or 6 years since we were last there!

Man, we didn’t know what to expect. But we were exited because we were going there to finish the Shangri-La World Tour. This was going to be the last leg of it. Back to the Murder Mayhem stage show.

Fresh as hell…

First we got that stale-ass plane ride that awaits us. Damn, 7 fuckin’ hours long. Thankfully my psychiatrist hooked me up with them little blue pills that I take in case of panic attacks. They flat out knock you the fuck out. I don’t give a fuck what you’re doing. You could be in the middle of a boxing match. You pop one of them little blue boys after the 1st round and you’ll be asleep by the end of the 4th. They had my whole crew passed out on that plane. Them pills hit us so hard; the whole plane was asleep. It looked like somebody set a poisonous gas bomb off in the plane. Everybody was dead asleep, even the pilots. Luckily I woke up first and landed the plane myself… yup.

The next thing we knew, we were in fuckin’ London, England and the Prince of Wales was in effect.

Look man, fuck what you heard and fuck where you’re from. I don’t give a fuck. This is the deal. Fresh off the plane I almost died. Once again, just like in Australia, the fuckin’ cars are on the wrong side of the road. Listen, I’m not saying they’re on the other side of the road, I’m saying they’re on the wrong fuckin' side of the road. That’s official to me. I ain’t saying that because I’m American, I’m saying it because it’s fuckin’ true. I don’t give a fuck what you say, how you talk, or what you call your smokes, but the traffic I do care about, and it’s fucked. I’ll fuckin' tell Prince fuckin’ Charles himself that the cars are riding down the wrong side of the fuckin' road. It’s the same fuckin' bullshit thing in Australia, and I’m told in Hong Kong, too. Well fuck that. Yall need to get your shit straight when it comes to the fuckin' drivin’. You guys think just because some of your cars are tiny as hell and look like toys, that they can just be all wheelin’ out down the wrong side like that? Fuck that.

Every time, man, cars and busses kept coming within’ fuckin’ inches of introducing me to my hero, Easy E. Your lookin’ for the cars to be comin’ from one way and BLAMMM, they’re comin’ from the other. And with all the walkin’ I do? Shit man, just walkin’ around this bitch is like playin’ old school Frogger (Yall lads don’t know nuttin’ about no Frogger). But this time around in Europe, it was different. This time it was way cooler. This time we had a blast all the way around. Except for the lame-ass venues that wouldn’t allow the fuckin’ Faygo. Like the very first fuckin’ show of the tour in beautiful, peaceful Glasgow, Scotland, home of Rowdy Roddy Piper.

We were so fuckin’ exited to fuckin’ rock that shit in Scotland. 1300 ticked were sold; we couldn’t even believe it. How the fuck? 1300 Juggalos in Glasgow Scotland? To see us? How could this be? It’s too good to be true… Man, me and Shaggy were even gonna wear these fresh ass, green, plaid kilts on stage, with matching face-paint and everything, and then FUUUUUUCK. We get the call from Billy Bill 2 hours before the doors were set to open: THE SHOWS CANCELLED. What the fuck why? THE VENUE ALL OF A SUDDEN WOULDN’T ALLOW ANY FAYGO.

FIRST TO THE NINJAS WHO WERE THERE, AND ARE HATING US NOW BECAUSE WE DIDN’T PLAY, HEAR THIS…. THAT SUCKS. You hate us now, because you feel we should've gone on and did the show even without Faygo. Well, all I can tell you is these facts: ICP does not perform without Faygo. Understand that forever. Not at an official ICP concert, no way, no how. Never have; never will. Fuck you, fuck that, no way. Listen, ICP without the Faygo would be like seeing KISS without the flaming instruments and shooting sparks. The four of them would just be standing there singing like idiots with nothing. Faygo is what we come to do for yall. Faygo is the history of our show. You have no idea what we’ve gone through for throwing Faygo over the last 10 years. We come to get crazy and wet the room up. That’s our show. That is our gig. Faygo is our mutha fuckin’ band. Faygo is our act, flat out. The show cannot go on without the band’s instruments; the 2-liter bottles of the precious juice are our instruments. You better steal my fuckin' book and read it, pal. I’m sorry that you spent a lot of money and came a long-ass way FOR US. If it’s for US, then try and understand: ICP, the ones you came along way to see, throw Faygo. So hate us for that if ya gonna hate us because we don’t play without it. Know that when you see us live in concert, you’re getting wetted up, flat fuckin’ out. And please don’t diss us; roll wit’ us.

What you don’t know is that it’s a fuckin’ back stage battle everywhere we go, between Billy Bill (our road manager) vs. the venue vs. the promoter. Thankfully, these days in the U.S., they mostly know about ICP. We pretty much are known among all the promoters and venues in the states. They all know about the Faygo, and they already know exactly what they’re getting into when booking us.

But in Europe, much like it was back in the day in the States, ICP are unknowns to the venues. The only thing they know about us is that we might sell some tickets so they book us. Even though our people tell them again and again about the Faygo well in advance, they just say its all good, and to come on in and play. So we come all the way there from wherever, and when we show up, sometimes it just goes bad. They see us loading in all that Faygo and they fuckin' suddenly freak out. It just happens. They’ll suddenly just BOSS UP on us and try and tell us “NO FAYGO” and they soon find out if it’s no Faygo it’s no show.

If ICP played an official ICP concert anywhere in Europe or the U.S., with no Faygo at all, just because the venue or whoever told ICP, they couldn’t throw any… Do you know that every fuckin’ venue in the world would all suddenly tell us the same thing: “NO FUCKIN’ FAYGO.” They’d all suddenly demand no soda. Think about that… there would be no more Faygo to our shows. What venue would prefer that we do throw Faygo, if they all got a fuckin' choice? What venue would rather have us kick 450 2-liters all over their fuckin’ building? Faygo is our show, either you book our show as it is or you don’t book it.

Unfortunately some promoters and venues book us, bring ICP all the way there, and fuckin’ bring in and sell tickets to 1000 Juggalos from all over that side of the country, all the way there, and then try to snake bite us like that. “NO FAYGO.” THEY ASSUME WE’LL GO ON ANYWAY, BECAUSE THEY DON’T KNOW ABOUT US. Everybody winds up on the FUCKIN’ loosing end… EVERYBODY. In 10 years, we haven’t done a concert without Faygo, and ICP never will. We’re hella sorry about the Juggalos who missed out. And I really mean that from the heart. Just try to understand that we got screwed over right along with you guys, and there was nothing we could do about it. To the Juggalos who missed out because of all this, I promise, we’ll be back again at a different venue, and next time we’ll get it straight, and you have my absolute word on it.

In Scotland about 400 Juggalos stayed outside the venue and partied anyway. They were all out in the street singin' and chanting, and one ninja even dove off the roof of the venue and everybody caught him. They were just happy to be getting live with other Juggalos! They had bomb-ass spirits even without a show. I thought that was incredible. How fuckin' fresh is that? It was the shit, and I know this because I stopped by to say hi to all of ‘em. It was fuckin' fresh; I got mobbed, Michael Jackson-style (Michael Jackson before the new allegations).

It sucked that the last leg of the world wide Shangri-La tour in Europe got off to a stale start with the cancelled show in Scotland, but then we got to England and POW!, it was off the fuckin’ hook, chain, and hinge. Juggalos who talk funny packed into all 3 of the venues we played at in England, especially London. Who did the show with us in London? Who opened the show? None other than Jumpsteady. Fuckin' Dope. He murdered it up on stage, and his hype man was an English Juggalo ninja named “A.T.F.” who you’ll hear about later.

Many Juggalos followed the whole tour. We met some very special Juggalos and 'lettes this time out. I met a famous female tattoo artist who speculation has it is a big Violent J fan. And I met her gay friend who talked so fuckin' fast she made the clock move backwards. I met 2 females who loved each other and were following the tour together. I've seen all kinds of freshness.

Amsterdam, Holland was the shit too as usual. Only I didn’t smoke the last time we came through, but I did this time boy. I was all up in the smokehouse by myself like a fuckin' crackhead, at 9:30 in the morning the day we got there. My breakfast was some shit called “White Diamond Weed.” I loved it so much in that smoke bar that I applied to be a bus boy there. I considered leaving this rap shit over Amsterdam. It was crazy. Legal weed, 25 kinds of it on the menu, hoes in the windows for sale, man that’s a wild place to a stupid American ninja like myself. I even got Shaggy to come on in and have a toke and represent some Purple Haze that night after the show. The show was fun as hell, too. It was a lil’ bit smaller crowd in Holland, but the house got rocked so hard we shook the THC off all the weed in the area. ONLY problem was yup once again, we had to use some fake-ass Faygo again. We had no choice. Border customs won’t allow it any other way. Fags.

It’s been a while, and the number of Juggalos has grown over here in Europe. They were very current on all the Juggalo chants and family love. Just like when we went over seas to Australia a few months ago, this whole trip was overwhelming to my feeble brain. I’ll never get used to this Juggalo life I live.

BOHICA!!! (Bend-Over-Here-It-Comes-Again)
We all really felt fuckin' bad about the 3 cancelled Germany shows, though. That sucked once we got there it went bad again. Somehow “No Faygo,” and the promoter was the same for all 3 of those Germany shows, so all 3 shows got fuckin’ cancelled. We did get to play one show in Germany, though, in Cologne. It was a very fresh and unique show… very special. It was small… small crowd, small venue. It was like ICP unplugged, that place got blasted in Faygo. We loved it. It was so fresh to us, to be off someplace in Cologne, Germany playing for 100 Juggalos on a rainy, cold night. How dope is that?

Fuck, man, it was a dope ass lil' tour, and it was good to see so many ninjas feelin' us from so far away. That was crazy. It’s official, like a referee whistle. Juggalos are worldwide now. The shit has just spread. It’s all over the world and yet it remains truly underground and undetected by the mainstream world, everywhere. Juggalos are all the same; they’re all fresh ass fuckin’ Juggalos. Dope. Fresh.

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