10 easy steps to becoming a Juggalo:
1. Be white. The whiter the better. Try to be almost clear if possible.
2. Be drunk and/or high at least 65% of any given day.
3. Be so incredibly stupid that when you aren’t drunk and/or high it’s impossible to tell the difference.
4. Be poor.
5. Be shaped like a beanbag chair. Alternatively, be shockingly skinny from crystal meth abuse.
6. Have lots of free time. Don’t let bullshit like school or a job get in the way of your Juggalo activities. That fat face isn’t going to paint itself.
7. Love to braid your hair.
8. Have crooked hands. I don’t know what it is but anytime I see a photo of a Juggalo their hands and fingers are all twisted up. I wonder if this is caused by a steady diet of Faygo, off-brand beef sticks and video games.
9. Be in a wheelchair. Juggalos in wheelchairs get extra bonus points!
10. Be amazed and perplexed by magnets.
Gallery of parental failure:
“Water, fire, air and dirt. Fucking magnets, how do they work?”
Great, now look at the camera – click click – perfect, now look down – click click – great, great – click – I love it – click click click – Beautiful! Let’s try something totally outrageous, something that has never been tried before. Let’s try one where you are taking a drag off a cigarette. Yeah, I know it sounds crazy but you’ve got to trust me on this one, I think it will make you look like the biggest bad ass that has ever lived. What’s that, you don’t smoke? Well it’s time to learn if you ever expect to be awesome. You want to look cool and mysterious, right? OK, here we go – click – YEAH, I LOVE IT – click click – Ooooh, the choking is great, keep doing that – click click
We get it, you’re a bad boy. You wear distressed Motley Crüe T-shirts that you paid $300 for in Beverly Hills and, as much as your mother begs, you simply refuse to quit smoking. Congratulations celebrity tough guys, you are exactly as cool as a teenage boy.
To be honest, I blame the photographers for perpetrating this cliché over and over like a bunch of high school photo students shooting pictures of a single flower poking through the snow. Deep, very deep.
Speaking of Lost…
What the fuck is wrong with me? Let me count the ways… I hated the show Lost, watched it for 7 years, was so angry at the show’s finale I almost killed myself for wasting countless hours watching time-traveling douchebags get chased in the jungle by smoke, and yet SOMEHOW I decided I should give NBC’s “The Event” a try because it was supposed to be the next Lost. I am the biggest asshole that has ever lived. I honestly hate myself.
As the opening credits rolled on the pilot episode last week, I thought to myself, “Listy (I now call myself “Listy” in my thoughts) what are you doing to yourself?” But then I was like, “Shut up Listy, this time it will be different!” Then I put myself in a headlock and gave myself playful noogies until I cried out “UNCLE” and peed my pants.
Little did I know how bad it was about to get. To make a long story short, The Event is about… drum roll… wait for it… OMG… A DISAPPEARING COMMERCIAL AIRPLANE!
Ha ha ha NBC and ABC, I’m slow clapping because I now realize you have joined forces with the sole purpose of making me so crazy that I jump off the roof of the nearest Taco Bell. I mean how else do you explain the fact that the show that is supposed to be the next Lost, a show about a disappearing commercial airplane, just happens to be about a disappearing airplane?!? Fuck me.
I’ll jump, I’ll do it!
I’ve got to hand it to Weezer for finding a perfect way to illustrate how thoroughly bland and desperate their music has become, a photo of “Hurley” from everyone’s favorite island of mystical bullshit, Lost. I guess in many ways listening to a new Weezer album is just like watching Lost… you sit there confused for an hour wondering what kind of nerds wrote this shit and when it’s all over you wonder why you keep coming back to the teat for more, like the big dumb asshole you are.
When asked about their decision to use a photo of actor Jorge Garcia on the cover of their latest album, Weezer had this to say, “Blah blah blah, ironic, Star Wars, shyness, windbreakers.”
What the fuck happened? Weezer used to rule. Sure, it was way back when Clinton was still jizzing all over the White House, but still those first couple albums are classics.
In case you were wondering, the songs on “Hurley” suck gorilla taint.
I’m out for a long weekend, try to not kill yourself. Please enjoy kittens massaging kittens in my absence.
You squeeze. You smash. You stomp. You use a hammer, but still you can’t manage the simple task of applying toothpaste to your brush!
There has got to be a less-reasonable way!
Your pathetic dumb ass is in luck. Introducing Touch-N-Brush, the magic toothpaste machine that does all the work while you do nothing more complicated than sticking something into something. It’s so easy even an idiot like you can get the hang of it after only 30 or 40 tries.
Thanks to your new toothpaste robot, you will never have to clean the bathroom again! Sticky bathroom sinks are a thing of the past, unless you have a teenage son, because I promise you that kid is jerking off in that sink at least twice a week. Probably the kitchen sink too. What is wrong with that kid?
Did your husband throw you down the stairs for walking in front of the TV during Monday Night Football? No problem pretty lady, you can still use Touch-N-Brush with only one arm. One fucking arm! Can you fucking believe that shit?
Are your kids also too stupid to operate toothpaste? Fuck ’em, who cares about those little shits. If it wasn’t for them you would probably be the world’s most awesome and cool and most richest rock star. Those kids stole your dream, Steve, so let their little mouths bleed.
“But what if I accidentally put rat poison in my Touch-N-Brush, will the dang thing kill me and my family?” Yes, yes it will.
First of all, fight the urge to tell me this hairdo is actually called “skunk hair” because I call it “panda hair” and I run the internet.
These black and white dye jobs can usually be found at the mall or Eastern European nightclubs and are most likely accompanied by orange skin, fake designer sunglasses and a yeast infection.
Owners of this hair would defend themselves by saying something like…
MA HAIR IZ DA SHIT
AN U R
JUS JELUS BITCH
<3 MUAH <3
While this a valid argument I’m going to go ahead and respectfully disagree.
I like sports as much as the next guy* but come on bros, give your sports boner a rest for 5 minutes.
We get it, you’re a dude, you’re a man, you like beer and you pee standing up. In fact you are such a man that you usually just pee on the floor while crushing a beer can on your forehead. Jeeze, are these guys really so insecure about looking “gay” that they have to get their hair cut at a Hooters?
Plus, have you seen these places? I think they are decorated by the person who did the set decoration for “Saved by the Bell.” You know how the hallways of Bayside were always plastered with crooked posters that said things like “Football Game Tonight” or “School Dance,” well it’s the same, cartoonish atmosphere in these man-a-toriums. SportClips is to sports what The Peach Pit was to diners.
You know how I know you are gay? You get your hair cut at SportClips.
*This is a totally false statement. I guarantee that I like sports much less than the next guy, unless that guy is Austin Scarlett.