In Defense of the Insane Clown Posse Re: "Miracles"

By now, you have all seen this

If you haven't, please take a few minutes. I'll wait...

Ok. Up to speed?

By trying to share their child-like wonderment of the world with the rest of the population of Spaceship Earth, the Insane Clown Posse has brought the wrath of the Internet God (Computro) down upon their grease-painted skulls.

I feel for these gentlemen.

Many of us stopped believing in childish whimsy and fantasy when we grew up and came of age. We should not chastise those who lack the ability to develop, mentally, past that of a slow-witted but well-meaning preschooler. Yes, many of the phenomena proclaimed to be "miracles" by ICP could be explained logically by a 5 year-old that you just woke up from a whiskey nap, but that is being unfair to the Violentest of J's and the 2nd incarnation of Shaggy of the house of Dope. It is rude at best, and near-sighted and ignorant at worst.

What if they're right? What if we really CAN'T explain these things that we thought we had knowledge of? How are we really RIGHT about anything?! The earth rotates around the sun. What if the earth and sun are just tiny pieces of a much larger body that is rotating around an even larger body?! Dark forces could be at play and we could be none-the-wiser! Alien hive minds from beyond the stars could have set things into motion that our comparatively feeble intellect could not comprehend. Have you ever listened to ICP? Their brains concoct things that only the likes of H. P. Lovecraft could weave words together to describe. They and their fan base are the meth-iest of white trash yet they have songs about murdering white trash?! Jesus, are they secretly working on a black hole-creating device that is powered by contradictions?! But this is what WE perceive of their music. This is what WE think is UP and what is DOWN. What if ICP has some secret knowledge of the true workings of every facet of our life? What if they've reached some new level of cogent reasoning and thought and left us behind? Like the brain version of Kirk Cameron's "Left Behind 2: The Leftening."

Well, after donning a snowsuit, ingesting more than the FDA's suggested daily allowance of crystal meth, and then trying to swallow my fingers in a 12-hour tanning bed session, I am here to discuss the FACTUAL logical explanations behind a few of ICP's miracles:

Pelicans:

Known to many ancient cultures as the All Mouth, the Pelican is a formidable consumer of man's machinations. In our foolish modern society, they are known for two things: being the dumpsters of the sea and inspiring instrumental heavy metal. This is not so. The pelican's hunger for flesh (of man) is only surpassed by its hunger for technology. Pelicans are the #1 predator of men (and orphans). Their consumption of fish is only a daytime slight of hand so that we mortals leave our organs vulnerable during our nocturnal slumber. What is even more terrifying is the pelican's assimilation ability. In 1986, pelicans became self-aware after the pelican queen, Gorlax, consumed a discarded Apple IIe personal computer. Since then, the pelican march toward integrated, cerebral data-mining supremacy has been a blitzkrieg of feathers and fish-breath; learning from humanity's creations to blueprint their demise. On that fateful day, Violent J looked into the black abyss of the pelican's eyes and saw the truth. The veil was lifted. The bird activated its on-board communication array and sent via burst transmission to the cranium of our hero: "You have slipped from the axis of your realm of animal knowledge, human. The Pelicanese Conquest will not be revealed today, not by you. Two choices, land walker: I taste your meaty face as it enters the Mouth of Mouths, or you surrender your communication device for intestinal research." The rest is history.

The creation of Shaggy 2 Dope's children:

Shaggy 2 Dope has only ever seen things going into vaginas, never out. Whether it be a penis, a fist, a bowling pin, or the larger end of a pool cue, always in. So we need to cut him some slack here. To his knowledge, that thing is just a fun pocket. Compound this with the fact that he thought kids just kind of showed up one day. We all know that a womb baby's weaknesses are:

1. Forcing the mother to wear one Soap Shoe and one Heelie and then navigate a flight of stairs

-and/or-

2. A laser-guided punch to the mother's stomach

Execute one of those two rituals and the baby won't show up one day to cut into your Xbox-playing time. This is the Realm of Baby according to Shaggy 2 Dope. Imagine his surprise when one day a doctor (a kind of scientist...we'll get to this later) sits him down in a room with a Female Juggalo #45267 writhing in pain on a sweat-soaked bed. Looking into what must only be the Eye of Fucking Sauron, literally ALL comes out of what used to be "a pretty rad place" as well as a tiny alien. "Sperm makes kidz. Don't." is now a Memento tattoo on Shaggy's chest.

The constant deceit of "Scientists":

The Knights Templar, Skull and Bones, The Illuminati, The Girl Scouts. All very secret, very devious organizations. Well add Scientists to that list, juggalo. Proven to be full of lies (malarkey) by the Wicked Clown Truth and Embiggening of Miracles Division's biggest splinter cell: Albert Einstein, science and scientists have been leading humanity down a road to unknowing self-destruction for centuries. Everything in this world is made by, controlled by, and destroyed by a large, invisible, super-intelligent lobster halfling. No gravity; that just Phil (the lobster's name) throwing and dropping stuff for you. No matter; that is Phil spinning things in his Making Web and then sitting them on the chessboard that is Earth (yup, he's got spider qualities too, he's a halfling, remember?). Phil is everywhere at once because he's that big and he's got millipede (halfling) arms to do everything. The reason scientists are lying to us about Phil is that, upon discovery of Phil, scientists realized that they would lose their high-paying, stable jobs. By creating explanations and terminology so complex that only the (seemingly) top minds of humanity could understand them, scientists solidified their place in our world. How they are dooming us to extinction is eventually someone HAS to come up with invisibility pellets. Of course that will then lead to visibility pellets to counteract invisibility. So, someone throws a visibility pellet in the wrong place and, bam!, Phil is discovered. He would then proceed to vaporize us all because Phil has a thing about being seen...you know, man behind the curtain-type stuff. If you would have signed up for the ICP's newsletter, you would have gotten this information in the form of their bi-yearly scholarly journal that this expose article was published in, right next to Stephen Hawking's (another splinter cell, obviously) research into what is the dopest flavor of Faygo.

Fucking Magnets:

When all the Vikings died out, their bodies were pulverized to dust by the god of showing up fashionably late, Marduk. This angered the god of good gas mileage, Ifrit, because he wanted to keep the Vikings intact and turn them into stone to serve as pieces on his Infernal Chessboard of Woe. This caused the great dust bowl of the 1930s here in the States. What was dusty poor people to us was actually a cosmic Dust War that nearly shattered the heavens. Ifrit eventually emerged the victor by sinking the saw blade-looking dealie into Marduk's Crossfire goal and then, to add further insult to injury, banished the Viking corpse dust to the Realm of Magnetization. What Ifrit didn't know is that Marduk totally spit on some of the Viking dust because he was a sore loser. This Marduk Spit, when entering the Realm turned into Bizzaro Viking Dust. This is what you and I know as polarity and why magnets will attract and repel. What we think is the transfer of electrons is actually tiny, warring souls of Marduk spit, and non-Marduk spit Dust Vikings taking place before our very eyes. That is how magnets work.

As for FUCKING Magnets, well, some truths would rip the fabric of a mortal's mind like a chainsaw that is sexually attracted to room-temperature sticks of butter. However, there are whispers in the dark corners of the Dark Carnival where foolishly brave Juggalo Elders have suggested the use of metal shavings, edible underwear, and Al Green records in a otherworldly, dark cabal-orgy of Magnet Familiars as a means of cracking the code.

Now you see how deep the rabbit hole goes.

J and Shaggy are aware of the true nature of our galaxy. Every song, every album in ICP's catalog has been a cry to the cosmos for divine knowledge of the unknown. The Joker Card albums and the insanely climactic revealing of Shangri-La (totally not a bullshit cop-out cum pseudo-Christian face-palming) awoke Phil from his space slumber and summoned him to give absolute knowledge to the clowns. Our eyes are open.

Which leads me to my next point; a final, amazing reveal.

That video was FUCKING REALITY.

That's right you assholes, ICP has built a fucking spaceship and successfully made a test flight mission to Juggalo Heaven (Shangri-La, yo). Yes, the video looked like ICP forced an epileptic to try and use Adobe Premiere while getting a blow job from a pit bull in a room full of strobe lights because that is what they wanted you normies to think! The Wicked Clowns, by the divine grace of Phil, and the successful hacking of the technology database of the Pelicans (thanks to the 1337 haxors of Twiztid for that one!) ICP have the means to ascend to Heaven. You can too! With the purchase of one XXXXXL (seriously) ICP tshirt or the unironic use of the word "fag" 20 or more times, you can hitch a ride from one of ICP's Magic Up In This Bitch Towers and fly in a Miracle Pod up to Shangri-La. Once there, we will give each other Miracle Jobs until we dream Miracle all over each others' faces.