you dont fuck with me i like you. you fuck with me and ill fuck with you. i love meeting new fam, and hanging with ppl.
Our Father of Shangri-La
Hallowed be thy name
If the world turns over save me
From thy fiery rain
Keep me pure
Keep me clean
As the lotus grows
I ask you for forgiveness
Save me from the crows
Juggalo be thy name, Hatchets be thy game, fuck with one, you fuck with all, we never travel alone and are always ready for anything, so be wise and just pass us by and don't say we shine, we are creatures of the night and will always be there when a fellow Juggalo needs us, we stand by the Dark Carnival and all it teaches, so for all Juggalos and Juggalettes, stand firm and always be ready.
The Juggalo Pledge:
I Pledge Allegiance To The Hatchet Of The Underground Society Of Juggalos, And For The Ninjas For Which It Stands, One Family, Under God, Full Of Freaks, With Faygo And Magic Neden For All!!
WE WILL NEVER DIE ALONE, JUGGALOS WILL CARRY ON, SWING OUR HATCHETS IF WE MUST, EACH AND EVERYONE OF US
When I die show no pitty send my soul to juggalo city dig my grave six feet deep,put two hatchetts at my feet,put axes across my chest and tell my homies i did my best.CARNIVAL OF CARNAGE
Welcome to the show, the traveling ghetto. No longer will the ghetto be just that slum that you keep your kids away from, the slum that you drive through pointing and gawking at. No longer will the ghetto just be those slum that you hear about on the news and think "thank God that shit don't happen around here". If someone from this hell hole wanders into your "punk ass" neighborhood he is quickly noticed and harassed by some fuckin' pig or something', and shunned back into the home you've given him. As you watch the kids play in the park on your street you never even think about the kids in the ghetto, you might say to yourself "do they have parks?" "Do they even have kids in the ghetto?" "Fuck it, that ain't my concern."
If you don't care who does? Not them old "jack offs" in the White House. Shit, last year we lost more lives in Detroit due to urban violence than we did during Operation Desert Storm! So for ten months we sat in the desert jacking' off, spending billions on bombs and shit while right here at home muthafuckas were dying every night! So if some sap stubs his toe in Cuba we'll send over a few thousand tanks to make sure his punk ass is OK. Right here though, we are dying and killing each other off in our own country, because of what I call...Ghetto Insanity. When a boy grows up with crack smoke being blown in his face, tripping over dead bodies on his way to school and getting his ass beat by his over worked, drunk father, chances are he won't turn out to be a doctor or a lawyer. Instead he will become one with his environment, which is only natural. If one is raised by a pack of wild crackheads, he then will become a wild crackhead. The only solution is to end this environment. We must eliminate all poverty-stricken neighborhoods; this way there will be no more products of the ghetto.
Instead of the U.S. spending billions on wars and wasting trillions on shit like rockets, stealth bombers that don't even fly and fuckin' Star Wars shit that don't even fuckin' work, they should be spending that loot on our own needs right here in America! Instead of sending our troops to fuckin' Guatemala, or some shit, bring them to our own neighborhoods in need. Tear down all these abandoned buildings and build new schools, instead of these old ass shit holes they expect us to learn in. build clinics and shelters, build shopping malls in the inner city to create jobs, give us something to live for. This would cure "Ghetto Insanity" and free our minds! The government won't help though, because it's mostly poor minorities that can't afford to pay their taxes, so they let us rot and rot. If the rich tax payers were killing each other, the government would put an end to that shit real quick, but it's not it's just us, so we rot and rot.
Years of breathing the souls of rotted minds, I have developed a bad case of "Ghetto Insanity". I walk trough their streets and I'm stared at as a freak show, less than human, an ogre walking the streets paved with gold. Twisted somewhere in this fried brain of mine I have a plan. If those of the ghetto are nothing more than carnival exhibits to the upper class, than let's give them the show they deserve to see. No more hearing of this show because you can witness it in your own front yard! A traveling mass of carnage, the same carnage we witness daily in the ghetto, can be yours to witness, feel and suffer. No longer killing one another, but killing the ones who have ignored our cries for help. FREE PASS FOR THE GOVEROR'S FAMILY! Like a hurricane leaving a trail of destruction, the ghetto on wheels bitch! My views may be ugly, but so are the bloodstains on the streets I roam. If there is no change soon tickets will be issued to...The Carnival of Carnage.
THE RINGMASTER
The day has come, the time of reckoning. Who will parish in dreaded hell and whose soul will be content within the pleasures of Heaven? Looking past the words spoken with a wicked tongue and looking past the evil deeds done within ones life, but instead looking into the conscious of man.
What is the real evil that seems to plague mankind? Who are the real demons that walk this earth? Is it those whose minds have become devious because of a lifetime spent inside of a caged hell, or is it those who invented this caged hell years ago and done nothing to help destroy it yet? Who's guilty, Frankenstein or the doctor who created him? The sword, or the man who has slain with it? Which is the real evil, the man who kills another for food or the man who does not share his food to avoid the killing? While you sit in judgement of a criminal, you may very well be the one who's guilty. Guilty of greed, deception, and hate.
Those who are rejected at the gates of Heaven shall be dragged off into the pits of hell. Viciously torn from this life by the non-living, the phantoms of the dead. These beasts take the form of a demented carnival, that of a wicked, dark, circus, led by one. One who will judge your very fate. The one known only as...The Ringmaster.
THE RIDDLEBOX
Time flows like a dark horde, consuming all in its path. Man lives his life in the blink of an eye. Just as day becomes night, all life fades into death. In death each person will be judged for his deeds performed while alive. There are few who walk a life of purpose, and there are those who trod the path of greed. Their souls are host to demons. Time slows near each person's end. Those whose deeds were evil grasp onto life as long as they can because though they don't know what awaits them in the afterlife, they feel for them it is a horror beyond words. Time stops in this world, as the heart becomes still and the soul leaves the body.
In the afterlife time is eternal, and even in death it is but a new beginning. For you see when you step into death your soul steps upon the floor of a dark chamber and you look to see it empty, except for a strange looking box on an old wooden table. On the front of the box you will see a painted question mark faded with time and a twisted crank handle on its side. Turning the handle, a sharp harmonic tune will fill the air. For the evil ones this sound will be a deafening noise reverberating off the walls and building into a climactic terror. But the surprise is when the music stops as you keep slowly turning the handle....
And then the top of the box pops.
For the few, they will see a vision of God with a wash of golden light warming their souls as they step forth into eternal peace. For most they will see a fog seeping from the box, stripping their sanity, as they witness an image of hell, spawned and formed from their own evil; a hideous reflection of their demented souls. The floor of the room begins falling away as they plummet into a bottomless pit full of shadowy creatures, forever to be lost in a sinister void. What will be in store for you is the mystery, but if you look within yourself you will find the answer. For know, you still have time to change the outcome of...The Mighty Riddle Box.
THE GREAT MILENKO
From deep within the Netherlands of shadow walkers comes yet another exhibit of the Dark Carnival. He is the master of the art of using magic without magic. He is a Necromaster...the craft of using magic through the dead. Dead meaning both physically and mentally. Only those who are meant to see it shall witness this spectacle. Look deep inside of your soul and ask yourself... Do you hold a ticket to witness the show? The answer lies within you. He is the fourth to rise. He feeds upon one's own greed. One's own jealousy, lust and temptation power him. To envision yourself with something that rightfully does not belong to you...that is the illusion cast by him.
To act upon this vision and seek it out at the expense of another...that is the magic cast by him. Continuous dreamers of profit at the cost of another are pledged and haunted by his wizardry. Others are content and satisfied with what they can achieve by themselves and have not the urge to tamper with another's well being for quick gain. They see him only as a hoax and see no illusions or magic by he. It is simple...He is you. His illusions are your evil thoughts. Your evil acts are his magic - yesterday, now and forever. You and he are the fourth to rise...You and he are the master of Necromancy...You the dead and him the magic. Together, you and he are the Great Milenko.
The Amazing Jeckel Brothers
Emerging from the Dark Carnival like phantom smoke drifting into the minds of men, they are the Amazing Jeckel Brothers. A chaotic duo of juggling masters; Jack "the sinister" and Jake "the just" juggle the sins of mortal men. The price of admission to their show is a mere human soul. When death creeps 'round and life decays, the departed spirit will begin its journey. A vision of a candle will begin to form like a distant dream with billowing smoke rising from its eternal flame. In this thick haze the deceased will begin to see an image of Jake and Jack Jeckel juggling red balls between themselves. Each ball soaked in fresh blood and pulsating like an erratic living heart. For every sin committed in a mortal's life another ball is added to their unearthly performance and the harder it becomes. The deceased will witness sinister Jack throwing Jake curves in a vile attempt to see a ball drop. For if they should fumble in their act, a pit of infinite evil shall open beneath the feet of the viewer and cast the soul into an eternity of pain and suffering. Success on the other hand, opens the gates of Shangri-La and grants one ascension into pure enlightenment and peace. Jack and Jake Jeckel rest in all of us for they are they very fabric of our being conscience and soul. There is no escape from their Juggling act because there is no way to escape from ourselves. Only in death will we realize this as we twist and spin to the other side...
Jake Jeckel
His glow of compassion kindles the heart, like a campfire on a cold winter's eve. His embers burn eternally, spreading the flame of mercy like a warm blanket over the shoulders of a vagabond. His kindness is fueled by sympathy for human suffering, but his inferno of righteous cause, incinerates creatures of sin to ash. The torch of his salvation guides wanderers in the dark abyss to freedom. Its flaring sparks float on the winds of change, like soaring birds recently freed from a dreary cage. Laughter explodes forth from the essence of his being, radiating the land with childish joy. He has many names, but for now let it be spoken like melodic music drifting through the air. He's Jake, true indeed... Jake Jeckel.
Jack Jeckel
His evil influence flows from the city streets like red molten ooze, filling every alley and gutter. There are those who are burnt by it, like the charred remains of a napalm strike. He moves in silence, yet with his heat comes an ear-shattering scream as the masses are scorched in his choking smoke of corruption. His fire consumes like a lethal injection flowing through the veins of a dying convict. Hosts of small red ant's crawl in the wake of his presence, biting and stinging flesh. His holocaust fills the woods of hope and prosperity like a wave of hungry piranhas on a newborn lamb. He goes by many names, but for now let it be spoken like the force of a fireball bursting into a crowd. He's Jack, pure and simple... Jack Jeckel.
THE ALMIGHTY SIX JOKERS CARD THE WRAITH
Shangri-la
A presence can be felt by those who have followed the saga as told by the Insane Clown Posse. It is a presence that is synonymous with the crumbling of time itself. Thus emerges a being so powerful that he can exist between both the land of the living, and that of the dead. He goes by many names but is known to the living only as the Wraith. He walks upon worlds forgotten, and descends from Heavens; fade into gray to witness the death of all mortal things, so that he may guide the departed upon the path that they have chosen. Only now will we truly understand the meaning of the saga, for this saga all along, each Jokers Card, is actually none other than... the echo of our lives.
The Wraith is death. When you die, the wraith is there, to lead you to your destiny. He watches over all mortal things and awaits their death. The Wraith's exhibit of Shangri-La leads you to the path of the heavens. ICP leaves out old and new styles to give you the satisfaction that all of us Juggalos are going to Shangri-La when we die.
Hell's Pit
They say that there is no place for a soul that is eternally useless, some one lives life like most people. Lie, cheat, steal, even kill a man to get to the top. Well now their top is our bottom, and our bottom is their top… WELCOME TO HELL'S PIT. A place where evil souls can rest...but they don't. They are sentenced to eternal terror, torture, pain, and most of all, suffering. For those who choose this path will never be forgiven. No one will save or help them, not even the scum that fall into the pit can help themselves. When you land, you see nothing but flames, bones, bodies, and parts of bodies everywhere. If they try to burn themselves they will only be in agonizing pain. That's how heartless those that fall are. You will never see the sun again, not even your own reflection. You are heartless, ruthless. You're dead. You're in HELL'S PIT.
