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SO HERE THEY ARE
Violent J's
"Weekly Freekly"
A New feature of flavor here on the new insaneclownposse.com. "Weekly Freekly" is a weekly look from the inside as seen threw the eyes of Violent J
What strange days these are my friends. We're giving away the first single off the 6th Joker's Card on our web site today. It's called "Crossing Thy Bridge" and it's one of the more rock-and-roll-ish sounding tracks on the 6th. "Crossing Thy Bridge" to us is about some of the questions an everyday common man would probably like to ask God if givin' a chance. It's some deep shit, I tell ya.
Well, what can we say? It's time, I guess. I personally fuckin' love it to death. It's Raining Diamonds all over my soul. My life is illuminated with beauty for the first time ever. The 6th Jokers Card is coming out in only 10 Weeks. We must admit, it's not as scary of a time for us as we thought it would be, only because we know how dope the shit is though. While we were choosing the first single from the 6th, it became very obvious to us that no one song was going to represent it's many forms of magic rightfully. Truth is we wish the 6th didn't even have to be broken up into 17 separate tracks. We wish people would just all listen to the 6th as one long piece of flavor, and not judge it on any kind of "song-for-song" bases.
What we wish for and what's probably going to really happen are two completely different things. But that's all to the good, and we know that. The 6th will speak for it's self on November 5th. The fact is that the 6th is an album just like the rest of the Joker Cards, only it's message is incredibly important to us as Juggalos and what we believe in and stand for. We've all been waiting 10 years to hear it's message! IT BETTER SAY SOMETHING! If you are a Juggalo that has been waiting to hear the 6th for a decade, then we say this to you, "Step right up ninja. We couldn't be more exited to provide it for each and every one of you, and we promise that it's all well worth EVERY SECOND of the wait". We only ask that you understand that we made this album with the intent to be heard as a whole and not on some singles only shit.
We ain't saying that we don't fully represent the sounds of "Crossing Thy Bride" or any other fuckin' song off the 6th at all. We fuckin' represent the fuck out of 'em. That song is us at our best, and eat a dickwitch if you don't like it. I'm only stating that we hope people don't judge the 6th off the sounds of one song and assume it's all going to sound like that. In other words, "Don't think it's all gonna be rock shit you fuck!" And most importantly of all, please, please, please, remember this... "Those who hate now, join us not after the 6th has cometh".
In health news, I finally seen a dotor late, late, last night. My girlfriend talked me into going. I drove to the emergency ward of a hospital near my house in Michigan. I knew I was going to start writing this fresh "Weekly Freekly" flavor today so I figured I'd finally get my ass to a doctor and see exactly what's wrong with a ninja. After I had first reported my injuries in my long ass "Gathering of the Juggalos" review, many Juggalos sent in emails and letters concerned with my stale shit-uation. I can't tell you how fuckin' fresh that is that people actually give a fuck about my health more than I do. that's some real ass Juggalo love right there for that ass. We'll for all yall, here is my status and you ain't going to believe this shit either.
At first the Doctor Lady was being a bitch. She must of thought I was just some late night, crack head lookin' for a cheap score on some pain pills because she was barley even agreeing to X-Ray my ass. Finally I convinced her into it, and she came back shocked. First she told me that a very important bone in my left wrist is snapped in half. Then she explained that I also have a cracked rib, and two compressed vertebrae in my back. I'm fucked in the g.a.m.e. yall. All from that one big ass fall I took from the stage at the Gathering July 19th, during the Dark Lotus show.
Man, I gotta see a bone specialist on Thursday and schedule some surgery to get right. They told me that I made things 5 times worse for myself by waiting all this time and not going immediately to the hospital. They said it's all been healing wrong. Plus with me running every night tryin’ lose this fat ass in time for the 6th, I have been steady making things worse for my spine. I'm a fuckin' idiot though. All the pain pills I been on, I didn't even realize how fucked up I really was. So I'm sorry to all of you that care and I'm sorry to myself especially. But even so, at least now I'm on the right track and getting my shit fixed up tight. By the time you see me in person again, don't worry none, I'll be 100 percent ready to whip your bitchy lil' ass off.
In fresh news, we just got back from LA last weekend. We've been taking photos for a week straight out there and doing some other shit (that we ain't ready to expose yet). Then we got in a tour bus with Rude Boy, Matt Davis, Syn, and Esham and headed out from LA to Escanaba Michigan to wrestle --
(SIDE NOTE: To wrestling fans, we fuckin' love wrestling too! Like a mother fucker. But keepin' it treal, I doubt we are gonna be wrestling again for a while. I'll give you our 3 big main reasons why. First off, my back is broken in half and my arm is hangin' on by the shirt only. Shaggy aint doin' so well either, he's still recovering from the broken neck piece. Number two, the importance of wrestling in our lives, falls severly short to the 6 Joker's Cards, flat the fuckin' fuck out. And reason number three, it's time to drop the 6th and nothing else in our lives even comes close to the Wraith's importance. We plan on touring, and then touring again and again. Musically all up in your bitch ass face. Wrestling is the shit, but we've got the mother fuckin' 6th Joker's Card to tell the all of the former, the current and the future Juggalo world about.)
-- It took us 4 days to get from LA to Escanaba during in which we took the liberty of filming THE SHAGGY SHOW MOVIE! That's right ninjas, we documented our whole trip from LA to Escanaba and that's the movie! It will be released on DVD and VHS in stores everywhere, soon. We hit up Karaoke bars, truck stops, we shot home music videos at malls and all that. Florida Joe and Moon Glorious popped up as well. Plus we got many other little fresh shits that we filmed along the way in Vegas, Denver, Minneapolis and finally at the matches in Escanaba, Mi. I think Juggalos will love every minute of it but I think that the rest of the world will think it's fuckin' stoopid.
Esham has got something very big in store for all that ever wondered where Detroit's infamous "Wicked Shit" sound originated. Did I say "HE has got something very big in store"? I meant "WE have something" as in "Psychopathic Records and Esham together", but more on that when your nuts grow hair and we feel you’re ready. The fact is me and Shaggy have grown very close to Esham over the last decade and both of our life paths have finally landed on the same road. The Dark Carnival works in mysterious ways. To learn more about the Dark Carnival's mysterious ways check out track 17 on the 6th, it's called "Thy Unveiling."
Now that I'm finally back home and recuperating from my many injuries and flaws, I've been on the Internet again. Not talking to hater fagots in chat rooms, but checking out the Juggalo Internet world, and let me just say much love to faygoluvers.net. And if your down for some late night Internet flavor, hit me up. GetChaWickedOn@aol.com, Shhhh.
For the ninjas that ain't got the Internet hook up, we still love you too. It's all to the good and it's raining diamonds, homies. That's why the original old school, ICP Hotline updated daily by yours truly is coming back in effect. I'll be on there talking to yall everynight like the old days I'll give out the new number next week in my "Weekly Freekly" report and that's all I have to say about that at this moment in time.
Well I'll be back next week with another short update reveling the trials and tribulations of life threw the eyes of the Insane Clown Posse during the days of the all mighty 6th Jokers Card era... Oh my God.
Violent J
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Violent J's
"Weekly Freekly 5"
A fresh feature of flavor here on the new insaneclownposse.com. "Weekly Freekly" is a weekly look from the inside as seen through the eyes of Violent J.
Well, it’s late as fuck on Monday night (Re-written and hooked up better on Tuesday night). I just burned a jib and one of my dogs, “Lil’ Parking Lot”, a.k.a. the gay one, is steady lickin’ on my funky-ass, withered, soggy, jogged-on, sweaty, musty-ass toes. We been in the studio at the Lotus Pod with Anybody Killa and Esham for the past two weeks putting together more crazy wickedness for Anybody Killa’s debut full length album called “Hatchet Warrior”. I’ll tell you all right now, that album is on some other shit. He’s on some, new school, Native American, Cherokee Indian shit... some of that what I call ‘some of that “arrow in the ass” type of shit’. That record straight up takes you to some untapped dimensions that are so deep and lost within the Nethervoid that even Moses himself failed to recognize their presence. Damn. That’s deep.
Tomorrow and Wednesday me and Shaggito are going back into the Lotus Pod, and making a new episodes of our fresh and exciting, new and much more improved radio show “The Juggalo Show” to be later aired on Liquid Metal, channel 42, on fresh ass XM Satellite Radio which is straight up the shit to us. We fuckin‘ love it. There’s nothing left to complain about when it comes to radio. There’s no censorship shit at all on Satellite radio yall. Can you dig that sucka? None. Plus it‘s so cheap and easy to get that even heroin whores have it installed in there crack pipes. I seen a homeless bag lady with that shit hooked up to an old-ass, 1 inch tweeter hangin' out of a walkie-talkie piece. To be honest, censorship on the regular radio doesn’t really bother me either. If you think about it, I mean I can understand people not wanting there little ass kids listing to shit like “I fucked the bitch in her butt with my cock...” or “She licked my cum and spit it out into her girlfriend’s cunt...” or “She ate my homies butt” - let me stop. You get the point. I can understand people not wanting to hear that kind of shit all on public radio and all. What I hate about most public radio are the people on it. I hate it when lame fuck DJ’s are so desperately trying not to say something offensive that they turn into these corny fuck heads on the air and act like it’s all wild and crazy for them to be saying “ass” on the radio. So they say it like 3 times in every sentence to try and sound wild and crazier.
To me most radio DJ’s out there all sound the same. I dig it when I hear a fresh ass original sounding DJ. And believe it or not, the more I listen while traveling, the more I hear. I like it when a fresh DJ can do their thang. With or without cussing, don’t matter to me. As far as cuss words go, I don’t give a fuck what comes outta somebody’s mouth as long as they don’t care what comes outta mine. Because they been known to call me “Yuk Mouth“. If your job is to be a DJ then you should be able to find ways to be creative and innovative without having to pretend like the stupid ass shit your doing is being extreme or wild. They don’t have to sound like the stupid party fuck heads that so many of them somehow wind up sounding like. Just look at Howard Stern. He’s funny as fuck no matter what he’s talking about. Even if the subject ain't offensive at all. He’s clever enough to make even a stale ass discussion about something like vacuum cleaner bags funny. Another example, look at Mancow. Take away the fact that he disses us from time to time. That stale point set aside, at least he doesn’t sound like your typical DJ on the radio. He’s fast, entertaining and he holds your fuckin’ ear for a minute and takes your mind off the stale ass traffic jam you’re probably stuck in. There’s lots of fresh DJ’s out there. Only there are a lot more shitty ones.
Look at all the guys on Detroit’s WRIF, they are the shit too. That station is like one of the biggest and most respected radio stations in the country. They have been a straight up, hard core rock and fuckin‘ roll station ever since Anybody Killa’s first speech lesson. Yet, just because they have cool, innovative people working at that fuckin’ station, they let us, a bunch of rappers get in there and basically take the station over for 3 hours last night. They threw there own format aside for 3 full hours and did just what a lot of people wanted to hear for once. Us on there clownin’ with Twiztid, Anybody Killa, Mike P, Blaze, and even Esham. There ain’t one person in Detroit that don’t know who Esham is, and to here Esham’s music being played on the WRIF was ground breaking history in many people’s eyes. That was so fuckin’ cool to me. It really, really meant a lot to us at Psychopathic. We played something from everybody on the Hatchet, new and old. It was off the hook. What makes WRIF one of the most respected stations in the country? Power moves like the one they made with us. Taking a step out from the other stations in town and actually taking a chance at something different. O.D., Doug Podel and them guys do lots of shit all the time for local bands here in Detroit. Most people only bitch about what them guys aren’t doing for them though. I say to them all, fuck that. You don’t fuckin need that radio shit anyway. You should consider it a blessing when your shit gets spun somewhere, don’t make it a fuckin‘ necessity. If they turn their backs on you, fuck 'em! Keep going anyway. Keep climbing that hill--
I’m getting off my subject. Fresh DJ’s... oh yeah, Ok. Look at Shaggy’s, the Rude Boy’s and my own personal favorite DJ of all time... the one and only Electrifying Mojo. He was the absolute shit and he never said anything even close to being offensive on the air. He didn’t have to. That wasn’t even his style. He could charm a nun’s panties off. He moved on (got fired) from station to station throughout Detroit all during our years growing up. One thing everybody loved about Mojo (but unfortunately always got him fired) was that he would always play whatever the fuck he wanted. Weather it was Prince, Led Zeppelin, Michael Jackson, the Bangles, Dee Snyder, Olivia Newton John or Trick Daddy, he didn’t care. He got fired every day. He played what the fuck ever. Mojo gave not a fuck. His crazy, slow mood, free for all music stylings often got him fired but made him popular among listeners like us that followed him from station to station, none the less.
Not once ever did Mojo show his face either. Nobody ever knew what he looked like. Some said he looked like Denzel Washington, others said he just looked like Zel Moshburn (who ever the fuck that is).
Rumors, rumors, rumors, I tell ya, and if I haven’t yet I just did, and I‘ll do it again: Rumors, rumors, rumors, I tell ya.
All those years Mojo always kept his face hidden. What a fuckin’ fruit cake. What kind of weirdo fuck always hides his face anyway? But that’s what we loved about him; all the crazy mysteries that surrounded him. Me and my boys would even ride up to the radio station and wait for him to come out after his shift, but he’d always look out for people first and I guess somehow creep out another way. Anyhoot, enough about this staleness. I don’t even know why I’m talking about lame fuck radio DJ’s. OH YEAH, now I remember, because Shaggy and I are radio DJ’s too. We got our own show and you should check it out.
Well there it is for you all “Ain’t Yo Bidness”. Let this song serve as a blast of rap for your rap gangsta thug asses. Remember, this is just a tiny weenie dose of the mega flex.
Before long, November 5th will creep up and a whole avalanche of warm snow, and shimmering, ice crystal music, madness will come smashing and splashing down on your two, rosy, ever so bitch smackable, cheek pieces. It’s going to be a new dissnay out here from Nov. 5th on. I only hope after you guys hear the magic you start to feel the glow too. I’m so happy my toenails are falling off. How? Because I’m running so much my toenails are abandoning ship. I can’t sleep because I know that nothing can stop the 6th from dropping now. I’m too exited to sleep just knowing that it’s in press. The pressing plants are pressing away the 6th and final Jokers Card.
We have based our fuckin’ lives by this count down. We look and timeline our entire careers as a rappers all according to the Joker’s Cards. We look at Ringmaster, the 2nd Jokers Card... I look at who I was dating at that time, (this bitch named Lori), I look at where I was living during the era of the 2nd, (on the Eastside above a laundry mat), Then I look at the 5th, The Jeckel Brothers and I look at those days. Each Card represents another chapter of our fuckin’ whole career story and now, that all 6 are about to be seen as a complete set on store shelves, we feel like we are being reborn. We been telling this tale for the Dark Carnival for so long, it’s been like one track, one way all this time, nothing would stop us. But now we finally completed it.
Now that the 6th is dropping, is the world gonna end? I fuckin’ damn sure hope not. I know it’s gonna change a lot of things in the Juggalo world. Our world (as in me and Shaggy’s) might even be reduced to “has been status” staleness. Possibly even in the eyes of many or most of today’s biggest Juggalos. Think about it, no matter what we do next as ICP, it’s gonna be looked at as weird and to different because it’s going to be to new for people. Whatever trick we pull out of our clowny hats next is already plagued with danger because it’s going to be judged right away against our whole 10 year, Joker’s Card Saga’s freshness. When even that took 5 years to really develop itself.
But if we are really givin’ a shot at a new run of flavor, imagine the new possibilities and additions that would and could develop within’ our Juggalo community. We could all fuckin’ grow old together if we wanted.
But even with that all too possible possibility, we couldn’t be fuckin’ happier these days. The feeling is fuckin’ gleaming. We walk three feet off the ground like moon men. We somehow completed the entire mission. What’s next? I don’t know but the fuckin’ possibilities are endless. It’s like coming out of a 10 year tunnel, one that we were locked into only we never really cared because we loved it so much.
We started the 6 fuckin’ countdown when we were fuckin’ kids. Did we grow out of it, or fall out as homies, or anything even close to that? Never. We knew what we had to do and we loved it each and every step of the way. We don’t regret any of it. It all is part of our legacy. The good and the bad shit, we love it all. The Myzerys, the Marz’s, the Liendas, the Ray Days, the saying the worlds going to end, the bootin’ bands off our tours, the arrests, all of that freshness represents the story that is the Insane Clown Posse. Me and Joey don’t run from any of our past truths. Some of them we are not proud of, but we represent them all because that is just our story and nothing we can do will ever change that shit. And fuck you 'cause it’s all the shit. But it’s so easy for haters to pick out and see the few mistakes and bad moves when there sitting all shitty and ugly like within and amidst an ocean of shiny, bright shimmering greatness. I love my life and I walk the earth these times a completed man. I did exactly what I set out to do with my life. If I gotta, I’m ready to die now. If I died tomorrow (God forbid) I’m going out a happy ass, fruity, fuck. Time for a new mission. New goals. New messages for any surviving Juggalos still hanging on and that still wanna ride with us after the 6th BOMB WHIPES THE SLATE CLEAN OF ALL THE BULLSHEET.
We been running straight up a hill for 10 years straight and to finally stop and take a look behind us to see how far we’ve actually came is fuckin’ breathtaking. We feel like a super ninja squadron of Samurai. I see diamonds falling everywhere. Even if the album drops, flip flops and God forbid, the whole entire Juggalo world collapses in chaos over the impact of track 17’s message, nothing will ever change the fact that we have reached our own personal heaven’s here on earth just by being able to actually see all 6 Joker’s Cards together as a complete story and knowing what it all means. We only hope enough of you catch the vapors with us to keep the Hatchet swingin’ as hard as it’s been. On that note, I’m out like The Wraith on November 5th.
Violent J's
"Weekly Freekly 3 and 4"
A fresh feature of flavor here on the new insaneclownposse.com. "Weekly Freekly" is a weekly look from the inside as seen through the eyes of Violent J.
SPECIAL 2 STORY EDITION
Whut up yall? It’s me Violent J again here with my fresh ass Weekly Freekly a lil' late but still great. Because this whole last week was basically a stale one for me and Shaggy, which consisted only of non stop studio, editing, studio, editing, and studio, this weeks Weekly Freekly is going to have to be different to still be fresh. So here is what were going to do. I’m going to tell you guys 2 different stories. Both stories are fresh, (I think) but not both are real. One of them is fake and one of them is real. Some time, on the ICP hotline this week, I’ll announce which one is the real one. So it’s up to all yall to guess for now. I’m gonna be checkin’ the Juggalo websites and all that, and all you guys that right for them, be sure and just mention which story you think is real, if you can. That would be fresh. I’m also gonna be online talkin’ to some ninjas every now and then. I want to see what you guys guess’s are.
If you ain’t in much of a story mood, I’m sorry that our past week was so lame and boring, but next week I’ll be back with another fresh, regular style, in detail Freekly Freshness.
STORY 1
“Lord Zoltar - G.W.F. Champ”
Holy fuck man. This was fuckin’ awesome. We were playing a show in Wichita, Kansas, back in 97 or 98. I‘m guessing it was 97, because we‘ve been talking about this moment for years now. We had just got off stage and we were back at the hotel getting cleaned up. When we tour, we usually have about 4 or 5 hotel rooms for our whole posse. We’re always running from room to room, back and forth all the time, so people are always knockin’ and all that.
Well, this night, me, Billy and Rob were all sitting there watching something on TV when somebody knocked on the door. I jumped up and opened the door and sat back down still watching the TV, never looking to see who it was. Was it Rudy? Shaggy? Maybe Nate the Mack? Nope, not this time. Little did I know, but I had just opened the door to Lord Zoltar the mother fuckin’ G.W.F. World’s Heavyweight Champion, but I soon found out. I heard a deep wrestler sounding, super heroish voice say “Hello there boys”. I quickly turned around and looked towards the door and there he was... A fuckin’ full fledged, mother fuckin’, professional wrestler. He immediately introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Lord Zoltar, the G.W.F. World’s Heavyweight Champion”. What could I say? I was speechless. Not only have I never fuckin’ heard of any Lord Zoltar, but what the hell is the G.W.F.?
He was standing right there in my hotel room in the flesh. Believe it or not, he was wearing a pair of black spandex trunks, a fringed up “Rock & Roll Express” style cut off, black T-shirt with tassels, a fuckin’ black pair of fuckin’ patent leather, wrestling boots laced up fuckin’ knee high, two Ultimate Warrior style arm ties tide tightly around his arm flabs, don’t forget the fuckin’ Road Warrior, “Legion Of Doom” style face paint and even, yup you guessed it, the gold shiny strap. The G.W.F.’s world title which looked kind of like a frying pan connected onto a weight belt somehow.
Before I could react to all the freshness standing before me, Billy and Rob jumped up and got this ninja the fuck out of our hotel room before he suplexed somebody.
I quickly called Shaggy’s room in hopes of Shaggy possibly being able to catch a quick glimpse of the human spectacle that had just walked into my room. Shaggy quickly looked out of his window, but all he could see was the champ pulling off in his car. At least it wasn’t a total loss for Shaggs though. He did however get to see one fresh thing out of Lord Zoltar... as The G.W.F. World’s Heavyweight Champion was driving off, he stuck his arm out of his 80’s Escort window and busted the fresh ass, Jimmy “Superfly” Snucka Peace and Love sign just for Shaggy!
STORY 2
“Revenge of the Nerd”
I knew this kid named Noel. We hung out a lil bit from the time I was about 16 to 18. He was lame as fuck, just like his name. He was only fresh once a year or so.
Anyway, I was maybe 16 years old and I had just met a bitch. Back then bitches came few and far in-between, so I was gitty as hell. I never hit it or anything, but we did do a lil kissing which was the shit to me.
Well we had been going together for maybe a week or so, when I suddenly came down with Tonsillitis. I used to get that shit, really fuckin’ bad until I finally had them taken out later that year. So I was flexed and I couldn’t even hardly breathe. I was hemmed up at the house for about 2 weeks or so. They whole time I was sick I was steady wondering how my girlfriend was doing. I hadn’t talked to her because I really couldn’t talk. I was fucked.
When I got back on my feet, I went and seen my girl, but she was acting shady about something. Finally she told me, that while I was sick, Noel’s faggot ass was creeping over there and fuckin’ her. I was hurt because this was like only the 3rd or 4th bitch I had ever kicked it with.
I didn’t know what to do. Should I beat Noel’s ass? I shouldn’t beat his ass, because homies should never fight over a bitch. Then again, Noel ain't my homie, or he never would have fucked her. Finally I decided what to do. Wait on it. That’s exactly what I did, for almost a year and a half. Then once Noel least expected it, I took my action of revenge on him.
I called him up one day. “Noel, whut’s up dog, listen me and Joey met these 2 hot ass bitches on Gratiot Ave last night. They wanted us to come over, but Joey had to go up north for the night so I’m looking for somebody to come with me. These hotties live way the fuck out, but they said that if we come out there, they’ll cook for us, fuck us and all that good shit. Are you down to go out there with me tonight?” Fuck yeah he was fuckin’ down. Ha.
A few hours later, I picked Noel up in my mom’s car and I had him pay to fill up my gas tank, and we headed out. Good times I tell ya. That was a long ass drive. I hour, 2 hours, 3 hours and then at last, there we were. In the middle of absolute nothingness. Finally I stopped the car. We were parked on the edge of a fuckin’ cliff over looking Michigan’s wild up north wilderness. Noel said “These bitches are meeting us here? What? What are they mountain climbers? What the hell kind of place is this? Nobody fuckin’ lives out here Joe!” I dropped the bomb on him... “I know, so get out.” He was like “huh”? I pulled out my trusty can of mace that my brother Rob had given me from the Army. I was like “Get the fuck out of the car or I’m gonna mace your ass. This is my revenge for when you fucked that girl I was going out with when I got sick a year and a half ago. So just take it like a man and get the fuck out. Don’t make me mace you Noel, I would just beat your ass, but I don’t feel right about that, because we hang out so much and all. Plus it’s mad easier to just mace you from right here ‘till you get out.”
Needless to say he got out and I turned around and headed the 3 long hours home. It was dark as fuck. I must have been at least 5 miles from the nearest pay phone.
Fuck ‘em though. He’ll be alright.
I Never seen Noel again, but I hang my “Noel” magnet every Holiday season on my refrigerator. And I always take a moment out while sipping on my eggnog to wonder weather or not Noel is still walking around the Michigan, Upper Peninsula outback. He prolly looks like fuckin’ big foot now-a-days. Revenge. It hurts the most when your victim least expects it. Remember that ninjas.
Peace Juggalos. Enjoy the new track! It’s about yall!
Violent J's
"Weekly Freekly 2"
A fresh feature of flavor here on the new insaneclownposse.com. "Weekly Freekly" is a weekly look from the inside as seen through the eyes of Violent J.
First thangs first, y'all. I fucked up last week when I gave out my internet name. I said it was GetChaWickedOn@aol but it's GetYaWickedOn@aol.com. Man, it took me a grip to figure that shit out, too. I would sign on and not even one ninja would say what's up to my ass. I was thinkin', "Damn I can't even get a 'Wud up?'" Then I was in a chat room and some ninja was tellin' me I was a fake because my name is spelled differently than the real Violent J's. I had to explain to him that the real Violent J is really a stupid fuck that don't even know how to spell his own name.
Now that y'all got my name, let's play some fun-ass, follow the leader Internet games y'all.
Health news: My wrist is completely re-broken (by the doctors) and hemmed up in a cast. I'm having all my homies sign my cast and then I figure I'll give it away if anybody wants it. I ain't sittin' here saying my cast is a fresh thing to have or anything, but I seen people sell our dreadlocks on e-Bay before, so fuck that. In that sense, my stale-ass arm cast is the shit. It's the very thing that held my arm comfortably and healed my wrist.
As for my back piece, they got me in a back-brace-piece-thing. It straps all around my back and chest and my (extra thin and ripped) stomach. (Yeah, right). It kind of holds my whole spine in place. Both the cast and the back-brace-piece will be off my ass by Hallowicked on the 31st. And at then, just to prove that I'm in full 100% top physical condition, I'll re-join with the WWE and "bitch punch" Brock Lezner out of the ring, right lickity split.
Well the diamonds just don't stop falling on our lives. Only the eyes of the realest Juggalos can see them falling. Esham's home. This is incredible news that you will respect more if y'all read my book, Behind The Paint. I'm going to tell you 5 things some of you may not know about Esham.
No 1. There would be no Twiztid, Blaze, ABK, Jumpsteady or Insane Clown Posse, (just to name a few) if there was never an Esham, flat fuckin' out. I'm not saying that all these guys wouldn't be out there rapping and in the game and all that. I'm only stating the fact that Esham created the mother fuckin' wicked shit. Esham took the wicked shit to the fuckin' absolute extreme and made it his forever. All wicked. Nothing but the wicked. I'm talking never taking the mask off. Not just making a few scary songs and the rest do the same fuckin' thing the world's doing (Geto Boys style). I'm talking Esham came out of nowhere, alone, by himself, going by only his real name, totally insane on every fuckin' lyric. Esham created a style of rap that has lived, spread and grown throughout Detroit's undergroud rap scene to this very day. Every wicked shit MC rapper there is out there, most I'm sure don't even know this, but WE ALL owe respect to the very man that started what it is that we do.
No 2. I remember hearing about Esham for the first time. 1990. I wasn't even rapping yet (I was scrubbalo thuggin', but that's another story to be told in my book. I'll be doing some fresh B. Dalton book-signings and errrythang).
Anyway, I walked into this tiny lil' ghetto-ass record store on 5 Mile, in Detroit. I was looking for local, Detroit rap, because at the time, I was collecting local shit. Any and all I could find. I had mad shit, like two of them big-ass tape cases full. I knew about every rapper and who was down with whom. I collected that shit and I studied the fuck out of them tapes and covers. I walked into this store and asked this guy if he had any local shit and he pointed out Esham. I'll never forget this. Most rappers only had singles out. One and then you'd never hear from them again. But Esham had fuckin' 4 tapes out, and I had never even heard of him! One of the tapes had a picture of him on the cover sitting in a car, wearing clown paint. I was floored. I thought, "Holy fuck man, who the fuck is this guy?" "Does he wear that fuckin' paint all the time?" I asked the dude that worked there. "No, but he's on some whole other shit though, he raps about the Devil." The whole Esham thing straight up blew me away. He's got 4 fuckin' tapes out and I ain't ever even heard of him! He was deep, DEEP underground. I was shocked. I looked and his cassette tape and it was blood red. I remember thinking, "That shit is crazy as fuck! He raps about the Devil? What?" I also remember thinking, "Man it would be fresher though if he wore that fuckin' paint shit all the time. I know would if I was a fuckin' rapper!"
I bought all 4 tapes and the rest is history.
No 3. Esham dosent talk much about it but from about 1990 to 1995 Esham was hellified Satanic. 666-style. I'm talking about in his music. His tapes were horrifying and he had the entire city terrified of his ass. He didn't like that people thought it was all too REAL. His conscience was catching hell. People took it too far, way too far. In 1994 Esham decided to do one more, fat ass, DEVILISH album and that would be it. No more. Closed Casket. In fact that is what the album was called, Closed Casket. After that, he kept it wicked as fuck, but without the mention of Satan Clause and Lucifurry Balls.
Now, no matter what he does, people are still afraid of his ass, well BOO!!! Mother fucker! Because he ain't no fuckin' devil worshiper. What the world doesn't know is this that Esham is an Entertainer, and that's it. He is a regular ninja, it's just that his raps are so fuckin' believable and scary and wicked that they got everybody and they mama's panties in a bunch. Well now that Esham is with us, he wants to set the motherfuckin' record straight. After Esham drops his greatest hits type album called "Acid Rain", on October 15th, next in line for him is the big one. THE ALBUM. He has named his next album. His debut, full length album on Psychopathic Records is going to be called Redemption. The "Unholy" is no more. It's raining way to many fuckin' diamonds right about now.
No 4. Esham was on the Warped tour last year and was jumped, beat the fuck down and put on a fuckin' stretcher by Feminem's homies She12. Esham spent a grip of time hemmed up in the hospital because of them fucks. Why? What was the beef? Because Esham reps the wicked shit like ICP and is down with us. Not to mention, Esham and Feminem have been at war lyrically since way back when Feminem was still rappin' as "Slim Fuck Ass."
No 5. Since 1990, Esham and his brother James have owned and run an independent record label called Reel Life Productions. For years Esham as been selling hundreds of thousands of tapes and cds through his own company. (In other words, doing it all themselves with no gettin' signed to any fat labels and made famous). Esham and his manager/brother James were and are still muddafuckin' self made zillionares. They did it just like we did at the Hatchet, ALL BY THEMSELVES.
At first we at Psychopathic studied Reel Life's moves to learn the ropes. Esham would release EP's in between each album, so we did the same fuckin' thing. We built our structure off Reel Life Productions. We always tried to be one step ahead of them, but it took us a long ass time to even hang. Esham, James and Reel Life Productions were always them "other guys". They watched us, too. It was like straight up competition for all involved, thus it's referred to by us rappers as "The Game" and I ain't talking about Triple H.
Unfortunately, in 1994 Esham's brother/manager/business partner suddenly caught a heavy case and was sentenced a griiiiiiiip. Reel Life Productions was fucked up. When this happened, we were still in our panties over at Psychopathic, so we couldn't help. Esham dropped a couple albums on his own and then basically had no choice but to sign with another label. Well little did he know at the time but that label sucked dead body balls (ewwwww).
Well, just recently that shitty label Esham has been signed to finally folded and he was set free. WE SNATCHED HIS ASS. 10 years in the making. Finally. Man y'all, if these diamonds get any bigger it's gonna start hurtin'. People might wonder how Esham feels signing with the label that was basically his competition for so many years. I can tell you on my end that it's about more than that. It's about Homies. Even, I had to ask him how he felt about it all though. And I swear to God this is what he told me, while we were just chillin' and burning a jib in the car:
The way I look at it, in 1991 two shiny-ass, sleek Corvettes took off out of Detroit representing the wicked shit. ICP's was black and Esham's was red. Both of them we're sleek and fast as fuck and they both smoked everybody else in the fuckin' dust. They were down with each other all along but they just happen to be competition, and this is a race to the fuckin' top of the game. Both cars were without question fast as fuck and they were the shit at what they did no matter who won. Suddenly BLAAAM! The engine blows on the red Corvette. Esham's fucked in the game. Muthafuckin' unexpected faulty wiring. Damn. But to everybody's suprise the black car, ICP's car, stops, backs up and picks up Esham and they all ride off together as a team, the way it should of been from the start.
When I heard that I was so touched, my peehole started crying.
ICP has taken over the Psychopathic hotline! It ain't goin' to be updated daily, but we will try our best. The number is 714.647.2465. We will update that shit real soon!
Story time.
I figured I'd throw in a story for ya. Oh what the hell, I'm in a written mood anyhoot.
It was a fresh night about 8 months ago. Matt Davis from Psychopathic was being crowned Warrior and the party at Psychopathic was in effect. We had fuckin' Sabu wrestlin' Patrick, Rudy was boody, Zug Izland played, it was the fuckin' shit. I was having myself a sip of that sause, ya know, maybe a lil' toak of that smoke, whatever, all I'm saying is that we was all in good spirits, because the party was hype, and the next day we were leaving for Dallas in a convoy to begin recording the 6th Jokers Card.
Well people started going home and whatever, and me, Patrick and Too Tuff Tony all jumped in my car and we headed over to Syn's house. As we were driving down Grand River Ave towards down town, I seen this super hottie chillin'. I almost rolled the car when I seen her. She had on my trademark style shits. She looked like a lil skater freak. Rockin one of my favorite style girly stomach shirts with the fuckin' underwears pulled up over the hips, hell yeeeeah. It aint my style at all to just step to a bitch, but I was on that sauce, so I had game. I pulled right up to her in a parking lot and blocked her way. I was like "Suuuuuuup byatch? How you doing baby?" She started to say something but I quickly and politely put my finger up to her lips and was like "Shhhhhhhhhh, I only need to know 2 things from you... 2 thangs.... Your name and how you want it." (Actually, I don't remember exactally which one of my devastating pick up lines I used, but I can guarantee it was something creamy).
She had to explain to me and my two stupid homies that she was a working girl, a child of the night, a professional "date" if you will, or even if you won't, she's still a fuckin' hooker (and by the way, what was up with that lame ass "creamy" word I used a minute ago. Fuck man, that sounds nasty. I'm a fuckin' old weirdo. I'm a 30 year old fuckin' pervert that uses words like "creamy".)
Once she told me she was a hooker I quickly rendered her services. "How much?" I axed her. See this was the thing, I've seen my far share of hoes around growing up in the D, and I'm telling you, this bitch did not look like a hooker. She looked like she just walked out of a fuckin' Kottonmouth Kings concert. She was young, hot, sexy, and somehow much to my surprise only bucks. So I said "Let's do this? You got a place or are we creepin off in them bushes or something? Maybe a dumpster or something? Whut up?"
Luckily she had a room at some cheep ass hotel right across the street. BLAAAM! Me and No Doubt walked into her room and Patrick and Too Tuff Tony had no choice but to wait out in my car because I drove.
Once I was inside her crack head hotel room she said "Ok, what do you want?" Know, I would of quickly gotten topped off right quick, I mean, I don't have any morals or anything like that, however in this case I had to pass because I could almost see the AIDS hangin' off her lip. I wouldn't even wanna stick my boot in her mouth, let alone my beautiful, dick piece.
But I must admit, I was taken by this girl, but I can find sex anywhere. I know most people think of me as the ugly fat one of the group, and that might be true in some ways, but let me tell yall, I can get chicks too. I'm saying I done pretty good. I respect and love every single bitch I fucked. Past, present and future. I'm not just saying that either, I respect, love, and remember everyone of those bitches! Straight up! Both of them!
Her mouth looked like she had a squirrel in it from all the nut hairs on her teeth. I could tell she was tired, and probably blew out from 30 or 40 ninjas that night. Plus sex just wasn't my goal with this girl, that's too easy. When I looked at her I seen the human being underneath her crack head exterior. I had to know all about her. I asked how much to have her for the night. She banged on the wall and some sort ninja lookin' like Ja Rule came in the room. She told him that I wanted her for the night and he looked at me, and he knew I was paid. He axed me "is that your caddy out there with them fellas in it?" I was shocked by his voice. He looked like Ja Rule, dressed like Ja Rule but talked like Michelle Le. I was steady wondering where the fresh ass grizzly bear voice was. " bucks and have her back by 6:00am." He told me.
What a fuckin rip off, huh? fuckin' dollars. That's bullshit. It was already fuckin' 2:30 in the morning, plus the ladies know that Juggalos fuck all night and the next day, but I wasn't planning on fuckin' anyway so I paid the pimp. I gave Ja the loot and right then, there was a knock at the door. It was one of Ja Rule's homies and some older business looking ninja that was on of Ja's repeating customers. Ja and his homie broke the business guy off with three little bags of heroin, three dollar crack rocks, and he also asked for 2 sluts to be sent to his room. I was just chillin' in the corner of the room with my hoodie up and this business ninja just must of thought I was with them because he was ALL ABOUT IT no matter who was listening. Finally they all left and it was me and my future hooker wife finally left alone again in her crummy hoe-tell room.
We finally left but not before she smoked a rock or two and straight up shot a gang of heroin in the bathroom right in front of me. She was nipples out about her addictions. She gave no fucks, she was just like "All right, hold up before we go, let me top this pipe off a lil something". I was like "Sure bitch, shit. Do what ever you gotta do!"
I took her out of there. Where did we go you ask? A hospital? A rehab perhaps? Maybe to her parents seeing how she was only 20 maybe there still around and they can help her? Nope. I took her to Syn's house and there she smoked 3 more rocks, shoot some more heroin and passed out on his bathroom floor. I woke her up and tried to sober her up some to talk to her. She was so pretty and it was such a damn shame man, flat out. She explained to me that she needs to take heroin all day long or she'll get sick. I asked her about the crack, and she said that's just a lil' extra flavor she's about to try and get hooked on too.
She explaind that she got hooked after high school but then got all cleaned up, only 3 months ago her boyfriend was shot and killed, so she fell off the wagon so to speak. She said she's only been a hooker for a month (looking like she did, I'd say that equals out to about 4000 dicks).
Well, my good side suddenly kicked in and I started thinkin'. Man, I could take her with me to Dallas tomorrow and clean her ass up. Slap her ass in a rehab, then a gym, and lastly a salon and she'll be a fuckin' 100 percent hottie ready for the world, round two.
I started breaking it all down about who I was and what I could do for her. She even informed me that she had been to 2 of my shows back in the day at the Ritz in Detroit. I asked her how it all went down hill. She said her father was a Detroit Circuit Judge and her sister and bother were both lawyers. She grew up in Bloomfield Hills, Mi, which is a fancy ass neighborhood out here. Her story was a mad interesting one. Just hearing that was why I paid to be with her. She's at least got something to say even if its just "gimmy a rock".
On the way back to her stale ass hotel room I tried to save her with all my might! "Come with us to Dallas and start all over again with me! Just be ready at noon tomorrow and Ill come by and get ya. I'll take you with us and I'll put you in a Dallas rehab center and come visit you everyday and as soon as you get fixed up we can maybe even start fuckin!" She seemed only half interested the whole time, as if part of her wanted to save herself and part of her didn't care about life enough to try. But I kept drilling in into her head again and again tomorrow at NOON! Be there and make a good change for yourself!
I carefully explained to her that I will come to her room at exactly noon tomorrow morning, and she just has to come with me and I'll do the rest for her. I told her she don't need shit like clothes, or money, I even offered to bring her enough heroin to get her down to Dallas in one piece. I gave her the ultimate ultimatum. All she has to do is walk out that door with me at exactly NOON tomorrow morning and it's on. I fully explained to her that I am willing to flat out save her life and show her the world.
The following morning was she there at 12 o'clock noon? Was she ready to take a step in the right direction? Was she brave enough to be standing there ready to leave with me for Dallas for a new beginning?
I wouldn't know. I over-slept until 6 PM the next day, and then we headed from my house right to Dallas.
That's the end of my story. Sorry it ended stale, but at least I'm keepin' it treel. (The Nightquils are a bitch!)
Violent J
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Violent J's
"Weekly Freekly 3"
A fresh feature of flavor here on the new insaneclownposse.com. "Weekly Freekly" is a weekly look from the inside as seen through the eyes of Violent J.
SPECIAL 2 STORY EDITIONWhut up yall? It’s me Violent J again here with my fresh ass Weekly Freekly a lil' late but still great. Because this whole last week was basically a stale one for me and Shaggy, which consisted only of non stop studio, editing, studio, editing, and studio, this weeks Weekly Freekly is going to have to be different to still be fresh. So here is what were going to do. I’m going to tell you guys 2 different stories. Both stories are fresh, (I think) but not both are real. One of them is fake and one of them is real. Some time, on the ICP hotline this week, I’ll announce which one is the real one. So it’s up to all yall to guess for now. I’m gonna be checkin’ the Juggalo websites and all that, and all you guys that right for them, be sure and just mention which story you think is real, if you can. That would be fresh. I’m also gonna be online talkin’ to some ninjas every now and then. I want to see what you guys guess’s are.
If you ain’t in much of a story mood, I’m sorry that our past week was so lame and boring, but next week I’ll be back with another fresh, regular style, in detail Freekly Freshness.
STORY 1
“Lord Zoltar - G.W.F. Champâ€Â
Holy fuck man. This was fuckin’ awesome. We were playing a show in Wichita, Kansas, back in 97 or 98. I‘m guessing it was 97, because we‘ve been talking about this moment for years now. We had just got off stage and we were back at the hotel getting cleaned up. When we tour, we usually have about 4 or 5 hotel rooms for our whole posse. We’re always running from room to room, back and forth all the time, so people are always knockin’ and all that.
Well, this night, me, Billy and Rob were all sitting there watching something on TV when somebody knocked on the door. I jumped up and opened the door and sat back down still watching the TV, never looking to see who it was. Was it Rudy? Shaggy? Maybe Nate the Mack? Nope, not this time. Little did I know, but I had just opened the door to Lord Zoltar the mother fuckin’ G.W.F. World’s Heavyweight Champion, but I soon found out. I heard a deep wrestler sounding, super heroish voice say “Hello there boysâ€Â. I quickly turned around and looked towards the door and there he was... A fuckin’ full fledged, mother fuckin’, professional wrestler. He immediately introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Lord Zoltar, the G.W.F. World’s Heavyweight Championâ€Â. What could I say? I was speechless. Not only have I never fuckin’ heard of any Lord Zoltar, but what the hell is the G.W.F.?
He was standing right there in my hotel room in the flesh. Believe it or not, he was wearing a pair of black spandex trunks, a fringed up “Rock & Roll Express†style cut off, black T-shirt with tassels, a fuckin’ black pair of fuckin’ patent leather, wrestling boots laced up fuckin’ knee high, two Ultimate Warrior style arm ties tide tightly around his arm flabs, don’t forget the fuckin’ Road Warrior, “Legion Of Doom†style face paint and even, yup you guessed it, the gold shiny strap. The G.W.F.’s world title which looked kind of like a frying pan connected onto a weight belt somehow.
Before I could react to all the freshness standing before me, Billy and Rob jumped up and got this ninja the fuck out of our hotel room before he suplexed somebody.
I quickly called Shaggy’s room in hopes of Shaggy possibly being able to catch a quick glimpse of the human spectacle that had just walked into my room. Shaggy quickly looked out of his window, but all he could see was the champ pulling off in his car. At least it wasn’t a total loss for Shaggs though. He did however get to see one fresh thing out of Lord Zoltar... as The G.W.F. World’s Heavyweight Champion was driving off, he stuck his arm out of his 80’s Escort window and busted the fresh ass, Jimmy “Superfly†Snucka Peace and Love sign just for Shaggy!
STORY 2
“Revenge of the Nerdâ€Â
I knew this kid named Noel. We hung out a lil bit from the time I was about 16 to 18. He was lame as fuck, just like his name. He was only fresh once a year or so.
Anyway, I was maybe 16 years old and I had just met a bitch. Back then bitches came few and far in-between, so I was gitty as hell. I never hit it or anything, but we did do a lil kissing which was the shit to me.
Well we had been going together for maybe a week or so, when I suddenly came down with Tonsillitis. I used to get that shit, really fuckin’ bad until I finally had them taken out later that year. So I was flexed and I couldn’t even hardly breathe. I was hemmed up at the house for about 2 weeks or so. They whole time I was sick I was steady wondering how my girlfriend was doing. I hadn’t talked to her because I really couldn’t talk. I was fucked.
When I got back on my feet, I went and seen my girl, but she was acting shady about something. Finally she told me, that while I was sick, Noel’s faggot ass was creeping over there and fuckin’ her. I was hurt because this was like only the 3rd or 4th bitch I had ever kicked it with.
I didn’t . . . g over there and fuckin’ her. I was hurt because this was like only the 3rd or 4th bitch I had ever kicked it with.
I didn’t know what to do. Should I beat Noel’s ass? I shouldn’t beat his ass, because homies should never fight over a bitch. Then again, Noel ain't my homie, or he never would have fucked her. Finally I decided what to do. Wait on it. That’s exactly what I did, for almost a year and a half. Then once Noel least expected it, I took my action of revenge on him.
I called him up one day. “Noel, whut’s up dog, listen me and Joey met these 2 hot ass bitches on Gratiot Ave last night. They wanted us to come over, but Joey had to go up north for the night so I’m looking for somebody to come with me. These hotties live way the fuck out, but they said that if we come out there, they’ll cook for us, fuck us and all that good shit. Are you down to go out there with me tonight?†Fuck yeah he was fuckin’ down. Ha.
A few hours later, I picked Noel up in my mom’s car and I had him pay to fill up my gas tank, and we headed out. Good times I tell ya. That was a long ass drive. I hour, 2 hours, 3 hours and then at last, there we were. In the middle of absolute nothingness. Finally I stopped the car. We were parked on the edge of a fuckin’ cliff over looking Michigan’s wild up north wilderness. Noel said “These bitches are meeting us here? What? What are they mountain climbers? What the hell kind of place is this? Nobody fuckin’ lives out here Joe!†I dropped the bomb on him... “I know, so get out.†He was like “huhâ€Â? I pulled out my trusty can of mace that my brother Rob had given me from the Army. I was like “Get the fuck out of the car or I’m gonna mace your ass. This is my revenge for when you fucked that girl I was going out with when I got sick a year and a half ago. So just take it like a man and get the fuck out. Don’t make me mace you Noel, I would just beat your ass, but I don’t feel right about that, because we hang out so much and all. Plus it’s mad easier to just mace you from right here ‘till you get out.â€Â
Needless to say he got out and I turned around and headed the 3 long hours home. It was dark as fuck. I must have been at least 5 miles from the nearest pay phone.
Fuck ‘em though. He’ll be alright.
I Never seen Noel again, but I hang my “Noel†magnet every Holiday season on my refrigerator. And I always take a moment out while sipping on my eggnog to wonder weather or not Noel is still walking around the Michigan, Upper Peninsula outback. He prolly looks like fuckin’ big foot now-a-days. Revenge. It hurts the most when your victim least expects it. Remember that ninjas.
Peace Juggalos. Enjoy the new track! It’s about yall!
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