Rolling into O-H-I-O for the GOTJ21 on Wednesday. Part 1: the long road to Heath, a homeless kid playing violin, and much more.
Welcome back to the ROX-TV website for our continuing coverage of the Gathering of the Juggalos 21, which went down in Thornville, Ohio. If your reading this article than there’s a good chance that you’ve already read the opener but if you haven’t, please do so. I feel that it is important to put the context into this event and the last article really sets the tone for what is to come in the following hours and days. ROX-TV has been running articles leading up to the now legendary event in O-H-I-O and just like the series opener, please check them out as well. We have some really nice exclusives with artists who performed at the GOTJ21, so don’t miss it. Now, for those of you that have been good students and read all that other shit, lets continue on our journey deeper into the magical and mysterious world of the Juggalos (and Juggalettes).
If your familiar with how I write than you will already know that I do it a little differently than some. My style is organic and has been forming up for many years. When I was younger, my sole purpose in life was to show up at concerts and stay wired to the stage, but as I got older, I became more “aware” of my surroundings and the other things that seem to pop up at live concerts. Sometimes the whole story isn’t just on the stage, but actually out in the sea of humanity that has turned up in the night to see the shit go down. As I’ve aged, I’ve come to appreciate the backdrop in life more and the little things that often times get looked over for the shiny object.
I also have a tendency to DRIFT out into the corners of rooms and the edges of scenes. I feel comfortable there and sometimes just enjoy lurking about in the shadows, taking in the world from another perspective. When I was in rehab (alot in the mid to late 2000’s) I usually ended up in the last available seat in the room, somewhere far in the back. The workers referred to this as the “relapse row” and maybe they were right. But the spirit of the “relapse row” or edge of the scene is a place that I cherish, so not everything I value is front and center.
If you take that into account, there really is no better place that I know of on earth, to enjoy that edge of the scene than the Gathering of the Juggalos. Why you might ask? Because there is wonder, amazement, and just plain old crazy shit hiding under every rock and tree of the place. I can say with some good authority that a person could go to the Gathering of the Juggalos, never see a single performance and be thoroughly entertained and satisfied regardless. The place is like a microcosm that grew up and then exploded into a million pieces, until the Dark Carnival came along and glued it all back together with Elmer’s. The atmosphere at the GOTJ is literally never-ending and it soon became apparent that no matter where you looked, walked, or stumbled to, the “world” just kept unfolding.
For the most part, the GOTJ also appears to be unaffected by time. No matter what hour of the day it was in Ohio, the place never seemed to really shut down or go to bed. Sure, there was some down time I suppose, but the action never quit. Kind of like a liquor store that stayed open twenty four hours a day, mixed with some good drugs, and an army of characters to animate the joint. Where else could something like this happen? I’m not really sure, but I guess it doesn’t matter because I had found my place in the sun (3,6,9). So anyway, I suppose I should start at or near the beginning, otherwise I will never be able to explain myself properly (if that is even possible).
Wednesday 9:10am
After a few weeks of planning and preparing for the big shove off, the day had finally arrived. I had loaded up the car the night before to minimize the chances of forgetting something really important and to relieve a little stress along the way. I had about a four and a half hour trip in front of me and after one last go around with the trunk and back seat, I was loaded down pretty decent. I had met up the night before with Frank Nitty and some of his homies from Utah, who had just arrived in town.
The plan was to load up some merch for the Gathering but after grabbing the gear, I hung around for a few hours and chilled in the yard. The weather was warm and I feared the long days in the sun, which I was convinced would turn up. Either that or we were going to get pissed on by mother nature for a few days, which might turn the Gathering into a soupy mess. One way or another the elements were going to get me, I was sure of that much. After going home, I tried to sleep but had trouble finding my way. Dozens of thoughts were running through my head, from my approach to covering the event, to running the first PJB memorabilia raffle. I couldn’t concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes. Eventually I finally drifted out to sleepy town and grabbed about 6 hours of shut eye.
By 9:10am, I could no longer stand the build up and decided to just get going. So what if I showed up a little early anyways? The most likely turn of events would probably send some bullshit my way with a traffic jam or an accident, so I figured leaving early would all even out by the end of the ride. I kissed my family goodbye and told them I loved them, then it was off into living history. I had written out the directions to the house I had rented like we used to in the 1990’s.
Even though my phone has the GPS shit or whatever, I still liked going over the map like we used to do. I took down some notes and soon discovered that either the route was going to be very difficult, or the map makers just liked fucking with travelers. The first one hundred miles or so was simple, but for some reason, when the route crossed into O-H-I-O everything went to shit. By the time I finished writing down the directions from MapQuest, there was something like thirty fucking lines of descriptors and notes. This was not how it was suppose to go. I wanted easy and old school and wound up with a novel for directions. I was not happy about that but figured I would deal with it later. Why do anything that can not be responsibly put off until tomorrow?
11:02am O-H-I-O Border
As could be expected US-23 wasn’t much of a hassle and for the most part was just a straight shot south. There was a little maneuvering around Ann Arbor but that wasn’t shit. I was speeding along at times, but decided to enjoy the ride after some stupid congestion. You know the kind that requires about six drivers with shit for brains, where no one can make up there mind if they want to pass or just move over into the slow lane. Six idiots can really fuck up a commute, so I slowed down to the speed limit and decided to go with the flow.
No race car shit on that morning and especially not once I crossed into O-H-I-O, that state has a pretty solid reputation for tickets, and I didn’t want to run into Ohio’s finest anytime soon. Not saying I had anything illegal in the car, but you can read between the lines if you want. I take my safety pretty seriously when abroad, so do whatever you want with that. Anyways, the border came and went, no big deal. Like all good road trips, I did have to piss and the moment I decided to stop at a rest area, I couldn’t find one. Why is it that when you really have to go, those rest stops are like 89 miles away from each other?
1:30pm An hour from Newark
The trip was going to last until Sunday so I decided to hit the local Wally World (Walmart) and grab some food for the crib. I loaded up on chicken and ribs for the grill, some corn on the cob, odds and ends for breakfast and called it a day. Before I left the parking lot I walked over to see some homeless performers in the back of the parking lot. There was a twelve year old kid playing a violin, rigged up to a loud ass speaker. From what I could gather, the family was living out of the van and this kid and speaker were their only source of income. Sometimes pan-handle types seem like a scam, but I could tell this family was truly legit and down on their luck. I listened to the kid playing for a few minutes and then gave them five bucks. The lady was very grateful and as I pulled away, I wished them the best. Some people have it hard out here, don’t be afraid to toss them a few bones because sometimes its the right thing to do.
The rest of the trip was relatively boring except for a brief mind fuck when I saw a large sign that read “The Hoover Dam”. That blew my mind because I know the real dam is somewhere out west, not in O-H-I-O, but they had what appeared to be a state funded sign. Had things gotten so bad that states were ripping each other off now? I guess so. I drove on for a half hour before I hit a stupid stretch of weird shit. The first signs of trouble were a pair of accidents, which brought my movement to a stand still. A short time later the O-H-I-O DOT decided to block off the road rather abruptly (for no known reason) and send drivers left or right, without any instructions or assistance. Luckily I had long since abandoned my shitty 1990’s directions and had switched over to the map app on my phone. The route re-adjusted automatically and I pushed on, forever deeper into O-H-I-O.
3:20 pm Arrival at the house
I arrived at the rental and took a deep breath. I had made it in one piece and I was thankful for that. I began unloading the Impala and hauling shit into the house. Among the many items that I had for the trip, one of the most fragile and dopest items in the car was the Project Born memorabilia raffle basket and poster I had put together the day before.
I wanted to do something special for the Gathering, so I built what could only be described as a “wicked Easter basket” from Hell, with the intentions to raffle the “basket” off at the Project Born merch table, sometime before the Gathering came to an end. I spent a few hours framing some very select and rare items from my own personal collection. I never like parting with my holy relics but I figured it would be a good way to get people to stop by the table and see what was going on.
The items that I selected to be put into the raffle basket, which was technically a fifty year old carrying box from FAYGO (built for 24 1/2 liter bottles) in Detroit. I had recently located the Faygo box in the Upper Peninsula and couldn’t walk away from it, once I had laid eyes on the old beauty. I originally had no intentions of parting with it, but it fit perfectly with what I was trying to do so it was sacrificed for the mission.
I loaded the Faygo box up with some really rare pieces which included the following items:
- 1995 Flyer for a Project Born show in Flint (ultra rare, in fact other than the ones I have, there hasn’t been any sightings in the past twenty six years on the internet or anywhere else.
- The original Insane Clown Posse fan club letter, which announced the signing of Project Born to Psychopathic Records.
- The original Psychopathic Records promotional flat for Project Born, which was signed by Frank Nitty.
- One of the original Psychopathic Records flyers announcing the release of the Project Born E.P. called “Born Dead”.
- The original instore flyer for Insane Clown Posse and Project Born at a record store in Flint.
- 1970’s can of Faygo
- Six bottles of modern Faygo
- An author’s edit copy of “Forever in the Jects”
- The original 1995 “Born Dead” poster which was released by Psychopathic Records.
It was tough letting these items go, but I decided it was time. I was excited to see who would win the contest and looked forward to awarding someone with these rare items. (Author’s Note: The raffle was held before the Dayton Family’s set at the Luv Rising Stage, and the winner was William H. from Ohio, who was at the Gathering with his father. Generational shit and I love it. They were very excited to have won the stash and I explained what each item was and in detail, so they knew exactly what they were getting. Thanks to everyone who purchased a ticket)
To be continued shortly…….
Signing Off (briefly),
Mike Shepard
ROX-TV Head Writer
kidvicious810 on IG
