I have always had a genuine interest in music. When I was just barely seven years old, I sang, "How Much Is That Doggy In the Window", in front of our local church congregation. Now, maybe just a few years later, my fascination with the the whole music industry is better left to listening to others sing. And so, over the years I have made it a personal commitment to attend as many live concerts as is humanly possible. In doing so, I have witnessed a fairly unique genre of musical entertainment, encompassing everything from "Asleep At The Wheel" to Joan Jett and the Black Hearts, with some Van Halen, Jimmie Buffet, Willie Nelson, and even a little Marilyn Manson thrown in, to boot. But what I witnessed the other night, will go down in the antels of music history, at least as far as it concerns this here cowboy.
In Tulsa Oklahoma resides the historic and I think, majestic, "CAIN'S BALLROOM", home to the legendary Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys. While the great Bob Wills reigned in an era well before my time, I think I witnessed him roll over in his grave the other evening! That's all because a group, relatively unknown by the likes of the cowboys I run with, showed up to perform in the same building where the "King of Country Swing", made his debut and used to entertain hundreds of country swing music enthusiasts. "Their name?", you ask, "Why, none other than "INSANE CLOWN POSSE", of course!"
Now, I've never been one to second guess anybody, but my curiosity got the best of me, and Marti and I spent an evening on the computer researching their material and listening to a few of their more revelled songs. I should have known something was going to be a little different when Marti noticed on their "web page", that the "CLOWNS", as they are affectionately referred to by their groupies, is a sort of 'Hip Hop' inspired musical sensation. Other than seeing a t-shirt or two with "Insane Clown Posse" on them (and incidently, the individuals wearing the shirts were being carted off to jail), I really didn't know too much about the "ICP". So, what the heck, I decided it was in my best interest to enhance my musical appreciation. However, I should have known something was terribly wrong when Marti decided to bow out, my best friend said, "No thanks, I have got other plans", and even the most rowdiest cousin I know, commented, "You must be crazy. What's the matter with you? You must be going through some kind of 'mid-life' crisis." Well, that should have been what the FBI calls a "clue", but I was not shaken in my mission to see the "CLOWNS" in person, in Tulsa, at "Cain's Ballroom".
Now, my best friend was consciously concerned about my life. He provided me with some good insight and wished me lots of success in my endeavor. According to him, the "CLOWNS" have quite a unique following. The first thing he warned me about, was to watch out for individuals walking up to me and punching me in the face. (Apparently, this is some sort of group bonding that takes place at "Insane Clown Posse" concerts.) Secondly, he informed me about the term, "juggalo", which is what sincere "ICP" groupies refer to themselves as. Other than flirting with a possibility of being killed for a mere $35 ticket to get into the concert, I was feeling real good about my decision. Now, the next thing to do, was to decide what I was going to wear. Since my wardrobe didn't include any "ICP" t-shirts, I could either wear one of my cowboy shirts, or one of my cowboy shirts. Or, I could go really 'over-the-top' and wear one of my cowboy shirts.
Well, I had a better idea. Since this was a kind of 'clown' event, I decided to wear my rodeo clown attire. And, besides, maybe these guys would take one look at me and think, "Either this guy is totally innocent of what goes on here, or else he is one bad mamma jamma." So, I grabbed my hat, my suspenders, and a little bit of makeup (we rodeo clowns prefer to call it 'paint') and headed out for "Cain's Ballroom".
When I walked in the place, everyone, including the guys selling the official "CLOWNS" t-shirts, stopped and looked my direction. For the first time in my life, I knew what a rabbit feels like when a pack of coyotes happens by. It was like that scene in "Pee Wee Herman's Great Adventure", when Pee Wee stumbled into a biker bar, and everyone in the place stood up and somehow knew he didn't belong.
Just about that time, I'd say ten to fifteen "CLOWN" groupies approached my position and inquired, "Are you for real?" As I saw my life flash before my eyes, I quickly replied, "Yes, I understand there's a Clown Convention in town this week." The lynch mob got real quiet, looked at one another, and fell out laughing. I quickly grabbed two of them around the shoulders and proclaimed, "What's up, fellow Juggalos?" And, from that moment on, I was sort of one of the 'family'. In fact, throughout the evening, chants from the crowd, bellowing out, "FAM-I-LY!, FAM-I-LY!, FAM-I-LY!", broke the constant ear-deafening roar of the crowd, and I joined in.
I saw every "INSANE CLOWN POSSE" t-shirt imaginable, and a few others that I have no idea what they meant, but it was a concert goers paradise. And, the "CLOWNS", they were ultimately 'awesome'. And although I wasn't much into the lyrics of their songs (I prefer songs about trains, prison, mommas, getting left out in the rain......you get the picture), I loved having root beer pop sprayed all over the crowd. And, guess what, I didn't even receive an offer to get punched in the face. My wife, my best friend, and even my rowdy cousin, had better catch their next concert, because I have an idea on how we can join the "CLOWNS" back stage, but I'll need some help sneaking by 'Security'. Coy
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