I feel I should come out of the closet on this, because visibility is important.  Now I don’t routinely bang Insane Clown Posse or Twiztid, but a juggalo once told me that I am a juggalo, and by his decree, so I am.  I, Bébé Mélange, am a juggalo.

If you are a juggalo and feel the need to talk about it with someone, let my comment section be a safe space for you.  Also, if you just want to ask a juggalo a question, you can put it to me.  Just be kind, you know, ask in good faith. Thank you…

–

…ok, apologies to real jugheads; this was obviously a bit facetious.  no offense intended, do consider me an ally at least?  i’ll pour a faygo out for you in contrition.  i really was granted juggalo status by one of that tribe, but it’s more of an honorary title.  rezpekt.

There’s not much to that story.  I went to a diploma mill type commercial art school, which lured in radical bros by saying “you could make animays or vidya games.”  This wasn’t me; I was lured by lies about how much money I could make with the job skills.  But this juggalo, he was a radical son of a bitch, as they say.  He had a ball bearing necklace and his life drawings looked like lofi dragon ballz.

We rode the same bus south from Seattle into poor people lands, where he was the kind of guy to drop acid and shoot fireballs in his back yard, and I was the kind of binch to work in fast food and come up with house rules for ttrpgs I’d never get to use.  One night he told me that I met his criteria for being considered a juggalo.  Fantastic.  I’ll accept that.

I hope he’s having a juggalish good time out there somewhere, perhaps with a juggalette and two point five juggajuniors.  He was a handsome lad, but life has many traps.

–