Journalist paints up and attends Rock & Shock featuring ICP

A journalist simply known as AuthorMike went to his first Insane Clown Posse show in Worcester with Juggalo actor Kane Hodder.  Now the thing I'm not sure about is when this took place, because I don't think ICP has played Rock & Shock for years. It's strange that this just popped up today. Anyways, as most self-proclaimed journalists do, he played the "holier than thou" card like he was too cool to be a Juggalo, though he did say that everyone he met was nice towards the end of his story.  I personally like to see non-Juggalo accounts of their first experience at an ICP show.  The fact that he didn't know that there would be Faygo sprayed everywhere was even better!  You can read his entire experience below. From AuthorMikeBlog.wordpress.com:

After doing a classy book signing at the Basket Ball Hall of Fame in Springfield, MA, we headed out to Worcester, MA, to go to one of the best horror conventions in the country, Rock & Shock. This convention is different than all the others for one major reason: it has major concerts all weekend long. I’m not talking about some local bands…a few years ago they had Rob Zombie and Alice Cooper. This year, the headline band, to my great dismay, was Insane Clown Posse. I had never heard any of their songs in my life, but I was more than aware of them as Kane is a huge fan, or what the diehard fans call a Juggalo. Why they were called that, I had no clue. All I know is that countless “Juggalos” would stop by at signings and make hooting sounds (that sounded like a train whistle to me) to which Kane would respond with the same noise and then show them his ICP (the shortened version of their name) necklace or wrist band. When fans did this, I would jokingly make a train sound, choo, chooo, it always resulted in getting death stares and punches in the arm from Kane. Friday and Saturday at the convention, Kane’s line was ridiculously long. Approximately fifty people in line, non-stop from ten in the morning until the doors shut at six. Half of them asked Kane if he was going to the ICP concert. Kane went on about how he wouldn’t miss it and that “Mike was going to paint up.” I laughed at this as I did NOT want to go to the concert, let alone put on silly make-up. Hell, I get annoyed if I have a spot of pen ink on my hand; a face full of make-up…the thought makes me cringe. There was no way I was going to do that. Being close to home, my wife came out to spend some time with me. I tried desperately to use her as an excuse to not go to the concert that night, but Kane was having none of that. I was going, she was going, and that was that. I hoped that at most, I’d go in, watch five minutes and then leave without anyone noticing. I was not that lucky, not at all. Without my knowledge, Kane enlisted a fan and friend of ours, Elvis, to grab me in the hotel lobby and paint my face. I tried my best to refuse, but again, the power and fear of Kane overwhelmed me… I sat down and let Elvis apply makeup to my face like I was a five year old getting my face painted at a fair. While I hoped for a kitty face and a rainbow, I knew I was getting something much different. When I saw the finished product, I felt like an idiot. I wanted to run to the bathroom and wash my face instantly. I’m trying to establish a life as a serious writer, and here I was, going to see tons of fans and other celebrities with my face painted like a sad clown. Not only was that part embarrassing, I didn’t want people to think I was a fan of ICP (not that there is anything wrong with that, you’re all very kind, nice people!)  Regardless, I felt like a moron. The best I could hope for was to sneak out of the lobby without getting seen… just as that thought went through my head I bumped into Bill Moseley (who thankfully didn’t know me at the time). As I got a look of disgust from him, I tried to smile and ran out the door. What the hell was I doing? When Kane came down to meet us, he cracked up at my face. Why, I do not know, because he himself has “painted up” for ICP concerts before (in fact you can find a picture of him in full make up in Unmasked). He was probably laughing because he knew how much it pained me to do this. The venue was down the street, so our little group set out on our way. Thankfully, I saw many other people wearing face makeup and other… interesting, costumes. At least I fit in, though the fact that I was wearing a polo shirt and dress shoes did come off as a bit odd. Inside the venue we were ushered to a private balcony, which I was very, very happy about, as I did not, for the life of me, want to be down in the mosh pit. The thought of slamming up against sweaty, hairy men who were painted as well, terrified me. We arrived a bit late, the opening band, (some other guys dressed as clowns called Twisted or something), were just finishing up. Elvis, being our fearless friend, ran down through the crowd, getting bumped and shoved a few times, to get us all some ear plugs (long story with earplugs and Kane that stemmed from this night, but I dare not repeat it). With the little orange puff stuck in my ears, I sighed and wiped my forehead as I was starting to sweat a bit. Of course I had forgotten that my face was painted, but remembered as I saw the big white smear on my hand. I was miserable. A few minutes later, the lights went out, circus type music came on and some chubby old men dressed as clowns came onto the stage to an intense amount of screaming. I was thankful for my ear plugs. At this point, I noticed the hundreds of bottles of soda on the stage. I was intrigued that they could be that thirsty or even come near drinking even one bottle of soda, let alone hundreds, while performing. When I asked Kane about the soda, he said, “You’ll see”. A few seconds later a mist of an orange fizzy beverage landed on my melting clown make-up.  To say I was confused was an understatement. These old, dancing, singing clown men would take a soda bottle, shake it up and spray it on the crowd, who loved it. Personally, I was appalled. For one, they were wasting good soda (even if it was some cheap brand name Faygo). Secondly, I could not fathom getting soda all over my clothing.  It was disgusting…soda is STICKY. Yet these people were loving it, in fact, asking for it. I was seeing a whole new world that I never knew existed. Bottle after bottle, dozens, hundreds, were being sprayed on the audience. While I was in awe of the crowd enjoying this, I started thinking of logistics. How do they travel with that much soda? What a waste of money. How could a venue allow this? Being a bit of a neat and clean freak, I was starting to desire a shower as not only did I have paint on me, I was now getting a spritz of soda every now and then. While I was freaking out on the inside, I was impressed with the performance. They put on a cool show, even if I couldn’t understand any of the lyrics. Besides the showers of soda, they had other characters coming out, an interesting set and they gave a great performance. After about forty minutes, of mostly watching the mosh pit as if I was on safari and examining an odd animal ritual, I was able to finally sneak out of the concert and head back to my hotel room for a much deserved shower. While I felt like an idiot, it was decently fun, but most of all, it was really interesting getting to see the world of Juggalos. While I might not understand it or like the music, I do respect the passion the fans have and the great showmanship of the band. To each, his own. But before you ask…no, no, I will never paint up again.

You can see the full article and more pictures of him painted up by clicking right here!