I decided to stop making fun of Juggalos a long time ago. Like I said before, it's just TOO FUCKING EASY. In a way, I almost feel sorry for our hatchet-wielding brethren. It can't really be 100% their fault, right? Poor education, Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, regional isolation, poor life choices, and peer pressure must all be contributing factors to some extent, and, while ICP's semi-coherent, subliterate attempts at "rapping" are FAR from the best music in the world (REALLY FUCKING FAR), I can think of worse things. Far worse. But the music-snob blogoshpere needs a boogieman, right? We need a completely bass-ackwards music subculture to bag on to reinforce our own sterling tastes and convictions, don't we? Of course we do. Well, lucky for you, there's an oft-overlooked subculture out there absolutely deserving of every ounce of scorn and derision we can dump on them, a sect of tasteless, comfortable, upper-middle class douchewands so devoid of dignity, so devoid of class, that one need not feel the slightest bit of shame when shitting all over them. Move over, Mr. Juggalo.
I give you "The Parrothead".
Urbandictionary.com describes the Parrothead thusly: "A Parrothead is a fan of Jimmy Buffett (there is no other meaning). The typical parrothead is pictured to wear a Hawaiian shirt, flip-flops, and other tropical attire, and to enjoy drinking margaritas on the beach. Parrotheads often decorate their homes in tropical motifs. In general the life of a parrothead is one of relaxation and being on a permanent mental vacation even while at work."
Parrotheads, like Juggalos, divide themselves into regional groups and/or clubs, believing that "strength in numbers" justifies their dedication to a cult-like figure devoid of any trace of talent or personality. In fact, according to the "official" Parrothead website Parrotheads In Paradise, there are over 200 Parrothead Club Chapters, including 9 in Canada and one in Australia. The Juggalo parallels are obvious. Parrotheads dress up in garish costumes when attending concerts and flock to Key West for their annual "gathering". Juggalos go to "Shangri-La" when they die. Parrotheads go to "Parrotdise".
Give me your keys, Terry.
A Jimmy Buffet concert is a wretched hive of scum and villainy every bit as horrifying as an ICP concert. I can tell you firsthand, as I have witnessed the aftermath of just such a gathering on more than one occasion. Drunken housewives stumbling about in a haze of stoned obsolescence, leaning on their fat, comfortable, obnoxious Republican husbands -- Weekend Warriors in the foulest sense of the term, doomed to a life of boredom and mindless consumerism punctuated by only the cheapest of "thrills". Foul, foul creatures. Parrotheads are every bit as despicable as the dread Juggalo -- more so, in fact. Parrotheads are Deadheads with corporate jobs, older and dumber than Juggalos, richer and more obese with an endless thirst for margaritas and Corona. And don't even get me started on that hilarious "Cheeseburger In Paradise" chain. HAW HAW! They took a metaphor and made it literal! HAW HAW! You might argue that Juggalos have Parrotheads beat on the tattoo front. But wait a second:
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That's right. Parrotheads are the new Juggalos. And by "new Juggalos", I mean "old Juggalos". Sure, Jimmy Buffet might not have the pathetic cadre of coattail-riding "opening bands" that ICP does ((Hed)P.E., Coolio, Kittie, etc...), but I'll tell you what he DOES have: COVER BANDS. That's right, The Coral Reefer Band (GET IT! HAW HAW!) has inspired a legion of pretenders, among them Garratt Wilkin & The Parrotheads and Davey & The Waverunners ("fronted by Davey Werkhiser fron the popular 80's band Magnum!"). It's a dark, sick, depressing world that these Parrotheads live in.
God, how I hate them.
Are Carrot Top fans called Carrotheads? Does Carrot Top HAVE fans?
Jimmy Buffett concert or Tea Party rally?
Personal vendetta? Possibly. But I urge you all to join me in the mass mockery and rejection of Parrothead culture, if only as a symbolic gesture of disgust toward the flaccid "art" of Jimmy Buffett and his represenation of all things, lazy, stupid, and gaudy in American culture. I might be done with Juggalos, but I'm just getting started on the fucking Parrotheads. These sick fucks have dwelt in comfort and boozy, suburban satisfaction long enough. Let's kick their sorry asses all the way back to Margaritaville. ICP: dismissed. Buffett: Let's fucking do this.
In conclusion, A MESSAGE FOR JIMMY BUFFETT himself:
Shameful admission: sometimes I need a little break from metal. It's true, and I apologize in advance for the enormous public outcry that is sure to ensue. But hey, I write about (and listen to) metal during the day, I play metal in the evenings, and (lately, at least) I've been writing metal (music) in the late evenings and on weekends. Every once in a while, I need to step back, take a deep breath, and put some Ice Cube on my iPod to decompress. That's life. False and umgrim, I know, but this is REAL TALK, my friends.
Recently, in one of these non-metal phases, I've rediscovered the joys of stand-up comedy. Bill Hicks, David Cross, and pre-preachy George Carlin have all found their way into my daily listening routine, along with that one Steven Wright album and TONS of Richard Pryor. It's fucking funny, OK? In a world where one must endure stuff like THIS and THIS on a day-to-day basis, a good laugh can really help keep that shotgun barrel out of your mouth. Don't judge me. In fact, rather than judging me, maybe you should enjoy some stand-up brilliance yourself, to see where I'm coming from. Might as well start at the top.
It's insane that with all the time and space IC has devoted to conspiracy theories, reptilian shapeshifters, Freemasons, the Illuminati, and the New World Order, we've never dedicated an entire post to the zany theories and massive amounts of media devoted to Mr. David Vaughan Icke. After all, Icke is widely considered the supreme authority (if there is such a thing) on the subject of reptoids and mass mind control, and besides a few quotes or a link here and there, IllCon has managed to avoid him for the most part. Maybe it's the controversy that surrounds him. Maybe he's just too "mainstream" (irony?). Maybe it's the lingering traces of anti-Semitism that surround his work (see also: David Dees) or that whole "Matrix" concept that's been sneaking into his work in recent years (more on that later). Whatever it is, it ends now. Let's talk Icke.
Right: Visual approximation of David Icke's current self-image.
We might as well start at the beginning:
Once upon a time, David Icke was a baller.
A footballer, to be exact (that means "a soccer player", to all of our fairweather American "I go to the pub once a year to get hammered and cheer loudly for a sport I don't understand" readers). David was a goalkeeper for Coventry City, and also played for Oxford United, Northampton Town, and Hereford United before arthritis in his knee forced him to retire at age 21 in 1973. Undaunted, he went on to become a sports reporter for the Leicester Advertiser that same year, eventually moving on to become a television reporter too, well known in the 80's due to his presence on the BBC's South Today. But around 1989/1990, things started getting weird. At the end of the 1980's, David Icke was getting more and more into New Age philosophy and becoming more active with the Green Party, visiting mystics and healers frequently to ease the pain of his worsening arthritis and meeting with politicians and celebrities to promote the Green Party's cause. Icke began travelling the world in search of "a higher truth", becoming more and more aware of a mysterious, magnetic presence around him as he did so. The kundalini was fucking with Dave's chakra, man, and things were starting to get heavy. In 1990, he was visited by channeler Betty Shine, who claimed to have a message for him... FROM THE BEYOND!
Wikipedia: "She told him she had a message for him. He was a healer who had been sent to heal the Earth, she said, and would become world famous, but would face enormous opposition. The spirit world was going to pass on ideas to him, which he would then speak to others about, sometimes not understanding the words himself. He was told he would write five books in three years; that in 20 years there will be a different kind of flying machine, where we can go wherever we want and time will have no meaning; and that there will be great earthquakes in unusual places, because the inner earth is being destabilized by having oil taken from the seabed." (AHEM!)
In 1991, Icke (still known as a TV sports broadcaster) went public with his message on the BBC's Wogan Show. He claimed to be "the son of God" and was greeted with laughter and humiliation. Host Terry Wogan politely informed him that the audience was "laughing at him, not with him". It was brutal. Here's a clip, interspersed with footage from Icke's return to the show almost 20 years later. WHO'S LAUGHING NOW, WOGAN?!?!?!
Currently reading: (thanks to The Heckler for loaning it to me)
Easy: As we already know, the world is run by a small group of reptilian shapeshifters from the Draco System, who control the populace ("sheeple" in Ickespeak) through a constant onslaught of holographic subliminal messages in advertising and media (see also: They Live). These reptoids (Zionist reptoids, I might add, hence the charges of anti-Semitism), known as the "Babylonian Brotherhood" and counting amongst their ranks the Bushes, Obama, The Queen, Kris Kristofferson and Boxcar Willie (?), created humans as a sort of "breeding program" and intend to microchip us all as they establish the New World Order. The Brotherhood (or "Anunnaki") consists of members of the Illuminati, Bilderberg Group, UN, Trilateral Commission, etc. etc. and many members often double as Satanic pedophiles and/or neo-Nazis.
David Icke's commentary on "The Global Awakening", from Alex Jones' Prisonplanet TV:
Pretty basic stuff, right? Sure. But it's the interdimensional and astrophysical aspects of Icke's theories that appeal to me personally. To wit:
"In The Biggest Secret (1999), Icke introduced the idea of the "Reptoid Hypothesis." He identifies the Brotherhood as originating from reptilians from the constellation Draco, who walk on two legs and appear human, and who live in tunnels and caverns inside the earth. They are the same race of gods known as the Anunnaki in the Babylonian creation myth, Enûma Eliš. (Icke skeptics) Lewis and Kahn write that Icke has taken his "ancient astronaut" narrative from the Israeli-American writer, Zecharia Sitchin. Icke's idea of "inner-earth reptilians" is also not new, though (author) Barkun writes that Icke has done more than most to expand it. Sitchin writes that the reptilians came to Earth for its precious metals. Icke argues that the Anunnaki came specifically for "monoatomic gold," a mineral he says can increase the carrying capacity of the nervous system ten thousand fold. After ingesting it, the Anunnaki are able to process vast amounts of information, speed up trans-dimensional travel, and shapeshift from reptilian to human form. They use human fear, guilt, and aggression as energy in a similar way, part of the reason they organize human conflict. The more negative emotion we emit, the more the reptilians absorb:
'Thus we have the encouragement of wars, human genocide, the mass slaughter of animals, sexual perversions which create highly charged negative energy, and black magic ritual and sacrifice which takes place on a scale that will stagger those who have not studied the subject.'" (direct quote from Icke)
In addition, Icke claims that the Anunnaki come from a higher "dimensional level" than humans, meaning that they inhabit the lower end of the Fourth Dimension, just outside of terrestrial perception. This, in turn, points toward the existence of a Fifth Dimension -- wherein another larger and more sinister race exists. Yikes.
All of this, of course, ties in with The Bible, as the Anunnaki's original breeding program (200,000-300,000 years ago) was responsible for the first human aka Adam. The Anunnaki were, in fact, the Grigori/Nephilim/Watchers/fallen angels we all know and love from Biblical times, the OG space-race that first bred with terrestrial women to produce Sumerian civilization. Good times.
But they didn't stop there. The Anunnaki (according to Mr. Icke) performed two more versions of their breeding program, 30,000 and 7,000 years ago, leading up to the creation of the highly-reptoid, cross-bred, humanoid creatures currently in charge of the planet. To complete the transformation between their human and reptilian forms, these hybrid monstrosities need to consume large amounts of human blood. Hence the blood sacrifices and rituals and whatnot. OBVZ.
Icke's astrological chart (click for full size):
Need proof of reptilian meddling in pop culture? Look no further than this website, which lists literally hundreds of films featuring our scaly friends -- from Pterodactyl Woman In Beverly Hills to Nymphoid Barbarian In Dinosaur Hell. But my own personal favorite has got to be the original, animated G.I. Joe Movie from 1987. Hollow Earth Theory, reptilian shapeshifting, and a HAARP-esque device capable of mass mind control? It's all there. And more:
From Wikipedia: "While Cobra Commander and Serpentor accuse each other's stewardship of Cobra as the root cause of the organization's failures, a mysterious woman breaks into the Terrordrome. Cobra Commander leads the counter-attack, but in an attempt to rid himself of Serpentor, allows the intruder to escape. Reaching Serpentor, the intruder reveals herself as Pythona, who comes from a secret civilization known as Cobra-La. Pythona states that they were responsible for causing Doctor Mindbender to create Serpentor through dream manipulation..."
"... Pursued by a cadre of G.I. Joe troops, Cobra Commander leads his forces to Cobra-La. An army of insect-armor wearing soldiers attack the Joe forces and imprison them within the Lovecraftian living environment of Cobra-La. The Cobra soldiers are met by Cobra-La's leader, Golobulus (let's not forget that Golobulus is part man/part reptile - Cobras). Golobulus orders Cobra Commander arrested as the rest of the group learns the secret origin of both Cobra-La and Cobra: Cobra-La was an ancient civilization that ruled the earth, in part due to their advanced scientific knowledge that allowed them to manipulate and convert living creatures into advanced bio-organic technology. Their society was devastated by the onset of the Ice Age, forcing the survivors into caves within the Himalayan mountains..."
"...As centuries passed, Cobra-La rebuilt their society in secret. Golobulus, hating humanity due to their polluting technology and ecologically unfriendly ways, vowed to wipe them off the face of the earth, and found an agent in the form of a former nobleman who was working on biological weapons of mass destruction. A lab accident caused the nobleman's face to be permanently disfigured. Equipping him with a featureless silver facemask that allowed his multiple eyes to work normally, as well as a uniform that allowed him to pass for human, the nobleman became Cobra Commander and was charged with conquering the world for Cobra-La. However, Cobra Commander's failures led Golobulus to arrange for Serpentor's creation. Golobulus punishes Cobra Commander for his crimes, exposing him to the biological weapon Cobra Commander disfigured himself developing years earlier: mutative spores that slowly transform Cobra Commander into a large snake..."
"...With Serpentor freed, Golobulus orders the rest of Cobra to aid him in his scheme to destroy humanity. Golobulus intends to launch mutagenic spore pods into orbit and use the BET to hatch the spores, mutating all of humanity into mindless animals to be controlled by Cobra-La..."
Pull back the veil:
In one of his more peculiar theories (which is saying something!), Icke addresses the upper echelon of the Babylonian Brotherhood -- a nefarious group he calls the "Red Dresses" (see illustration at right be Neil Hague). The Red Dresses don't actually "exist" in the purely physical sense of the word, as they are in fact bits of what Icke calls "reptilian software" -- holographic programs designed to coax the "sheeple" into unknowing submission. Bush is a Red Dress. Queen Elizabeth, ditto. Think about that shit next time you see someone rocking said garment.
David Icke and Bill Maher, in a prolonged outtake from Religulous (excellent film!):
Not everyone loves David Icke, though (above). His open dalliance with Holocaust denial has won him few friends in the Jewish community, but even while questioning that anything remotely fucked up might have happened in Eastern Europe in the late 30's and early 40's, Icke maintains that he is anything but an anti-Semite. In his own words:
"I strongly believe that a small Jewish clique which has contempt for the mass of Jewish people worked with non-Jews to create the First World War, the Russian Revolution, and the Second World War. This Jewish/non-Jewish Elite used the First World War to secure the Balfour Declaration and the principle of the Jewish State of Israel in Palestine (for which, given the genetic history of most Jewish people, there is absolutely no justification on historical grounds or any other). They then dominated the Versailles Peace Conference and created the circumstances which made the Second World War inevitable. They financed Hitler to power in 1933 and made the funds available for his rearmament."
So wait, self-hating Jews were responsible for Hitler's rise to power and the resulting World War? Wow. It all makes complete sense. How could anyone misconstrue that as anti-Semitic?
This is all really just the tip of the iceberg, though, when it comes to the fractalized psychedelic conceptualizations of David Icke. His ideas just get weirder and weirder as the years pass, and whether you love him or hate him you have to admit one thing: The guy has balls.
The Parliaments were a doo-wop quintet from Plainfield, New Jersey, formed in the back room of a barbershop in the late 1950s and named after the cigarette.
They were: George Clinton, Ray Davis, Fuzzy Haskins, Calvin Simon, and Grady Thomas. George Clinton was part owner of the barber shop and originally they were just playing to entertain customers while they got their haircut.
BJOTR:
As a group, many found them too raunchy, too dirty, too heavy and too “far out” (funky was not yet a musical adjective in the 50’s). Contemporary audiences thought this band lacked the shine necessary to cut it in the world of militantly perfect doo-wop. Their suits were always dirty, they were fucking up their dance steps, they were always drunk, ect ect.
that's my hand at 0:11
They put out a single, “(I Wanna) Testify” and then shit got messed up with their bankrupt label. They lost the right to the name the Parliaments so they changed their name to Funkadelic in order to sign to another label. You probably know what’s up from here. Clinton re-started another band (really the same band) called Parliament so he could have two bands making slightly different brands of funk for two labels. The point is, before all the funk, before the success, before they took acid and before they were standing on the verge of getting it on, they were a doo-wop band, called the Parliaments.
Most of these songs you might know in their later versions, recorded for either Funkadelic or Parliament albums with bigger budgets and glossier production. Here they are as they originally were. It’s raw, heavy, doo-wop perfection. The bridge between funk and soul, between romance and lust. Since they just released a few singles, a ‘best of’ is the best way. This is my favorite ‘best of’ of all time and a truly special record.
We have visited the French progjockeys known as Art Zoyd twice in the past here on IC -- the first time exploring their third album, 1980's Generation sans futur, and the second time to drop in on their second album, 1979's Musique pour l'odysee. Which leaves one final treasure to share, their first (and arguably their best) album Symphonie pour le jour où brûleront les cités. Released when the band was still known as "Art Zoyd 3" (see below), Symphonie is comprised of five songs - three making up the song cycle that gives the album its title and two from a cycle entitled "Deux Images De La Cité Imbécile". If you are fimiliar with this band's output in the late 70's, you already know what to expect: busy, dynamic, challenging, and often strangely ambient chamber/rock music punctuated by eery chanting and jazzy interludes. Too bad they went all "electro" later in their career, because early Zoyd is some of the most beautiful and well-orchestrated progrock to ever come out of Europe. An excellent debut, and an essential component in the formation of the genre known as Rock In Opposition. Freaky.
Above: Professor Cobras lectures a packed house on his pet subject - How To Get Super Rich on Half-Assed Music Blogging.
First off, I'd like to take a second to apologize for the relative lack of posting here on IC lately -- things have gotten extremely busy at ICHQ in the last couple weeks, and somehow, between our tireless efforts cleaning Gulf seabirds, time spent raising money to feed starving children, AA meetings, and hedonistic drug binging, we have fallen behind on our writing. As much as I would love to take all the credit for this decline in productivity, I have to admit that all blame lands squarely on the shoulders of my underlings, who have made little to no effort at supporting me during these trying times. You should all be ashamed of yourselves, and I expect better from you in the future. That being said, another excuse/major reason for our collective lack of posting in recent weeks was the First And Last Annual 2010 IC Writer's Retreat/Summer Conference For The Advancement of Summits and Conferences, which took place here in San Francisco over the weekend. Almost half of our writing staff was in attendence, making it the most successful congregation of IC Alumni in recent history, and in addition it was also by far our most productive (so far). Real-time video conferencing (below) made it possible for all IC Writers to contribute their crappy ideas regardless of global location, and a COMPLETE reimagining of this blog's infrastructure is now taking place. Please take a moment to join us on a tour of features and concepts looming on the Illogical Contraption horizon...
Speaking of global location, today marks a huge stride in the growth of this blog, as we welcome our first non-American contributor (Aylmer, who is from Australia) to our ranks. Seeing that IllCon is now an international venture, it won't be long until we activate our sleeper cells in Cairo, Seskatchewan, Jamaica, and Gothenburg, Sweden, tightening our grip on both the global economy and universal political system, cementing IllCon as the supreme (and most arcane) element controlling the foundations of the Illuminati/Reptilian/Masonic power structure. We welcome Aylmer with open arms, and forgive him outright for his lack of American ancestry.
In addition to our international power shift, IllCon now boasts an East Coast presence in the form of The Heckler (right), who also used this weekend's First And Last Annual 2010 IC Writer's Retreat/Summer Conference For The Advancement of Summits and Conferences as a bittersweet going-away party. That's right, Mr. Heckler has left the sunny cleanliness of SF's Tenderloin district for the dank solitude of New York City, where he will no doubt continue his long tradition of annual blog updates on esoteric subjects such as politics, conspiracies, and political conspiracies. You will be missed, sir. Don't be a stranger. Speaking of relocation, let us not forget to mention two-time contributor Asa, who abandoned his post in Baltimore to back up The Goodkind in IC's Seattle offices. Asa's next step is relocation to the Bay Area, where he will undoubtedly join an awesome metal band and ravage many nubile young women. Anyone with information on job openings for a copy writer in SF should contact ICHQ immediately.
Further bullet points discussed at the 2010 Writer's Retreat:
- Professor Seanford briefed the staff on the oft-ignored topic of Misplaced Nipples, a subject on which he has gleaned much first-hand knowledge in recent months.
- Synergy
- Proposed formation of a second IC side-project, which would act as a side-side-project to the already hugely successful experimental electro/jungle/trance group known as the George Jefferson Starship Troopers. Proposed name of proposed group: SPACE HELMET.
- Less focus on the ho-hum musical genre known as "metal", increased focus on stand-up comedy and Dirty South rap.
- Accountability, transparency
- Less rock, more talk. Also: Less talk.
- Illogical Contraption to incorporate vastly higher percentages of "inside jokes", ie posts that only make sense to two or three readers (see: this post).
- It has been observed by several members of the IC Writers Team that SF residents are allowed to park ANYWHERE (even the middle of a busy street!) if they are "attending church" (every Sunday - is it like this in all cities?). This has served as impetus (along with countless federal tax benefits) for the formation of an indigenous Illogical Contraption Religion (tentatively known as "Contraptionism") to be formed in the near future. More on this later in the week.
So, as you can see, we here at IC are CONSTANTLY striving to improve and enhance this blog, moving forward even in times of financial hardship, reader apathy, and extreme horniness. We are here to serve YOU, and, as always, your input is highly valuable to us. Together, we can make Illogical Contraption the soul-crushing, life-destroying force that it truly SHOULD BE, no matter what The Haters say. We look forward to the Second Annual Writers Retreat, and welcome all you pussies to come and party with us next year.
Local (to my neck of the woods) dude Ray kinda has to be considered somewhat of a punk-rock legend I guess (the Hard-Ons have been all over the country this year on their 25th anniversary tour for fucks sake), but it's hard for me to see him as such, seeing as how modest he is about it all. Regularly hanging out at shows talking to kids, always putting 200% into his performance at little pubs, regardless of crowd size - Raymond is a friendly, stand-up guy with no bogus rock-star pretensions.
I'll admit I've never been into the Hard-Ons too much myself, but I'm a die-hard rabid fan of his heavy spacerock/hard rock/psych/punk/whatever band Nunchukka Superfly, that he plays bass in with Hard-Ons singer/guitarist Blackie and ripping drummer Joel Ellis. My gal Bowie and I recently worked out that in the last seven years we've seen them somewhere in the vicinity of 30 times. They rock and they play REALLY FUCKING LOUD. Please go to their myspace (link above) and listen to my personal fave songs "Couch" and "Get Fucked".
He's got another drum/bass duo called WOG with drummer Robbie Avenaim. They're more experimental with lots of shouted chanting going into furious drum/bass attacks. I've only seen 'em a couple of times but they were RAD. Also, they have a song called "Wog Rocks Your Liver" (which sounds nothing like the Verbal Abuse song).
Neither Nunchukka or WOG have received anywhere near the attention they deserve, and I really urge you to seek out their CDs and have a listen - you won't regret it. For Nunchukka I recommend starting with "III".
So, as if three active bands weren't enough, Ray's a talented artist too. I guess he's pretty well known for all his Hard-Ons covers, but he's also done a bunch of cool art for diverse bands the world over. Here's a selection of his stuff:
for a comp of Brisbane bands for Melbourne rulers Fire Witch Kloakao from Spain Ryokuchi from Japan record shops didn't like this Blood Duster cover some Hard-Ons stuff
(Cheers for this Ray, see ya out soon.)
Finally, best AC/DC cover ever...
Editor's Note: First post from our new teammate Aylmer, creator and curator of the always-fascinating Unflinching Eye. We thank him for his contribution, and also for finally making IllCon an international affair. Fuck yeah.
Not even funny anymore.
I give you "The Parrothead".
Give me your keys, Terry.
A Jimmy Buffet concert is a wretched hive of scum and villainy every bit as horrifying as an ICP concert. I can tell you firsthand, as I have witnessed the aftermath of just such a gathering on more than one occasion. Drunken housewives stumbling about in a haze of stoned obsolescence, leaning on their fat, comfortable, obnoxious Republican husbands -- Weekend Warriors in the foulest sense of the term, doomed to a life of boredom and mindless consumerism punctuated by only the cheapest of "thrills". Foul, foul creatures.
That's right. Parrotheads are the new Juggalos. And by "new Juggalos", I mean "old Juggalos". Sure, Jimmy Buffet might not have the pathetic cadre of coattail-riding "opening bands" that ICP does ((Hed)P.E., Coolio, Kittie, etc...), but I'll tell you what he DOES have: COVER BANDS. That's right, The Coral Reefer Band (GET IT! HAW HAW!) has inspired a legion of pretenders, among them Garratt Wilkin & The Parrotheads and Davey & The Waverunners ("fronted by Davey Werkhiser fron the popular 80's band Magnum!"). It's a dark, sick, depressing world that these Parrotheads live in.
God, how I hate them.
Are Carrot Top fans called Carrotheads? Does Carrot Top HAVE fans?
Jimmy Buffett concert or Tea Party rally?
Personal vendetta? Possibly.
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