Vhat ze fuck?
In Beyond the Pleasure Principle, one of Sigmund Freud's most controversial texts, the renowned cigar smoker postulated that people have a tendency to seek pleasure and avoid pain. A pretty straightforward conclusion if you've ever spent time at a county fair. However, he went on to argue that there also exists a "death wish" or "death drive" that can lead to dangerous or self-destructive behavior. In the ninety years since it's publication, the existence of the Freudian "death wish" has been hotly debated amongst his disciples and the profession as a whole.
Freud based much of his research on World War I veterans, and their self-destructive reactions to the trauma they'd endured. Now, we don't know the perfect modern day recreation of the horrific battlefield conditions seen at Verdun or the Somme, but the Gathering of the Juggalos has got to be close. Imagine the Lilith Fair except full of angry, disenfranchised white trash abortions. This annual get together of Darwin's footnotes is hosted by the rap duo Insane Clown Posse although when two guys started qualifying as a posse is anyone's guess. We'll let the group's lyrics speak for themselves:
I'd grab your titties and stretch em down past your waist
Let em go, and watch em both spring up in your face
I'd sing love songs to you, the best I can
Get you naked, and hit it like a CAVEMAN!!!
Apart from reinforcing the stereotype that white boys have no flow, we are shocked to learn that ICP's fans are largely men and that the Gathering of the Juggalos is also known as the Grinding of the JimmyDean. Apparently misogynistic lyrics, wearing clown makeup and throwing rocks at each other doesn't attract the ladies the way it used to. Seriously, can we suggest a World of Warcraft account, a six of Mike's Hard Lemonade and a Pauly Shore t-shirt as a step in the right direction?
Enter the Juggalettes' Revenge (not making that up). A Ladies Night event intended to give ICP's legions of female fans an equal chance to feel empowered...or something. An idea so shockingly bad that even Lil Kim backed out. But apparently it didn't seem like a bad an idea to Tila Tequila. No, she signed right up saying, "'Hell yeah! I'm down with the Juggalos!" Now the simple answer is that Ms. Tequila thought that as the 4'11" daughter of Vietnamese immigrants who through constant nudity and indecipherable sexual orientation had risen to quasi-reality TV celebrity status, she would no doubt be embraced by a group that shelve their copies of Mein Kampf next to the Bible. And that the imminent release of her oft delayed debut album needed the synergy of an open air Planned Parenthood rally to give it some street cred.
That's the simple answer, but we think the answer is a corollary to Freud's work - call it the "celebrity death wish" or "Evel Knievel Syndrome." Loosely defined as: the irresistible urge to do something catastrophically stupid and dangerous when the quasi-celebrity achieves self-awareness and recognizes their own pointlessness. When that moment arrives, the public figure in question immediately signs up for a Curt Cobain Firearms Safety course and the countdown begins. O.J. Simpson's low speed white bronco police chase is textbook Evel Knievel Syndrome as is Michael Jackson's pill popping, Gus Frerotte's headbutting a stadium and the X-Games.
But does Tila's ill-fated performance qualify? Consider the evidence. Among the items flung at Ms. Tequila: rocks, eggs, cans, bottles and dildos. Yes, that's dildos plural. Multiple dildos were lobbed at her although none struck her. Must have been one hell of a security checkpoint to get into the show. Ask yourself where they hid them. And why dildos, you might ask? Most likely because Shaggy 2 Dope (one half of the posse) told a thousand Juggalos the day before that, "I'll throw my dick at her." Must have a newer edition of Emily Post with the updated section on how to victimize your guests.
|Emily Post advises only throwing half-full liquor bottles.|
So it wasn't as if she wasn't warned ahead of time that she was walking into a rogue's gallery of Anthony Burgess' rejects. It was an ugly scene by all accounts and the shuddering, slobbering beasts in the pit were starved for human blood. And still still she went onstage. But when it became clear that the Juggalo weren't going to light her on fire, why did she feel the need to goad them into it by shooting Silly String into the crowd, screaming "I don't give a fuck" and yanking off her top? Was it because she thought that what this sausage fest needed was bare breasts to cool them out? So again, we ask you gentle reader, innocent lapse in judgment or proof that Freud was onto something? Has Ms. Tequila achieved self-awareness and is now trying to fling herself under a bus Corey Haim-style? If it's true then we should expect to see Tila deejaying Taliban birthday parties in the very near future. Time to light that cigar, Sigmund.