"In politics stupidity is not a handicap."--Napoleon Bonaparte

Are we really any different than ancient Rome?

You know what the hell I'm talking about so let's cut the bullshit.

We have entered Juggalo political hell, where the Screech Owl on the Left doesn't need Juggalo face paint and Daddy's Little Juggalo on the Right scares even Pittsburgh's evilest bad clowns. I went to the RNC last week. Talked to a lotta people left, right and center and not a single one of 'em isn't in a grim place about this election in this time in America.

Let it be said Thursday night, Public Square in Cleveland, anticipated epicenter of Protest, USA, was one of the most relaxed, mellow even joyful scenes of Americans not particularly angry with each other. Political opposites were actuallytalking to each other.

Festiveness reigned, silly signs of protest were carried straight-faced ("Cargo shorts are sinful"). Free hugs were plentiful. Maybe one anti-Trump guy went Juggalo Detroit. But a free hugger calmed him down. Nice.

However, we can agree everything about American culture has gone low-end Juggalo in the last quarter-century, right?

We have fallen on hard times, people--Juggalo times.

Behold the Juggalo--what is it? where does it feed? what are its migratory patterns? should it be domesticated? or shot on sight?

Detroit-born, white garbage-pail kids gone gang-bangin', left to their own devices so they stole everything in sight, including hip-hop and coming up with the bright idea of committing liquor-store robberies in face-paint while rhymin' as best as they could given their single-digit i.q.'s.--Juggalos.

Partly myth, obviously (but not by much), the phenomenon grew from two poverty-stricken Detroit semi-bad-asses who took to rhyming hip-hop with horror movie lyrics, calling themselves Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope--or the Insane Clown Posse. I've seen 'em several times, label-mates Twizted, too, as well as their Juggalo World Championship Wrestling (hilarious!).

Hence the deep concept of wicked clowns spittin'Texas Chainsaw Massacre-like scenarios set in the meth-gang basements of burnt-out Motor City. Horror-core, the critics call it. Birthed like theAlien baby back in '91, right about the time the White House was a laser-gleam in Bill Clinton's eye, Hillary was clenching his coattails in her Methodist Gospel teeth for dear life and Donald Trump was starting out pretending to be a publicist bragging about Donald Trump to the Washington Post. (True story, that).

Time to localize the story: Ohio has become the epicenter for the Battle of the Soul of America--what's left of it.

Was it any coincidence the Republican National Convention was held in Cleveland, the true capital of the country's number one battleground swing state?

Was itany coincidence the Insane Clown Posse's Gathering of the Juggalos was held at Legend Valley right outside Columbus? Coincidence that, like the RNC, the Gathering of Detroit's detritus was alsofour days long--and in the very same week?

Is it any coincidence that Bill Clinton's current trim coordinator, Jeffrey Epstein of Lolita Express fame, has an office in New Albany?

Is it an accident of the universe you're reading this?

Let's deal with the Juggalo Conspiracy, folks.

Trump's hair already now looks like that early Juggalo, Don King's. Hillary sounds like a screech owl and needs no mask. Bill is The Great Milenko of American politicians, a born Juggalo grifter from Arkansas. Does he still play sax?

And what do they all have in common--Trump, King, the Clintons, I.C.P.?

The Hustlers Code!

Which is: don't talk about crime, commit them!

Commit them while you're talking about making America Juggalo again; commit them while you spend all your time trying to convince America you didn't commit them; commit them destroying hip-hop while spin-throwing Faygo litre bottles at your fans.

Welcome to Hustlers' America, the movie...the meal. We're being eaten alive--and we know it! We've seen this episode before--Dallas, season six, when J.R.'s entire family married hedge fund managers and then sold off Texas foreign policy to the highest bidders!

Because we spawned these bastards, we unfortunately have come to like these bastards. I never had a problem with Bill Clinton back then. I used to review the Insane Clown Posse for The Other Paper (I actually liked Twiztid a band whose beats never progress past the Beastie Boys first album and that's alright with me) and I saw the Juggalo World Championship Wrestling at the Newport when a woman threw her cellphone at one of the wrestlers as he was being introduced, smashing him in the temple and staggering him as he bled like a stuck pig--how Roman!

As for Trump, he was bumptious and ridiculous firing people like his penis was God but I admired his chutzpah.

So now it's time to get serious.

As neither a Democrat or Republican but a motorcycling independent, I must go with the Juggalo from Buffalo (I know he isn't from there, I just liked the vague New York-ness and the sound of it)--Donald Juggalo.

And here's why.

Donald-o is genuinely funny. I laughed like hell when he asked the Russians to find Hillary's 'lost' 30,000 emails--and her people fell for it, all but admitting there WAS classified info in 'em. Smart like a fox, that Donaldo. Plus timing and showmanship. Much needed at the federal level.

·         He's a Juggalo loudmouth, aggressively obnoxious. But it's a total smokescreen keeping his enemies off guard. See George Patton.

·         Flexibility. Trumpalo is renown for changing business tactics on a dime, forgoing plans when he sees a better opportunity. Hillalo is about as limber as an Egyptian skull mummy.

·         Main reason, though, he is the Perfect Magic Juggalo: his ego.

Yes, his ego is the problem--but it's also the cure.His ego will not let him leave the presidency as a loser! When his anti-trade protectionist policies fail, he'll tact center and revitalize the economy hotter than a Taco truck's lunch hour (it's an economy waiting to be turbo-charged, btw).

I have lived among the Juggalos. I know them good, bad and ugly. They accept me, and I them. I have even taken a Juggalo wife, several of them actually. One must have a keen eye for the Juggalos true character for they can be shifty, having grown up in sewers real as well as metaphysical.

As an example of the Juggalo mind's child-like honesty, behold these lyrics from ICP's "Miracles" a song expressing their awe and wonder at the beautiful mysteries of the universe:

"Water, fire, air & dirt/Fucking magnets, how do they work?"

See what I mean? Isn't that touching? Juggalos are real, they feel--the better ones, anyway. Donaldo is just such a juggalo. All others are just grifting Juggalos passing through. And besides, when hasn't a politician spoken to us with words that innocent, simple and mouth-breather-esque in the last 50 years? We're hitting rock bottom, people, may as well do it in style--Juggalo style.

So cheer up! Rome survived Caligula and worse. Happy days are almost here again.