This past weekend, the American Heartland played host to the many faces of our splintered culture, inviting them to unite behind the notorious harlequin mask of the Juggalos. For more than a decade now, The Gathering of the Juggalos has tended and entertained thousands of devoted travelers, determined to experience its distinct vortex of music, violence and low culture.
Even so, as a child, my mother urged me to pick up the racket. For God’s sake, it’s one of the businessman’s sports. Indeed, to my mother, the tennis court was just another hoop to jump through on my way to a corner office at Goldman Sachs. Of course — just like my reign at Flushing Meadows—that indulgence never happened.