Dear Stabby – 3Jan2021

< For Juggalo advice, email dearstabbi@gmail.com! >

Dear Stabby,
What up you freaky, stab-happy bitch!?
I like a girl with a little bit of crazy. How’s about you send me some skins through this here email? Send me some succulent shots of them titties and neden! Whatta say?
But FUCK ALL THAT for a second. There are serious matters to attend to. I’ve got a problem… maybe you can help me. I STA… wait, no…
I am upper management at an underground music label. One I’m sure all Juggalos would be familiar with.
Continue reading “Dear Stabby – 3Jan2021”

Dear Stabby – 20Dec2020

< For Juggalo advice, email dearstabbi@gmail.com! >

Dear Stabby,
Please help me. I woke up this morning and found out I was alive. I have heard this is a terminal condition, in many cases, curable only by death. I don’t know how cope. It is affecting my entire exsistance. I have never been through this before, I’m now a sickly shadow of who I once was. All I know is that I cannot live this way. Please, please…. any help would be appreciated.
-Ennui in Ontario

Hi Ennui!
Um. So, my probation officer told me I have start this letter by saying the National Suicide Prevention Helpline is 1-800-273-8255 or else I’ll get violated again.
But allow me to evoke a powerful quote from the mighty Dark Lotus: “Death Don’t Want No Juggalo”! And while this is true, The Dark Carnival provides many ways for you to alleviate your symptoms as well as agreeable mentors to prepare you for living your best unlife! Blaze Ya Dead Homie teaches us that you can still be a G long after your pulse has passed. If your posthumous aspirations lean more toward the ethereal, Ouija Macc claims to be a ghost, and since I have it on good authority that boy’s number one fear on the planet are Ghostbusters, I’m apt to believe him! The takeaway here is that when the burden of breath gets to be a bit much, you can always turn to the transformative power of music to pivot away from all that and bring you closer to the Unknowable Other! Take it from me: Music is where it’s at. All the rest is just noise.
Keep Rockin’ the Dead,
Stabby