A few years back Blender magazine published a hotly debated list of what it considered the worst rock 'n' roll songs ever recorded.

A few years back Blender magazine published a hotly debated list of what it considered the worst rock 'n' roll songs ever recorded.

Heading said list was "We Built This City" by Starship — a terrible piece of work by any estimation, but, in this writer's opinion, far from the worst song of all time. I'd put "Achy Breaky Heart" and "Wheel in the Sky" by Journey above it.

I'm willing to bet when this list is revised in the coming years, "Miracles," a newish cut from Detroit's own Insane Clown Posse, will dethrone Starship.

Before I perform the autopsy on "Miracles," some background on Insane Clown Posse (ICP, as its dedicated fan base calls the band) is needed.

This CNN headline about a recent ICP concert tells you most of what you need to know about this band, its fan base and the disturbing and unrelentingly stupid reality in which both exist: "Tila Tequila suffers cuts, but escapes Juggalos attack."

I would think Ma and Pa Medford reading this column would look at this headline by America's No. 1 news source and say, "Tila Tequila? Juggalos? Attack? Huh?"

If you have no clue what the above statement means, well, congratulations for choosing to buffer yourself from the degenerate white trash culture surrounding the likes of ICP and Tila Tequila.

Tila is a throw-away reality TV star who made a stage appearance at ICP's annual Gathering of the Juggalos, the trailer trash answer to Burning Man and Woodstock.

Juggalos view the work of ICP as providing "catharsis through aggression." They delve into ICP's hopelessly convoluted mythology, which has something to do with a Dark Carnival and joker trading cards, as well as hidden images in the band's CD packaging. I tried to research this mythology on various Juggalo websites but stopped after three minutes, as a dull ache suddenly appeared behind my right eye as I read testimonials describing ICP's plot to overthrow the globe via Juggalo revolt.

It must be mentioned that Juggalos imitate the band they worship by wearing clown makeup and favoring the soft drink libation Faygo. During ICP shows, hundreds of gallons of Faygo are sprayed into the crowd, as if the Juggalos didn't grow up drinking enough of this syrupy fizz in their respective trailer parks.

Anyway, Tila faced a barrage of bottles during her "performance" before thousands of Juggalos. She had it coming. However, the Juggalos debased themselves even further by giving Method Man similar treatment. It hurts me to know one of the founders of the legendary Wu-Tang Clan showed at a Juggalo event. Times must be hard for Method.

ICP's music is brutish and dumb in ways that make you hope the 2012 prophecies are real and humanity will be wiped from the face of the Earth so we will not create another ICP when this one is gone.

Its lyrics are fused with simplistic rap cadences and production values any sixth-grader could engineer on a Casio 37-key keyboard. They also trade in misogyny and seem obsessed with "crackheads" and their "homies."

Yet, their most vile songs take a backseat to their attempt at wholesome levity in "Miracles." The basic conceit of this tune is that the world we live in is a beautiful, wonderful place and we should take time to appreciate it because one day, welp, gosh darn it, we're gonna die.

After a brief introduction about how we miss the miracles of everyday life, we get the lines, "We don't have to be high to look in the sky/ And know that's a miracle opened wide/ Look at the mountains, trees, the seven seas/ And everything chilling underwater, please/ Hot lava, snow, rain and fog/ Long neck giraffes, and pet cats and dogs."

Folks, that is the dregs of popular culture right there in six lines of badly rhymed rap issued from the degenerate mouths of clowns. Clowns, man. Think about that.

From there we get these sage musings on love and song: "Music is a lot like love, it's all a feeling/ And it fills the room, from the floor to the ceiling."

Yes, ICP, it really does. In fact, I feel oppressed by the amount of love filling the room I'm in right now. There's so much love here that I hope it begins to crush all the atoms surrounding me at the speed of light, thereby opening a supermassive black hole directly above America, and most importantly ICP's hometown of Detroit.

When you thought it couldn't get more bleak, you're confronted by this: "Stop and look around, it's all astounding/ Water, fire, air and dirt/ (Expletive) magnets, how do they work?"

Mind you, "We Built This City" contains the lyric "Knee deep in the hoopla sinking in your fight," which is about as mind-bogglingly stupid as anything you'd hear in "Miracles." But where "Miracles" excels is the relentless pace of its ignorance. The brutality is sustained for its entire four-minute running time, and longer if you count the crushing number it does on your world view.

The song is widely available on the Internet. Feel free to challenge me if you listen and find fault with my opinion. Good luck. You've been warned.

Reach reporter Chris Conrad at 541-776-4471; or e-mail cconrad@mailtribune.com.