Whether it's your first Bonnaroo or you’re a music festival veteran, we welcome you to Inforoo.
Here you'll find info about artists, rumors, camping tips, and the infamous Roo Clues. Have a look around then create an account and join in the fun. See you at Bonnaroo!!
YOU BETTER CALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL SOMEBODYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!
Greetings, goons! Just your pal THE BIG CAPP DOGG back to check in on his favorite group of pungent dungeon dwellers. Hope you all enjoyed the New Year. While you were all standing alone at some concert, hoping the music would fill the endless void that is your pitiful precious life, ol' Ashley was living it up at The Farman's yearly shindig. Every year on December 31st, Farman trucks in a dozen or so ladies, all of whom are named Eve, and forces them to cater to every whim of his partygoers. Then, when the ball drops, he has them all draw a weapon from a sack and makes them fight to the death for his amusement. Weird guy, but until you've see two broads clawing at each other with a couple rusty candlesticks, you haven't lived. And my pardon for the new handle, but the sick totalitarians who run this Den of Despair seem to have a problem with your buddy A.C. here! (R.I.P. largehatcanine) Anyway, I can only imagine that you've begun the annual ritual of tearing each other to pieces just for any juicy NUGGETS about the lineup you can get your filthy, chicken-grease covered hands on. So, I figured I'd saunter on in and hit you with a jet of hot, sticky truth, right to the mouth part of your face!
Now, I know you misfits are still sore over the price hike, and that you're doubting Smashley's ability to land the big tuna for this year. But you got it all wrong, baby! Sure, we jacked up the prices and yeah, most of that extra cash has already made it's way to Minsk by way of a private courier weighed down with many unmarked rubles. And okay, pretty much none of that scratch went anywhere near the lineup, or the stages, or the farm in any way, shape or form. But that doesn't mean we can't still put on the hootenanniest, bleep-bloopin' fest you've seen this side of Gulf Shores, Alabama! You mindless clever mongrels sunflowers saw the CLOOS. Would a cash-strapped, financially insolvent enterprise go out and track down the HOTTEST and MOST ORIGINAL acts you've ever seen? Houndmouth! Flume! Turtled by Tramples! Bleachers? The War on Drugs! Caribou! I can guarantee you that these are the kinda acts you won't be able to see anywhere but Bonnaroo, 2015, and certainly not at any of the dozens of festivals popping up all over the country. No sir, that's a CAPP DOGG EXCLUSIVE. We left the presale open, so go ahead and buy those tickets, folks. Do you really want to take the chance that Tollett and the rest of his degenerate southern California cronies didn't lock down these acts? I personally wouldn't even want to get within 1000 miles of Tollett's operation. Did you know those polo grounds are a disease control center 11 months out of the year! Yikes. So go ahead and buy your Roo ticket today. Bonnaroo 2015: You Have To Watch Kings of Leon But At Least You Won't Contract a Rare and Incurable Disease. PUT IT ON THE T-SHIRTS.
But have no fear! Sure, we didn't get Prince, or the Rolling Stones, or Daft Punkz, or Beyonce, but if you like old white guys, last year's hottest sounds, maybe 2 or 3 different DJs, and mandolins, mandolins, mandolins, then you're in the right place! Mumford & Sons! Arcade Fire! John Mayer! Bassnectar! This is cutting edge stuff. Hush all that silly jibbering about going to other fests. Come to Bonnarooz, where we RADIATE POSITIVITY and have the BONNAROOVIAN CODE. Screens at the stages? Shade? Water that doesn't taste like Beelzebub's ejaculate? A schedule that doesn't make you want to jab a grapefruit spoon into your eye? WHO NEEDS IT. So come on out to Uncle Ashley's Retreadarama, buy yourself some shitty pizza with canned jalapenos dropped haphazardly on it Spicy Pie, and stand there noodle dancing in the hot sun until you can't do that thing anymore.
Capp Dogg out, suckers. See you when the lineup drops. It'll be "fun." (STILL GOT IT!)
YOU BETTER CALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL SOMEBODYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!
Greetings, goons! Just your pal THE BIG CAPP DOGG back to check in on his favorite group of pungent dungeon dwellers. Hope you all enjoyed the New Year. While you were all standing alone at some concert, hoping the music would fill the endless void that is your pitiful precious life, ol' Ashley was living it up at The Farman's yearly shindig. Every year on December 31st, Farman trucks in a dozen or so ladies, all of whom are named Eve, and forces them to cater to every whim of his partygoers. Then, when the ball drops, he has them all draw a weapon from a sack and makes them fight to the death for his amusement. Weird guy, but until you've see two broads clawing at each other with a couple rusty candlesticks, you haven't lived. And my pardon for the new handle, but the sick totalitarians who run this Den of Despair seem to have a problem with your buddy A.C. here! (R.I.P. largehatcanine) Anyway, I can only imagine that you've begun the annual ritual of tearing each other to pieces just for any juicy NUGGETS about the lineup you can get your filthy, chicken-grease covered hands on. So, I figured I'd saunter on in and hit you with a jet of hot, sticky truth, right to the mouth part of your face!
Now, I know you misfits are still sore over the price hike, and that you're doubting Smashley's ability to land the big tuna for this year. But you got it all wrong, baby! Sure, we jacked up the prices and yeah, most of that extra cash has already made it's way to Minsk by way of a private courier weighed down with many unmarked rubles. And okay, pretty much none of that scratch went anywhere near the lineup, or the stages, or the farm in any way, shape or form. But that doesn't mean we can't still put on the hootenanniest, bleep-bloopin' fest you've seen this side of Gulf Shores, Alabama! You mindless clever mongrels sunflowers saw the CLOOS. Would a cash-strapped, financially insolvent enterprise go out and track down the HOTTEST and MOST ORIGINAL acts you've ever seen? Houndmouth! Flume! Turtled by Tramples! Bleachers? The War on Drugs! Caribou! I can guarantee you that these are the kinda acts you won't be able to see anywhere but Bonnaroo, 2015, and certainly not at any of the dozens of festivals popping up all over the country. No sir, that's a CAPP DOGG EXCLUSIVE. We left the presale open, so go ahead and buy those tickets, folks. Do you really want to take the chance that Tollett and the rest of his degenerate southern California cronies didn't lock down these acts? I personally wouldn't even want to get within 1000 miles of Tollett's operation. Did you know those polo grounds are a disease control center 11 months out of the year! Yikes. So go ahead and buy your Roo ticket today. Bonnaroo 2015: You Have To Watch Kings of Leon But At Least You Won't Contract a Rare and Incurable Disease. PUT IT ON THE T-SHIRTS.
But have no fear! Sure, we didn't get Prince, or the Rolling Stones, or Daft Punkz, or Beyonce, but if you like old white guys, last year's hottest sounds, maybe 2 or 3 different DJs, and mandolins, mandolins, mandolins, then you're in the right place! Mumford & Sons! Arcade Fire! John Mayer! Bassnectar! This is cutting edge stuff. Hush all that silly jibbering about going to other fests. Come to Bonnarooz, where we RADIATE POSITIVITY and have the BONNAROOVIAN CODE. Screens at the stages? Shade? Water that doesn't taste like Beelzebub's ejaculate? A schedule that doesn't make you want to jab a grapefruit spoon into your eye? WHO NEEDS IT. So come on out to Uncle Ashley's Retreadarama, buy yourself some shitty pizza with canned jalapenos dropped haphazardly on it Spicy Pie, and stand there noodle dancing in the hot sun until you can't do that thing anymore.
Capp Dogg out, suckers. See you when the lineup drops. It'll be "fun." (STILL GOT IT!)
Woulda been more fun. if you hadn't cheaped out on Drake, jerk.
Beelzebub's ejaculate needs to make into the Brooer's Tent.
That's a horrible idea. Some ovulating drunk girls spills some in her vajayjay and, before you know it, Satan's spawn is harvesting souls at Bonnaroo. Is that really what you want?
YOU BETTER CALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL SOMEBODYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!
Greetings, goons! Just your pal THE BIG CAPP DOGG back to check in on his favorite group of pungent dungeon dwellers. Hope you all enjoyed the New Year. While you were all standing alone at some concert, hoping the music would fill the endless void that is your pitiful precious life, ol' Ashley was living it up at The Farman's yearly shindig. Every year on December 31st, Farman trucks in a dozen or so ladies, all of whom are named Eve, and forces them to cater to every whim of his partygoers. Then, when the ball drops, he has them all draw a weapon from a sack and makes them fight to the death for his amusement. Weird guy, but until you've see two broads clawing at each other with a couple rusty candlesticks, you haven't lived. And my pardon for the new handle, but the sick totalitarians who run this Den of Despair seem to have a problem with your buddy A.C. here! (R.I.P. largehatcanine) Anyway, I can only imagine that you've begun the annual ritual of tearing each other to pieces just for any juicy NUGGETS about the lineup you can get your filthy, chicken-grease covered hands on. So, I figured I'd saunter on in and hit you with a jet of hot, sticky truth, right to the mouth part of your face!
Now, I know you misfits are still sore over the price hike, and that you're doubting Smashley's ability to land the big tuna for this year. But you got it all wrong, baby! Sure, we jacked up the prices and yeah, most of that extra cash has already made it's way to Minsk by way of a private courier weighed down with many unmarked rubles. And okay, pretty much none of that scratch went anywhere near the lineup, or the stages, or the farm in any way, shape or form. But that doesn't mean we can't still put on the hootenanniest, bleep-bloopin' fest you've seen this side of Gulf Shores, Alabama! You mindless clever mongrels sunflowers saw the CLOOS. Would a cash-strapped, financially insolvent enterprise go out and track down the HOTTEST and MOST ORIGINAL acts you've ever seen? Houndmouth! Flume! Turtled by Tramples! Bleachers? The War on Drugs! Caribou! I can guarantee you that these are the kinda acts you won't be able to see anywhere but Bonnaroo, 2015, and certainly not at any of the dozens of festivals popping up all over the country. No sir, that's a CAPP DOGG EXCLUSIVE. We left the presale open, so go ahead and buy those tickets, folks. Do you really want to take the chance that Tollett and the rest of his degenerate southern California cronies didn't lock down these acts? I personally wouldn't even want to get within 1000 miles of Tollett's operation. Did you know those polo grounds are a disease control center 11 months out of the year! Yikes. So go ahead and buy your Roo ticket today. Bonnaroo 2015: You Have To Watch Kings of Leon But At Least You Won't Contract a Rare and Incurable Disease. PUT IT ON THE T-SHIRTS.
But have no fear! Sure, we didn't get Prince, or the Rolling Stones, or Daft Punkz, or Beyonce, but if you like old white guys, last year's hottest sounds, maybe 2 or 3 different DJs, and mandolins, mandolins, mandolins, then you're in the right place! Mumford & Sons! Arcade Fire! John Mayer! Bassnectar! This is cutting edge stuff. Hush all that silly jibbering about going to other fests. Come to Bonnarooz, where we RADIATE POSITIVITY and have the BONNAROOVIAN CODE. Screens at the stages? Shade? Water that doesn't taste like Beelzebub's ejaculate? A schedule that doesn't make you want to jab a grapefruit spoon into your eye? WHO NEEDS IT. So come on out to Uncle Ashley's Retreadarama, buy yourself some shitty pizza with canned jalapenos dropped haphazardly on it Spicy Pie, and stand there noodle dancing in the hot sun until you can't do that thing anymore.
Capp Dogg out, suckers. See you when the lineup drops. It'll be "fun." (STILL GOT IT!)
LOL omg I so did not see this coming. When I hit the spoiler button I immediately busted a gut and started crying.
I love that Ashley Capps took Jugg's lead, and started doing this. Whats even better, is that the mods keep banning the founder of Bonnaroo from posting on these message boards, that are solely devoted to the festival, he created.
YOU BETTER CALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL SOMEBODYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!
Greetings, goons! Just your pal THE BIG CAPP DOGG back to check in on his favorite group of pungent dungeon dwellers. Hope you all enjoyed the New Year. While you were all standing alone at some concert, hoping the music would fill the endless void that is your pitiful precious life, ol' Ashley was living it up at The Farman's yearly shindig. Every year on December 31st, Farman trucks in a dozen or so ladies, all of whom are named Eve, and forces them to cater to every whim of his partygoers. Then, when the ball drops, he has them all draw a weapon from a sack and makes them fight to the death for his amusement. Weird guy, but until you've see two broads clawing at each other with a couple rusty candlesticks, you haven't lived. And my pardon for the new handle, but the sick totalitarians who run this Den of Despair seem to have a problem with your buddy A.C. here! (R.I.P. largehatcanine) Anyway, I can only imagine that you've begun the annual ritual of tearing each other to pieces just for any juicy NUGGETS about the lineup you can get your filthy, chicken-grease covered hands on. So, I figured I'd saunter on in and hit you with a jet of hot, sticky truth, right to the mouth part of your face!
Now, I know you misfits are still sore over the price hike, and that you're doubting Smashley's ability to land the big tuna for this year. But you got it all wrong, baby! Sure, we jacked up the prices and yeah, most of that extra cash has already made it's way to Minsk by way of a private courier weighed down with many unmarked rubles. And okay, pretty much none of that scratch went anywhere near the lineup, or the stages, or the farm in any way, shape or form. But that doesn't mean we can't still put on the hootenanniest, bleep-bloopin' fest you've seen this side of Gulf Shores, Alabama! You mindless clever mongrels sunflowers saw the CLOOS. Would a cash-strapped, financially insolvent enterprise go out and track down the HOTTEST and MOST ORIGINAL acts you've ever seen? Houndmouth! Flume! Turtled by Tramples! Bleachers? The War on Drugs! Caribou! I can guarantee you that these are the kinda acts you won't be able to see anywhere but Bonnaroo, 2015, and certainly not at any of the dozens of festivals popping up all over the country. No sir, that's a CAPP DOGG EXCLUSIVE. We left the presale open, so go ahead and buy those tickets, folks. Do you really want to take the chance that Tollett and the rest of his degenerate southern California cronies didn't lock down these acts? I personally wouldn't even want to get within 1000 miles of Tollett's operation. Did you know those polo grounds are a disease control center 11 months out of the year! Yikes. So go ahead and buy your Roo ticket today. Bonnaroo 2015: You Have To Watch Kings of Leon But At Least You Won't Contract a Rare and Incurable Disease. PUT IT ON THE T-SHIRTS.
But have no fear! Sure, we didn't get Prince, or the Rolling Stones, or Daft Punkz, or Beyonce, but if you like old white guys, last year's hottest sounds, maybe 2 or 3 different DJs, and mandolins, mandolins, mandolins, then you're in the right place! Mumford & Sons! Arcade Fire! John Mayer! Bassnectar! This is cutting edge stuff. Hush all that silly jibbering about going to other fests. Come to Bonnarooz, where we RADIATE POSITIVITY and have the BONNAROOVIAN CODE. Screens at the stages? Shade? Water that doesn't taste like Beelzebub's ejaculate? A schedule that doesn't make you want to jab a grapefruit spoon into your eye? WHO NEEDS IT. So come on out to Uncle Ashley's Retreadarama, buy yourself some shitty pizza with canned jalapenos dropped haphazardly on it Spicy Pie, and stand there noodle dancing in the hot sun until you can't do that thing anymore.
Capp Dogg out, suckers. See you when the lineup drops. It'll be "fun." (STILL GOT IT!)
LOL omg I so did not see this coming. When I hit the spoiler button I immediately busted a gut and started crying.
Well. Fucking. Played.
First time actually really looking at that picture closly. Those two girls gotta be sisters, right? its in the nose.
Beelzebub's ejaculate needs to make into the Brooer's Tent.
That's a horrible idea. Some ovulating drunk girls spills some in her vajayjay and, before you know it, Satan's spawn is harvesting souls at Bonnaroo. Is that really what you want?
How is that different from any other year? I mean Jesus was even selling mind altering chemical substances in which the federal and state government have decided should be less than legal.
YOU BETTER CALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL SOMEBODYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!
Greetings, goons! Just your pal THE BIG CAPP DOGG back to check in on his favorite group of pungent dungeon dwellers. Hope you all enjoyed the New Year. While you were all standing alone at some concert, hoping the music would fill the endless void that is your pitiful precious life, ol' Ashley was living it up at The Farman's yearly shindig. Every year on December 31st, Farman trucks in a dozen or so ladies, all of whom are named Eve, and forces them to cater to every whim of his partygoers. Then, when the ball drops, he has them all draw a weapon from a sack and makes them fight to the death for his amusement. Weird guy, but until you've see two broads clawing at each other with a couple rusty candlesticks, you haven't lived. And my pardon for the new handle, but the sick totalitarians who run this Den of Despair seem to have a problem with your buddy A.C. here! (R.I.P. largehatcanine) Anyway, I can only imagine that you've begun the annual ritual of tearing each other to pieces just for any juicy NUGGETS about the lineup you can get your filthy, chicken-grease covered hands on. So, I figured I'd saunter on in and hit you with a jet of hot, sticky truth, right to the mouth part of your face!
Now, I know you misfits are still sore over the price hike, and that you're doubting Smashley's ability to land the big tuna for this year. But you got it all wrong, baby! Sure, we jacked up the prices and yeah, most of that extra cash has already made it's way to Minsk by way of a private courier weighed down with many unmarked rubles. And okay, pretty much none of that scratch went anywhere near the lineup, or the stages, or the farm in any way, shape or form. But that doesn't mean we can't still put on the hootenanniest, bleep-bloopin' fest you've seen this side of Gulf Shores, Alabama! You mindless clever mongrels sunflowers saw the CLOOS. Would a cash-strapped, financially insolvent enterprise go out and track down the HOTTEST and MOST ORIGINAL acts you've ever seen? Houndmouth! Flume! Turtled by Tramples! Bleachers? The War on Drugs! Caribou! I can guarantee you that these are the kinda acts you won't be able to see anywhere but Bonnaroo, 2015, and certainly not at any of the dozens of festivals popping up all over the country. No sir, that's a CAPP DOGG EXCLUSIVE. We left the presale open, so go ahead and buy those tickets, folks. Do you really want to take the chance that Tollett and the rest of his degenerate southern California cronies didn't lock down these acts? I personally wouldn't even want to get within 1000 miles of Tollett's operation. Did you know those polo grounds are a disease control center 11 months out of the year! Yikes. So go ahead and buy your Roo ticket today. Bonnaroo 2015: You Have To Watch Kings of Leon But At Least You Won't Contract a Rare and Incurable Disease. PUT IT ON THE T-SHIRTS.
But have no fear! Sure, we didn't get Prince, or the Rolling Stones, or Daft Punkz, or Beyonce, but if you like old white guys, last year's hottest sounds, maybe 2 or 3 different DJs, and mandolins, mandolins, mandolins, then you're in the right place! Mumford & Sons! Arcade Fire! John Mayer! Bassnectar! This is cutting edge stuff. Hush all that silly jibbering about going to other fests. Come to Bonnarooz, where we RADIATE POSITIVITY and have the BONNAROOVIAN CODE. Screens at the stages? Shade? Water that doesn't taste like Beelzebub's ejaculate? A schedule that doesn't make you want to jab a grapefruit spoon into your eye? WHO NEEDS IT. So come on out to Uncle Ashley's Retreadarama, buy yourself some shitty pizza with canned jalapenos dropped haphazardly on it Spicy Pie, and stand there noodle dancing in the hot sun until you can't do that thing anymore.
Capp Dogg out, suckers. See you when the lineup drops. It'll be "fun." (STILL GOT IT!)
