Feeling the Winter Blues? Look Forward to This Summer’s Squonkapalooza
Held in Johnstown, the annual festival celebrates a sad, piglike Pennsylvania cryptid known as the Squonk.
PHOTO COURTESY OF SQUONKAPALOOZA
According to Pennsylvania folklore, the Squonk is a piglike, melancholic cryptid that roams the Commonwealth weeping and, when frightened, dissolves into a puddle of tears.
The Squonk should be the official mascot of Seasonal Affective Disorder.
For now, at least, it’s got its own festival.
PHOTO COURTESY OF SQUONKAPALOOZA
The fourth annual Squonkapalooza will take place on Saturday, Aug. 1 at the Bottle Works Ethnic Arts Center in Johnstown, about 70 miles east of Pittsburgh. The day includes speakers, vendors, live music and performances, cosplay, photo opportunities, children’s activities, concessions and games, including the Best Compliment Contest, where participants spout uplifting one-liners in an attempt to cheer up the perpetual crybaby.
I need that kind of encouragement on a daily basis — not to mention a Squonk Burger topped with pulled pork and bacon.
Artists and co-founders Joe Fogle and Lisa Russell describe the event as an all-ages, family-friendly cryptid carnival that promotes positivity. The friends were inspired by other creature conventions in the area, including the Kecksburg UFO Festival and gatherings in West Virginia that celebrate Mothman and Bigfoot. I visited a mythological miniature golf course in the Mountain State that can elevate anyone’s mood.
Although the Squonk’s not as popular as Sasquatch (who has a brewery in Monroeville!), the inaugural Squonkapalooza drew about a thousand people. In 2026, they’re expecting between 3,000 and 4,000 folklore enthusiasts in need of a hug.
Fogle says people find the Squonk relatable. You’ll often find Russell in her handmade Squonk costume, working the crowd for affirmations.
The shy, self-conscious loner sure sounds like a Gen Xer, but first appeared in print more than a century ago in “Fearsome Creatures of the Lumberwoods, With a Few Desert and Mountain Beasts,” a fantasy field guide written by William Cox.
The legend of the forest-dwellling Debbie Downer eventually made its way to Johnstown, where Fogle was raised on comic books, ghost stories and campfire tales.
“The Squonk isn’t a big, scary supernatural monster; it’s kind of this sad, little being. Growing up, most of us were part of the outsider groups — the nerds, the geeks, the ones who didn’t fit in. We’re all just Squonks inside,” says Fogle, who really needs to put that last sentence on a T-shirt.
PHOTO COURTESY OF SQUONKAPALOOZA
Squonkapalooza is basically a group therapy session.
This week, as I dug my car out from a mountain of snow, I made a vow to attend the summer festival so I can soak up the sun with other mopey misfits, a.k.a. Gloomers. In the meantime, I’ll try to boost my serotonin levels at SAD BAR, a wellness-focused pop-up designed to fight Seasonal Affective Disorder.
Located at 3701 Forbes Ave. in Oakland, SAD BAR serves non-alcoholic cocktails in the glow of warm spectrum lighting. You can fight the winter blues from 5 to 10 p.m. Thursday through Saturday and 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. Sunday.
I can’t wait to sit under a Vitamin D lamp and raise a zero-proof drink to my hero, the Squonk!
