jerks

I am sorry to pre-empt Ms. Anne Elizabeth Moore's blog entry in this spot, but I just wanted to say that I will not be able to attend tonight's talk at Red Emma's. Therefore, I am not just a jerk but a BIG jerk. Which most of you already knew anyway.

I am sorry, Ms. Moore--assuming, of course, that you indeed would welcome local representation from these very forums.

And this, so soon after your apparently disappointing engagement in the City of Brotherly Love...

Trusting that you will find your sojourn in Charm City hospitable nonetheless,
I remain,
Sincerely,
Todd (a/k/a Seitan)

i've got a beef with your robot marketing strategy of not buying ads and then pretending that you're all whatever and just posting youtube videos and links to freaking myspace pages as if we cared what you thought just because you found this site and came up with a nickname that is approximately as clever as anyone else's that posts here? which, you know, wouldn't probably bother you normally, except that i also have the ability to delete your stupid viral crap, and have begun to use it.

so here is my new rule, and i hope that anyone who posts here that actually isn't paid to do** so will weigh in with their opinions on this matter: if you are a jerk as outlined in the above paragraph, you can post exactly two pieces of ridiculous marketing bullshit (ben kweller's grandma? who gives a rat's ass?) and have the chance to respond like a decent person to all our polite messages urging you to behave like a respectful community member before i delete your dumb threads.

Dear Photographer From the Lawrence Arms Show Last Night,

While I understand that documenting this sort of thing (punk rock) as being incredibly important, the fact that you were taking pictures throughout the entire sets of the three bands that I saw while wearing a bright yellow shirt was just unacceptable. While I don't always agree with the rules and regulations for big arena shows, I now understand why photographers are made to leave the front of the stage after three songs or so.

Everywhere I looked on the stage, all I could see was your shirt, and then your arms flailing wildly after taking a picture, presumably to get some sort of cool effect in the said pictures.