We who don't care about the Grammy's.

Music is a really important part of everyone’s life. No one has a very satisfactory reason beyond the bold position of “why would you need a reason to enjoy something? Why don’t you shut up?”

Music also allows us to indulge in another of life’s great pleasures, elitism. The music that I listen to is simply better than the music that you listen to. Why you ask? Because more people listen to, like, and pay for the music you listen to, idiot. More people who are in some phase of the department of corrections or social welfare system are likely to sport a t-shirt advertising the music you prefer than the music that I prefer. The reason is obvious. Isn’t it?

Because you listen to ___________, you’re probably not as smart as I, or the people who share my tastes, because we like bands like The ________, ____________ Parade, or Laser______________. And I really pity you, in a way. Being stupid must really suck because you have to put up with me (or people who listen to the same music I do) asking for extra condiments, room for cream, where the bathroom is, can I get this in a size 10 1/2, what’s the soup of the day, and so on.

And when I go to a show the worst thing that’s going to happen is someone’s gonna get dumped, or their brand new Urban Out fitters ___________ got a drink spilled on it/them. No one get’s shot, stabbed, laid, or arrested. We win, again.

But being better gets boring, so we have to resort to a kind of post post post modern deconstruction affectation punk indie tronic electro square-dance pretencious bullshit movement that produces music that really really fucking sucks. But you’re so stupid you don’t even realize that listening to intentionally shitty music is really a way of showing our contempt for convention, talent, or vision, and is therefore the very zenith of art. Fuck, your so dumb I’m a little amazed you can even read this.

Eventually our music trickles down to your proletarian ears, and it confuses you the way a mobile phone confuses a single celled organism. Ha ha ha, you probably didn’t even get that, but rest assured, I totally just burned you like a poptart covered in ranch dressing on a bar-b-que with a busted leg.

So enjoy your Grammy’s you gormless bitches. Backslap people who can’t even write their own fucking music. Cheer for people who will be bankrupt, alcoholic, and in need of a new liver by the end of this decade. Me, I’m gonna put on my iPod, scoff, not make eye-contact, and unleash a barrage of passive-agrassive silence so formidable (that’s French for really impressive by the way), that you’re gonna wish we were friends. We never will be though, because you are my enemy.