_dear mr. saul williams: a few weeks ago i wrote radiohead (they have yet to respond) telling them i didn't pay for their new album in rainbows. look, in all honesty, it wasn't because i was broke. it's just that they've got money, and enough rabid fans to buy their music. plus, i've spent my fair share of money on them in the past, starting with ok computer, which i bought while traveling through tennessee back in 97. and, in all brutal honesty, i'm not that crazy about radiohead anymore.
but i was down to my last few dollars last wednesday when i donated five dollars to your efforts and downloaded the inevitable rise and liberation of niggy tardust. that might sound like i'm trying to tell you how high up on the priorities list i put music - my last few dollars going to you rather than, say, a bag of sundries from the local groceterium - but really it was the day before my unemployment check came, and i was impatient.
i swear i didn't buy your record because trent reznor produced it (even going so far as to arrange your cover of u2's sunday bloody sunday). you're a talented, inspiring artist (sorry to devolve into such cliches, but it is a myspace blog) and it's a great record, and i'm going to tell everyone to buy it. see you monday at the show you're putting on at the box.
but i was down to my last few dollars last wednesday when i donated five dollars to your efforts and downloaded the inevitable rise and liberation of niggy tardust. that might sound like i'm trying to tell you how high up on the priorities list i put music - my last few dollars going to you rather than, say, a bag of sundries from the local groceterium - but really it was the day before my unemployment check came, and i was impatient.
i swear i didn't buy your record because trent reznor produced it (even going so far as to arrange your cover of u2's sunday bloody sunday). you're a talented, inspiring artist (sorry to devolve into such cliches, but it is a myspace blog) and it's a great record, and i'm going to tell everyone to buy it. see you monday at the show you're putting on at the box.
_dear aspiring actors: here, sir ian mckellan gives you the inside skinny on acting:
_dear nine inch nails: you are now my favorite indie band ever. perhaps now all those skinny girl jean-wearing, purse-carrying, scarf-sporting so-over-it hipsters in williamsburg (not to mention the knobs at pitchfork) will show you the respect you deserve.
_dear uncle donuts: i have long desired to be a new yorker. not in the sense that i come from new york state (the empire state, at that), but a new yorker, able to rattle off at a moment's notice the subway lines that get someone from coney island to the upper west side in a heartbeat.
i've also wanted to be able to butt into someone else's conversation and say, "oh, you want (fill in service industry or product)? best place in the city for that is (fill in obscure business name). just take the (fill in subway line and directions)."
oh, you want coffee? best place in the city for that is uncle donuts. just take the r to steinway. it's the closet-sized space next to the popeye's.
_dear u2: i have tried, several times, to be your friend on myspace. who's in charge of that? edge? i know it's not larry. i would figure adam, since he's the hip one of the group. whoever it is, i've spent enough money to send lance bass into space on you guys, and would appreciate it if you'd accept me as your fucking friend. i will steal your music until you do.
_dear united states of america's national park service: you owe me one victorinox-brand swiss army knife. what? i'm going to ellis island on a ferry and i can't bring a swiss army knife? isn't this a little extreme?
the charming and delightful ms. westra and i spent an hour in line awaiting the ferry that takes people to the statue of liberty and then to ellis island. little did i know that there's an airport security-style hangar where you take everything off your person. now, i'm no rambo - i'm not even remo williams - but i have two knives: a swiss army knife i carry in my back pack (extensively used during my storied career at record archive and one that still brings a certain mid-eighties tv show's theme to mind every time i see it), and this thin little swiss army "card" my parents got me for christmas that's been easier to carry in my pocket. how often have i used it? well, the little screwdriver helps tighten the screws on my glasses.
but the card has a knife in it. so the officer comes over to the braying security woman searching my bag, and tells me: the knife in the card is ok, but the swiss army knife isn't. he offers to walk me outside so i can put my swiss army knife someplace in new york city so i can get it when i come back from ellis island.
put it somewhere outside? hide my knife in new york city? like, "mommy, i just killed a pigeon. oh, with this knife i found under that bench."
retarted. retarded. the thing about it is how i was pretty much unable to do anything about it; the ticket was bought (no refunds), and i hate confrontations, especially with some uniformed, gunned cop who's reciting policy verbatim in that way that makes cops so unnerving, leading one to think, "that guy has a gun?" sure, sure, safety safety 9/11 and whatnot, but. seriously.
ellis island? the statue of liberty? next thing you know i'll get frisked for entering montana. you owe me, government. you owe me.
_dear mr. barry bonds: let me get this straight. if the hall of fame takes the asterisked baseball (home run number 756), you won't be there if they induct you?
look: pete rose has been barred from the hall of fame because he took actions that effected the outcome of games he participated in. you created an imbalance in home runnery when you took your ster-oreos and milk. you took actions that unfairly effected the outcome of games.
in the olympics (and, for us bone-headed americans, the tour de france), when you admit to sneaking some steroids into your six grams of protein and five ounces of monoglucamosetatherozine, you give back your medals, your trophy, your tour de france decoder ring and tee-shirt.
so don't threaten baseball with your strangely girly-voiced threat of not showing up if the hall of fame decides to honor you. there are plenty other people in the history of baseball - don mattingly instantly springs to mind - who we'll applaud for the simple sporting legacy of man vs. man, not man vs. chemistry set.
_dear mr. keith olbermann: you're my new hero.