I WANT people to find me and I want credit and love and presents for my fine writerly ways, but sometimes, I forget just how risque my language is, the (apparently) scandalous things I say, or even just the fact that I haven't written anything here in over a month and my readers need their entertainment.
I wrote this thing, like, seriously, five, six, years ago for a student newspaper, before I even knew what a blog was (really, I can't BELIEVE that thing is still online) about how Napster was the greatest and nobody should pay for music.
The 20-year-old broke-ass university student I WAS didn't like paying insane amounts of money for music. The 26-year-old broke-ass worker-bee that I am now, STILL doesn't like paying obscene amounts of money for music. But. BUT. (I like big BUTS) I have amended my position.
I like getting a TASTE of the music I will eventually buy. I don't think this taste of free-music heroine is going to turn me into a downloading junkie. At least, not for the shit most music stores are offering up. See, the stuff I can find online is usually not available in stores like HMV. So I seek it out online. I go to the artist's website and buy it directly from them, or I put in a call to my friendly-neighbourhood independent record store or make a trip to the gently used CD place a few blocks away. Those places are happy to sell me some of the good shit I sampled so that soon, I will be mainlining that pure, sweet, indie goodness.
The rest of that crap, every novelty-act, every good-for-two-songs band that comes down the indie pipe, they can suck it. I ain't buying Hot Fuss so I can hear Somebody Told Me again. That shit is for suckers and I turned in my sucker card along with my Backstreet Boys CDs (shhhhhh....) I buy good music by artists who have survived my Trial by Internet and lived to tell the tale. If they don't like it, they can either make better music, or become the full-time drug addicts they probably wish they were.
Good music makes the people come together. Stealing good music makes Madonna cry. I ask you, music-buying populace, do you want your Madonna to weep bloody tears of retribution and vengeance? I don't think you do.
So google away, real life friends and foes! I promise you will be astounded by the rarity of my updates and the content of my character.
And sometimes, on berry, berry special occasions, I talk about my cat.
You're all so lucky you know me.
