A guy I barely know just IMed me to tell me how much he dislikes the Shoot Out The Lights album, telling me that he thinks it's flat and all the songs sound the same - and wanting to persist after I tried to discourage him. You know, everyone's entitled to their opinion and all, but why the hell would anyone think that I care, let alone be interested? I'm not the album's ombudsman, but - as I make clear in THE FUCKING BOOK I WROTE ABOUT IT - quite the fan. The guy's got no sense if he thinks I want to hear his ill-informed opinion, let alone ever talk to him again. What an ass.
River ,'Safe'
Buffista Music III: The Search for Bach
There's a lady plays her fav'rite records/On the jukebox ev'ry day/All day long she plays the same old songs/And she believes the things that they say/She sings along with all the saddest songs/And she believes the stories are real/She lets the music dictate the way that she feels.
Apparently you need to go back and rewrite the book about another RT album, Cor. Get on that.
but why the hell would anyone think that I care, let alone be interested?
Because, clearly, you were wrong and he's here to set you right. *said tongue firmly in cheek*
I get the same shit with readers who tell me I did something wrong in my books. The ones that I conceived, plotted, and wrote.
Readers' senses of entitlement truly baffles me.
Me, too, apparently. I didn't realize I'd get quite so pissed about it, but, then again, no other acquaintance has had the lack of sense to go out of their way to let me know that they dislike the subject of my book.
The grumpy old man in me wants to tie it back to the easy-breezy empty criticism of Internet comment threads. I assume that if you spend time reading the forums at Pitchfork or The Onion, you may begin to believe that everyone would be happy to hear your idiotic half-thoughts. I mean, some of us nutty people out there think that there's a difference between having the unexamined realization that you like or dislike something and actually having something meaningful to say about it.
The grumpy old man in me wants to tie it back to the easy-breezy empty criticism of Internet comment threads.
Coupled with the relative anonymity. It's a dangerous combo.
Do Not Feed the Troll
Now that's a rude thing to call me, Laga. I've been posting here a long time, and... oh, sorry, I get it.
snerk
who tell me I did something wrong in my books.
Reminds me of the story of the Bradbury Defense:
One dreadful boy ran up to me and said:
"That book of yours, The Martian Chronicles?"
"Yes," I said.
"On page 92, where you have the moons of Mars rising in the east?"
"Yeah," I said.
"Nah," he said.
So I hit him.
Ivar said that things like "straight edge" and "emocore" all started as jokes that people outside the original DC scene took way too seriously.
Ha! This sounds about right.