WHY I HATE THE FACT THAT OTHER PEOPLE LIKE THE SAME MUSIC I DO

 

I can sum it up with one word: concerts.

 

Need me to elaborate? Well, okay.

 

On the last weekend of March 2003 I went to see Billy Corgan’s second (and far too short-lived) second band Zwan. I was excited because I got tickets right on the floor. So I was less than twenty feet from the stage…yet I still had three or four giant oafs in my way, blocking every possible glimpse of not one…not two…not three…but all fucking FIVE band members!!! And then, to add insult to serious bodily injury, said oafs launched into mosh mode at the drop of a hat. I hate moshing! Now I have to struggle to keep my balance AND make sure one of these Neanderthal Boys doesn’t cave my skull in with a wild elbow. I’m so busy defending myself from harm that I don’t even realize I’m not listening to the music.

 

Then there’s the atmosphere, and by that I literally mean what’s in the air around me. A group of girls who all looked to be no older than thirteen lit up several joints throughout the night, so now I have internal as well as external body damage going on.

 

After a while I got a break. The joints were out, the moshing had stopped. I let my guard down…relaxed…got into the groove of the music. It seeped into me, living and breathing in my veins. I even managed to catch a glimpse of Billy and Paz beyond all the ogres…

 

and then…

 

 

WHAM!!!

 

I get a solid foot to the skull courtesy of a dumbass fucking crowd surfer coming from behind me. How wonderful! I’m being attacked from every angle! This isn’t a concert, it’s a fucking war! On top of the oafs and the damage they might inflict on me, now I have to worry about this human atom bomb being dropped on my Nagasaki-head.

 

This is why I hate people.

 

This is why I hate concerts.

 

This is why I hate people at concerts, especially concerts I attend.

 

The day after Zwan, people asked me how the show was and I’d karate chop them in the throat even though they had no idea why I was so angry and even though I don’t know how to deliver a proper karate chop.