Dear Crummy Concert Fan

Dear Crummy Concert Fan by Snuppy

Tuesday, 5 June 2007, 8:37am
Filed under: crummy letters, guest who?

AIEEEE. Guess who’s not here to do a post for us today? That’s right, DIESEL. Apparently he thought it was more important to take his family on vacation than stay home writing a post for his friends in the Snark. That said, guess who showed up to do a guest post for us, instead? That’s right, the one, the only, the not-so-crummy-but-oh-so-funny, CRUMMY JOEL. Assuming you kids like this — and we’re guessing you will — we’re hoping to convice our clever friend with the tacky church signs to do something similar on a more regular basis. Nothin’ we like more than a great and/or funny post, especially when we don’t have to write it, ourselves. Enjoy. ~ Snuppy

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Dear Woman Standing In Front of Me at Last Night’s Concert,

I realize that a great deal of excitement accompanies seeing a major rock concert. I myself have been anticipating the chance to see Chris Cornell live for many years now. I feel I could have enjoyed the evening more, however, had your public behavior matched the expectations of a modern, civilized society. This letter hopes to address some practices that you might consider abolishing for the next rock concert you attend.

First of all, is it really necessary to document the entire evening’s proceedings on your piece-of-crap camera phone? Don’t the fourteen pictures that you took during “Outshined” closely resemble the seventeen pictures that you took during “Cochise”? It’s not Hamlet. There was no fricking wardrobe change.

And look, it’s not like that 0.1 MegaPixel wonder is taking good pictures. How could it possibly, since you’re just waving it in the air (and, consequently, in my face) while randomly clicking “Capture”? There is absolutely no doubt that you took more pictures of me than you did of Chris Cornell. You want a good picture of Chris Cornell? OK. Here’s one. Here’s another one. Hell, here’s at least 10 pages of pictures of Chris Cornell, every single one of them better than your best effort last night. People will believe you when you tell them you were there. It’s not like you’re telling them you went to the freaking moon. You don’t need proof.

If it’s a matter of needing to remember the evening’s proceedings, I have a suggestion. Before the concert, DON’T bathe in whiskey (or shower in rum, or take a ride down a tequila-soaked Wet Banana, or whatever it is you did pre-concert). You might claim to have done none of the above, but I know for a fact that a stench that profound could not possibly have come just from drinking. Certainly less contact with alcohol will allow you to remember more of the evening (or any of the evening, for that matter) and rely less on 14,000 grainy, blurred pictures.

Speaking of controlled substances: You know, some people are able to smoke without it affecting everyone around them. Then there are people like you, where everyone within a 3o-foot radius smells like they just hitch-hiked through a wildfire in Marlboro Country. You are to be congratulated, because I have never in my life seen one solitary cigarette belch out that much smoke (…and you smoked 53 of them in a 2-hour period in this manner). Together, you and your date caused R.J. Reynolds stock to rise an entire percentage point in one evening.

Ah yes, your date. I realize that perhaps some of last evening’s songs may have had some sentimental value to you and your significant other. (Who hasn’t had a romantic encounter to “Jesus Christ Pose”)? If a young couple wants to take the opportunity during a concert to become cuddly, gropey, and affectionate, then I completely understand. However, when you and your date are only a matter of months from receiving your AARP cards, you simply must keep your hands off of each other in public. It’s like watching my parents make out. I saw no less than 4 pierced-and-dyed teenagers break into uncontrollable sobbing when they saw you and your date entangled during “Like a Stone”. I’m not asking you to act your age, but getting within a decade or four wouldn’t kill anybody.

Perhaps it is now pertinent to mention the flailing, bouncing, and hopping about in which you frequently engaged. You are sure to categorize your actions as “dancing”, but anyone who saw it is sure to dispute that definition. When people are packed in close quarters and you choose to drunkenly flail about like you did, consequences are sure to ensue. One such consequence is that your long hair is likely to end up in places you don’t want it to end up. Don’t worry too much…it was only your hair. It was, however, MY MOUTH.

I am certain that despite the fact that you acted like a shrieking teenager at her first ever NKOTB concert, you are a regular attendee of such shows. Please consider some of the items addressed in this letter next time. I am certain it will make for a more enjoyable experience for everyone.

 

Sincerely,

 

CrummyJoel

PS: Humor-blogs.com called, and they asked that you consider a bra next time, as well.

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