Saturday, December 30, 2006

Dear Jonny Lang

You're obviously aware by now you succeeded in music because you simultaneously sounded less gay than the rest of the "musicians" in your age group, and yet you could have appeared on the cover of Lisa Simpson's "non-threatening boys magazine". You weren't a scary black guy but you sounded kind of like one. You were poised to make a buck and go the way of your cultural predecessor, harmless paleface Rick Astley. I waited for this to happen and thought it did.

But you couldn't just go away. You had to show up on the local news to pitifully relate your descent into the world of people who would sell you drugs. Boo hoo. Not that it's your fault for the slowness of the news day, but just like a million other celebrities that couldn't handle their vicodin, your lack of self-restraint doesn't merit airtime. My trigger finger itched on the channel button; an epic struggle of mediocre proportions raged within me. Then you dropped the bomb.

You got out of your downward spiral and took control of your life again, all thanks to the lord. When I heard that, my eyes rolled so far back in my head I'm lucky didn't make a round trip.

It's ironic that the mild form of suffering you ever got to know anything about actually came as a result of being the overprivileged little pussy faggot you are. Are people supposed to respect you? You made your money exploiting an art form created by people with whom you share no life experience at all; they were real people with real uphill battles to fight in life.

The only reality you know is one in which kind people handle you and your gift of sounding like you have a coal train stuck in your throat with kid gloves, and it's rude to continue to abuse their kindness in this way. Soapboxing about god is the most predictable thing you could possibly be doing, and since god is made up in the first place, it's a grotesquely nugatory, fatuous position to take. And even though I have no reason to care, it embarrasses me to watch anyone being such a tool.

Get a fucking life,
Dale Shipley

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