SHAWN'S MY MAN
Regarding the "Corporate Whores" letter (9/23), I, for one, truly will be asking myself why I wasn't as cool as Shawn Mediaclast upon my corporate judgment day. I have not met another person so supportive of truly indie ventures as Mr. Mediaclast.
"Why did I write metaphor laden letters to the editor rather than venturing downtown for some real conversation? Why did I even care enough to make hipster jokes and name drop Pabst? Oh damn, I'm bleeding on my khakis." Thus will be the dying thoughts of Kris Bluth.
I know no other store in this town that caters to people like me. People seeking new vinyl, needing the seventh bottle of Atomic Pink hair dye of the month, needing someone who's intellectual but not a pompous asshole to talk with. Hell, what if I just want to go somewhere to talk about robots or art or Devo? Shawn's my main man.
Yeah. This is my response. I am one of those purple haired alternababes, I would also probably swill Pabst like none other if I was of legal age, but hell, at least I know where the good people are at.
Ahhhh Kris, you clever son of a gun. You got us hipsters again! Caught in the act wearing Converse and shopping at the best indie record store in town. Does it really matter?
Amelia Kimball, Eugene
No comments:
Post a Comment