Why no one is coming to your show...

Dear guy I sort of know who is in a band,

Thanks for the invite to your upcoming performance. I really liked the flyer with a naked chick on it. And hey, I know you've worked your earnest fingers to the bone, getting your "jams" sussed out for the big show. And really man, good luck with that.

But here's the thing, and I think I speak for everyone here; we're not coming.

Now look, I understand how this might come as something of a shock to you, and believe me, I empathize. But maybe it's time we started being honest with each other.

We, that is your friends and I, have given it some thought and come to the conclusion that we've been enabling some pretty unconscionable behavior on your part for a long time now. Enough is enough. There are a number of reasons why none of us are coming. And we think you deserve the truth. So here goes.

First of all, I wish I could say this isn't personal. Unfortunately, it is personal. That isn't to say you aren't a unique and beautiful snowflake, you are, it's just that sometimes snowflakes are annoying, cold and well, flakes. So whatever you do, don't stop feeling special, because if there is one thing you certainly are, it's special and we know how important it is for you to feel that way. Shucks, I imagine that's one of the reasons you started a band, it must feel great when every one's attention is focused on you.

Here's the rub, the converse is also true. That is, it seems a little disingenuous when someone just feigns interest in you. This brings me to the first reason why no one will coming to your show.

Reason #1: Your frequent bulk texts and social networking site messages.

People in bands have never had a reputation for being considerate. But honestly, nothing says, "Hey I've got a favor to ask of you, but I couldn't be bothered to call." more than a mass text or Facebook message asking people to come to your show. So congratulations Band Guy, you've just made everyone you know wish that they hadn't given you their phone number and/or accepted your friend request on Facebook. On top of that; it's clear you have no clue how insincere mass texting makes you look, otherwise you wouldn't have done it, which now that we've thought about it, only multiplies your insincerity exponentially.

You might think that everyone likes getting mail and that it makes people feel important when they're invited to things. While that's occasionally true, sometimes we all get mail "inviting" us to do all sorts of things that don't make us feel special. Like today I got several "invitations" to apply for various credit cards. Let me put it another way, the only thing worse than junk mail, is junk mail from someone who is supposed to be your friend.

It might be difficult for you to view your generic mass text message as "junk" because from your perspective it's all in the name of art. But put yourself in our shoes. What if I was a car salesman and every couple of days I sent you and everyone you knew the exact same text about some Yaris that just came in the lot? Sounds annoying right?

The point is, a bulk message ranks right up there with "hot boxing" ones fart in a crowded car as a means of communication. Only bulk messaging is somewhat inferior as it lacks the same smack of a personal touch. Maybe if you actually called us when you didn't have a show, or even addressed us by name in your text, it might help your chances. Nevertheless, I understand how this might interrupt your strict daily regimen of drinking, jacking off and borrowing money from your girlfriend. But if you tried it, you might actually be surprised at how responsive people are when they are personally invited.

Then again a phone call might not do you any good because...

Reason #2: You've already played the "friend" card.

Hey remember your last show? You know the one. When you called us up and said, "Hey ... man, I'm playing a show tonight, and you should come because it would be awesome to hang out." And then we came to your stupid show, spent 5-10 bucks to get in, another 10-20 bucks on beer, and you didn't even so much as say hello to us, remember that? No? Oh, well truthfully, that's pretty much what we figured.

You see, it's painfully apparent to everyone that we are nothing more than meat in the room to you. Our coming to your show didn't mean shit to you then, and we're fairly certain it doesn't mean shit to you now. Frankly, we feel a bit used after falling for this little "friend" gimmick of yours for the umpteenth time. Furthermore, we can sit alone, drink beer, and listen to music at home. And it costs considerably less. It would be another thing entirely if there was some social upside to coming to your show, but there isnt because...

Reason #3: Where the fuck are all the girls?

A bunch of guys in a room is just, well, kind of fucked-up. Even gay men are loathe to have a sausage party, hence their well-documented and widespread employment of their "fag hag rule". And you might be thinking, "It's not our fault that it's mostly guys who like our band."

Allow me to reality check you on this one. If the only people at your show are other dudes, it's pretty much a sure thing that no one likes your band. The truth is, the $2 PBR and the quintessentially male predilection to giving up on life probably goes much farther in explaining the presence of the unsavory gentlemen at your show than the fact that your band happens to be playing that night.

Not sure if this applies to you? Here are some signs that your music is unsuitable for the finer sex:

a.) Your vocalist screams, yells, growls, or impersonates cookie monster in lieu of actual singing.

b.) One or more band members are Satanists who haven't bathed today.

c.) One or more band members have shaved heads in consortium with a finely manicured dick target.

d.) You're tee-shirts only come in black and your band name is written in an an almost imperceptible Old English font with blood dripping from it.

If this sounds like you I recommend buying a Daft Punk record.

Then again, maybe the fact that your band is essentially vagina-repellent is something of a badge of honor for you. Could be that you're a bunch of freeking geniuses who aren't appreciated in their own time ... keep telling yourself that, especially when your 40 and you're the Wednesday night house band at Burt's Tiki Lounge. What's that? Your 27 and you're already in the Wednesday night house band at Burt's?

Hmmm, maybe that's a sign that reason #4 applies to you too.

Reason #4: Didn't you guys play, like, yesterday?

I know, I know, playing shows is fun! And it stands to reason that if playing one show is fun then playing lots of shows must be loads of fun, right? Wrong!

Let me put this in terms you might understand. Think all the way back to 10 o'clock yesterday morning when you had your first beer of the day; that was pretty sweet, wasn't it? Now, fast-forward to 11 o'clock pm when you were having your 20^th or 30th beer of the day. If you're being honest with yourself, you'll have to admit, that one wasn't quite as satisfying as the first. That's a little something economists call "Diminishing Returns," and the whole idea behind it is this; the more you have of something, the less you need it.

Question: What's so special about seeing your band today when I know you played last week and I know your playing again next week too?

Answer: Nothing.

Indeed, if you're playing 5 shows this month, your friends won't be attending any of them. Why? Because you've saturated the market, spread yourself too thin. Here's an unfortunate little truth you might want to consider: most people have things in their life that they prefer doing to seeing your band. Playing every other day makes you appear, well, delusional. As if you think that that Salt Lake City has an unquenchable demand for whatever Fugazi-influenced brand of post punk you happen to be doing. This is not the case!

Look, it's just a bit much to expect. And speaking of expecting a lot from people...

Reason #5: We'd actually love to come to your show but, dude, we live 2000 miles away.

Of all the reasons for why we're not coming to your show this really is the best one.

When we checked our Facebook that fateful day to find that you had sent us a suggestion to become a fan of your band, we secretly thought it was a little presumptuous of you. But that was nothing. Almost immediately after we became a "fan" we started receiving a constant barrage of emails informing us about the whereabouts of your shows. And sure that in and of itself is pretty presumtious of you, but that's not even what I'm talking about. What really makes the whole thing absurdly presumptious is that none of these aforementioned "whereabouts" are anywhere within a three hundred-mile radius of Salt Lake City.

The fact that you are oblivious to this reality only makes your narcissism all the more blindingly obvious.

Of course maybe I'm short-changing your oblivion. There is always the chance that you think we might get in our car and drive all the way to Spokane or Boise to see you play. Then again, I suppose there is also a chance your bass player wont regret having your band name tatooed on his neck. I recon the two things are about equally probable.

I hate to break this to you but, your band isn't the Grateful Dead and no one is planning to travel across the country just to see you play. And of course you're thinking, "Wait one goddamned minute, our band is way better than the Grateful Dead".

Actually...

Reason # 6: Umm, How Do I Put This? You Guys Sort Of Suck.

It's great to shake things up, you know, keep things fresh. And I assume those new songs you've been working on and telling everyone about must really be exciting, for you that is. For us, it's just hearing you suck in a different key.

And another thing, judging by the intense facial expressions that you assume while chugging through your Rage Against the Machine/Joni Mitchell medley, I'm guessing you think your band is ironic and super awesome for having thought of such a bitchin' idea. But like with everything else, this simply isn't the case. Instead it's poorly-executed and, in fact, epically sad.

Oftentimes I've tried to drink myself to the point where your music is enjoyable but I have to say, I think there is just something about the mosh-pit of 5 balding 30 somethings singing "Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me," that just doesn't jibe with either my lunch or a gratifying musical experience.

I know you've been holding on with religious-like faith since the late 90s that maybe in the not-too-distant future, your brand of poorly-wrought songs in a mathy, screamo-meets-baroque-violin style will finally enjoy its day in the sun. But, listen, please, for the love of god, listen: just because you opened for Health at Kilby Court doesn't mean you are going to be famous.

The fact is, good music takes a hardy work ethic, talent and a certain je ne sais quoi. And I'm sorry to say it, but you haven't got any of those things.

Maybe none of the above criterion really applies to you - and that, if it were true, would make you the most unique band in the world - in which case the only explanation for why no one is coming to your show is the following:

Reason #7: All your friends and I are lame.

Lost is on tonight, or is it 30 Rock? I forget, but there is some shitty programming I really don't want to miss. Yes, I know we have a DVR, but we kinda just feel like having a nice relaxing evening at home, again. You understand don't you? I'm sure you do, after all, this was the same excuse you gave when you missed our wedding. Anyway, good luck with your show, knock them dead and by "them" I mean the bartender and that girl who slept with your drummer and your guitar player, because those are the only people who are going to be there.

Warmest regards,

-Charlemagne H. Saint Linus

P.S. Join me next time when I explore the upside to contracting Chlamydia. Grudge fuck anyone?

Episode 18: Ombudsus Metamorphosus

The following is the Ombudstillation of Episode 18 from 9/25/09

The Ombudsterbation of the lastest episode (#35) will be posted in the next couple of days.

----------------------------

Dearest Mr. Lebo and Mr. Sherlock,

As you might have guessed, I am a single man. Proper. Despite my bawdiness and desire to do so, I don't often find myself fucking, which facilitates, for better or worse, my having a roommate. We split the cost of rent and bills and on special occasions we watch the biggest loser together while tossing back something he calls,"fowdies".

I am an early riser.

I get up many hours before he does and am usually basking in my noon-time post-porn siesta by the time he wakes up. Nevertheless, I am privy to the unholy loudness of his alarm every morning, which for some reason goes off at 6am, and on a typical day, he sleeps through for several minutes - I can only imagine his dreams.

Today was special though as it lasted for three quarters of an hour, a personal record for my roommate.

It's important to note before going on that my morning consists of what you'd probably infer: a rigorous exercise regimen involving 7000 thrusts, 100 squats, 75 push ups, 40 pull-ups, 100 crunches, and 100 "tipsies," as I call them - it's an exercise of my own invention which blasts my calf muscles into the statospheres of extreeme manliness: while doing this exercise I evoke a not unsculptable image of physical perfection, whereby I stand up on my tippy toes while holding a 40 lb. weight and begin to bounce. Laugh it you want, but I'll have you know my butt cheeks are voluptuous and I can kick through a wall of concrete should such a need ever present itself.

Heee-yah!

Now back to my story, I was already awake at 6am. mid-thrust! When the thunderclap of my roommate's alarm detonated like the immortal cock of Jupiter raping the nymph of my ear. Yet my roomate remained. Comatose. Like his corpse was the very fields of elysium.

But what was this sound? It wasn't the typical "NErrr NErrr NErrrr" that I'm used to. Frankly, it was somewhat more musical: it was, in fact, the 1990 hit by C&C music factory, "Everybody Dance Now", apparently my roomie had mistakenly switched his alarm setting to the radio.

By a happy coincidence, my mind was changed and "Everybody Dance Now" proved to be a perfect soundtrack to my beastial manastics. I acheived greater confidence, singing along, and with little ado my stout-hearted thrusts were syncopated with the lacivious beat as was the magnificent madness of my jazz hands (which, as it so happens, are a normal part of my routine).

Oh, how I wish you could have seen me in my morning thrusts. My butt cheeks clenching, my chest heaving, the bellicose brawn of my spandex bulge.

Sure, my roommate slept through it all, despite it's impetuous volume. Which is remarkable in and of it self, but here is where it gets truly interesting; with the last note of "Everybody Dance Now, in what I can only conclude was a moment of pure Disc Jockying genius, Snap's hit, also from 1990, "I've got the power" began to thump my soul with it's aurally pleasing yet blood-curdling caveat, "I will attack and you don't want that!".

Listen.

I don't mind telling you, for my entire life, up until now, in my mind, these two songs were actually one in the same.

Not true.

And if I may digress, only briefly: for a moment, let's ignore the reality that it is inconceivable that anyone other than an exercising ombudsman would enjoy this music at 6 am; and let's instead focus on the fact that "I've Got the Power" and "Everybody Dance Now" are not just great songs in their own right, but also quite different from each other and I'll tell you why.

"I've got the power" is the one that goes, "It's gettin, it's gettin, it's gettin kinda hecktic"

But "Everybody Dance Now" is the one that goes, "Da da da da da ta da da da da da da"

Think about it.

Although both are in the same key and contain pretty much the same drum beat. It is nevertheless a fact that every dance song in 1990 had that exact same drum sample and overall formula.

I can prove it. Here is a non-exhaustive list of three more examples:

1

2

3

Mind bending, isn't it?

How is it possible that so many songs from the same year are exactly the same? Perhaps the answer can be found in your latest Episode, # 18.

First off, let's discuss this "Jon" person. Sure, he was charming, yes, he gave everyone a boner, of course, the IKE furry/D&D/WOW contingent loved him. But to my ears, this "Jon" as you call him, has the exact same voice as another man.

Who is this other man?

Get this.

I have done extensive research over the past several days, using very sensitive instruments. I have also collected samples of "Jon's" voice and I can conclusively show that it is indeed one in the same as the great Mr. Adam Palcher.

I think you, Mr. Sherlock, Mr. Lebo, have been duped by this "Jon" who is clearly Mr. Palcher in disguise.

It brings to mind the great work of Oscar Wilde actually, to be specific: The Importance of Being Earnest, an exceptional tale of a man who leads a double life but whose dastardly plot is flummoxed by a homosexual named Algernon. I may not have the virtue of being a complete homosexual, nor am I named Algernon but I am proclaiming here, now, today and forever that this "Jon" is, and has always been, Mr. Adam Palcher!

It is not just their identical voices and laughs that make me think so either.

Let me tell you a little story, it's no The Importance of Being Earnest but it is nevertheless both important and earnest.

For the past several months I, a selfish and singleminded ombudsman, have been ombudsmatizing the I know everything podcast with disregard for the equally amazing, A DAMN PODCAST. For this, I can only offer the following insincere explanation that I've just now fabricated:

It isn't that I don't have love for that other podcast, I in fact love it so much that I have memorized the sound and tone of Mr. Palcher's heavenly voice, so much so in fact that I can even pick it out blindly when he is in disguise as this "Jon".

As my lord and savior would say, or as you call him Mr. Obama, "Look."

Mr. Palcher is incredible and has reliable taste in music. He is funny and insightful. Women love him. Men want to be him.

Also, concerning his alter ego:

Let's let "Jon" be "Jon" as Mr. Palcher has a most stressful life with the wife and kids, he needs this other life to get his sillies out. Also, I understand that this is his way of getting me to ombudsmolest his work. I think we all want to be appreciated, and let me be the first ever Ombudsman to ever say, Adam Palcher I appreciate you, and I also appreciate alter-egos created by genius men, alter-egos like this "Jon".

So I would like to therefore insist we allow Mr. Palcher, as himself to be a guest on the podcast.

Here is a non-exhaustive list of reasons Mr. Palcher should be a guest on I Know Everything:

1.) Dance-off between him and Mr. Lebo, would finally settle the imaginary score that has been a fantasy topic of much debate among your most die-hard fans.

2.) 7 words: Sunny Day Real Estate geek-out sesh.

3.) 2 more words: Worldwide Half-Chub.

And let me end this ombudmanization by saying that Mr. White was brilliant, as always.

And let me also say that I know ombudmanization is true, and that I, Charlemagne H. Saint Linus, am a true Ombudsman who has been chosen by god to give everyone the gift of prophesy that always makes perfect sense and never strays from the truth. I have faith in Charlemagne H. Saint Linus and I know that his teachings are true.

I say this in the name of myself, the father and the holy spirit of Ombudsmanship.

Sanctus benedictus,

-Charlemagne H. Saint Linus