The internet

I am not an internet socialite. I prefer to remain nicely tucked in the shadows of dive bars made of 0’s and 1’s in this wild’n'wacky world of everybody-holding-eachothers-johnsons-24/7ism. No thanks. But, i DO get google alerts, it’s like my internet 90’s beeper. Which means, I WILL see when you decide to blurt something like this out:

Let’s start from the top.  First of all, who the f is Pepito. I don’t know Pepito. I don’t know ANYONE named Pepito, and even if I did, it sounds like a 4 year-old Mexican nephew who shouldn’t be at a computer without supervision. Pepito is not the responsible vendor of the music I just spent forever making. Thanks but no thanks Pepito, stick to the chiclets.

As for nononodog, I had to call this out. I mean, come on. When you can get grandma’s manicotti fresh from the oven [VINYL], don’t complain about it 2 weeks later after its been frozen & unfrozen amidst 3 to 4 severe power outtages [STOLEN TORRENT MP3s]. Yuck, that ricotta has gone bad.

More IMPORTANTLY, PLEASE DON’T DIAGNOSE THE PROBLEM AS “BAD MIXING” [grandma, I don't like your cheese].  This will warrant this type of private message from my newly created global noises account:

Hey sorry buddy,

Do me a favor? Next time you download one of my records in yoinked-shite mp3 form on a forum , don’t wonder much more whether the bad sound quality comes from that or the ” bad mixing”.

Mixed by one of the slyest young mothafuckas in all of Brooklyn on pure analog tubes and tape baby. Straight up rude. Tis Tis.

Watch yourself , your one hell of a sassy cheapskate.

peace and love,

PINK STALLONE

——————-

Now, Nononodog was super proper enough to take it like a real internet man and go out and buy the digital release. That is way way cool and he’s granted himself any entitlement to dissing, criticism, and pure dismay with our product which, will be handled and responded to accordingly by Pink Stallone customer service*

*This phone call may be monitored so that we can make sure that our exotic call center is worth ruining the employment rate here in New Jersey.

The moral of this story isn’t don’t steal my music. It’s not even buy my music. A man’s financial investments, however large or small, are of no concern to me. BUT, if you are gonna steal the Chinatown version of the music, at least think about buying the real Rolex before questioning the technical aptitude of myself and my fellow clock makers.

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