Oh yeah. I almost forgot. Happy Guy Fawkes day everyone.
For those of you non Brits out there who’re wondering just what the hell I’m on about, Guy Fawkes was a bloke who tried to blow up the British Houses of Parliment back in 1605 and was caught red handed with quite a few barrels of gunpowder.
So, ever since then people throughout Britain have burned effigies of Guy Fawkes in annual bonfires on November 5th.
If you want to know more, a quick google search for Guy Fawkes reveals THIS site as being fairly useful.
PS – For the mindless trivia buffs out there, In the Harry Potter Series of novels, Professor Dumbledore has a pet phoenix named Fawkes. A british-ism that was most likely lost on 90% of the non British, Harry Potter fans out there. And yes, it is the same phoenix that donated it’s feathers for both Harry’s and Lord Voldemort’s magic wands.
This Ad was apparently published in the New York Times recently. I did some cursory digging to discover the truth to see if it really was or if it was yet another internet hoax. My basic investigative skills resulted in a big ol’ resounding “Inconclusive” so I gave up. Grissom and Horatio would both have my head for being such an unthorough slackass.
Anyways… before I digress any further, all I have to say is that regardless of the validity of the above image, the sentiment holds 110% true and the record companies need to get there heads out of their collective asses and pay attention.
Now if I could just find the idiot who wrote the following sentence and throttle the living fuck out of him for putting the word like in there where it doesn’t need to be and where it detracts 110% from the professional feel of the whole advertisement.
“After all, the kids swapping were like ten times more likely to buy cd’s, making your cause all the more admirable.”
In fact, it’s the use of that one little word that calls into question my whole belief in the validity of the ad and makes me think it was more an amateurish teenage photoshop stunt rather than an honest ad to begin with. Either that or the idiots in the Rolling Stone editing department were schooled in like, the Valley, dude.
Oh well, no matter. To bed for now as tomorrow I’m back to puppy-sitting the holy terror known as Connor. If I get the chance, I’ll compose a little rant on my feelings regarding the subject of responsibility and my brother’s current lack thereof.