(From the STMcC Archives: 2007, March 18th)
Below is a review I wrote for a music compact disc in 2007. Everyone (except for one good friend) absolutely hated it. Hated it! That alone told me it must be pretty good. One stranger left a comment saying in part: "Typical, however of the prevailing recurring phenomenon of arrogant Americans taking something beautiful like music and cheapening it by selfishly using it for their own base sexual inadequacies or insecurities." She called me an "imbecilic moron" (not just an imbecile, and not just a moron, but BOTH), said my review was "trash" that "conjures up images of the song 'Midlife Crisis' by Faith No More... A 47-year-old 'man' claiming to have been christened (likely self-christened) 'Mr. Intense'... Pathetic."
Damn! It's like she'd been reading my mail and my mind.
For the record, it was my old friend Pooh (General Poohregard) who nicknamed me Mr. Intense
A few weeks ago my friend FAE ('Far Away Series' - the first BOTBer) read this review for the very first time and told me she thought it was really funny. So, if you hate it too, like them others do, blame FAE for me having posted it here and subjecting you to it. (But, you know what "tongue-in-cheek" means, right?)
[I first became conscious of the strange phenomenon when I was about 15 years old: I ordered something to eat in a little fast food Mexican joint on Venice Boulevard in West Los Angeles. Unbeknownst to the young Latinas working behind the counter, the very next person to place his order was my Pa, and when he joined me at a table, he related to me how one girl said to her co-worker after I walked away, “That guy was cute,” and the other agreed.]