Tales From My Inbox

*The names in this story have been changed to prevent publicity.
Everything else in quotation marks is word for word, cut & paste.*

It's amazing to me how stupid some people are.
What's even more amazing is how shifty & 2-faced some folks in this music "business" are, and how quickly a ghetto-hard thug can be reduced to a childish bitch.
Case in point...
A few days ago I received a message from some kid from Michigan named Cornell, who was obviously going around, messaging every musician he could find to try to weasel his way into a mailed-in bullshit collaboration with them & capitalize on other peoples' hard work & ready-made fanbases, not that I have a fanbase, or anything...

Anyhoo, the subject line read "Wusup bro i got a proposition 4 ya".

The message itself read:

"My music is on the *ButtFuck Jerkoff* and *Dingleberry Cocksucker* myspace pages check em out show ur connects and let me kno wat u think and if we could do biz peace"

To me, this message comes across more as an advertisement than a proposition, so I told him so-

"That's not a proposition, it's an advertisement".

To which he replied:

"my bad dude I wasnt try to advertise im tryin 2 get soljas 2 collab wit i seen ur myspace page and we share the same veiwz"

So I say:

"That's funny, because if you read my page you would have seen a blurb that says I don't collaborate with random jerks.
What shared views might those be?"

His reply:

"my bad again thats right besides i said collab wit soljas not hataz or bitches and u fall under both fag"

At this point, I almost hyperventilated from laughing so much... I've successfully alienated this kid in only 3 sentences, possibly a new record for me...
Once I regained my composure, I type back:

"Haha. Arguably.
An hour ago you were riding my nuts, and as soon as I call you on your bullshit, I'm a "fag". Who's the real bitch here?
I can't imagine even wanting to listen to a song written by someone with such poor language skills as yourself, let alone appearing on one.
Now fuck off, learn to spell, & go wallow in your obscurity.

Your pal,
-fM"

It was at this point that he must have called up his homeboy Polly to bitch about what a fag I am, because next thing I know, I get a message from Polly which states:

"u know talkin shit to my homeboy on the internet is bad for your health dontcha"

My reply:

"Why dont you go read the conversation I had with him & tell me if you stand behind that threat. Personally I think your boy is a dumbass, and it's none of your concern."

A few minutes later, Polly writes back:

"personally i think you suck dick and your music sucks, so get a life fag and meet him 1 on 1 if u so tuff i guarantee he will fuck your fagat ass up"

I just want to point out, these kids are from Michigan, & I'm from New York, so it's not like I'm gonna walk down the street & put these kids on the ground, so I MUST be the bitch in this situation.

My reply:

"All this hostility is unnecessary man. All I did was call him on some bullshit, and now he's got kids throwing threats at me? Because I won't make music with him? Fuck all that. And fuck all you. I'm done with this petty shit."

Polly never replied to that one, and it broke my heart. But it's ok, because Cornell got back on his grind, and sent me this last message:

"Alright u win Ur pathetic i feel sorry 4 ur intellectualy challenged less then moderate brain capacity being 1 step above mental retardation must suck i feel 4 u pal alwayz in my heart p.c. I love you"

My reply:

"Whatever you want to think, you bitter fuck."

That was the last I heard from either Cornell OR Polly, but, you know, keep your ears open, because they're doing big things with *The Turd Burglars*, or whatever their shitty band is called.
Thus ends the first installment of "Tales From My Inbox".