shame on you, the masses. boo. boo sincerely. shame on you for buying everything you're sold. thanks for the endless supply of talentless pop princesses and celebrity culture you've created. the books are being burned in the street, and you can't even smell the flames as you sit in front of your t.v. with wide smiles laughing at the death of art. but if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. so, i have a plan. we'll start a band. we'll play palatable, easy to swallow, inoffensive elevator rock. as soon as our song has been heard thousands of times on every clear channel station, we'll play our first concert. thousands of people will show up, and we'll blow out their eardrums, so they can never hear or say anything ever again...or we could inject poisonous gas into spray-tanning booths and copies of us weekly. i'm up for suggestions.