To: Marc Hogan
From: Eric / Say Hi To Your Mom
Re: Your Pitchfork review of Ferocious Mopes
A bunny walks into a bar filled with a whole bunch of pretentious lions who have been drinking modestly and discussing the fashion in which all the jungle hipster animals have cut their hair. The bunny, mostly unnoticed, hops along to the center of the bar and lays a golden egg. Now, many golden eggs have been lain in that very bar before. Some of these eggs have been grander and golder than others. Nevertheless, every time a bunny walks into that bar and lays an egg, the lions pause their conversation to remark about the beauty of the egg at hand. "I like how gold and round that one is," a lion will say. "I think that egg sucks," another lion will say. Eventually all the lions go back to their conversing.
Now, since bunnies have been coming into that bar to lay eggs for decades, it never really occurs to the lions how much time and care goes into the process of entering the lion bar to lay a golden egg. The lions never even think about the fact that a golden egg is not a natural thing for a bunny to lay. But, for some strange reason, all the bunnies desperately seek the approval of the lions, so the golden eggs keep coming. Even the non-golden egg laying bunnies trust the lions´ aesthetic opinions about the golden eggs.
But let´s backtrack for a moment. Today, the aforementioned bunny walks into the bar and lays the golden egg. The bunny thinks it´s a decent egg. He thinks he can probably do better some day, but is definitely proud of the egg. Proud enough to lay it before the lions. The bunny, let´s just say his name is Say Hi To Your Eric, expects the lions to at least take a quick moment to inspect the golden egg before announcing to the jungle what they think about it. But today all the lions are tired because they´ve already appraised golden eggs offered up by bunnies named Corgan or Jack White or Coldplay. Say Hi To Your Eric knows that most of the jungle animals are more concerned with those other bunnies and he´s fine with that. Still, he waits patiently, willing to accept whatever fate his golden egg will receive. You see, that bunny named Say Hi To Your Eric has often eavesdropped on the lions, and he actually appreciates and likes how pretentious and critical the lions are. They often make him chuckle and, for the most part, are very eloquent in their golden egg critiques.
Anyway, today all the lions are tired except for one very lazy, mean pipsqueak of a lion. Let´s just say his name is Marc Hogan. Now, Marc Hogan decides that he´s having a bad day so he doesn´t even glance at the golden egg. Instead, he swiftly pounces upon Say Hi To Your Eric and rips his little bunny jugular from the poor creature´s throat. A couple of the jungle animals witness this pouncing. They ask the lion named Marc Hogan why he pounced on the little bunny named Say Hi To Your Eric. "I didn´t like him," he replied. "But you know," the jungle animals replied, "you really should have taken a look at his golden egg before you decided you hated him." The lion named Marc Hogan was getting upset now. "Fuck you jungle animals," he tried to roar loudly. But the lion named Marc Hogan had a wimpy roar and all the jungle animals simply shrugged, confused by his measly outburst. A wide-eyed gazelle finally spoke: "You know, you lions have a responsibility to critique golden eggs fairly. Most of you realize this. But you, the lion named Marc Hogan, you are an embarrassment to all breeds of lion. We heard what you muttered under your breath while you were midair, about to pounce, and we don´t like it one bit." But the lion named Marc Hogan didn´t care to hear such words and he took a big juicy bite out of the gazelle´s rump. "Stupid gazelle," he said, chewing with his mouth open as bits of the rump flew all over, "that bunny deserved what he got. He was too concerned with making his golden egg look like the bunny named Arcade Fire´s golden egg." "I see," the gazelle replied, bleeding profusely.
All the animals slowly retreated back into the jungle. They knew that they were better than the lion named Marc Hogan. They knew that even though the lion looked like the sort of lion that would wet his bed and critique hard working golden-egg bunnies without major label budgets because he himself could never lay a pretty golden egg, they would never say that to his face until they took a moment to get to know him, or at the very least to actually examine his golden eggs. Of course, life in the jungle went on as it always does. Every so often though, the animals present that day would think to themselves: Shame on you the lion named Marc Hogan.
Hops and Roars,
Eric / Say Hi To Your Mom
*** P.S. As this website has far less readership than Pitchfork Media, we'd be forever in your debt if you reposted the above letter on your blog or in your publication. We also wouldn't be opposed to you sending a letter to the editor should you disagree with the review of Ferocious Mopes. Thanks a billion.
i just figured everyone here should see that
oh yeah, and i'm new, kinda, so Hi.