The Tinylucky Mailbag™ got a special treat today -- a pound of grade A internet beef, courtesy Matador Honcho Gerard Cosloy, who was writing in responce to my post about his pristine Myspace ethics and alleged love of rotisserie chicken. Mr. Cosloy requested equal op. forum, and files in his defense:
1) I've never had rotisserie chicken (though I'm willing to try it)
2) "You run Matador, which means not only are you rich-furr-life"
how do you figure that? I mean really, not that my bank balance is your business or anyone else's, but how are you so certain that I'm loaded, and why should that make any difference in how I deal with correspondence?
3) "yr blog is a bullet point editon of The Sporting News"
How so? I mean, since you're obviously very familiar with both, that shouldn't be a hard statement to back up. Admittedly, what I'm doing with CSTB isn't nearly as spectacular as hearing about your day or your pazz & jop ballot (seriously!), but I'm aiming for something a little less ambitious.
4) "fuck anyone who is not genuinely and exubberantly thankful to even marginally productive interns, even the annoying ones"
yeah, and fuck anyone who says I'm NOT genuinely thankful, gracious, helpful, etc. to interns, productive and/or annoying, whatever. I think I've always shown gratitude and respect towards the unpaid slave help (at least those that bother to introduce themselves) and have never in my life asked someone to run errands for me, fetch coffee, etc. If another guy in the company, has a bunch of interns, that's great. But there are a ton of 'em....and I'm not in even that building!
How many of Matador's current staff do you think got their start as interns at the label? How many of the people RUNNING the label do think were interns themselves once upon a time?
I totally get that the vast majority of our interns want to help our bands and our label. That's why I've always strived to treat them like human beings, with actual names, ideas, opinions, etc. None of that has anything to do with someone sending me a myspace friend request for a (ficticious) band I've never heard of and instead of following it with some note of explanation (ie. "hi, remember me, I'm so and so, I look forward to trashing you in my blog, etc."), pulling some tired "who needs your label anyway?" routine.
If I've gotta check OK next to every person who says they were an intern, ex-employee, friend of a friend, etc. it just gets kind of ridiculous. 'Cause some of 'em weren't any such thing. And it wasn't as though Teeter (who didn't id herself --- I guess that would've been too difficult) was writing to the Matador label myspace page, she did so to me directly. If I'm indeed, "the busiest, coolest, most elite person ever", why would I have bothered to write back?
If you think I'm being a little precious about the myspace thing, that's fair enough. But no more or less precious so than someone flipping out that their gag messages didn't get the desired response. And there's nothing elitist about it --- a cursory glance at the motley collection of "friends" at my personal myspace page will reveal that they are a considerably less connected, glamorous lot than say, the blogs you choose to link to or the select scenesters who frequently feature in yours. But of course, I shouldn't mind being held to some wack standard of inclusiveness, because I'm rich-furr-life, run Matador, etc.
If you feel comfortable passing judgement on me based on what I genuinely meant to be polite replies to Teeter, you are welcome to do so. But you're still full of shit.
Thanks for writing, Gerard. We are sorry if we mispegged you as being rich furr life, loving a chicken dish you are unfamiliar with and assuming yr a dick to interns that have passed through the gates of Matador. While it is often the TLG steez to pass judgement on strangers, we are hoping this does not keep you from listening to the Cam'ron's Foreskin featuring Mark Ibold demo when the time comes - word!