Like all the good hate mail we pulled in after writing that Fugazi article for the City Paper. It seems it's impossible to outrage anybody in the blogosphere these days. Or maybe we've stopped trying. More's the pity, because there's nothing quite so entertaining as a blistering and obscenity-laded diatribe directed at your person. We thrived on that "Eat a bag of dicks and die" shit. It gave us a thrill woody. To know that somebody out there hated us so much they just had to put it down in words and put it in the mail really made us feel loved. Like the Delgados sing, "Hate Is All You Need."
Who knows, maybe we're maturing. We haven't attracted a single sustained piece of written loathing since we don't remember when. Truth is, hate, except for politicians, pigs and poltroons of their like, is hardly worth the bother. And if you don't send any hate out, you're unlikely to get any back.
Still, we can fondly remember. The days when our very name was anethema to large segments of the DC hipster population. They've all forgotten us now. But we'll never forget them. We owe them a large portion of gratitude. Thanks, haters.