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An Open Letter To MF Doom

Dear Daniel Dumile a.k.a. MF Doom a.k.a. Zev Love X a.k.a. King Geedorah a.k.a. Metal Fingers a.k.a. Viktor Vaughn a.k.a. Ducktor Doom a.k.a. Victor von Doom a.k.a. Mr. Soft Taco a.k.a. Mr. 78’ Cutlass a.k.a. “That Guy Who Enjoys Fingerpainting.”

I’m writing this as a concerned artist, business-owner and generally even-keeled loather of all things douche-like.

It came to my attention in late 2007 that you pulled a series of no-shows and Super Dave-esque stunt double lip-syncing fiascos in Pomona, San Diego, San Francisco, Rock The Bells in San Bernardino and then in Atlanta. The latter saw the crowd throwing beer at your body double, who subsequently exited the stage only to steal all the merch money and door receipts, insuring noone would be granted a refund for your clone’s piss-poor Milli Vanilli routine. Classy.

The whole thing was shrug-inducing because I’m not a huge fan of your body of work, so pardon my inability to completely connect with the disdain of someone paying $25 dollars to see a slightly rotund, middle aged man in a dirty Gladiator mask stand around onstage and talk into a microphone only to be duped into watching a presumably younger, slightly-less rotund man in a dirty Gladiator mask stand around onstage and pretend to talk into a microphone. As the old folks say, “buyer beware”.

It was shrug-inducing, that is, until someone passed me a link to a discussion in which a talent buyer for a well-known Cali venue clearly states;

“…needless to say, hiphop will not be taking place at the venue again (we will still book alternative artists like sage, atmosphere, subtle, all through legit agencies that we regularly do business with).”

Ok, now wait a minute.