The band 200 Million Miles, in case you haven't heard, got burgled last week. Twice. In one week. And none of the items have been recovered. According Zale Hessler, who spoke with our friends at the A.V. Club, first the thieving bastard(s) reportedly broke into drummer Carl Sorensen's car and stole a laptop and recording gear.
Then, a few nights later, some other opportunistic goon(s) burglarized the band's car, and helped themselves to the rest of the gear, sans a drum kit, which, fortunately, was stowed elsewhere. In an effort to raise some funds to recoup their losses, the guys, who are playing on borrowed instruments, are selling their EP on their Bandcamp page.
Clearly a resourceful move on their part. But, listen, wouldn't be nice if having to rely on such efforts wasn't even necessary in the first place? Preaching to the converted here, we know. Still, this pilfering is a steadily increasing trend (see the growing list of thefts endured by local musicians in the past few years: Boonie Mayfield, Frogs Gone Fishing, Hideous Men, our own Andy Thomas, Ghost Buffalo and Tickle Me Pink, among countless others) that we'd like to see go the way of the dodo.
Thus, an open rant aimed directly at the perps (not to mention the inaugural edition of our new Rants in the Pants feature, in which we gripe about whatever happens to be stuck in our craw at the moment). Gonna go ahead and assume that the culprint(s) has/have the wherewithal to read said rant, since a laptop is now presumably in his/her/their possession, for chrissakes.
Dear, thieving, unscrupulous jerkoffs of the metro area --
On behalf of honest, hardworking musicians everywhere across our fine city just trying to make their way in this harsh, unforgiving world, knock it off already, will ya? Enough with this whole taking of shit that doesn't belong to you, mmkay? Seriously. Pillage elsewhere, friend.
Look, we know that people get burglarized every day. But musicians already have it tough enough, what with the whole sleeplessness that comes with continually having to dream up articulate responses to the endless queries eternally posed by non-artistic loved ones and acquaintances, who all broach the same seemingly inescapable question: "When are you going to quit doing this and actually get a real job?"
And then there's the whole lack of affordable/adequate health care quagmire, or contending with actually being a real-life starving artist, which really is just a fancy way of saying that you have to put up with other people's crap at some mindless, menial gig that you barely dig just so you can pursue your life's passion.
See what we're saying? Uh-huh. They've already got their hands full. And that's before going through the great pains of making music that will hopefully move someone. Last thing they need is some soulless thieves breaking into their cars (or homes, or practice spaces) and making off with whatever treasured gear they've managed to collect with whatever meager earnings they've managed to scrape together, just so you can feed whatever habit/fetish/addiction it is that you're grappling with.
So do us a solid, would ya, and lay off these good folks. Give them a break. Need money? Try collecting cans or something. Remember: Karma's a boomerang. May you never have your shit gaffled.
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