1. To the drunk couple singing all the lyrics meaningfully into each other's eyes: no one came to see you sing and it's really not going to relight the sputtering spark in your sex life.
2. To the guy 10 feet from stage center: you're pretty cut to be able to hold your girlfriend on your shoulders that long, but everyone behind you came to see the band, not your girlfriend's ass. It's a one-song limit on the shoulder-elevator, pal.
3. To bands that encourage unison, over-the-head audience hand-clapping: toss out some free deodorant with that. Pit-sweat is the only thing stronger-smelling than weed.
4. To the weed-smokers: up your game. I don't mind smelling your puff, but I do hate when it smells like a skunk's ass. Shell out for more than stems and seeds, bud. Get it? Bud.
5. To the venue operators: $11 for light beer? Blow me.
Matt, you're such a beam of sunshine!
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