Those of you who know me, or are getting to know me, may start to think that I hate The Dave Matthews Band. For the record, I don’t. I have fond memories of a time when I felt like his music was the perfect compliment to bad weed, cheap vodka, sunny D, and dry humping. However, once I grew up, sobered up, and made the mistake of seeing them live… I regarded the music as highly unremarkable. Only after a few more years of maturity did I realize what makes Matthew’s music so subversively sinister. It’s not the music I have a problem with, it’s the fans, specifically the male ones. Dudes into Dave Matthews (DIDM™) are some of the worst people in the entire world. This seems like an overstatement? Please let me explain…
DIDM represent the seedy underbelly of sensitive male culture. They represent all of the bad poets with a penchant for sucking the life out of hot yoga instructors and cuddly brand managers. They are the ponytails complicit in institutionalized sexism. The DIDM major in Anthropology, go to law school, and then take a job with Lockheed Martin. They’re the stay at home dads that make their own granola and secretly hate the Jews. One of the DIDM would actually cheat on his wife while she was being re-diagnosed with cancer. Then he would continue to cheat while hoping for her rapid death. He would also accept an award for “Father of the Year” right before impregnating his mistress. And then spend millions and millions of dollars covering it up.
That’s right, DIDM have a king and his name is John Edwards. Apparently, he and Rielle loved to get nasty to the Dave Matthews anthems of sensitive manipulation. She was a new age healer; he was the great white southern hope for liberalism. The pair was ultimately concerned with nothing more than exploiting the poor and empathetic for their own egomaniacal advancement. Don’t believe me? Watch this episode of 20/20 and remember how much we all used to believe in Mr. Edwards… and how he proved to be a typical DIDM.
Ladies, please let this blog serve as a sober warning when you finally go inside a new dude’s apartment after that third date. If “Crash” starts to play make sure there is no tan line from the ring he discreetly removed from his finger. Don’t let him seduce you with his manufactured opinions about patriarchy and populism. Don’t look him directly in those sad concerned eyes. He is only holding your gaze so he can quietly drop a roofie in your drink.
"The space between"
O.K. I know that last reference was extreme and unfair. I would like to apologize for my inappropriateness as well as my insensitivity to a tragic and serious issue. Besides, if I had to pick a male fan base most likely predisposed to date rape… I would easily make the choice of Vampire Weekend.
The Dave Good Show 