I Have Had It

The music industry can go fuck itself right in its stupid fucking ass.  Like most reasonable people, I’ve been annoyed with them for fucking years now and this latest shit is where I’m calling it quits: As of today, I’m never buying another music CD ever again.

Oh sure, I’ll go back on that pledge in two seconds flat when I have to buy whatever album for whoever’s birthday present, or if I can buy it directly from the band itself, or if we’re talking about a spoken word album.  But otherwise, I’m never buying another music CD for myself ever again.  This decision will bring virtually zero changes to how I acquire new music by the way.  For the better part of the last year, I’ve been downloading all my music anyway, with the vast majority coming from either iTunes or Amazon.  But, unless I exhaust literally every other resource, I won’t be doing that anymore either.  Not for music, anyway.

This might mean a return to Russian .mp3 sites, or it might be a return to torrents and File Sharing clients.  Or hey, maybe IRC will be the method of choice again.  Then again it could be pirate FTP sites or, God forbid, maybe a friend just burns me a copy of the new album he just bought.

It could happen.

Regardless though, I’m never paying for another music CD ever again.  And I’m not the only one who feels this way.  And there is literally nothing that the music industry will ever be able to do about it.  Aside from, you know, giving up on this stupid anti-piracy shit and focusing all their time and energy on making good music that’s worth buying.

Today is day one of Operation Steal All My Music From Now On.


Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.

His poetry has been published in MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.

He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.

He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.

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