MySpaced Out: When Publicists Attack
I recently had the unpleasant occasion to have a brief tete-a-tete with a young lady in the music public relations business. They call themselves "publicists." Not liars.
It all began innocently enough, a "friend request" in my MySpace inbox. I looked at the lady's MySpace site - I always look before I click - and saw she was a publicist of what is pejoratively know as "Texas Music" in some circles - OK, well, mine mostly.
No problem. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and assumed that maybe there was no hidden agenda, that maybe she is just a very literary woman desiring to expand her mind by hanging onto my eloquent prose.
Click. She's my "friend."
And, oh yeah, there at the end was an innocuous little request for my address so she could send along some CDs by "exciting artists."
I sent back that I could maybe help out her clients' budget by saving postage if I thought what she was going to mail might not be something I was interested in, or within the genre bounds of what I mostly write about for money. Who are the artists; what are the album titles?
She sent back a giggly email: "Oh, let's let it be a surprise! Don't you know never to disappoint a publicist by not letting her send you something? It's what we LOVE to do!!!
Giggle, giggle, titter, titter (in email subliminal subtext, of course). She avoids the issue of who the artists are. (Parentheses around "artist"?)
OK, my next email: "I'm trying to save both us time, money and effort. Who's the artist and what's the title?"
Reply: "Oh, I'm beginning to sense a bit of anger here. Why are you being like this about a simple request for your address?"
OK, that's about the edge of my patience.
Reply: "Where is all of this aggression coming from? You're being very aggressive and I don't think I like this. I may not talk to you anymore."
"YOU friended me, I didn't seek you out. Looked at your site. Saw you have photos with some Texas music hacks. If that's what you're trying to mail me, like I said, I'm not a receptacle for any crap anyone wants to mail." Send.
And back came the message: I had been BLOCKED.
She never even got my last message.
MySpace, you bitch. - William Michael Smith