I know I’ve touched on this before, but I don’t really think I can stress enough how much I would like to smoke a pack of cigarettes, eat a bottle of fish oil plus 5 cloves of garlic, drink 2 cups of coffee, and then hold Chad Kroeger down and breathe in his face for 3 hours straight. *** I know first hand how well this torture works. This was pretty much my experience every morning growing up when my mom would hold me down to pluck my eyebrows. At least that is the way I remember it.
At the very least, I would like for the entire world to realize that Nickelback sucks hairy balls!
You know what? That’s not even fair. I am not even going to pretend that I know enough about music to say that they are musically shitty, because I’m sure they have at least a little talent or they wouldn’t be winning Grammys and what not. I do know enough about hearing things to know that listening to Chad Kroeger sing is only about 3 steps away from being literally raped in the ear.
Which is precisely what has been happening to me all week.
I get it Jack FM. You play what YOU want. And that is the exact opposite of what I want about 17 times every day.
Every time I hear those first few chords and his whiny groan of a voice chime out with-“How the hell we end up like this?” a little part of me dies.
And yes, I realize that that this may seem a little hypocritical considering that am writing this a day after posting how horrible of a singer I am myself. But you know what? I don’t get paid millions and millions of dollars to entertain people with my voice. (Though I bet I COULD get paid tens of dollars NOT to entertain my five co-workers in my office.)
It does please me to see that there really is a lot of Nickelback hate out there. I’ve probably heard more people say that they hate Nickelback than I’ve hear people say they hate Kanye West. If all the hate, then why are they still all over the radio? I’m starting to be convinced that half the people who say they “hate” this band are just doing it to get on the hateorade bandwagon. Maybe it’s just become trendy to shout out your angst at a band whom you haven’t really even formed a proper opinion about and then go home and buy forty dollars worth of their music on itunes to see what the hate is all about, therefore leading the radio people to believe that people want to hear this Godforsaken music and cause them to play it all freaking day. (I only know this happens because I have fallen for it myself. Thank you Miley Cyrus.)
I’ll be honest. Maybe I haven’t given them a proper chance. It’s not like I’ve heard any of there songs besides the five that are played 13 trazillion times on the radio every day. Nor do I want to.
My hate comes from a very personal experience, one not even related to their music, (though I still think their music sucks) one that Ive spoken of briefly before.
Back when I was in college, our football team made it to the playoffs resulting in a bowl game in New Orleans. I was involved in a drinking spirit organization that went to all the football games and drank cheered from the stands. During After the football game, I went down to Bourbon street to meet up with a friend who had moved away a few years before, and had also come in town for the bowl game.
We met at one of those little stands where they sell the big Hurricane drinks (you know those tall red drinks you can buy on the side of the street with an umbrella stuck in it??) We had just retrieved our drinks (though I was probably already quite a few deep) when we decided we should take pictures to celebrate our reunion and to show off our Hurricanes.
There were three of us gathered and we all wanted to be in the picture, so I looked around to see if there was anyone around who I could trust to take it.
I approached a group of people nearby who were dressed anywhere from “homeless” to “douche-bag,” but seeing as there was no one else around, I decided to ask them anyway.
CJ: Would one of you mind taking a picture of us? My friends and I all want to be in it?”
I spoke openly to the group. As I did, the group all shifted their attention to the homeless looking greasy man in the center, who was obviously their leader.
Homeless looking greasy man: “Well sure ladies, I wouldn’t mind that one bit.”
He left his spot in the group and walked past the camera that I held out for him.
CJ: Umm… Nervous laughter.…
Homeless looking greasy man: Where would you like me to stand? As he is already edging himself between my friends and I, putting his arms around our shoulders.
CJ: Tehhehee… actually, we were just gonna see if you could take a picture of us! We haven’t seen each other in a while and don’t really want a stranger in our picture.
The homeless looking greasy man was taken aback. He clearly thought we were joking until we had reposed without him and I was once again trying to hand him my camera.
Homeless looking greasy man’s group finally took notice of what was going on, and all at once started talking.
“Do you know what you’re doing?? one of them said. “That’s fucking Chad Kroeger!!!”
CJ: Okkkkkkk? (and why do I care?)
“The lead fucking singer for Nickelback you bitch.”
CJ: Ohhhhhhh yeahhhhh. (shit!… But still, who cares? No reason to act like an asshole.)
Homeless looking Greasy man AKA Chad Kroeger: Fuck you, Fuck you bitches.
Then we laughed and ran away as fast as we could.
Looking back, I can understand that he may have been embarrassed to assume that we wanted a picture with him.
Regardless, to tell someone “Fuck you” for not recognizing you? Add in the ability to kill small children with the sound of your voice?
Suck it, Chad Kroeger. I’ll never forgive you.