An Open Letter To the Band Train From The Gulf of Mexico

Wassup fellas. How's it going. It's me, the Gulf of Mexico.

Listen, you already have thousands of fans who tell you you're the best and all that, but I think you need to hear this from the ninth largest body of water in the world for it to really sink in:

You guys fucking suck.

No, wait. Before you dismiss me as simply a "hater" or that I'm "jealous of your success" or that over half of my basin is comprised of "shallow intertidal waters," just hear me out.

You came out with "Drops of Jupiter" in 2000 with that song "Drops of Jupiter (Tell Me)," and that was a musical suckerpunch to the eardrums. Your lead singer (I'm not Googling it, dammit) has a voice so piercing and annoying that it caused my tides to recede from Florida for a whole month that the song was in rotation. But I guess the Grammy you won that year for Best Rock Song just encouraged you.

Not content being a one hit wonder, in 2003 you came out with "Calling All Angels," which I can't remember was attached to some shitty Kate Hudson movie or not, but it might as well have been.

Well, it's 2010, and you've raped our ears with another one. Fuckin' "Hey Soul Sister," which I have to say has the most annoying opening vocals I've ever heard. And this time, the song is inescapable: if it's not playing on the radio, it's in some horrible commercial for Samsung TVs.



That shit makes me wish for a tsunami near wherever you guys are playing.


I know what you're thinking: why am I bothering with you guys when I obviously have way bigger problems of my own, like maybe THE WORST OIL SPILL IN U.S. HISTORY. That goddamned BP pipe is spilling over 210,000 barrels a day into my waters. The oil spill could severely damage my fragile ecosystems for years, possibly decades. My beaches will be very difficult to clean up, and just as shorebirds are nesting and sea turtles are coming ashore to lay their eggs this season. And I'm concerning myself with some shitty has-been 00's pop band?


Well, I gotta do something while I'm waiting for BP to drill the two relief wells to contain the leak. I know, it's try #7, but what the fuck else am I going to do but listen to the radio?

Okay, I'm through yelling at you fuckers. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some letters to write to Lifehouse and Switchfoot.