Morrissey Get Your Gun! My plan for a "new paradigm"

Whenever a copyright owner or fan or any decent person complains that blogs, torrents, forums and "Spotify" are killing the artists, you know what the "seniormole" assholes like to say? They defend all piracy and mew, "all you need is to get a new paradigm."

With stubborn stupidity, the pirates and those that gratefully get everything FREE from them, insist piracy helps artists get their music heard. They aren't in the industry, they make their living at some dumbass drone job that requires no intelligence, ignore all the stats and facts and the obviousness of shuttered record and bookstores and less product, and even insist SPOTIFY is lovely AND profitable for all! Then they end with that insolent shrug of "music should be free and shared" and, should it actually be true that piracy is bad, well, "the artist should get a new paradigm."

They never say what it could be. Or if they do, it's something stupid like "sell t-shirts at your gig."

Well, here's an industry that seems to be doing well: violent video games.

So this is "the new paradigm." Every artist...create an expensive and violent video game!

Hoodwink some clever teenagers by saying, "you will be unpaid interns. But you'll have a great credit!" Then, have them put you into a video game and charge $50 for it. Your music is on the soundtrack, and every time you make a new album...you simply "revise" the game with MORE violence, and add the new music!

Think of all the great interactive games! Morrissey...he's on stage primping and posing and gets hit by a plastic bottle. He turns around and fires back with vegetarian meatballs. It escalates until he's pummeling everyone in the front row with a frozen savaloy, shouting "meat IS murder!" Two, three, even more players can have fun with this game, as they each play an ex-member of the Smiths and get into vicious fights over whether the band will ever get back together.

Violent video games! The only thing better, I guess, would be live violence. Go attack your neighbor because you think he sprayed weedkiller on your dick. Walk down a motorcycle-noisy street breaking antennas off parked cars while in a meth blackout. Or go find "seniormole" and gag him with the t-shirt you're supposed to make a living on by booking yourself into pay-to-play nightclubs. Then kick his ass till the brains that sank to his butt cheeks start spurting out of his asshole in a few gushes of fetid pinkish-gray gunk. No worry, he's been operating without using his brains for 60 years.