Chris From We Are Scientists Will Fucking Cap You

He's got a fucking gun.

You know the guy in We Are Scientists who kind of looks like a cross between old-school Weird Al Yankovic and one of my uncles? That guy does not play around. I am dead serious; he will fucking kill you. From Stereogum's report on Oct. 23, an account of some postshow webforum drama after their Sheffield, Oregon stop:

"One audience member, however, lost some respect for bassist Chris Cain after failing to receive his autograph after the set. Under the name Leroy Brown, the fan posted his compaint on the band's message board:

Re: was at the Sheffield Octagon last night.

Oct 22nd, 2006, 3:42am

Though the gig was fantastic. I even got Keith and Michael to sign my ticket afterwards. Im gutted that Chris refused to sign it because he was more interested in the ugly, skanky groupie that was hanging off him! So Chris, you've gone down in my estimation. I thought if anyone would sign my ticket it would be you!! Do yourself a favour and lose the groupies and interact with your real fans a bit more mate

One problem, though. That skanky groupie is actually the band's tour manager Storme Whitby-Grubb. And Leroy? Well, he's just a nutsack full of catshit. And probably feeling pretty stupid after Chris posted this response:

Re: was at the Sheffield Octagon last night.

Oct 22nd, 2006, 10:15am

Hey, Leroy Brown. Glad you enjoyed the show last night -- I really am, but I'm a little bit furious with you. Here's why, you shitpiece: that "skanky groupie" who was "hanging" on me when you asked me for my autograph last night? Her name's Storme Whitby-Grubb and she's our tour manager, and a good friend of mine. Did she look a little bit like this?







Yeah, that's our tour manager, Storme. I'm not a violent person, Leroy, but I'd love to whip you raw with my belt right now, you stupid child, for two reasons:

(1) You slandered my friend, Storme -- assumed that since she's a girl (a girl with a walkie-talkie and a staff-seargent's demeanor), she's a hanger on instead of a puppet master; and called her an "ugly, skanky groupie", despite the fact that neither a total stranger nor a close acquaintaince of Storme's would ever describe her using any of those three words. So you're explicitly a liar.

(2) You're a liar by exemption. You neglected to mention that at the time you requested my autograph, you were standing at the side of the stage, completely out of civilian territory, without any reason for being there, and approached us as we came off stage after an hour and fifteen minutes of playing music. At a time like that, what we love to do is to head down to the dressing room for ten or twenty minutes and have a beer and change out of our soaked pants (we piss them a lot during the shows). Later, when we leave the building, we typically sign every last body part of every single person who has bothered to hang around to say hi. But as we leave the stage? Common sense should probably have told you this is not the time to try to shoot the shit with us. I'm glad Keith and Michal signed your ticket -- I'm sure I would've done the same if Storme hadn't been there shielding me from you and tugging me along -- but I'm also sort of amazed you'd have the cheek to first sneak backstage, then get in our faces as we walk off-stage, and finally -- and this alone is what makes you a nutsack full of catshit -- come on this message board and accuse me of cheating on my girlfriend.

The moral, Leroy, on the off chance you're as fucking thick as you seem:
- Impose on a person's kindness if you must, but don't then criticize him if he doesn't reward you for doing it. Instead, accept that you took a shot and it missed, and take a minute to shake off the blush of momentary shame that accompanies imposition.
- Don't concoct facts that can interfere with another person's family, unless you're doing it out of revenge because the other person did something equally despicable to you. In a case where the horrible thing he did was not to sign your ticket, slander is a pretty big overreaction.

Leroy, you've gone down in my estimation a bit, too, mate. Here are your options: You can apologize, which I would prefer, because I'm a sucker and have no use for antipathy and would love to sign your goddamn lease for you in golden ink next time we meet. Or you can contest even one word of what I've written above, in which case -- and I'm going to phrase this humorously in order to defuse any sense of false bravado that might otherwise attach, but in essence I'm not kidding even a little bit -- if I see you again we're going to have a duel in the street."

Audience douche: pwn'd.