I would just like to state for the record that Ben Doleac is a sweet-ass music critic. He is a pop music authority of force and no one I have experienced can match him in his ability to drop odd musical trivia, obscure record release dates and names of band members. He truly loves popular music, past and present; this passion sometimes wells up inside of the man until it can no longer be contained and must erupt from his soul in the form of a high-pitched Beatles descant or an exuberant P-Funk chant (this phenomenon can be witnessed by silently following Doleac and observing his constant music-inspired antics).
I enjoy Ben’s writing and pray to the gods above that it will keep flowing steadily from that majestic golden-lock shrouded mind of his. I don’t understand the reason why people would attack Ben so unjustifiably. His writing is solid, his content is creative and original, and his quirky humor and endearing personal anecdotes are a pleasure for the reader. I really appreciate his musical opinion and insight. But if you disagree with his personal musical critique (and seem to have no sense of humor or joy in life at all), by all means write a scathing, cold-hearted and pretentious Wespeak about it.
In my opinion, naysayers like Jameson Walthers are just jealous of the glamour, fame and women that Doleac covets as the esteemed rock critic for the Argus. He’s got the job and he’s fucking money, sorry guys. To people like Walthers, I offer wisdom from a man with a similar level of influence and power as Ben: Shaquille O’Neal. In one of his incredible rap compositions (you music fans should check out some of Shaq’s work by the way), he declares: “Don’t be mad at the player, be mad at the game. Don’t be mad cause they’re screaming my name.” So please, Walthers and the like, it’s the game you should be upset about, not the fact that everyone is screaming Ben Doleac’s name. And perhaps it’s time everybody here at Wesleyan did a little less hating, and more congratulating.
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