Dear K-W: You suck.

Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you people? I was there, at the Victoria Park Boathouse last night, listening to one of the awesomest live bands I've seen since "NAMBLA" Dick Evans realized he liked watching Little League games for more than just the baseball, playing to a mostly empty house. That was fucking criminal, and you losers should be totally ashamed.

I mean, K-W is enough of a cultural wasteland without dissing bands this good when they come to town, and no, I don't want to hear your excuse, you whiny douche. But you have a chance to redeem yourself next week when the Weber Brothers do the Boathouse one more time next Thursday.

This all goes double for you pathetic local college wanks. I realize -- yes, I do -- that all you're really after is a little nookie on those nights when it's -20C but if your strategy is to hit on some chick at Molly Bloom's and tell her how much Tori Amos' latest album really speaks to you while graciously offering to buy her a Coors Lite, the absolute best you're going to get is a handjob in a cold parking lot when it's all over. But bring her to the Boathouse next week for some serious psychobilly and knock back a Tankhouse or two, and you're getting laid. But wait, we're not done here.

Since I really don't want these guys to stop coming to town, I'm going to make it easy for you. To sweeten the deal, I am going to -- out of the goodness of my shrivelled, blackened heart -- take care of that crippling $5 cover charge for the first 10 people who show up next week and say, "CC sent me." Or, better yet, "CC told me to come or he'd hoof me in the nads." Is that easy enough to understand? Good. Then we'll see you there.

And just to remind you losers what you missed:



Oh, and they have CDs for sale. So bring money. And bring a friend. You'll have to trust me on this.