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Poor Colin Meloy is making an ass of himself, and he wants everybody to go along. After the Decemberists' new concept album, The Hazards of Love, scored a 5.7 on Pitchfork (a really even-handed and thorough assessment, mind you), Meloy tweeted an instigation to his fans to show their disgust by e-mailing pictures of their butts, clothed or unclothed, to Pitchfork. While many people I know are unemployed, really, who has that kind of time? By the point when you've got the camera out and your pants down, you've already had to ask yourself What the fuck am I doing? at least three times--unless of course you think a sub-six rating for anything the Decemberists do is a travesty and consider it your duty to defend their honor.
You have to wonder: Did Meloy go first? Was he clothed? Did he open up Photo Booth on his laptop and drop trou? Or did he feel like a low-res picture of the back of his pants could capture the enormity of his displeasure? When the Pitchfork staff came into the office this AM, were their inboxes brimming with strange ass?
As far as juvenille responses to critics go, if Michael Gira mailing a baggie of his semen to Robert Christgau is an immaculate ten, "e-mooning" at best rates a 2.7, though it could go as high as a 4.1 if Meloy actually e-mailed a picture of his own naked ass to Pitchfork editorial.