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I Love You, Let's Meet » nameless zillionaire gouges struggling writer!

nameless zillionaire gouges struggling writer!

I’ve been told not to name names, so I will say only that a certain wealthy singer/songwriter is charging me 500 clams for using TWO LINES of an old song of his in my book!

How rich is this guy? So rich, he could have diamonds on the soles of his shoes if he so chose. I’d like to ask him, anonymously of course, Hey, Wealthy Songwriter, what are you, a rock? An island? Is not music meant to share? Without it, are we not all left with just the sound of silence?

6 Comments so far

  1. frankenweeny burger on July 3rd, 2006

    ….oooooooo…..

    …..another member of the-more-money-i-have, the-tighter-my-fist-holds-my-wallet- club!!……

    …..this creature *can* be ellusive……

    ….quite often masters of masking their tightwadness…….

    …..you flushed one out!!!……

    ….bless his eel-lips socks…..

    ….besides, i was always a G-gal…..

    …. 😀

  2. Jim on July 3rd, 2006

    Thank God you didn’t give away his identity. Hey, me and my friend Julio are gonna be down by the school yard later, wanna meet us?

  3. dana on July 3rd, 2006

    what happened – did his attorneys call up and say We’d like to know a little bit about you for our files?

  4. Anne on July 4th, 2006

    Song lyrics, ach! Expensive! I’ve heard so many horror stories…glad he was willing to sell you the rights or you’d REALLY be feeling not-groovy…

  5. john on July 7th, 2006

    When I heard that for $500 he would lay me down, I knew he was still crazy after all these years. I mean, he’s still using Kodachrome in a Nikon camera, he takes Greyhound to Pittsburgh and tries to smoke on the bus and dreams about Michigan.

    And finally, Dude: Spies no longer wear gabardine nor bow ties, not even in your little town, not even if they’re dead and/or dying. Now go help your Mom with the laundry.

  6. Diane on July 9th, 2006

    Hey, did your rights clearance person plead poverty? Even if it is Little Brown, you need to save the life of your child, cried the desperate author. Bill says, “I will heretofore look down and spit on the ground every time his name’s unmentioned.”

    That’s a lot of spit.