Dear Adam,
You know I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for you, but our love affair is over.
It’s not me. It’s you. Definitely you.
I gave you a pass when I saw you in 2013. And another in 2017.
But this time, it’s really over.
It’s too bad.
Pam and I were so excited to see you Friday. You were our first.
Our first concert, that is. The original “Friend or Foe” tour.
We even got there early to see your opener, the Glam Skanks.
They were great. Even though people sat through their set, the Skanks didn’t phone it in.
Unlike others (cough cough).
Listen, I know you are geriatric now. Maybe your hips hurt. I don’t know.
I do know that fans like Pam and me expect to see you do more on stage than just hop weakly a few times.
Was your hussar jacket too tight? Had you sweat too much already in your leather pants à la Ross? Were you afraid of your ridiculous straw hat falling off?
Whatever the case, your moves are gone. It appears your voice is too.
I’m sorry to be so hard on you, but I paid for a service — and I don’t feel serviced.
As Pam said, “We’re living on a memory.”
Part of it is not your fault. Perhaps the acoustics in Atlanta Symphony Hall are great for the Atlanta Symphony, but they were not great for you.
It wasn’t until I drug Pam up to the front that things got interesting. You had shed your jacket at that point (but not the hat, of course).
You went deep into “and the Ants” history and brought out “Physical (You’re So).” I thought maybe we could stay together.
But then I got a good look at your new facial hair pattern.
You know me: all or nothing.
I don’t know what’s going on with you.
All I know is that I’m moving on.
Adam, meet Chris and Randy.
I’m sorry you had to find out this way.
But, I went out last night to see Fozzy.
They BROUGHT IT in a way you haven’t for me for 20 years.
Don’t be too sad. We had a good run.
But I just can’t with you anymore.
You’ll be fine.
Go spend your time grooming and buying hats.
Sincerely,
Beth
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