Man Who Couldn’t Afford Coachella Tickets Wants You To Know He'd Never Go To That Sort Of Thing


With the wafting scents of $15 gourmet hotdogs and Boomerang Instagram stories of that one Ferris wheel, it’s clear that the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival has arrived. Anyone following the only people on Instagram who aren’t posting photos of their children, food or a concerning mixture of both probably has a feed full of golden hour selfies taken in the sweltering California desert, featuring skinny Gen-Z folks wearing culturally-questionable accessories. While the array of valid Coachella criticisms range from unbelievable ticket prices to a right-wing billionaire founder who literally funds anti-LGBTQ hate groups, leave it to everyone's favorite local bro, Brandon Harris, to explain exactly why the festival just isn’t really his scene, you know?

“Maybe I’m just old-fashioned, but I miss when festivals were about the music, man. When I go to a show, I want to hear REAL music, not Ariana Grande or some other warbling pop princess who’s loyal to capitalism,” said Harris as he adjusted his Warby Parker frames, tightened his Off White belt and re-cuffed his jeans. “Coachella’s just a bunch of self-obsessed millennials walking around on their phones. That’s why I don’t have an Instagram. Pictures of girls wearing headdresses and rhinestone tube tops? Where’s the creativity? I don’t want my feed filled with meaningless posts about how to ‘find myself’ in the desert. That’s why I keep to my Twitter, which is dedicated exclusively to my own blank-verse poetry and scatter handfuls of Polaroids of me thinking about philosophy to the wind instead.”

“It’s been a real shit-show these past few days. All he does is bitch about the so-called ‘culture vultures’ wreaking havoc over in Coachella Valley while murmuring the incorrect lyrics to Billie Eilish songs and lounging around in felt, wide-brimmed hats,” said Brandon’s roommate and self-described festival fanatic Caleb Dawson while organizing the contents of his opalescent fanny pack. “Yes, I’m going to be taking every form of ecstasy during the trip that I paid a semester’s tuition for, but don’t let this guy act like he wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing if he hadn’t blown all his money on Pabst Blue Ribbon and American Spirit cigs. He’s probably just jealous that I might run into Childish Gambino while he’s at home tweeting about the death of real hip hop. And if this fuckstick doesn’t think everyone at Woodstock was tripping balls too, he’s out of his mind.”  

For those who think listening to Nirvana has elevated their mind to a higher status, regardless of the band’s wide popularity and commercial success thanks to the longevity of Hot Topic t-shirt sales, a trip to the Valley doesn’t seem to be in the books anytime soon. Even though a part-time Zumiez  salary wouldn’t come close to paying for tickets, rest assured that this guy is too good for it anyway. Keep your tie-dye hamburger buns and fringed leotards to yourself. Actual music fans would rather stay up until 3 a.m. to watch a live stream of it on Youtube because they prefer to suffer for their art anyway.

The Eggplant FSU