Men Who Sell Pitchfork to Condé Nast.

Music has taken so many tumbles since Napster came along, but its latest blow is almost too egregious to bear. Not that Pitchfork Media hadn’t sold its soul long ago, but to sell the remaining modicum to Condé Nast for the price of their remaining reputation shows not only a missing a dick nature, but genitalia that’s completely inverted.

Say goodbye to what you knew

Say goodbye to what you knew

Formerly owned by Ryan Schreiber, the enterprise began so differently than what it has become, a juggernaut of advertising and reviews bought and sold not for the benefit of educating readers on “what’s good,” but what can generate “hits” to the website. Naturally, Condé Nast’s interest in the company stems from their desire for “millennial ‘males,'” even though this infers that 1) women don’t enjoy or have good taste in music and that 2) GQ, Details, Golf Digest and The New Yorker aren’t enough to quench the company’s appetite for an audience with a dick.

An unholy alliance

An unholy alliance

Undoubtedly, this is a shrewd move on Condé Nast’s part, now able to secure the entire “male” population of Williamsburg in its pocket. Not only is the selling of Pitchfork an indication of those “men” who now continue to take to heart what the site has to spout about what’s “hot” in music not having any viable taste of their own, but also that every company worth shaking a stick at feels inclined to go the VICE route and transform into the antithesis of its original intent by selling itself with the resignation of an aging showgirl.

 

Men Who Make Their Playlists Based On Pitchfork.

If you’re still reading and relying on Pitchfork for musical inspiration, you might be missing a dick. To harbor the delusion that the writers of Pitchfork can offer you a unique and esoteric playlist to impress people (specifically women) with is a strong indication of a penis the size of a chickpea.

"Listen to this song I 'found' gurl, you'll like it."

“Listen to this song I ‘found’ gurl, you’ll like it.”


I mean, this shit’s been around since 1995 and it’s based out of Chicago. What about this screams “masculinity” or “finger on the pulse” to you? If you want to find out about new music, you should probably move out of Williamsburg, because, to loosely quote Shania, “That playlist don’t impress no one much, and we all know you created it by the date and genre of Pitchfork’s reviews.”