My Letter to Rolling Stone Magazine

To Whom It May Concern:

When a person hears the words "Rolling Stone Magazine" it brings a certain nostalgia to their ears. Throughout many years, thousands of aspiring artists and even ones who had made it, fought to be on the cover of this magazine as it was similar to winning the World Series or the SuperBowl for a musician. 

Today you took every ounce of credibility, American-ness, and honor that was being a part of your once great magazine, and not only covered it with excrement, but shat on the soula of Americans everywhere.  Does your magazine also have American flags as door mats and even smaller versions of flags for toilet paper? Do you take company field trips to Arlington just to piss on the graves of those who lost their lives for this country? That is pretty much what you have done by exalting a terrorist onto the cover of your magazine.

Its funny that your address is even "1290 Avenue of the Americas" because you do not belong on an street with a name so distinguished.  To call yourself or anyone at your magazine "American" is blasphemy to those who lost their lives for this country, especially in Boston this year.

How dare you immortalize the face of a murderer on your cover!  You have put John Lennon on the cover three hundred times you couldn't just make it three hundred and one?  Was there really no one else?  Were there really no bands on the planet that couldn't have filled a place on you cover? You make me sick. You make America and its actual American's sick.  If you wanted controversy so bad you could have just thrown Trayvon or Zimmerman on there because Lord knows the two of them had about as much musical ideological effect as Tsarnaev.  

No one needs to remember his name or his face. No one gives two cares that the terrorist was a "popular kid" or an "upstanding student."  He is a murderer.  He deserves death and nothing more.  And since you so clearly support him, you are no better than a terrorist, nay... you are terrorists. 

How you sleep at night is beyond me.  I am certain that if I was a terrorist I wouldn't be able to sleep a wink knowing that I was a disgrace to my country and all of it's citizens.  

I am pretty sure that Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Ronnie Wood, and Charlie Watts, even though they were established 5 years before your crappy magazine, are contemplating changing their band name.  I sure wouldn't want to be assimilated with your second-rate magazine in any way, shape or form.

Sincerely,

Mary Anne Theriault

Former Fan & Former Shelf Subscriber of terrorist magazines (Aka: Rolling Stone)

Current American citizen & supporter of our troops

Find My Happiness

Robert Frost once spoke of taken a road less traveled... I seem to have followed that advice quite thoroughly in my life.  I've done everything backward and without a plan.  I have flown by the seat of my pants, drifted with this life's current, and have come out on the other side worse for wear.  I have been broken, bruised, a little tattered, and even a bit upside down.  Now comes another chapter. Another time where I have to make a decision that will shape my future and I don't know what to do or even how to do it.

I am a skeptic. A realist. A bit of a cynic at times... okay more than a bit.  But I am cruising on the last two semesters of my degree and I need to make the adult decision of what I want to be when I grow up.  I don't know in all honesty.  I was accepted to two Universities and I still don't know.  I think I should be aware by now... and I am so not.

I love to write. I have kept a journal since I was nine. It speaks to me; helps me breathe when I can't sometimes.  Putting a pen to a clean sheet of college ruled paper can do more for me than a hundred sessions of therapy.
I also love to read.  I find that reading is more calming for me than almost anything else.  And opening a book, smelling its pages, feeling its binding in my hands is like climbing inside the adventure.

To me, these are hobbies. Nothing more.  They are things people do for fun not for career.  Realistically I can't make real money in this economy with a BA in Journalism under my belt, even though I want to so desperately.

Some say "Do whatever makes you the most money."  I disagree. Others say "You'll never be happy so it doesn't really matter what you do."  Again I disagree. I don't care how long it takes, how many really crappy jobs I have to take, or even how poor I am til the day I die, I will never stop trying to find my version of happiness.