Now I don’t want to sound pretentious or holier than thou, but I’m sure this is going to come across that way. So be it, because I am deeply disturbed. I bought my first Modest Mouse album in junior high. I had been introduced to them right after “This is a Long Drive or Someone with Nothing to Think About” came out, and to be honest, I wasn’t a huge fan. But by the time “The Lonesome Crowded West” was released, I was a true believer. I went to shows, bought all the records (and side projects), t-shirt, buttons, and stickers. I even started trading live recordings on the internet, amassing quite a collection of live Mouse. Then all of sudden, Modest Mouse leave tiny Washington label Up Records for uber-label Epic. I smelled trouble, but then “The Moon & Antarctica” came out, and it was fantastic. Maybe too fantastic. By this time, I was in college and I started to notice more people wearing MM t-shirts. A certain type of people. A certain type of people wearing hemp necklaces and Birkenstocks. I grimaced, but persevered, buying “Good News for People Who Love Bad News” the day it came out. I thought it was an OK record, far from their best work, but it contained a little song called “Float On” which apparently people liked. A lot. Its bouncy melody and hopeful lyrics were something of a departure for the band, and radio, commercials, TV, kidz, and the general populous responded. Contrary to the trend, I began listening to Modest Mouse a lot less. I still liked them, but wouldn’t admit it to most people. Then Johnny Marr of the Smiths joined the band for their soon-to-be released next album, and I was intrigued and looking forward to picking it up as soon as it was released. OK, enough with the history lesson. That pretty much brings us up to speed. Last night, I saw the most depressing thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m considering boycotting American Idol, Ford, Epic Records, and Modest Mouse for the rest of my life. The worst part is that I don’t know who to blame for this monstrosity. Someone please tell me who I can hold responsible, and I will find them. I will find them and make them listen to a bunch of also-ran D-listers dressed in the leftover wardrobe from “Hair” murder a song by one of their most cherished bands from when they were growing up in the name of selling a crappy hatchback. I wish I had one those things that punches your TV out like the Joker in the first Batman movie.