This IS It: A Letter to the Perfume-Shilling Julian Casablancas
Dear Julian Casablancas, 
Something stinks, and it's you.
Remember how the Strokes were good that one time in 2001? Yeah, we're ready to forget that ever happened -- but then again, we're pretty sure you already have.
Once upon a time, you brought us the bouncy, gritty swagger of "Last Nite" and helped herald in the garage rock revival. We had hope for you, Julian. Maybe it was a mistake, but we looked to you and your classmates (the Hives, the Whites Stripes, etc.) to save us from the Limp Bizkits of the world and prove that rock could be great again, that rock didn't need anything other than brilliant songwriting -- and it certainly didn't need rapped verses.
Even while the last few Strokes albums underwhelmed us, we were hoping that maybe, just maybe, you were still a dirty New York post-punk at heart, teasing us with sub-par albums only to blow our minds again in a few years. But we're pretty sure you can't do any of that when you smell like "The essence of rock."
Yes, we're talking about Azzaro's new French perfume for douchebags, Decibel, and how for some reason you, Julian Casablancas, are its poster boy.
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