Dear Rick: On the Record

Dear Rick,

I just had to put this on the record, OK? So, what gives? You knew I had stuff to do. You, if anyone, know how valuable and limited my time is. But you had to go and tell me all about how you joined Facebook because your friends prodded you into doing it. How does this advance my career? Nobody on Facebook has any money. Yes, you can safely say, "Uh, I *honk* didn't tell you to join *snort*. But you know how impressionable I am. Besides you're my manager so I was hoping to trust you. I was hoping that you knew what the hell you were doing. I question that now. What's worse is, even though you knew my position on this sort of internet nonsense, you had to play up how important it is to appear to be all young and "socially connected."

You, as my BUSINESS MANAGER, know that the time I spend WORKING on my ART is time that will ultimately PAY YOU! Well, it's time that will allow me to cash out enough to pay you. I'm nearly nine grand in the rears and you have me doing this? Dammit!

Why couldn't you do it? Why couldn't you farm this out? Now I've spent an hour and a half on Facebook, and for what? What, didn't we learn anything from the Myspace fiasco? I fucking swear if we didn't have a contract, your ass would be toast.

C'mon, Rick! C'mon!!! I'm going broke and idle because of you.

Please. Fucking pretty please, as your "favorite new emerging artist client at Forward/Slash Management," please help me. That's your job. Please stop with this internet crap. Facebook, Myspace, and LinkedIn? That shit's all over now. Do your job or I'm seeking legal support to get out of the contract. YOU WORK FOR ME!!!

ty hardaway (tm) dot com