Dear Mr. And Mrs. Carter….

1379680528_jay-z-beyonce-articleI have taken this opportunity to write a letter to the King and Queen of our times, Mr. and Mrs. Carter. Will they ever see this? More than likely no. But hell, millions of people never see any of the shit I write anyway so that’s not gonna stop me.

Greetings Your Highnesses,

You don’t know me. My name is Ben. How are you both on this lovely Wednesday?

Still rich? Glad to hear it!

Listen, I wanted to holla at you both for a hot minute. And please don’t take this the wrong way but I feel like, in the words of Kelly Price, there’s something that you must know.

You guys are great. Highly talented, marketable, empowering. All of those things.

And Blue? She’s adorable. Can’t wait for her first CD to drop later this year, I know it’s gonna be AWESOME.

Now back to the both of you. I’m not sure what world you’re living in, or if you realize that the country is pretty much broke right now, but your concert prices are ridiculous.

I’ve checked Ticketmaster for the Philly show at Citizens Bank Park and the cheapest tickets you have left are $126. That’s my cell phone bill. What exactly am I getting from the two of you for the price of my cell phone bill?

a) Nose bleed seats

b) Interaction with all of your Stans

c) An opportunity to take really blurry photos of you from my location in the nose bleed seats

d) All the above

I’m sure you both scoff at $126. You probably use hundred dollar bills dipped in purified diamond water and the tears of the poor to wipe the corners of Blue’s mouth after she’s finished eating.

But I have to inform you that if I willingly give you $126 I may not eat for a week.

However I’ve also noticed that one of your more expensive tickets was (because they’re all sold out) $1,750.

One thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars.

The. Fuck?

That’s someone’s paycheck. Which means, most of the people at your show will be skinny as shit because they won’t have eaten in weeks playing catch up trying to pay for your concert.

I guess when you both were in Philly doing the Welcome America fest last year you turned to each other and asked “How can we make some money off these mu’fuckas?”

And you know what? Your plan worked! I cannot even begin to imagine how much money people are going to spend for that one night.

And by people, I don’t mean me. That’s why I’m writing you this letter to regretfully inform you that I will not be in attendance this time. Or any other time after this. Clearly I know my presence will be missed so please hold back your tears. And though I don’t Stan for either one of you I do love your music. However, I love not being kicked out of my apartment or being in debt just a little bit more so I’ll have to pass on this one.

And to all of those who will now hunt me down in the street and try to kill me for speaking ill of the King and Queen I must say to you please move yourself over a couple spaces to the left, to the left and Fuck Off!

This show is just for you, because, it ain’t for everybody.

Sincerely Yours,

Ben Robinson III



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