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Jane (Michael Little’s weekend drag name), you ignorant slut:

As a former member of the once-D.C. band Pussy Galore, whose first EP included the song “Fuck Ian MacKaye,” and whose members often stumbled and schlumped around the D.C. music scene in a desultory way, shrugging and grinning lopsidedly and resenting all of the vital idealists—or stupidly energetic Pollyannas—from Bethesda and Chevy Chase who hopped around creating slogans and placards and T-shirts, I feel it my moral and civic duty to point out some things (“In on the Killjoy,” 10/17):

The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about. I am sure Fugazi is tickled. That is, if they allow that. Maybe only with a hemp riding crop. On Sundays.

How old are you, Mikey? Were you that kid Ian MacKaye yelled at mentioned in the article, the kid at the ice-cream truck? Shame! Didn’t you know they had freeze-dried-tofu ice-cream chips at the Dischord “Complain About Fucking Everything” table? Feckless charlatan.

Just because Fugazi has a stance does not mean everyone in D.C. has to follow it. There are weak, cowardly people everywhere. Simi Valley in California is full of metal bands. And I hear certain quarters of Vienna, Austria, have quartets and orchestras that insist on playing some of the same things over and over and over and over and over.

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Defining fun is about the same as trying to define love or god or seeing a line in the sand from a fractal geometrist’s perspective. Except that defining fun is much unintentionally sillier, and a bigger waste of time.

Fugazi is sort of like D.C.’s Rolling Stones, in that the guys have been around for so long, and they each have distinct personalities. For all we know, MacKaye actually killed Jimmy Hoffa out of jealousy and frustration at not being a union leader. Brandon Canty is witty and charming and sweet. Guy Picciotto has a ferocious intensity—and he’s the best dancer. Joe Lally is the soul and the wry presence—and the only one who would pick up the phone at 2 a.m. and agree to help with a flooded basement.

Some of the most “fun” I’ve ever had was at Rites of Spring shows (and I was born ironical and pessimistic). They were the best live band ever. In any city. Even Beijing. And Fugazi rocks live, too. Who cares if the two singers go on a bit now and then?

There are tons of bands and scenes in D.C. other than ones in Mikey’s little circle. The D.C. Armory still has great go-go shows (quite a haul from Bethesda/CC/Adams Morgan/Dupont, though). There is angsty speed/skate metal all over the place. And they say there is country and metal in between Arlington and Manasshole.

Even though Fugazi may be serious and sincere and even a little bossy and naggy, I believe I may have seen Mark Jenkins at a show or two. Tapping his foot! While not scowling! If that is not proof that Fugazi is fun, nothing is.

Garrett Park