Every time you feel the urge to whine because some band you like has “sold out” because they’ve accepted money from some big corporation in return for licensing their song in some dumb ad, I want you to look at that giant external hard drive labeled “Tracks I Got Off P2P Networks”, and I want you to go fuck yourself.
To paraphrase David Cross, I can’t remember the last time I heard of a landlord accepting credibility instead of cash to pay rent.