Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Fyre Festival Head Billy McFarland Issues A Statement

Today is the toughest day of my life, and will continue to be until sometime next year when I plead guilty to multiple felonies stemming from today, which has been very tough for me. You’ve seen the “photos” and “videos” and “evidence,” but please let me tell my side of the story.

I love three things: computer programming, rapping, and the ocean. When I met Ja Rule, he dropped an incredible freestyle about fucking bitches on a yacht. We had the perfect relationship: I wanted to hang out with a cool black guy, and he wanted someone to pay for things. We were best friends. One time, we took flying lessons and the planes were old and rickety. I told Ja that I was worried.

“Rock stars don’t die on planes, dog,” Ja told me.

We crashed the planes, but we didn’t die; after that, my rule was “Listen to Ja.”

The island we were on was called Exumas, and we fell in love. Like all new lovers, our immediate instinct was to have a luxury pop festival. We started the marketing campaign as soon as we got back, and then we designed an app and threw a party and rented a yacht to fuck bitches on. We also booked talent, and had a meeting about logistics. It turns out there were roadblocks.

Check that: there were no roadblocks because there are no roads on the island. Also, no sewage, clean water, electricity, or internet. Plus, there’s only one place to land a boat, and it’s inaccessible at low tide. We were astonished at the lack of infrastructure on the deserted island.

Still: Ja Rule thought it was pretty.

We built an entire city on that island, no matter what multiple reports say, a grand palace of a jewel that would befit our guests and the superstars we had booked for the performance. There was a theme park, and a sports complex, and black-box theater for experimental dramas. The food was sumptuous and scrumptious, and there was so much of it. The tables fairly groaned with the feast! The glamour villas were made of alabaster and acceptance, and they dotted the grounds; I had built a paradise.

Me and Ja had built a paradise.

And then there was this huge storm, swear to God, and everything got washed out to sea without any record of it every being here at all. Guests started to arrive, and we immediately panicked and left the island to begin planning next year’s Fyre Festival. All of this year’s guests will receive 10% off of their tickets for next year’s exclusive event.

Sincerely,
Billy McFarland

1 Comment

  1. Well, now you know what it must be like to write for The Onion. Here you are, making weird satirical stuff that no one believes, and then reality goes and makes you look soft.

    Pretty much everything you said is true, and the actual dialog was probably far less pithy than you wrote it. And it’s true

    You’re going to have to up your game if you plan to stay in the satire game. You know what they say: Sad, Sadder, Satirist.

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