Oh, so you’re a big Guided By Voices fan? A scholar of the Pollardverse? Fuck off. Unless you can name me three well-known sobriety checkpoints in Western Ohio, you can never utter the words “Warp & Woof” again.
I don’t give a shit that you can name every member of the classic lineup, the ‘97 Cobre Verde lineup, the Doug Gillard era, the new Doug Gillard era, or even the very brief Nick Mitchell incarnation. Tell me which exit on I-75 in Toledo to avoid after 10 pm on Fridays.
Do you know how many relationships, career opportunities, and Chevy Impalas I’ve destroyed because of my Pollard fandom? Countless. The least you could do is memorize a couple of roadblocks before you start drumming “My Valuable Hunting Knife” on your steering wheel.
True GBV heads keep an annotated map of every DUI checkpoint south of the Maumee River in their glovebox, right next to a Miller Lite tallboy and a copy of Pollard’s collage book, EAT 15.
Also, DUIs are actually called OVIs in Ohio. It stands for “Operating a Vehicle Under the Influence,” which should roll off the tongue fairly easily for someone who knows every word to “The Goldheart Mountaintop Queen Directory.”
So you own all 44 studio albums from Devil Between My Toes to Crawlspace of the Pantheon? Big deal. Your favorite song might as well be “Hold on Hope” if you don’t know which milepost on Rt. 127 in Paulding County has the Ohio State Highway Patrol waiting to ruin your fucking life.
Are you even aware that the title “Vampire on Titus” is a reference to Titus Avenue, where Bob Pollard used to live in Dayton? You should, because there’s always a cop sitting by the Waffle House on Needmore Road, and trust me, he is not amused when you sing him “Teenage FBI.” It WILL end in a body cavity search.
And quit bragging that your original, handmade copy of Propeller goes for $2,500 on Discogs. That will barely cover the attorney fees if you get busted. I had to sell all nine color variants of my Tonics and Twisted Chasers to get them to drop the reckless endangerment charges.
This is not about fandom, this is about survival. If you consider yourself a true GBV fan, you need to know every back road from Columbus to Cincinnati before you go 90mph down I-71 blasting a 39-song album in 42 minutes.
The only thing more dangerous than a .24 blood alcohol level is admitting you don’t know where the next DUI trap is. And if that’s the case, you’re probably better off listening to Wilco.
