[Guest blogger Margaret Wappler admits that she’s annoyed with Rage for spawning the Korns of the world even though that’s not really fair.]

You want to know how to fill up the Gobi tent when you’re one of Coachella’s sacrificial lambs? Start off by looking like Pharrell if reared by Kurtis Blow in Jamaica. Then add in some potty talk about the bathing suit areas of both genders. Oh, and some bongo players and ladies in braids who will pop and lock with big grins on their faces. And let’s not forget the secret sauce: some mostly empty talk about the races rioting on the dance floor that will make you sound intelligent but is pretty much a ruse. But hey, whatever. Spank Rock isn’t trying to gather the intelligentsia for a poetry reading.

Some of us like our festival closers blissfully stoopid, thank you very much.