There’s a popular band among the kids these days called A Fire Inside, also known as AFI.  The drummer, Adam Carson, was my next door neighbor growing up.  I was surprised to find out a few years ago (from my parents, no less) that the band was starting to become popular, and that Adam had become a millionaire simply from touring and managing the band’s finances intelligently.

But I didn’t feel bad about this.  First of all, Adam and I were only friends briefly.  Don’t get me wrong: he was the nicest kid in the world.  But there was a five year age difference between us.  We both lived on the outskirts of town away from our other friends, so we liked the idea of being friends.  But he was five and I was ten, so we’d hang out a little after school but it didn’t last too long.  We were friends long enough to build a makeshift clubhouse and play some board games and then we drifted apart.

The other reason is, AFI just sucked the first time I heard them.  My folks wanted to hear a song from the band, so I sent them an mp3 called “I Wanna Get a Mohawk (But My Parents Won’t Let Me).” It was barely music.  It sounded like cats being tossed into a wheelbarrow and rolled down a hill.  Okay, so he was getting rich. But was this ethical, to make alleged music of this kind?  At least I could sleep at night, conscience clear.

But then I realized that AFI was getting even more popular.  I’d see people wearing AFI T-shirts.  The band played on the MTV Music Awards.  And I caught some of their newer songs, and I realized they had softened their sound and made it more technically interesting.  More mainstream, if you will.  One song in particular, “Miss Murder,” is now a frequent participant in my iPod playlist.

This is absolutely intolerable.  It’s one thing if an old friend of mine is successful doing something I don’t respect.  It’s another if he wins the lottery, which is purely a matter of happenstance.  But if a friend becomes rich and famous doing something I admire due to hard work, talent, and perseverance?  Boy, I hate that.

So congratulations, Adam.  And by the way?  The clubhouse was lame.