Whoâ€™s psyched for Dillo Day?!? Whoâ€™s ready to rock out to (if youâ€™re drunk) awesome music with (if youâ€™re drunk) awesome people? Youâ€™ve worked your ass off for nine months, and youâ€™re ready to cram an entire yearâ€™s worth of partying into a single weekend. FUCK YEAH! Thereâ€™s just one lingering question:
Why the fuck are you bringing your camera?
Seriously, why? Do you really think youâ€™re going to treasure that grainy photo of Big Boi in twenty years? Or in a month? Does Youtube really need more low-res Reel Big Fish footage?
Iâ€™m sure your best friend will be flattered that youâ€™ve documented his Dionysian excess for all posterity. And it will certainly be generous of you to give that skeevy stranger a free $200+ camera when you leave it by the rocks of Lake Michigan for just a sec as you run off to the beer garden.
Some of you may be tempted to use your camera as a Hangover-style photo diary, to remember what happened the previous day when you wake up in a strangerâ€™s bed. But when going through those photos, if you find yourself face-to-face with Zach Galifianakisâ€™s penis, youâ€™ll have no one to blame but yourself.
Remember: each hand holding a camera is one less holding a drink. And do you really want to face Steve Aoki sober?