I can see this is going to be a point-counterpoint relationship...and that's perfectly okay until the meat axe comes out and the limbs start flying out the window.
Let me lay out the dichotomy for you: my friend here loves Tom Goes To The Mayor, loves it like his long lost brother who's down to his last penny and needs to figure out how to feed his wife and 27 children. On the other hand, I wrote this. Tom Goes To The Mayor walked up to me at a traffic stop and tried to clean my windshield, and dammit if after three trips through the car wash I still can't get the greasy smear of its tatty sleeve off the glass. Matt wants to think TGTTM is a good sort, but I SAW HIM DO THINGS, man. When you weren't looking, that slimy bastard was trying to pick your pocket in line at the McDonald's. I think he was going to split it with that 12 Ounce Mouse son-of-a-bitch behind the dumpster. You can tell it from his eyes.
That's not to say that you can't hang with TGTTM, bud. It's your life. Just hide your wallet when he comes over. And the silverware.