Chump Of The Month, Michael Franti

Who is October's Chump you ask? Two words: Michael. Franti. Once renowned for his cultural skin and peace-provoking lyrics, Franti is losing his devotees like bombs over Baghdad. "Sell out," fans hiss, "Hypocrite."

He may think he's a real do-gooder traveling the world from Frisco Bay to the Middle East, showering "the people" with his so-called "good vibes." But check your ego at the airport, Franti. You ain't no Tracy Chapman. You ain't no Bob Marley. And you sure as shit ain't no Rod Deal.

Go back to Cali, Dude. Slap some wax on your dreads, cruise Valencia in your Escalade. Pay no mind that your concert posters, once worshipped by squealing Humboldt Hunnies, are being torn down with scorn. Face it - you'll never actually be famous or change the world. Your days as festival guru are done. No one on the East Coast has ever heard of you. Welcome to the twenty-tweens, Cheeseball. You're a has-been - AH HOLE doesn't like you and never did.