Kalah Allen

You chose to bring your daughter, who is young enough to still be in pull-up pants, to the Morrissey show at Edgefield. Why you would choose to buy a child that young an $80 ticket instead of getting a babysitter, I'll never know. You started pissing me off when you kept putting your daughter up on your shoulders, obstructing the view of others when your daughter clearly didn't care. You kept poking and prodding her, trying to make her watch. You angered me more when I saw the child was not wearing any earplugs, even though there was a wall of speakers blaring. Then, "Meat Is Murder" began. Horrific slaughterhouse footage began to play on the massive screen. Your daughter began to scream, cry, point at the screen, and hide her face in her mom's legs. Rather than take her away, you chose to watch the show as your poor little girl saw horrors she's not yet cognizant to understand. All she knew was she was seeing animals being hurt and ripped apart. I'm a grown adult who's seen dead bodies and served jail time, and I couldn't bear to look at that shit. You are terrible parents. There's no way around it.—Anonymous