A few months ago, when I still lived in San Francisco, I used to go to a monthly event called Literary Death Match, in which well-lubricated writers read their work in front of a heckling panel of judges. It's somewhere between stand-up comedy and a drunk recital, with a tone a bit like that of the nearby-headquartered McSweeney's--slightly precious, highly literate, vaguely experimental, and often funny--only more profane. Once, at the end of the second reading, the author, who had her notes proudly type-written (like, with a typewriter) tossed her retro-affected sheets of paper into the crowd and shouted "FUCK THE KINDLE!"
It got a huge applause. Which was kind of uncomfortable for me, since I had my new Kindle 3 in my jacket pocket at the time.