Story is here.
So with my best detached tone, I am going to pronounce this piece vapid.
Look, everybody has their thing, whether it's fast cars, chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream or Barry Manilow. There was no more courage in seeing Manilow as there is in my fondness for putting avocado slices on my pizza. I would also suggest to you that the tens of millions of albums Manilow, who is an execrably schlocky songwriter, has sold during the course of his career has made him an even safer thing to be a fan of. It is the bland leading the bland and a triumph of the hopelessly mediocre. It is Wonder Bread set to music.
As far as the whole enthusiasm paradigm goes, well, Rush Limbaugh is more than happy being a megaphone for every mean spirited impulse of American political life. No ironic detachment, there, no sir. That would mean he would actually have to think and that makes his head hurt. Plus the money and the adulaton he receives for it is a salve for the fact he has a massive inferiority complex derived from being such a social loser in high school.
And the celebrity stuff I know is only because it gets shoved down my throat by news programs since that has become part of their menus now, probably to try to draw more women to watch. I'm sure I'm not alone in detesting THAT development.
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