Okay, fine. I don't exactly have my finger on the pulse of youth pop culture. I don't pay much attention to it, except from afar (i.e. online). My TV's crummy reception makes clicking the "on" button hardly worth the effort. And admittedly, I haven't seen a single episode of "American Idol" this year (and I don't mean that in an "aren't I erudite and fab, I never watch tv" kind of way).
But when the winner was announced for this season's competition, the photos I ran across in the media made no sense to me. This guy? This blend of Jay Leno and a dorkier George Clooney, who looks like a 45-year old copy machine repairman, or rental agent in a retirement center? He is the newly anointed pop star of the week? He looks ten years older than me, and 50% less cool. And that's saying something.
Fine, I never heard him sing. Maybe he has heavenly pipes and the resonant voice of James Earl Jones. But seeing him anointed as the hottest thing in popular culture just makes me feel even more, shall we say, "WTF?"
"Our ignorance of these stupid totems makes us feel superior. Untainted. Just better than the rest of you!The other day, at a casual get-together, the conversation turned to Angelina. My son’s girlfriend didn’t know what “Angelina” meant. God, were the rest of us envious!"