I think I'm in love
After reading the recent guest commentary by Herb Strentz and the Political Mercury column (July 21 - 27 issue), I think I'm in love. I'll be on the lookout from now on for more of their work. Civic Skinny is also the bomb — especially "the rest of the story" about Gov. Branstad's efforts to remove Chris Godfrey as state workers' compensation commissioner. Apparently, who appeals to whom in matters of the heart is more important than just being good at your job.
They should have kept her in rehab
Semi-famous crooner Amy Winehouse is drug dead. The talking media skulls will
laud her singing style and accomplishments and decry her heartrending life.
Yet her career was as common as ditch water. The pop idol waiting room is mobbed
up with the ordinary and unwashed. They long to publicly parade, self destruct
and then headline tacky tabloid rags.
Ms. Winehouse's bio was just another act in this theatre of the Grand Guignol. She sang, and many fans grooved to her sound. That is the extent of her mighty deeds. Famously, she also inhaled clouds of skunk dope while tatting up as her body collapsed into a starchy anorexic skeleton.
The hungry public ate empty calorie media popcorn as they watched this singer descend into a Dante-like hell. The Casey Anthony circus offered up only a short-term distraction. Her death as tragedy? No way. Genuine tragedy implies a swooping character arc with a cathartic release for the audience. It is not a freak show with crowds demanding a damning denouement.
No worries, the intermission will be short. Soon, more Xerox copy balladeers will pop up and entertain. They will sing, implode, and then go kamikaze straight into the mud with a round of applause from the peanut gallery. Show business can be a vicious and vicarious venue.
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