Let us be thankful that the nonstop cavalcade of absurdity that is life in these United States remains in full effect in the new decade, available with only a click of the remote.
Like tonight: A quick perusal of TV offerings uncovered a Barry Manilow special, wherein the 67 year old popular troubador favored Chicago’s channel 11 viewers with a medley of his hits, his face frozen in a wide-eyed expression of…glee? For song after song, Barry maintained a childlike surprise that eventually became terrifying.
That’s because, as I managed to figure out eventually, Barry can’t stop. His cosmetic surgery work has stretched his facial skin to a drum-like tension, permanently fixing his visage in a bright, cheerful mask of abject fucking horror, impervious to any eventuality.
“Barry, your gig in Dubai has been canceled.”
“Barry, your accountant has embezzled all your money. You’re penniless.”
“Barry, I’m sorry, the biopsy found cancer”
Confidential to the Los Angeles, CA elective surgery industry: Stop. Just…stop. For fuck’s sake. Please.