I'm reading Never Mind the Pollacks, by Neal Pollack, and it has me laughing out loud on just about every page, which is a rare and wonderful thing. I was trying to explain what I was laughing about to the kids, and I was like, "Well, it's a book that's kind of making fun of people who write about rock and roll." And one of them said, "But that's you!"
I thought about explaining how I'm just an opinonated loudmouth rather than an actual rock critic, but then the difference there started seeming kind of thin.
And then I started explaining how Never Mind the Pollacks is actually kind of an affectionate satire, that it's kind of--I mean, you really have to have read a lot of rock criticism to parody it as effectively as he does in this book, which means that you really have to actually kind of like it. This, kids, I said, is what separates great satires from the herd. It's what makes Spinal Tap a work of genius, and Waiting For Guffman just a mean-spirited piece of crap.
"But everybody likes Waiting for Guffman," the kids protested. "Plus it's got that guy from the Jeffersons in it!"
"Well, kids," I said, "I'm always happy to see Paul Benedict get work, but otherwise, what can I say? Spinal Tap conveys a real love of rock and roll, where as Guffman is just about how this bunch of celebrities and aristocrats--Lord Haden-Guest, yet, actual member of the House of Lords, you could look it up--" here my face was reddening, and spittle was flying from my lips, "have nothing but contempt for people from small towns who don't know their place and think that they too could be performers."
"But you're always making fun of small towns," they said.
"Yeah," I said, "but for things like closed-mindedness, insularity, and bigotry. Not for having a dream!"
"Hypocrite!" they shouted, and I guess I couldn't argue.






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