I was watching the "Dancing With the Stars" season premiere tonight. I was thinking to myself, hey, there sure is a lot more eye candy for the ladies this time and...
What? You thought that was my shameful secret?
No, no my friends, it is much, much worse than that.
You see, after one of the dance numbers, I went into the kitchen for a drink and horrified myself by humming the tune that had been featured.
Don't pretend like you don't know which song I'm talking about. If you don't, you have been living under a rock somewhere and I would like to offer you a home.
I'll admit it, I like Barry Manilow.
Wait, I've got a fan over here, you can borrow it. I realize, it's shocking. Just keep waving it and give yourself some fresh air.
I just willingly parted with whatever street cred I had with you guys, but I can't help it. I know the words to practically all of his songs, and there is just something so...well, singable, about almost all of them. Old Barry is actually easy for me to harmonize with, he is right in my key most of the time. He makes me look good, a fine quality in a singing partner if you ask me.
I'm not sure if I would part with my hard-earned money to see the rather frighteningly well-preserved Mr. Manilow in concert, but just hum a few bars of "Two Ships That Pass in the Night" with me and we'll be friends forever.
By the way, can I have that fan back? I just realized I thought for a nanosecond that right-winger Tucker Carlson looked even a teeny-tiny bit cute because he was having fun and I need to administer some self-punishment.