Who the F*@# Is
It must be no coincidence that Sunday’s Grammy Awards show will probably be remembered for the absence of a big star and a major lapse about another. And it may be ironic that in those two mishaps may reside all the relevance this year’s edition will ever get.
When multi-winner Whitney Houston died the night before, it gave a suddenly rewritten show the ratings boost it wouldn’t otherwise have. But when the Web went abuzz about who was that Paul McCartney dude, those ratings weren’t worth a slow-speed car chase on TV.
Houston’s cliché-ridden, tabloid-fodder ready rise and fall has already managed to all but erase the memory of who won what, along with the embarrassing attempts, on stage and behind the scenes, to cash in on her death.
In this context, the suddenly second fake death of Paul McCartney (if you have to ask, it’s not worth knowing it) may be as beneficial as a cleansing herbal bath would be to a former 1960s hippie. That is Continue reading