Lampooning grotesque baby-boomer self-righteousness has lost much of its charm for me: it's just too damned easy. But this one really is a beauty.
Bob Dylan shills for panties, prompting one commentator to get her own in a bunch.
It's astonishing to think that one person can host so many hang-ups—about money, about "selling out," about age, about sexuality and the body, about advertising, about hero-worship and "artistic integrity"—and not implode under their constant constrictive pull.
Now, frankly, I believe that anyone who takes a chronically-smartassed coyote like Bob Dylan as their "enduring icon of moral outrage and political integrity" deserves what she gets: even a momentary critical examination reveals the man and his work to be essentially apolitical and self-interested. But here's the gorgeous kicker: the byline at the bottom of this anti-sellout jeremiad...
Leslie Bennetts is a contributing editor at Vanity Fair.
The last I checked, Vanity Fair was a big, glossy magazine, fat with advertisements and chock-full of fashion spreads.
Gah. Boomers, man.
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