trash tv! yay!

Okay, so I watched my tape of Las Vegas last night. If loving this show is wrong, then I'm the wrongiest wrong that ever wronged. Or maybe I'm Barbara Mandrell; who can say? At any rate, it's a silly, flashy, contrivance-full vehicle for a bunch of former soap stars who act well enough to try a primetime show. But it's slick and pretty, and my inner gay man thinks Josh Duhamel is a cutie patootie . Also it has Vanessa Marcil, much to the delight of my outer dyke and wafflelips. Plus James Caan quoting Sun Tzu's Art of War amused me for some reason. Hard to say why. I won't go out of my way to watch it every week, but I'll certainly tune in when I think of it.

The heck?

Okay, for someone who's such a vocal snob, who's really reall picky about singers, tone, phrasing, technique, etc--why is it I love Steve Earle so much?

Face it, the man sound like he's a stroke victim singing through a bloody toothless mouth. He has NO articulation, just sloppy drunk-sounding slur. He's got that annoying freaking country nasal tonality that makes me wanna claw my eyes out. He always sounds like he's out of breath, straining to hit the notes.

And I love him. His lyrics are poignant and heartfelt, delivered sincerely and with no small amount of passion. He's a goddamn mess, but Transcendental Blues is up there on my all-time fave list.