WE’RE ALL PART of the pop culture world. Whether you think you are or not, whether you want to be or not, no matter how aloof and superior you feel, even if the Atlantic and Foreign Affairs are the only things you keep in your bathroom, you’re as much a part of the celebrity culture as the booker on The View. Deal with it. As Gregory Peck said to David Niven in The Guns of Navarone, “You’re in it now . . . up to your neck.”
That doesn’t mean you can’t be out of the loop. And truth be told, you can’t be much farther out of the loop than I am. I’ve never seen Survivor, or American Idol, or the dancing show. My wife, on the other hand, who’s the most brilliant person I know watches all of them. She’s watching one now, and it’s just loud enough for me to hear the roiling host introducing a high-stakes, high-tension, someone-will-get-thrown-out-of-here-but-not-me segment urged on by edgy, needy music. I can’t hear his actual words, but you know that’s what he’s doing. The whole thing probably wouldn’t annoy me as much if I thought they hired real violinists.
