I quote with my own emphasis: 'The American Psychological Association says pop products like the Pussycat Dolls harm girls' development."

I'd love to walk up and ask he band members (whom I don't listen to but have seen in photos) "Can you tell your fans how you remanufactured yourself into a pop product that demeans women and encourages dangerous preteen sexual behavior?" Of course, I'd have to have a mouth protector in when I said it and a pair of track shoes to get the hell away after saying it.

There is a serious point to this question and it sparks others. Do these women actually make music of any worth? Did they need to add the sex angle to be noticed? Did they decide to become this year's whores, or was the decision made by their record company? By their manager? By a man? Was it a willing decision? Do they really feel comfortable in this role? Do they think they can retain any audience interest when they're no longer considered sexy, or are they planning to make their pile and retire to obscurity? Is their statement of sexuality something they believe in, something they feign belief in, or is it irrelevant to the music they make - just a shiny new wrapper on the pop product?

The pity is that they won't answer these questions, and anyone who tried to ask them would need to borrow my mouth protector and track shoes.

I have heard Keillor's stuff for a long time, especially when I used to be awake, conscious and free on Saturday evenings. (I work a night shift now.) And I had a hard time figuring out what A Prairie Home Companion was about. It might have been something like what local radio was in the 1930's, before networks and corporate media extinguished it. But it didn't sound right. When I discovered Antioch Old Time Radio (a Shoutcast channel that runs genuine old time radio shows 24/7) I realized that none of the shows sounded like it either.

All that came into focus when Ray Sharp identified him as "Grandpa Mediocrity." It was a Homer Simpson moment for me.

I've worked for years in television, and for the early part of those years, I had to dub and closely monitor one particular syndicated show for the station where I work. I had to be very careful making that copy, because the general manager was a personal friend of the show's host and entrepreneur, and a screw-up could get me fired. And in the days when the only videotape machines were the size of two side-by-side refrigerators, and required compressed air and constant adjustment, I had to carefully watch a program I grew to dislike, then loathe.

You identified who Keillor is with that pseudonym, Mr. Sharp, and I thank you for pointing out the obvious that I didn't see. Garrison Keillor is Lawrence Welk.

It isn't a perfect identification, of course. His show had performers that couldn't perform anywhere else, because their style of music had been outdated for decades, but as far as I know, Keillor didn't ride herd on their private lives the way Welk did. And Keillor seems interested in putting forth his personal political and social views, which bear no more weight than mine, while Welk stayed tight-lipped and anal-retentive throughout his career. But they are clearly from the same fanily.

In my mind, Keillor now becomes part of a holy trinity (quadrology?) - Keillor, Welk, and the SCTV dead-on parody of Welk, the Schmenge Brothers. The latter two did unforgettable (and awful) versions of the music from Star Wars - does anyone know if Keillor played the theme on his show?

They have been few and far between, you know. Johnny Carson, the acknowledged king of late night, had it generally at only one time of year; when he'd read the dead letter office letters to Santa Claus. He'd read the funny letters and everyone would laugh. Then he'd read the sad ones, from kids with real trouble or from troubled families, in a serious voice. Then he'd ask the New York audience to help these people out.

David Letterman, I think, hasn't had any of these moments. I know for certain Jimmy Kimmel hasn't. I can't testify that Jay Leno has had any, since I have never watched him.

Ferguson deserves a commendation, not just for his self-exposure, but for his willingness to speak for someone who's currently the laughing stock of the media (and who has since left rehab).