...but the song's called "Baba O' Riley." Gotta take off a point for slight ineptitude of reference - although, to be fair, who the hell spent any time reading the back of the cassette case while they were making out in the back of a Pinto? Christ, you had to be Shields and/or Yarnell just to get a bra unhooked in one of those things.

As I read Ms Havrilesky's comments, she effectively convinces me that 90% of offerings on TV are absolute garbage. Even worse, the garbage isn't even heartfelt garbage created by genuine people, but market-researched dreck assembled by corporate committees. The only challenge presented is whether the cynicism of the creators can be bested by an even more cynical audience reaction.

So I'm sitting here watching baseball, and I'm thinking that at least this game is genuine -- until I remember steroids...

Is there any aspect of life today that is as geniune as Woody Guthrie -- other than the geniune desire of us all to pile up as much cash and stuff as possible?

I remember reading that when Thin Lizzy got their first advance, they blew it all on a limo which they then drove to gigs with all their equipment sticking out of the trunk.

WTF? If you want the real thing, turn off the fucking TV, get off your ever-widening ass, and live it.

News flash: network TV is, by definition, designed for mass consumption.

You like to watch. You also love to bitch about what you watch, unless you're riffing on the "guilty pleasures" of trashy TV shows you love to hate.

Make up your fucking mind. By definition, you'll never ever find sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll on network TV.

She's already hitched.

Ok, that was just brilliant. Ripping, satirical, subversive, self-deprecating, ironic, philosophical, perfectly written, and bitingly honest.

Three cheers for Heather Havrilesky!

I laughed, snickered, enjoyed thoroughly the wit entrenched in this piece. It takes a lot to get me there.

Good one.

So glad an edge is still present somewhere..! A rarity these days.

K Aaron

...Lighten up already. Reading about something you hate by a very talented and witty writer is entertainment too.

Well said. Go girl. F'ng brilliant. Thank you.

Niece piece, thanks for writing it. I grew up worshipping most of these guys (sorry, Gilby) and this seems to be some kind of pandering. When Heather mentioned 'Anne Geddes', I went red and freaked out. The result is this screed below:

Don't worry, I still have it in for Tom Kinkaid, but I hate this more. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I could teach a two year course on why this sucks, but I'll give you the talking points... to impress your friend.

1. I am tired of looking at babies. Guess what, they all look the same.

2. Secondly, this is exploitation.

3. Thirdly, this is not art to me... and that is the biggest insult to me of them all. Wow, you make babies look cute? You are a revolutionary! You are a friggin' Ansel Adams! Maybe next you could take on some risque work like puppies or rainbows, you vanguard.

See, I work in a cubicle farm, just like a Dilbert cartoon. Every single female on the planet has one these schmaltzy infant art-porn pinned up. Aaarrgghh. You think I hate art, don't you? I do not, I love and carry art in my soul every waking minute. What I hate is shit like this, packaged and sold as art. Making babies adorable is pandering. Oh, and wrapping them up in pretty fabric under hot lights is called suffocation where I come from. At least Wegman made his Weimaraners do silly things in their pics.

Art is high, art is good, art aspires, art loves you, art challenges you, and art hurts your feelings when necessary. To me, art isn't Jackson Pollack snorting up a gram of paint and then sneezing. Nor is it visually stimulating or remotely impressive when Magritte does anything. Oooh, look > it is a guy, but with an apple in front of his face? What does the apple represent? I think it is subtext on modernization and man's quest for his soul in contemporary times... as witnessed by the storm clouds in the back. Nope, sorry asshole. It is just a dude with an apple in front of his face. If you think that is heavy, maybe you should write Sue Grafton book titles.

Remember when you were younger, and you saw art that flipped your lid? Do you remember staring at paintings for 20 minutes trying to figure them out? Remember those amazing Dali posters you had? How about Georgia O'Keefe or Frida? That was some mind blowing shit, huh? Now you are being coddled by this pussy art. Remember rock radio? Remember what Clear Channel did to it, and why you don't listen to the radio anymore? That is what Anne Geddes and Thomas Kinkaid are doing to art.

Ok, one last thing. I don't care what your art teacher said, this isn't art. This is a very very patient dude, that is all. This isn't a movement, or a revolution. This is a dude with about 45 broken paintbrush tips and a deadline. I know you have it framed, but take it down. No one is impressed.

This can be found in its entirety and with working links at www.iamcorrect.com

"Reading about something you hate by a very talented and witty writer is entertainment too."

-- jailerjay

Geez Heather just how old are you anyway ?

Remember the terrorist attacks in the 90's ?

Remember the cold war ?

Remember how we were reminded we were constantly

on the verge of nuclear annihilation ?

rock n roll has lost a lot, a lot, of it creativity

and is no longer music.

And I've been watching it since the early 60s, kid.

About the only close-to-honest moments I ever remember on network TV were the Mike Douglas Show the week John and Yoko hosted and Chuck Berry guest-starred. (I'm guessing that's before you were born.)

The rest of it was Don Kirtschner's Rock Concerts (lip-synching), ABC After-School Specials (Mmmm, drugs are bad, mmK?), and the fucking Monkees (the Pre-fab Four).

It's not news that the counterculture is not, has not, and never actually can be depicted honestly on network television, no matter how snarkily you try to write about it. "For mass consumption" by definition requires a watering-down well past any point of authenticity.

I did enjoy Bruce Springsteen and the Seeger Sessions Band on an hour-long PBS "Great Performances" special from England last week. PBS may be a network, but it hardly counts as "mass consumption." Too bad, because it was great. Wait, it wasn't rock and roll, there were no drugs, and no one was having sex.

Gee, maybe our "favorite vices" are something to be done instead of something we expect network executives to prepackage for us to sit and stare at. I dunno, I'm not a self-appointed TV Critic for an online rag. Still, I'd love a gig getting paid to whine about having 57 channels with nothing on, demanding to be entertained without having to actually participate beyond working the remote.

P.S.--Here's a suggestion: HH's sycophants sit this one out for a change and allow HH to respond. (Unless you've bought the myth that by reading someone's columns you somehow "know" that person and are now obligated to speak for them. How pathetic is that?) Many other Salon "writers" respond, and it's always entertaining. Not in a journalistic sense, of course. That would imply starting with journalism.