Manilow Disorder

[Bill O'Neill]

Oh, the humanity.  The hits of Barry Manilow are now a court-ordered 
implement of punishment in a Colorado town for 'perps' who blast their 
idea of music too loudly. "These people should have to listen to music 
they don't like," said Judge Paul Sacco for a segment about the program 
that aired Friday on KUSA-TV Denver.

The now-sixty-five-year-old 70s popper, for many,  was a deservedly 
cruel hoax upon the "me generation" of the Seventies.  From "Mandy" to 
"I Write the Songs" to "Ships" and the /'take that you hippie'/ 
"Daybreak", the sounds of Manilow was to music what the Chrysler K-Car 
was to wheels.  Dependable, ubiquitous, safe, and low-art, Manilow music 
was, indeed, the K-Car of Seventies music.

As a radio disc jockey on 'adult contemporary' stations back in the 
Eighties, my brain will forever have in deep-storage the sounds of 
Manilow.  Years of fresh air, thoughts of baseball, and an appreciation 
for silence have moved me far ahead of many fellow radio buddies who 
were less fortunate to break free from the sound that was Manilow.

And no, there is no 12-step program for this Manilow disorder.  If there 
were to be one, we could call it "Onanonanonanon... The Twelve Step 
Program for People Who Can't Stop from /Getting' that Feelin' /Again."

Bill O'Neill
-- 
I could tell my parents hated me. My bath toys were a toaster and a radio.
/Rodney Dangerfield/