What is it about me and popular culture?
Perhaps versus would have been a better conjunction in that question.
I do not feel the slightest twinge of anything (other than mild annoyance) when I hear Springsteen’s Born to Run. What place wasn’t I that every other American seemed to be when that song was popular?
Nor have I ever identified with American Pie by Don McLean. In fact, I grew to actively dislike it, because popular people with other sets of experiences seemed to expect that I should pore over it and spend hours trying to re-interpret our shared youth through it.
The number of rock and/or pop music concerts I have attended over my lifetime can be counted on two hands, with a thumb or two to spare. I wouldn’t call my taste in music monophonic but The Beatles are the main course and everyone else is garnish.
My cultural disconnect is not limited to music. I never saw The Titanic or The Lion King or Fast & Furious in any version, stage or screen. I never watched an episode of America’s seemingly-indispensable television comedies Seinfeld, Friends, Cheers or 30 Rock. I think I stopped watching fiction on television (not counting press briefings by Donald Trump) shortly after L.A. Law and Star Trek: The Next Generation wrapped up in 1994. All right, there was The X-Files. And The Sopranos. And Fringe. (But it was my alt-universe self who watched Fringe, so that may not count.)
Garth Brooks, Taylor Swift, Kanye West, Miley Cyrus, Bruno Mars, Drake, 50 Cent, Beyoncé. The names and faces and brands and personas come and go. I am not sure what demands more of my attention these days, musical celebrities or Medicare plans.
I guess I am just not that impatient for entertainment. I like to entertain myself and you.