Called “dear [celebrity].” If I did, I’d add this one, “Dear Sting:”
I was in a chain bookstore this afternoon and they were playing the truly horrific new Sting album, Symphonicities. You guessed it: “symphonic” renderings of classic Sting hits, including some Police staples. I sat in a comfy chair and listened to the whole thing.
What a pathetic piece of money-grabbing shite. The best part of “I Burn for You” is of course omitted. I’d go so far as to say that Sting’s new album makes the Police a worse band.
Ronnie Dworkin once argued in favor of euthanasia on the grounds that a bad ending to a long life can ruin the the whole life that came before. If memory serves, his view had the unwelcome consequence that one might be morally permitted (obligated?) to end the life of a quite content Alzheimer’s patient simply to save the integrity of the life that came before the disease took hold. I have now gained a new appreciation for that argument.
Someone please stop Sting.