| But tonight (it’s Saturday as I write; I’m
in Baltimore), as I was watching Lou Pinella’s Mariners dismantle
the Yankees with particularly savage zeal, I could but listen in mute
horror as they dug Kate Smith up from the grave and forced her to
sing "God Bless America" yet again. I do not know when her
famous rendition was recorded, and I don’t imagine that it matters
much. Whatever campy charm it has -- which campy charm must be conceded;
the Ethel Merman similarities are too plentiful to ignore -- by the
end of it, anybody who wants to feel good about his country feels
nervous embarrassment at best and little else. Kate Smith, for crying
out loud. It would take a whole twelve-pack to make her vacuum-packed
"Home! Sweet! Home!" carry any real emotional weight. |