Okay, I’ll Bite: Who’s Taylor Swift?
And why does all of media demand that I acknowledge her?
I’m not exactly — as the kids say — a “cool daddi-o”. I don’t keep up with pop culture. The last SNL musical guest I recognized was Soundgarden in 1996. I’m aware of pop culture in the same way that I’m aware of my body’s microbiome: I know there’s a boisterous ecosystem just beyond my consciousness, and I’m comfortable simply leaving it there.
It seems like this is how things should be. I’m 43. I’m a dad. The days of me being cool — had they ever arrived — would be long gone. I’m ensconced in the trappings of dad life, e.g. books about submarines and an abiding belief in the benefits of storm windows. It seems natural — nay, appropriate — for me to be broadly unaware of the Pretty Singing Lady Du Jour. Strong opinions about pop stars are for young people, gay best friends on sitcoms, and guys who the FBI should be watching like a hawk.
So why has all of media apparently made it their mission for me to know about Taylor Swift? I can’t use the internet, walk around town, or even watch a fucking football game without encountering this lady. Swift’s Eras Tour is getting the level of coverage I would expect if Christ returned to Earth, resurrected Elvis, and married him. Swift has been mentioned in almost three New York Times articles per day for a month:
Meanwhile, the Nagorno-Karabakh region of Azerbaijan, where a campaign of ethnic cleansing might be unfolding, has gotten half as much coverage:
