A few words on Dolly Parton

I ask you, World at Large, what could be better than a Dolly Parton concert? Puppies? Unicorns? Rainbows? Maybe. But Dolly's pretty close up there. Having seen her show in Seattle this weekend I can say there are few comparisons to Dolly and that's not a bad thing.

For one, the woman played NINE friggin' instruments (a third of which were rhinestone encrusted), sung her own songs (which - get this - SHE WROTE HERSELF), had two costume changes and still rocked out the platinum wig and sparkly fringly cocktail dresses at age 62.

For two, when you're in a crowd of Dolly Parton fans, there's absolutely no room for cynicism or posturing. It's just not allowed. There is no "cool crowd" to mock you and make you feel bad about yourself. You have to surrender to the ridiculousness and joy of being in a stadium with drag queens and gay boys and professional-grade mullet-wearing country fans and 60-year-old librarians all of whom are dancing around to "9 to 5" and "Thank God I'm a Country Girl" and there's something, well, very weird, but also very wonderful about that.

All I needed was a (Botox free) Kenny Rogers for the Islands in the Stream portion of the show and I can say all was complete.