Behold Sir Tom Jones. As a song like “Sex Bomb” seems an increasingly quaint and embarrassing relic, so too does the title bestowed now upon the man who belted it. In Britain, pop celebrity has been the tube feed in the monarchy since “Goodbye England’s Rose” (turn speakers on). How long, in America, until celebrity itself needs life support? Not-quite-celebrity writer Kurt Andersen considers; I counter-consider here.
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