It’s as though the collective skull of America just cracked open and, instead of gray matter leaking out, a mass of cockroaches, centipedes and assorted vermin crawled out and are swarming the streets.

Why do I say this?

Let me describe today’s two-pronged bit of deviltry from the world of music.

1. My pal and colleague, Milton Moore, just alerted me to a current Vanity Fair article about a professional air guitar dude. As in: this guy makes an apparently very nice living playing. Air. Guitar. He is, in fact, a two-time National Air Guitar champion and has actual endorsements.  

I don’t know what to say – other than I personally know several tremendous actual guitar players who deserve and would love articles in Vanity Fair.*

2. Also today, I learned that the new #1 album on the Billboard charts belongs to Weird Al Yankovic.

Yes: the goofball who makes silly parodies of hit songs.

Let’s make sure we all understand the implication of Weird Al’s ascension to the top of the charts. This means thousands upon thousands of American citizens actually spent money to buy an album by Weird Al Yankovic. That's very different than, oh, watching a Yankovik clip one time because someone emailed you the link and it’s mildy amusing. No: you bought an entire album and presumably plan to giggle and groove to it for the rest of your very curious and perhaps sad lives.

All told, I’m reminded of a line from the late genius Bill Hicks, who I believe was talking to anyone in the marketing biz when he said, “Seriously. Kill yourself.” If the shoe fits ...

On the other hand, these are truly troubling times. I suppose that, if Weird Al or an air guitar national champion gives you comfort, well, who am I to sneer or weep?

But I can’t seem to stop doing both.

* No, I'm not posting the link. I don't want you supporting this fellow in any fashion. Instead, go here or here. These good people decidedly do NOT play air guitar and would love to have you as fans.