Red Lobster, White Trash, & the Blue Lagoon

Joe Queenan

For fourteen years, critic Joe Queenan walked past the Winter Garden Theatre in New York City without once even dreaming of venturing inside to see Cats. One fateful afternoon in March 1996, however, having grown weary of his hopelessly elitist lifestyle, he decided to buy a half-price ticket and check out Andrew Lloyd Webber's record-breaking juggernaut. No, he did not expect the musical to be any good, but surely there were limits to how bad it could be. Here, Queenan was tragically mistaken. Cats, what Grease would look like if all the cast members dressed up like KISS, was infinitely more idiotic than he had ever imagined. Yet now the Rubicon had been crossed. Queenan had involuntarily launched himself on a harrowing personal odyssey: an 18-month descent into the abyss of American popular culture. At first, Queenan found things to be every bit as atrocious as he expected. John...

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