by Carrie Brownstein

As previously reported, MM HQ was hit with a bout of the flu. NPR was really kind about the whole thing, sending over a cavalcade of restorative foods and beverages. Thanks, Terry Gross, for bringing me dumpling soup. Better than mom used to make!

We all know that feeling under the weather is no fun, but it does allow for guilt free daytime TV viewing. Animal Planet's Growing Up Black Leopard with celebrity host Edie Falco was moving; it elicited tears at both the 8 am and the 5 pm showings. And You, Me, and Dupree was so awful that I momentarily fell out of love with Seth Rogen (who plays a second tier buddy in the film). And I didn't think I could ever stop loving Rogen, not after his character, Ken, fell for the tuba player on Freaks and Geeks.

But, hands down, the most remarkable and horrifying scene I witnessed yesterday was a live performance on The Today Show by the 7 year old Anthony G. Maybe some of you have heard of Anthony G. Possibly you are one of the 3 million people to have already checked him out on You Tube. (How does a 7 year old end up with a video on You Tube? That's right, his parents put it up!)

Since I didn't record the performance, here is the video courtesy of Gawker.

Even though he looks like Clay Aiken crossed with the child from The Shining, that wouldn't matter if he were at home right now playing video games or building a snowman. But Anthony G is not just any kid. No. He is making the rounds on national TV, singing sexed up holiday songs, sounding like Eydie Gorme, and flirting with the camera as if he had been schooled by Tyra Banks herself. Even the usually blithe Today show fans looked confounded.

Certainly, I am not helping matters by blogging about him. Poor Anthony would likely be better off if he was left alone to explore, create and to just be a kid (albeit one who sings like a forty year old woman).

The most disturbing element of the performance was the juxtaposition between little Anthony singing his heart out in a Christmas sweater and the news headlines telling of hate crimes, stabbings, funerals, and labor strikes that were scrolling beneath him on the screen.

I can dismiss Anthony G. as yet another kid getting his 15 minutes of fame, which, it seems, everyone feels entitled to these days. (Or, in Anthony' case, his parents gave him the "gift" of fame and got their 15 minutes vicariously). But it's harder to ignore the fact that the perimeters of what constitutes music and entertainment have been stretched so far that they're like baggy sweats with a broken elastic waistline. In other words, the lines are shapeless, useless even. We can applaud the democratizing ways of You Tube. We can vaunt the power the Internet gives to the underdog. But are there boundaries? Should there be? Maybe it's just that we need a constant stream of inanity to staunch the flow of real events. Bad news keeps coming despite our efforts to distract ourselves. I just wish more music was there to help us tune in, instead of enabling us tune out what we don't want to see.

Or maybe I still have a fever.