To beat Andy Warhol at his own game, when I die I’m going to have my shaved, de-boned meat made into those little wiener chunks that are in cans of Spaghetti-O’s. I have all the proper paperwork drawn up, notarized and in place, and I do this because I believe, down to my tastiest bite-sized morsel, that there is nothing more beautifully American than offering one’s self up for mass consumption. And it is because of this deep conviction of mine that I toast the startlingly bland commercialized pap of the Glow. With their banal, middle-of-the-road Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers impersonation, I recognize them as fellow fighters of the good fight and I salute them and their heroic attempt to someday be a successful commodity. God bless them and God bless America!