Bette!

Excuse the heads. Hey, I had to, so why not you?

Ha.

Yep. Took in a midweek viewing of Bette Midler's Vegas act last week...and...well...um...hate to say it, but can we spell g-e-r-i-a-t-r-i-c? I mean, I just KNOW Busby Berkeley is turning over in his grave every time Bette and her cast of dancing girls do their production number in gaily decorated motorized scooters. (Yeah, the running gag about Bette and her fans being ancient was a real scream.)

On a positive note, the woman can sure run from stage left to stage right (and back again) without losing her breath. Not sure if, given the opportunity, I could equal the feat.

Anyway, so yeah...wind beneath my wings...the rose...yada yada.

Let's be honest--she ain't no Donny and Marie (who have their own elder-magnet gig across the street).

So here's my current conclusion about Vegas: it's for the very young (Beyonce's comin' to town) or the very old and/or tragically unhip (hey, isn't Barry Manilow still at the Hilton?).

I'm pretty sure I fall into the 'none of the above' category.