It’s Okay to Like Barry Manilow

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Barry Manilow is an American institution. It’s okay if you think so too: I won’t tell anyone.

First, here are three new stories from The Atlantic:

• Mark Leibovich on a lesson of Dianne Feinstein’s career
• Have Republicans learned nothing from the War on Terror?
• One big benefit of remote work
• Good luck getting into the club.

You Know the Words

Her name was Lola. She was a showgirl.

Come on. You know the rest. Everyone does.

And so did the crowd at the Barry Manilow concert I attended in Las Vegas last week, on the night that he broke Elvis Presley’s record for the most shows at the Westgate Las Vegas Resort & Casino.

Oh, I know. Roll your eyes. We’re all too cool for Manilow, the Brooklyn kid who became a schmaltz superstar, the guy whose music for almost five decades has practically been the definition of unhip, shamelessly sentimental “adult contemporary.” We smirk—yet we know every word.