We're Caught In a Trap

My Elvis Presley is not the Elvis on parade- literally and figuratively- last Friday in downtown Kansas City. In today’s popular consciousness, Elvis is an obese buffoon.

The Elvis in my mind recorded at Sun Studio and hung out with Bobby "Blue" Bland. The man who returned from the Army, sold his soul to Tom Parker and died in 1977 bears little resemblance to the Elvis I choose to recognize.

Sure, it’s fun to goof on Elvis. Jelly doughnuts and fat guys bellowing to Burning Love are always good for a laugh. The 18th Annual Elvis Parade is meant to be "wacky." But it’s also disheartening that the legacy of Elvis, like so much in our culture, is reduced to its crassest level. My Elvis is not a punch line.

The sincere Elvis pictured here, along with his fetching Priscilla, failed to draw much favorable response in the performance competition at Barney Allis Plaza. You see, even though he’s aware that he's absurd by definition, he’s not selling irony. He never had a chance.