Why My Love for Duran Duran is Like Obama's Love for Reverend Wright

You can't turn away from someone you've loved for 26 years even when they offend you. Despite Dish's nausea over their latest "Tempted" video and their artistic (completely lame) montage with Russian models on their CD, I worship any/every Duran Duran molecule. Secret information gathered from friends who may have brushed um elbows with them hasn't soured my love (obsession). 95% of the time: they make me deliriously happy.

A couple weeks ago, I trolled iTunes to hear John Taylor singing "I Do What I Do," the theme to 9 and 1/2 Weeks. At 18, I thought he was a brilliant singer, a hidden gem. At 40, I listened and said to my cat, "Man, he was blitzed!"--shades of Kanye sans tuner on SNL. It reminded me of how after six years of doing aerobics, thinking I was amazingly athletic, I watched myself on film and was mortified at my bull-in-china-shop moves. Musician Dishstepbrother tells me John Taylor has become one of the best bassists in the world. Simon has a memorable voice but writes incomprehensible lyrics sometimes and gets caught with his hand down his speedo (the image is etched for immediate recall). Nick can't seem to shed his inner Andy Warhol going on 25 years now, but when he smiles, the arena lights up. People are complex.

I've gone through a John phase, Simon phase, Andy Phase, Roger Phase, Nick phase, then back to a John/Simon (dangerous man sandwich) phase. You can't write a 50-page term paper on Duran Duran and emerge unscathed. Now if only I could find the embarrassing document...