Shame on you. Shame on all of you. This man sung his heart out for you last night. His version of O Canada? Splendiferous. His take on My Girl? Scrumtrilescent. His cover of the Monkeys? Better than life itself.

And as the Voice of God blessed our ears, what did you do?  You booed. You groaned. You likened him to "an Atlantic City lounge singer," as though that were a bad thing.

You don't deserve him. None of us do. All he wants to do is to entertain us. To quench our thirst with his meticulously crafted ale. To teach us important life lessons such as the need to believe in order to believe.

And still, we mock. Have you no taste? No decency? No desire to stay away from expensive litigation?

Shame.

***

Update: Let this be a lesson to all you haters out there. From the heavenly voice of the chiselled god of pulchritudinous power drinks himself:

"We played at the Beer Gardens (at the Grand Prix) and we packed it. It was like 7,000 people until 11 o'clock and we had to send them home. As I walking out these four (expletive) guys started yelling, 'You suck, man' and I yelled back, 'Not as bad as your life.'"

Is it fair that a man so blessed with superhuman talent should also possess such a rapier wit?