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Craig Westover

Gee -- As I look out the window at my Chevy Cavalier and 10-year-old Jeep parked in the driveway, I wonder if I might be the Lamborghini libertarian of Keillor’s fantasy.

I very clearly remember my experience reading Lake Woebegone Days, before I knew much about Keillor other than he was from Minnesota. I started out in awe -- “This guy,” I thought, “is a damn good writer. And funny.” But the more I read of the book, the more uncomfortable I got. What started out as pimping the pompous, a proper satire, was degenerating into making fun of ordinary people for their sincerely held beliefs.

I never finished the book. I stopped when I was ashamed of myself for finding it funny -- the feeling one gets when the last off-color joke goes just a tad bit over the line.

At the end of the day, Keillor is little more than Nick Coleman with talent. And the sad part is, he won’t recognize that as an insult.

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