Are you serious?

Most of you know who know me know my brother-in-law is a lot more famous than I -- or pretty much anyone else I know -- could ever hope to be. He is the lead singer for a heavy-metal band, and the former lead singer for an even bigger heavy-metal group, which has since disbanded, I believe.

Da wife is on the phone with her bro last week, and she tells him how she had VIP passes for the Kenny Chesney concert last Thursday at the N.O. Arena, and how it great it was because she was less than 10 feet from the stage.

His response, "Who in the hell is Kenny Chesney?"

Seriously?

I can appreciate that rock stars are in their own world, do their own thing, and especially heavy-metal artists aren't listening much to the sounds of Nashville. But to not know Kenny Chesney?

That would be something comparable to Kobe Bryant saying, "Who in the hell is Peyton Manning?" Or maybe even, President Bush not knowing who Tom Hanks is. (OK, I guess that's possible.)

And as they finish up on the 45-second convo on country music, big bro says to da wife, "I can't believe you listen to that crap. You really have an f'd up choice in music."

I have only met him about eight or 10 times, and I think he is as cool as hell. Even though I couldn't even imagine trying to keep up with his lifestyle, I'd like to hang out with him for a couple of days sometime. But his style of music isn't my cup of tea. Or cup of latte or kool-aid or anything else you can put in a cup. Even though I'd love to go to one of his concerts just for the experience, I have never been a fan of music that A) the music is too loud to understand the words (although he has one of the most distinct voices I have ever heard that could boom over a small nuclear bomb), and B) most of the words you do understand start with a letter that has two small horizontal lines attached to a longer vertical line.

Just my weekly proof that we all hum to a different tune. Whatever your tune may be might not be in my iPod, but it's fine with me.

Keep rockin.