When I was a lad rolling around in the back of a big GM station wagon with my pre-pubescent crew while one of the moms hauled ass down some winding Piedmont road on the way to the roller-skating rink or movie theater or horse race or wherever the hell we were going and the song “Mandy” by Barry Manilow melodiously poured from the squawk box I would belt it out at the top of my friggin’ lungs. Remembering it now I can imagine how the mothers must have hated my impetuous chorus and though I was too young to have ever had a Mandy of my own (yet) I could feel Barry’s anguish and loneliness conveyed so powerfully in his rendition of the song. It’s almost like he really had blown it and let this kind, loving woman slip away – worse, he pushed her away. What an idiot!
Considering his fans, “I thought I would be disappointing them if they knew I was gay. So I never did anything,” says Manilow. Turns out, “When they found out that Garry and I were together, they were so happy. The reaction was so beautiful — strangers commenting, ‘Great for you!’ I’m just so grateful for it.”
Well count me out – I am disappointed to know Barry Manilow is gay. All those times I sang along thinking, “yeah, this guy really knows what it’s like to miss that wonderful girl he stupidly tossed aside” and it turns out he’s enjoying erotic cohabitation with a dude the whole time. I’m pissed.
Keeper of the Clown Bell 
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