…who is unclear what the problem is.
Well, yeah, I guess there isn’t one, it being transcendental love and all.
Apparently she’s not very attractive or he would invite her on the show, audibly drool over her on the air, and then sing a duet with her in which he changes from singing baritone to tenor in middle of a line.
That would discourage most stalkers.
And that’s all from the shores of Lake Wobegon, where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the women don’t take no for an answer and send the men pertified alligator feet from Oli Jonsson’s and dead beetles from Art’s Bait & Night O’Rest Motel, inviting the men for a night of stoic passion on a bed with an unoiled boxspring. When politely ignoring the letters and buying taller fences with guard dogs didn’t work, the men would go see Judge Ingmar in the Mist County Courthouse for a restraining order, and he would say “Sometimes it just isn’t meant to be.”
I can’t imagine what it must be like to care enough about Garrison Keillor that you’d want to stalk him.
Well, honestly, I can’t imagine caring enough about him to tune into his show, read his books, watch the film or otherwise acknowledge his existence or output, but I really don’t get the stalking thing.
So now he’s got a stalker? Man, has that guy gone Hollywood.