Reading the article, it occurred to me (not for the first time, and I can't tell you how thankful I am for the fact) that even Al's most obsessed or thoughtless fans cannot "kill" him in the Jackson/Cassidy sense, because Al genuinely is one of
...The sensible ones, those fortunate to have been raised right, with an understanding of what makes them truly happy beyond fickle public acclaim
We have the power to ruin a night out at a restaurant for him, but we don't have the ability to ruin his life, because he has not yielded us that power. Yay, Al!
(and if we hear that somebody we know has ruined a restaurant meal for Al, we will fly Scottidog down from Oregon and sic her on 'em

)
I found it very interesting to compare this paragraph against my experience in Al fandom:
I have never, even as teenager, understood fandom, cant see the point of worshipping someone who is no more than a poster on the wall and doesnt even know you exist. Love their work, fancy them rotten: yes. Scream until you faint at a gig, write them loopy letters: never...
...
Fandom is so grossly unequal, so self-abasing. Even when you are closest to your Special One you are humiliated by his at best polite indifference to your pathetic, onanistic, unreturned love.
I have written a few loopy letters to Al in my time, but I don't worship him. I love his work, I like the way he looks very much, but I feel a little odd sometimes mentioning it too much, precisely because I think of Al as a real person, not a poster.
The amazing thing about the Al fandom thing is that the unequal/self-abasing/humiliating/pathetic/unreturned element doesn't apply here. And I think it's because Al has chosen not only to make himself unusually available to his fans, but also to treat the ones he meets with respect at a minimum, and sometimes more. He
jokes with some of us, hugs some of us, remembers some of our names and faces. He knows we exist. He could probably identify half the front row in most concerts he plays.
And all this is hard work. When Al was signing Straight Outta Lynwood, I went through the line and then lingered at the other end (waiting for Suzanne to return from a photo foray so I could give her a little item). I happened to be standing next to Jay Levey, Al's manager, and I said to him, "I love watching Al meet fans. He's so good at it." Jay hastened to assure me, "He really means it." But I already knew he means it. Still, it's hard work. It's no small thing for a still-somewhat-shy man to meet stranger after stranger and respond in a way that will acknowledge them, when you really don't know WHAT they will say. Admittedly, most of us say the same things, but surprises are always a possibility. To do what Al does takes courage, as well as a tremendous amount of effort (good listening is WORK). And good boundaries. I really believe that the only reason Al can do it is that he
does not need us. Well, he needs us to be buying things to keep his career afloat, obviously, but he does not need us to keep his sense of self-worth afloat. Maybe that's it... maybe when a fan isn't just so much ego-fodder for the star, then it becomes not-humiliating to be a fan.