Mar 27 2008
The Torture Of American Idol
Every year it happens. Every year the Lair is invaded by an insidious adversary know as American Idol. This attack is always an inside job. My lab assistant and her junior cohort simply open the fortress doors and invite it in, week after week. Then there they sit, staring at the television and cheering for the nobody du jour, and debating with each other over which one should be cast out of the inner circle. The current favorite is a wispy little blond that sings and plays the piano. Sure, she’s cute, but that’s about it for me.
The one that catches the most derision is a poser with a bad haircut and even worse sense of personal style. Each week he gets up and belts out some cheesy song that he’s re-worked to try and make himself look innovative and sings it like a man in dire need of a stool softener. This madness goes on for weeks, sometimes for 2 hours a night! After every performance a self-appointed jury gives their opinion to each offender. Almost without fail, it goes a little like this:
Randy Jackson: “Yo, yo dog. It was a little pitchy for me, a little pitchy. It was just okay for me, not that great.”
Paula Abdul: “You’re just wonderful, I love your voice, and you’re already a star.”
Simon Cowell: “That was just awful. I hated it.” (He’s usually right)
I guess if it keeps the minions entertained and distracted, how bad can it be? As for me, I climb up to the Crow’s Nest and work on projects for English 112.
