Return of the Evil

Well, it’s back. My least favorite show ever. I absolutely cannot stand American Idol, yet here we are, kicking off season X of some poor sot that’s going to win some fake popularity contest. And for what? A contract where the recording industry will pimp them out for millions of CDs that the “winner” will see barely a fraction of those earnings? To sing what they’re told by people who sit around and write canned crap?

Thanks, no.

Oh. And maybe it’s my untrained ear, but EVERYone they bring on sounds exactly the same. The ChristinaGagaBlahBlahMariahLopez sound.

If ever you’re forced to watch this because your spouse is an Idol addict, watch and tell me the next time you hear someone like Regina Spektor. Or Samantha Crain. Or Joana Newsom. Let me know. Cuz that would be worth watching. But this same-sound-year-in-year-out drivel is nauseatingly boring.

What really grates on my nerves are the ones who pin ALL their hopes and dreams on the opinions of 3 judges. The sobbing, the stumbling around in a drunken loss of purpose and inner death … really? Because someone told you you can’t make it? Why are these sots so hell-bent on making or breaking their lives on whether Dog will move them on? Seriously.

I swear … ugh.

Now … having said all that, to be fair, my wife really does just like watching the auditions for “less than kind” reasons. I’m sorry. Yes–there are some that truly should not audition. And you know that these people are auditioning because someone didn’t have the heart to tell them “Dude. Erm … seriously? You’re gonna want to take up an instrument. Cuz your voice ain’t it.”

Know what? I like to sing. I sing in the shower, I sing in the car. Sometimes, I sing for my wife and kids. My wife constantly asks me to join our church choir. It’s not happening. Ever. I can sing along in the car and shower without offending the general public.

Whatever. Show’s over. Time to go catch up on some shows with the spouse. Later.

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