On a night when televised NBA and NHL playoffs involve teams of great interest to me, I’ll be watching American Idol. Sad, but true! I must be nuts—this Meleagris miscreant has obviously hit been hit by too many fowl balls. Is watching this TV dreck more entertaining that viewing professional sports being played at the very highest level? Hell, no! So, why the hell must I do it?
Obviously, because I’m addicted to this detritus.
Thank God there are only two more weeks of this crap. I’ve spent too much time concocting devious plans that will ensure David Archuleta’s denouement; my birdbrain has a headache from far too much agonizing over this little dork being the presumptive American Idol for 2008 when his singing bores the hell out of me. Have I mentioned that he’s 17 but looks 13? I’m sure I have. After all, I’m crazy, so repeating things is my bailiwick.
Aside from the pipsqueak favorite of the 9-11 year-old female demographic, two normal contestants remain: David Cook and the very sexy Syesha Mercado.
Tuesday’s penultimate performance show will feature those remaining three Idol wannabes singing three songlets each. Thus far, the length of songs sung by the contestants has been a minute-and-a-half. A little simple multiplication yields the actual performance time as 13.5 minutes. The program is listed from 8:00 PM to 9:03 PM (the extra three minutes is there just to piss DVR users off—it prevents them from automatically recording a program that starts at 9 PM on another network), which is 63 minutes. Subtracting the 13.5 minutes from 63 gives us 49.5 minutes of commercials and worthless, dumbass interaction between Ryan Seacrest and the contestants and so-called judges.
This week, the 49.5 minutes of fluff will include visits by the putative idols to their home towns, where if past instances hold any clues, they’ll meet with minor politicians and old schoolteachers. (Will David Archuleta visit his erstwhile nursery school, graduated a mere decade ago?) Some will receive mayoral proclamations and the like. They’ll cavort with normally annoying little sisters and cute but proud grandparents. Cheerleaders will cheer in smelly gymnasium assemblies honoring the visiting hometown heroes. We’ll be subjected to taped vignettes of these unentertaining festivities ad nauseam. The only related fact for which this large forest bird is grateful is that Jason Castro will not be one of the home returnees. (He was eliminated last week—thank you voters!)
Again, drawing upon the last several years’ recollections as a guide but without knowing for sure, this Turkey will put his titanium-studded neck on the block to tell you how the show will go. For their three songs, contestants will choose one themselves, with each the remaining two being chosen by the judges or the folks from back home. [This just in: the third song will be selected by the producers. –Ed.] The judges will offer their irrelevant commentary: Randy will act knowledgeable and critical, Paula will act sweet and forgiving, and Simon will act haughtily brutal (not much of an act, for Simon), following which the American public will vote repeatedly. (Last week, while there were 21.5 million voters, they cast 51 million votes. Busy little phoning and texting fingers, weren’t they?) On Wednesday night, we’ll know who is going to have to be cast in the role of midget killer to go up against the seemingly unbeatable Archuleta in the great, big, fucking over-hyped final next week. (The performance-to-fluff ratio will decrease accordingly.)
Could Archuleta be eliminated this week? Not likely, but stranger things have happened on American Idol in the past. If indeed it does happen, it would bring all the hysterical conspiracy theory nutballs and their black helicopters straight out of the refrigerator, but the explanation will be simple. The American voting public will have finally tired of listening to that same, smarmy voice with the same inflections played through the same squinty-eyed baby face week after week after week. It could happen and this Turkey will be the first to applaud the American voters for their diligence if it does. A Syesha vs. Cook finale might stand a chance of entertaining me.
(At this point, I expect people to chime in and say that it would never happen in a million years, just because the percentages are on their side. That way, if it does happen, they can be suitably shocked and it will automatically validate their conspiracy theories and such; if it doesn’t, they will say “I told you so.” Duh!)
I personally believe that some U.S. Americans don’t have maps… I don’t know where Miss Teen South Carolina and I were going with that line, but how about Archuleta dusting off that great Morris Albert leisure suit classic, “Feelings,” making it his swan song? Whattya think, such as?
I’m merely validating main assertion of this blog: I’m nuts, I’m addicted, and I really don’t give a shit who wins American Idol, as long as it isn’t the baby-faced, boring Archuleta. Come to think of it, I don’t even care if it is Archuleta. Let’s just get it over with, so I can return to my other addictions.