Vodka, Painkillers & Failure


I watched my very first American Idol tonight.  If you told me a year ago that I would be watching this show, you would have gotten a rabbit punch in the kidneys plus written instructions to shoot me in the head should that prediction have come to pass.

It has come to this.  I submitted myself to the television juggernaut.  Holy shit.  I knew it would be a trainwreck, but damn. 

Between her obviously impaired speech on tonight’s episode, and that video clip of her being totally gonzo wasted that’s making the rounds, Paula Abdul is a fucking time bomb.   She’s a "Niggers and Jews" rant away from a stint in rehab.  I used to date a girl who was on the same booze and pills regimen.  Coincidentally, she was trying to make in the music business.   Pretty sure she used to rant about the Niggers and Jews, come to think of it.  Yessir,  the vodka for breakfast bit was fun, but after awhile you get sick of Drunky the Clown slurring her way through the day being obnoxious and stupid.

Expect Paula to not make it through the entire season if tonight was any indication.

Overall, the show isn’t to my tastes.  I don’t care for the Karaoke/Talent Show.  The story about the plucky little crack baby or the guy who sold his kidney to get on the show doesn’t really interest me.

I want to see abject failure.

I want to see people so self-deluded that they refuse to believe that they can’t sing despite all evidence to the contrary.   Bring me more people whose friends and family are too spineless to tell them that they have absolutely no talent.   Load me up with losers who have placed their entire concept of self-worth on staggeringly unrealistic dreams of stardom. 

Please, please let there be more horrid abominations whose retort to their obvious lack of musical ability is to proclaim, "But I have a college degree in vocal training!"   Of course you do, pumpkin!

If that dumb broad wasn’t a metaphor for everything wrong with America, I don’t know what is. 

Ok, American Idol, you win.  Thanks to the insistence of the people in my household, you have my attention.  I’ll continue to watch until they get to Hollywood.  After that, it won’t hold my interest.  Without the looming spectre of humiliation,  shame and ignominy, the show has nothing for me.

Except, perhaps, for little Ryan Seacrest to get all pissy when a contestant refers to him as short.   In keeping with the theme of disabusing people of their delusions, 5’7" isn’t "average".  Sorry, little buddy.


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