Yeah, that’s right, I called it. What’s up now?
Once I was in a truck stop and saw a cap for the Chicago Blackhawks. I asked our sound guy Lars if such a team really did exist. Lars looked at me. “It’s amazing,” he said. “You’re immune to it.”
Yeah, sports meant nothing to me as a kid. As an adult, I watch those Bob Costas HBO shows, about the adversity and the pugnacity and the etc etc of this or that basketball dude, and then I resolve to watch a game and get excited about it. But it doesn’t stick. I can’t get that interested.
Hence, Jesus has shown me the way to American Idol. A televised competition I can get involved in.
There was an interesting piece in the NYPost comparing the Idol process to the Presidential primaries; mediocrity wins out because the fans of one eliminated contestant don’t flip over to the more daring acts, but rather to the most inoffensive–hence, goodbye odds-on fave Chris. So the guy said Elliott would win. Well, har dee har har, NYPost guy.
Taylor by a hair. I no longer hate McPhee–mostly due to her answer, on the Fox Idol site, to a question whether the audition process was fair: “No, they let go of some really good people and kept people who were pretty.”
Although she does that thing where she slides up to a note from a breath, which sounds like a style move but is in fact compensation. Drives me apeshitcrazy. And yeah, I recognize that I’m the dude who ends every lyric in the syllable “uh.”
For which Beavis and Butthead likened me to Jimmy Swaggart. I add, proudly.