Salt Lake Sh*tty

January 29, 2009

There is nothing more I can add to this TMZ headline. Really and seriously kids, David Archuleta’s clone was not to be found. The caterwauling and hee-hawing that emanated from the big-ass TeeVee in my cozy living room high in the hills above Hollywood was enough to make my dog run with tail between legs. While there were a couple of little frauds who might, maybe, be in our top 12, it’s hard to say that with a straight face based off of what we saw last night.

Tonight we will be visiting San Juan and from the clips, I expect it to be an awful night…again. Good gawd, this part of the season is predictable, indulgent and boring. Were I chosen to do up and do over this bloated and mundane show we call Idol, I would whittle down all these city visits to just ONE damn show! There.Is.No.Reason.For.This.Sh*t! Or maybe I’m just in a pissy mood!

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Jacksonville in da house

January 28, 2009

Listen kids, we are in that part of the season where all the freaks are on full display. Doesn’t matter what city, the delusional come out in full force. They travel from miles and miles and bring their own damn cheering section who fill their minds with all manner of bull-o-knee. You’d think that any fool who has sung in the shower is suddenly ready for their close up. Puh-Leeze! Listen, Mr. (and I use that term oh-so-carefully) Cowell asking if that one hot mess who thought she was the next hot mess we affectionately call Miss Mariah was a “joke” should not have apologized for bringing that child to tears. She deserved it! Lawd, and then to hear her say she had hit her high note better than ever before…I nearly fell off my damn sofa!!

Then there was semi-drunk Paula trying to play a straight boy acting like a gay boy or something by putting her hand over Miss Kara’s mouth and then “kissing” her. She shoulda just slipped her the tongue. And listen, all that lap sitting was just down-right off-putting. I didn’t know whether to get excited or offended. In the end, I just threw up a little in my mouth. And what was with that one broad who brought her little doggie to the audition? Huh? Seriously! There is no call for that! Dogs as accessories make me wanna hurt someone. And there there were the tears. Good gawd, grow a set already little boy. I mean, crying cuz you couldn’t use your gee-tar, like it was a damn security blanket, and then pushing your mom away shows why you and your gee-tar should never have made it to Hollyweird! We’ve got enough freaks here. No need to add another bad-tempered, the world-owes-me, little snot-nosed kid…even if you can sing!

One fool has postulated that the Judges provided more entertainment than those frauds we are calling contestants. Perhaps! Frankly, this thing better pick up steam quick like, otherwise I’m gonna be done before we hit Hollywood week.

Now listen, the little hotness that lives next door to my casa high in the hills above Hollywood has had a little vehicular mix up that has caused all sorts of pain, anguish and suffering (the kind not seen but felt in a court of law none the less) and well, I’m gonna go offer my services in the healing arts. I don’t want to hear any damn thing about it! It’s my duty! And if I end up missing out on tonight’s “same-song-different-city” well, so be it!


Louisville, etc.

January 22, 2009

Listen kids, last night was suppose to be a quiet evening sharing a bottle (or three) of wine with a new man friend. Future, and potential, Idols would be watched and made fun of. But as is, and has been, typical in my house, things do not work out like planned. In the first place, when I arrived home last evening with bottles of wine in hand, I did not find the new man friend as expected. Instead I found the good Dr. P. Haze in a tizzy over some silliness and expecting me to solve the problem. Now, you will recall that the good Dr. P. Haze was shown the door during the break between last season and this. And one would think that I would not have to deal with, and continually be asked to handle, the good Farmacist’s woes. Not so apparently!

After much to’ing and fro’ing, the good Farmacist was sent away but alas, that fraudulent TeeVee show masquerading as singing competition, was down to it’s last moments. The only sights I saw and sounds I heard were of a lovely, and formerly homeless, little gurl who sashayed herself right on in before the judges and proceeded to…do what? See kids, it was at that moment that the good Farmacist made a reappearance. Apparently not all was solved! Damnation!

Louisville was a bust…for me! The good Dr. P. Haze has forthwith been banned from making any further appearances at my humble abode high in the hills above Hollywood…at least on nights when that metrosexual of all metrosexuals is flashing his toothy and overly white-brite smile on my TeeVee! It’s just the way it’s gotta be ya’ll!


44

January 21, 2009

Given the historical events taking place I could not be bothered with that bloated and mundane show we call Idol…no kids, I just couldn’t be bothered. As such, I have nothing to report, nothing to write, nothing to say. Not that having nothing to say will stop me…as we know, that’s never an excuse. What is a good excuse is the amazing amounts of champagne I ingested celebrating the inaugural of our 44th President. We here at Idol Chatter send him our best regards for peace and prosperity as we work together to bring about change! Today I resume my place in the boring and mundane and tomorrow, I’ll write about it. For now kids, let me enjoy my hangover…it was for a good cause!


Just one?

January 15, 2009

Due to circumstances far beyond my control, namely my hometown hoops team playing on the road in San Antonio, I could not be bothered to watch that train-wreck that we call Idol. No, I could not! At least not for the first half hour or so. I was however receiving text messages from the good Professor discussing the “hotness” of various of the frauds calling themselves contestants. Apparently, and according to the Professor…

Casey Carlson’s a hottie

Jamar sucks! Ew! Horrible

Castro’s little bro is F’ing hot (errr, wait, that one might have belonged to me)

I also received this communique from the Professor…

O…M…Fing…God…Um…just the whole thing. Love the whole thing because it’s so terrible.

Now see, I was too busy watching my hometown hoops team put on a might display and master’s degree class on the courts of San Antonio while still managing to loose by one freakin point to be bothered (am I repeating myself). I will say that pink hair aside, I liked me some Castro boy. You’ll recall last season that little Mr. Jason Castro strummed my heart strings and sent all sorts of naughty thoughts a rippin and a floatin through my fair head. Should little bro make it on through, one can imagine the state of ecstasy I’ll find myself in. Lawd have mercy!!

Apparently, Kansas City (a city I unfortunately know too much about) brought us at least one contestant who, if Mr. Randy Jackson is to be believed, sounds like a cross between Fantasia and Mary J. Blige. Now kids, I heard that songstress myself and couldn’t agree more with Mr. Jackson. I’m lookin for this rockin hot mamma to be in our final 12 and, if she doesn’t screw the pooch, may even be in the finals.

Mr. Metrosexual, Ryan Seacrest, informed us of course (as he does each season) that this was the most talented season so far. But, we’ve only seen one performer who might fit that bill. Will Hollywood week reveal more talent or, is it just a gimmick? We shall see!

And now, I’m off to work on my hangover! Lawd kids, the head is a poundin like it was a ball being manhandled by number 24!


It’s all about the…

January 14, 2009

One late night, many, many moons ago, I found myself driving in the middle of Kansas.   It was dark and late and the road in front of me was straight and flat as an arrow thus making dozing a distinct possibility.  Being out in the middle of absolutely no-where, a place even god wouldn’t visit (assuming he or she or they could find it), I was left with the distinct possibility of slumbering right on off the road.  After much fiddling with the radio, I was finally able to get a signal from some podunk little radio station whose specific mission seemed to be to keep the truckers and such awake throughout the night.  Lawd, the music that blasted and bumped from my rental speakers was not something I could easily describe.  It was a mish-mash of genre’s and artists not easily found on your top 10 radio station.  While I would never wish that musical disaster on anyone, I will say that it got me across that long ribbon of road to an airport where I was able to escape back to the sanity of my little home high in the hills of Hollywood.

I’m sure by now you are wondering what the hell my little trip through the wilderness has anything to do with the fiasco that was last night.  Well, as I listened to that radio station way out in the middle of a corn field, a little ditty came a blastin over those rental speakers.  What were those words that so resembled last night’s show?

It’s all about the money
It’s all about the dum dum dee duh dum dum
I don’t think it’s funny…

As Meja belted out those words to a quasi-European beat totally incongruent to my location in the middle of fields of corn and ribbons of road, it never dawned on me that many, many moons later I would finally be able to make sense of that song that often drives it’s self right through the middle of my head at the most inopportune times.

Last evening we were assailed by many images that were truly vulgar. Voices that belched, burbled and hiccuped their way through the destroying of classics. Judges bored by the process (even the new one). One host who rather limply tried to prop up his heterosexuality with a impotent make out session with bikini girl (who, by the way couldn’t sing her way out of a trash bag and will quickly and easily be bounced out of Hollywood week). The biggest vulgarity of the night? A damn commercial every other audition. For real! If all the commercials had been removed from last night’s show, it wouldn’t have lasted longer than 40 minutes. It was truly “a night of a thousand” commercials. And they weren’t even stars!

Going forward, we will be TiVo’ing the show and skip through the damn commercials! While money may make the world go round, it will be the death of this already bloated show.

And, was it just me, or did we fail to see anyone who stood out and would blow our socks off? No we didn’t! I’ve still got a headache from that caterwauling.


Ready as I can be!

January 13, 2009

I’ve been thinkin about some tunes today that would express my “excitement” over tonight’s premiere of the new season of Idol.

Are you ready for some…Idol? – sung to the tune of the theme for Monday night football

Well I’m ready…ready as anybody can be!– sung to the tune of I’m Ready by Areosmith

In the dark of night, not a star was in sight– sung to the tune of Hallelujah, I’m Ready by Ricky Skaggs

I’m sure you could come up with some more to express your “excitement” for tonight’s big thang! The truth is, I’m just a little tired and, already, just a little bored. Everyone is talking about changes, real and perceived, much like we rambled on about yesterday. However, all this talk of change and about bringing Idol back from it’s rumored grave, is making me less interested than ever. Maybe it’s my time of the month…if so, how unfortunate for Idol to have picked this week to trot out their latest and debatably their “greatest” of all seasons. Blah! Or not!

I guess you could say I’m “ready as I can be!” How that’s a good thing is beyond me!