Monday, March 29, 2004

If He's the Winner . . .

I don't watch "American Idol". The thought of "singers" screeching the hits of Dionne Warwick as if they were dying cats just doesn't do much for me. Although that frustrated British guy is pretty funny, in a bitchy sort of way.

So last Saturday, when I returned home and turned on Saturday Night Live (I was waiting for Eliminidate to start), I had no idea who the especially crappy musical guest was. According to the Internet, he was Clay Aiken, one of the "winners" of American Idol.

And, as I later learned, he's the guy who "sings" the tuneless ode to stalking - "Invisible", where he pines for his unreachable love, and wishes he could stand in her room and watch her, while he's invisible. Hey Clay, babe, let me tell you - it's not nearly as cool as you think; plus it's hard to explain what you're doing in her closet at three in the morning. Let my cold voice of experience help you out there (but at 20 restraining orders, you get a great set of knives).

Personally, I liked the song better when the Police sang it.

But more exasperating to me is this small problem: this guy is the result of a nationwide talent search? Of the 200 million-odd men, women and children in the United States, this dopey-looking guy with a penchant for awful music won the talent show? It kind of makes me want to watch the show to see the losers - they must set new depths for suck.

In any case, when copies of Clay's album lines dollar bins everywhere and he sits by the phone, hands poised by the receiver just in case it rings, maybe, just maybe, record execs will realize that people have grown weary of the same pre-packaged, processed crap.

Of course, the damned album could go triple platinum too, showing just how much I know about the American public and their desire for change.

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