Around this time, I start to watch American Idol. I don't know why. Perhaps I'm a glutton for punishment. In fact, I am watching it as I write this. Tonight it's Queen songs.
When it gets down to a handful, there's usually some talent there, and I find it entertaining to watch. This time, it's a bit up in the air for me. I don't really like any of them. Granted, they all sing better than I do, but they are on TV and thereby eligible for ridicule. With that in mind, here's my personal notes to the contestants and judges:
Kelly, stop smoking dope. You've heard the expression "on paper" before. I know it. And nice job with the Goth makeup. You scared the shit out of me. You looked like Daryl Hannah in BladeRunner.
Bucky, stop drooling on yourself, you goofy looking shit. Also, your jokes are not funny. Case in point: When someone says "You can say that again," repeating the last thing you said and then laughing like a hyena is not a funny thing to do.
Ace, you suck. Give it up. You carry a mirror in your back pocket. I know it.
Chris, sometimes I think you're OK, but then I can't get past this one annoying thing -- you have a very strange vibrato. You never quite sing, and you never quite make the leap into a rocking, screaming vocal. You get like three quarters of the way there, and then get that effing vibrato stuck in your throat and it makes you sound like you swallowed a car alarm.
Katherine, you are pretty cute. Stick with the Country songs and you'll do fine.
Elliot, go get your ears pinned back or something. And get rid of that Romulan hair cut. Also, as an aside, you turned "Somebody to Love" into a complete cluster fuck.
Taylor, you must never attempt to dance again. Ever. I have to say, though -- Not a bad honky-tonk version of "Crazy Little Thing Called Love." It was like Gregg Allman channeling Freddy Mercury, although I am not at all sure Gregg would be OK with that.
Paris, you have the best voice of the bunch. You will be a force to reckon with in about 5 or 6 years. You even look cute tonight in a prostitot kind of way. Just be careful with the cheeseburgers so you don't go all Mandisa on your ass.
Paula, please just stop talking. Forever.
Randy, stop trying to act black. You're whiter than my Jamaican-American friend Special Dark, and that's saying something.
Simon. Ah, Simon. What can I say? I'm sorry you have sit next to Paula. The alcohol fumes must be unbearable.