Reality Check

I watch American Idol and Dancing With The Stars. I've watched Idol since Clay Aiken sang Grease on Bee Gees week, and on a good day I can tell you who was on the past two seasons of Dancing.

Do I consider myself the target audience for these shows? Hell no. Sara Evans dancing the Pasa Doble to Phantom of the Opera damn near killed me, but I grew stronger, and of course Scissor Sisters were a guest last year and that helped.

This season, Joey Fatone danced a tango to Meco's Star Wars theme, and it wasn't bad, and dammit, I'm man enough to admit that. I very nearly regret seeking out Christopher Cross to destroy //\//*Sync five years ago. Fatone's a fan. He wore a padawan braid. He knows what a padawan braid is and isn't ashamed to admit it, and he didn't let a little thing like the sound of millions of fanboys crying out in terror at the idea of him taking part in the biggest movie series ever put him off that fandom, and that's the way to live.

I'll pretend watching television shows is why I haven’t posted much lately. Really. Nothing at all to do with my body taking extended breaks to go find itself and my brain getting that second job as a whirligig. Tonight’s two-hour American Idol promises to be extra scary fun, so don’t expect me to recover until next Monday.

Reality Check