Thursday, March 12, 2009

I'm So Average It Hurts...Less and Less Each Year.

There's this dig about people who watch American Idol, that they're oblivious to current world events. It's not true. Still, it keeps me from talking about what I watch because I figure the least amount of judgment I bring on myself the better, especially considering the child I used to be would at the very least think it's pretty freaky that I know who's won every season of the three "competitive reality" shows we keep up with.

Sure, as a kid I used to run screaming a few feet away from the TV when Star Search would come on, but it should have been a sign of things to come when I'd linger near the doorway to check out the crazier singers. I could blame my Mum or my Poppy, as Mum got my Poppy hooked and then he used to call me in to see some of the better singers, but no, see, he had taste. He picked Linda Eder, while I was all fascinated by The Kingpins, a band whose drummer jumped all over the drumkit like balancing on the highhat produced an acceptable sound.

Now I'm the one making plans to have something to do near the TV when American Idol and Dancing With The Stars is on. It's how my comic strip gets put together, even some of these posts are written during the commercial breaks between awkward performances. I guess Mum started it, although she tells me I'm the one who was all gung ho to sit through two hours of Clay Aiken and Ruben Studdard alternately singing to and acting like they were going to beat the snot out of each other for no reason other than to take up two hours of my life. I don't know. I just don't remember anymore.

This week Dancing With The Stars came back, and so far I like David Alan Grier, but I'm never as rabid over the people on there because they all grow on me eventually. American Idol, though, this year the show is full of guys I want to hear sing more stuff, and my inner 12-year-old CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHY. Maybe they're good, but there are times I swear there's some hypnotic light pattern going on to lull me into a stupor. For all my lousy memory, I can name the top thirteen contestants and already have favorites. Trickery must be employed. I can't remember my own name half the time, how have these people become part of my vocabulary already?!

I have a theory, of course, about why these shows are so popular. Other than there being little else to sit down to watch with your family after a long day. Because it's like people want to feel like they can control who gets kicked out for doing a crap job. How beautiful would it be to have Citibank Apprentice? Better yet, stash Gordon Ramsey aboard an overpriced personal jet full of CEOs on their way to a retreat and let him rip once they've reach cruising altitude. I predict a hit.


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