American Idol-itry

Michael McGuire

I was just reading somewhere that American Idol has no intentions of ever ending.

Before that moment, I had no intention of ever leaving America.

The draft (even though I wasn’t born yet), french fries with gravy, and cheap meds weren’t enough to get me to head for Canada before, and now that I actually want to leave, I’m not even sure If I can go there.

“Hello Canada, do you guys like American Idol?”

“Are ya kidding, ey? That’s like asking if a Brown Lemming can ride in your coat pocket!”

“It is?”

“You bet.”

I’m not sure if they watch American Idol up there or not, but there is an obvious language barrier too large to overcome.

I guess that’s out. So where do I go? What do I do?

I can’t stand American Idol, but I hate change – Canada was pushing it.

I guess I’m like everyone else. I’ll stick around, and put up with something I don’t like.

But we don’t just put up with things – we (American) idolize them.

That show is the same every year, it can’t possibly be any better than it was the first couple times around – and the people they highlight in the popular cattle call episodes can’t possibly get any worse (see William Hung).

So how do they keep it so fresh, dawg? They don’t – we lie to ourselves and say they do. We like routines. We like the comfort of American Idol because we know it’s ok to watch it. We like to talk freely amongst peers and share anecdotes without fear of being called a weirdo.

But oddly enough, we also like things we believe we can call our own. Idol is definitely personal. It gives you a double ego boost; when the people really stink up the joint you get a good laugh “knowing” you are not nearly the loser they are. Second, when you get to the medal rounds, you find hope for yourself in the regular Joes who are living out their dreams for all to see.

They’re heroes.

That means you could be a hero.

It’s genius – but it should be illegal.

Instead of being the next Justin or William Hung, you’ll gather you’re buds and say “couch me” the rest of your life, content with seeing someone else take your limelight while you stand outside the fire (Garth Brooks, he’s my Am-Idol:) ).

That’s right – it should be you on that stage.

No it shouldn’t.

I guess I have no argument. I just don’t like that show and I’m so frustrated that no one else is with me.

If you think everyone is crazy except you, does that mean that you’re crazy?

Crazy and alone – Miss Cleo was right.

In shopping cart news, a friend in New Orleans says that carts down there have a mechanism on them that locks-up the wheels if you try to remove the cart from the parking lot.