Nothing more American than an Idol

The long-awaited (at least in our house) debut of season seven of American Idol did not disappoint last night. Having quickly tired of no new episodes of my favorite shows (except for my fav—Friday Night Lights), I had been forced to seek creative refuge in a stack of books. It was time for some good ol’ veggin’ in front of the boob tube. And I must say, I loved it “from my head to my nipples.” (If you didn’t tune in, you won’t get that line! Thank you, Uka, aka Sexy Face.)

I’m not sure where some of these people come from, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want to live there. Tonight, I have to admit that I do indeed live close to those who are featured. They are showing the Dallas auditions tonight.

There were some pretty talented singers and a whole lot of weirdoes. Chris Watson, a chiseled-cheek crooner, said he wanted to become a legend—sell more of his music after he dies than when he is alive. Huh? He must not understand the concept of royalties. I’d like to sell a lot of novels and then die. Can’t spend money in heaven. Anyway, he made it through and was a decent singer, but I’ve got ten bucks that says he forgets the lyrics once he makes it to Hollywood. Just a hunch.

And then there was glitter girl Alexis. I felt sorry for her at first. She lives in a tiny one-bedroom apartment with her mother, sleeps on a small sofa and goes to school fulltime. But when she wasn’t put through, she didn’t turn the other cheek. She turned on her other personality and became a raging looney bird. Scary. Even more scary than Paula’s stalker, who said if she was a bathtub he’d caulk her, if he were Columbo he’d Peter Faulk her, etc. I thought he was a hoot. Simon thought he was creepy.

So I’ll be tuning in tonight to see what Big D has to offer in terms of talent and weirdoes. It might not be great, but it is always entertaining.