Don't Get Me Started with Linda Sharp

American Idol Audition Recap, January 31st: Las Vegas Craps Out

I hate politics. I do not align myself with the Republicans. You won't find me fundraising for the Democrats. The Green Party is a joke. Ralph Nader is a punchline. I simply cannot stand politicians, period.

But tonight, I'ma luvin' me some George Bush.

I may not agree with all his decisions, choices and moves, but God love him, tonight, by virtue of his State of the Union address, he kept American Idol to one hour.

And considering how truly awful and subpar tonight's episode was, that's enough to make me run on down to the ranch in Crawford and lick the cowpatties off his boots.

Quite frankly, I'm confused.  How can a show we all watch because of its ability to showcase the bad, have been so ... oh, I don't know ... bad?

But, since we all endured the torture that was this evening's show, I shall endeavor to pull some witty observations out of my rear for you.

Ryan opened the show with geographical amnesia: "Where am I? Is it Paris, Italy, New York, Egypt, Rome, Camelot?"

I can tell you it was definitely not that last one. Camelot had that whole, "don't let it be forgot, that once there was a spot, for one brief, shining moment..." thing going for it.

Las Vegas has that whole "let everything that happens in this spot, dear God, let it be forgot...especially that one brief moment with the shiny hooker..."

Ahhhh, yes, Las Vegas - adult playground, home to legal prostitution, phony Eiffel Towers, pyramids, and $2 Lobster Buffets.

Sadly, this round of auditions stank as badly as those mounds of seafood... and those legal prostitutes.

As I write this, I'm still stymied though. For a place referred to as The Entertainment Capital of the World, where were the entertainers? Where was the talent? Where was Mikhala Gordon?

First up was a Rastafarian, and I don't know which was worse, the waist length dread wig or the Ja-fake-an accent. Alexia "Dylon" Lincheta, 23, bounded in and performed a little American Idol reggae - not that there really is such a thing. Sadly, the usher from Bakersfield, California couldn't hit a note if Bob Marley was loading the gun for him and he was told to "go back to da island". Wigless, accentless, he weeped for the cameras, "I should have came as myself and not as a gimmick." Collective DUH from the congregation, mon...

I do believe this is when I paused the TiVo and downed a huge shot of rum.

Maybe I drank the whole bottle because I swear I saw a fat clown walk in and walk right back out of the audition room?

Then I began in earnest to wish I were drunk, for Bobbie May, the zaftig psychic from Season 4 auditions, reappeared like a bad LSD flashback. Only, thank God, she did not intend to sing, rather she is now a Psychic/Manager for her kid sister, Erica Davis, 17. Erica, fond of magenta hair dye, began to make the judges see red - the audition was a bust - but I'm not certain if the truly low point was having Bobbie stand next to her while she sang, or when her lyrics included "a circus of fleas". Either way, I join Simon in begging them both, "PLEASE don't come back again."

Oh, Bobbie did say. "I do have predictions for Season 5, but I feel like keeping them to myself."

I'm sure she'll share them with us just after the final show...

Next up, a "breath of fresh air", as Ryan called her - Mecca Madison, 18, a belly dancer, singer and student who had gold glitter around her eyes and a giant pubic hair stuck to her cheek. She got her ticket to Hollywood, but I definitely recommend a little wax job before she boards the plane...

Ryan Hart, 18, came in next bragging that, "The judges have never even heard my kind of singing."

That's always a good sign.

He made a great initial impression when the first word out of his mouth was "f*ck". Then again, that word came out of my own mouth when he began singing and Linda Blair sprang out of his body spewing pea soup. He not only wins the Linda Sharp Award For Audition Tourettes tonight, but also a trophy for Best Exorcism on National TV.

(By this point, I was missing the ghetto-fabulous antics of Rhonetta Johnson something terrible.  I need some more rum.)

Heather Ward, 28, a guidance counselor at the local correctional facility, came in wearing the remnants of a grass skirt leftover from the weekly Luau Lockup. Red Neck Woman seemed an odd choice of song, but it was just that oddity which earned her two yeses and one no - the equivalent of a Get Out Of Jail Free Card in Idolopoly.

Ahhhhh, Venice. Home of canals, Harry's Bar and Pepe' the Gondolier. Ahhhh, the Venetian Hotel, home to cement canals, lots of bars and Jason Andino, 23 (aka Pepe') the gondolier. I've been to the Venetian more times than I can count and have always been impressed with the singing of the gondoliers as they float through the hotel. I guess the acoustics help alot because once in the audition room, Jason and Pepe' couldn't hit the right notes with the judges. Hmmm, maybe next year they'll let him bring some water, a long stick and a funny hat in with him.  I'm sure if he sang to Paula in a gondola, she'd give him a golden ticket, or at least offer to hold his stick...

By now in the show, it was apparent that Idol Vegas was truly sucking desert sand because they dedicated an entire five minutes to the unwanted, untalented folks of seasons past, who turn up each year like bad pennies and Simon's black tshirts.

Highlighted in this riveting segment, was JC Gray, the dude with Bette Davis eyes from last season, who had scared the bejeesus out of Simon. (Note to auditioners: Look in the mirror. If what you see staring back has the potential to cause night terrors in young children - don't audition.) Sadly for JC, not even a stylin' mullet could save him this season. He was told NO before he even opened his mouth.

(Insert repeated use of AI logo and profanity BEEP here.)

By this point, we needed help in a big way, and in lumbered Anthony Andolino, right on cue. This was a big boy - in fact, he was a photo negative of Ruben Studdard. I wasn't so much distracted by his weight (seriously Anthony - we are talking health issues here, not mere aesthetics), however, as I was by the backstory about how he and his girlfriend have 75 animals. 75?!? I can barely keep up with the poop from one puppy.

Sadly, screeching your song at the top of your voice doesn't make it sound better and Anthony was shown the door. It was at this point, the editors lost a serious amount of respect with me. Simon's comment that, "We couldn't afford the food bill." was completely unnecessary - it should have been left on the cutting room floor.

Then again, this was the Las Vegas auditions and they needed something to help fill the hour so they could collect their $600k for each 30 second commerical.

Ally and AJ came in next - wait, sorry, they're not Asian ... Oh, ok, these are the Pearson twins, Maureen and Marnelli, who shared a single pair of shorts - seriously, could their hotpants get any smaller? The twins sang "Dreams", then received triplet No's before dissolving into fraternal quadruplets, Tears, Sadness, Snot, and Angst.

David Mandzak, 18, made a brief appearance dressed in a striped tablecloth, singing As Long As You Love Me, but they soon ended it when it became apparent from his grunting that he was pooping his pants.

Padding the commercial clock even more, the producers did a take-off of CSI, only this was Criminal Singer Investigators. They should all be arrested for subjecting us to this lame crap - we expect MUCH more for our Idol devotion than a guy in a lime green shirt singing and doing sign language, a gender confused man performing the hula in Levis, a dude who sounded (and appeared) to be having sex with himself, and someone who personified the song she sang, "I Like Big Butts".

"I cannot lie" either, sweetheart - this was just a bad night for AI. I mean, when viewers are looking forward to the sound of "Hail to the Chief", you know something is really wrong in Idol-land...

Next in the parade of shame came Haggai Yedidya - "Proud To Be An American" in his multi-flagged shirt, and what appeared to be two pairs of jeans sewn together. I loved his enthusiasm for America, I mean I like it here too, but that's not enough to make me want to see him show up in Hollywood.

Princess Brewer, 22, "blunt and sassy", compared herself to Aretha Franklin. She then began to sing "That's What Friends Are For" and it quickly became apparent she has none, for surely, true friends would have informed her she cannot sing a note. I would suggest Princess hide in her castle because after that audition, Aretha is likely looking to wack her with a "blunt, sassy" instrument.

Talk about sucking hind tit....what did we do to deserve another montage, this time just a series of weirdly dressed, vocally challenged contestants (as if that's special)? I was quickly singing along with them, though, and meaning it, "Go on, now GO. Walk out the door. Just turn around now, you're not welcome anymore."

And what THE hell was that half man/half woman thing right at the end? I swear, by that point, things were so bad, I was hallucinating.

This led to a revival of the musical "Hair". Someone wake me up - this nightmare won't stop!

Finally. FINALLY. Last up was silver haired, 29 year old, Taylor Hicks who had Best Buy salesman written all over him. Asked why he was there, he said simply, "I want my voice to be heard". I have to admit, I cringed, in fact, I think I flinched and began to weep, expecting more abuse at the hands of the AI producers, but then Taylor sang. Sure, his movements closely matched Ray Charles when his hair was gray, but Taylor's singing was not bad at all. Seeing that the day was over and there was a surplus of unused golden tickets, the judges gave him one.

In all, only ELEVEN people made it to Hollywood, proving that those Chamber of Commerce guys really did come up with a great slogan for their town, "What goes on in Vegas, stays in Vegas."

And may I just say, THANK GOD.

Tune in next time as Idol heads to Austin, Texas, where - God help us - the slogan is "Keep Austin Weird". In light of that, you'll have to excuse me now, I need to go restock my supply of rum...

Hope Floats, My Patience Sinks

Typically, when I sit down to write the blog, something (a news story, inane study, American Idol...) has triggered a response in me so strong that the words flow in very short order. That’s how I write - emotionally.

The news story that caught my eye yesterday, however, angered me to such a degree that I could not even risk sitting down at the keyboard. At that point, anything I wrote would have been punctuated with so much profanity and anger that an NC-17 rating would have been slapped across the heading.

Twelve hours later, a little sleep, and some time to think, I believe I am able to write about it objectively...

The story?

Some worthless, f*cking piece of shit asshole in Brazil tied a baby in a plastic bag and threw her into a f*cking lake.

Hmmmm, maybe I’m not ready to be objective...

Too bad.

Yes, yesterday in Belo Horizonte, Brazil, someone placed a two month old baby girl inside a black, plastic garbage bag, tied it up and threw her into Pampulha Lagoon.

There is no estimate yet as to how long the child was floating in the bag - the bag remained afloat by the grace of God and a small piece of wood the worthless, f*cking piece of shit asshole had placed inside it with the baby.

The crying of the infant eventually caught the ear of a couple who at first thought someone was trying to drown a cat. "I heard what sounded like a cat," Jose da Cruz told Globo TV. "Then the noise was increasing and it caught my attention."

Amateur video footage show the couple using a long tree branch to reach the bag and pull it out of the water. The video also captures their complete astonishment when they opened the bag and discovered the tiny, soaked infant inside.

Taken immediately to a hospital, doctors were amazed that she had not succumbed to the heat inside the bag, suffocated or drowned. As of this morning, she has been released from the hospital, is in the care of a foster family, and the mother has been tracked down and arrested by police.

She claims she did not throw the baby in the lake, but that she - are you ready for this? - had given the child away to a group of homeless people because she didn't have enough money to raise her.

A group of homeless people? I guess I never realized they were all filthy rich and lived outside because they’re simply the outdoorsy type.

Regardless of who loaded the garbage bag, the point is someone did. Someone with no heart, no feelings, no compassion, no soul. How anyone can simply throw a child away like so much garbage is beyond my comprehension. I don't understand.  I don't want to understand.

There are always options. The number of people on this globe, in every city, hamlet, town and village who desperately want a child to love, but cannot conceive one, is staggering. There is love to spare in this world, and someone would get down on their knees and beg to have the chance to raise one of these children who is routinely thrown away in dumpsters, Port-o-potties, landfills and lakes.

Children do not ask to be born. They do not ask to be the product of unprotected, indiscriminate sex. They come into this world needing one thing: to be cherished. And if you can’t or are not willing to do it, find someone who will. I am beyond sick of teenagers getting knocked up and then discarding a baby because they can think only of covering their own asses. I have had it with grown women who encase newborns in old paint buckets full of cement so as not to be found out. I don’t want to hear another story of a "boyfriend" shaking an infant to death, or worse yet, raping a month old child.

I have simply reached my saturation point with these people who steal the oxygen we decent people need, these sacks of shit whose sole concern in life is themselves.

Perhaps the Middle East has it right when it comes to punishments for crimes. Steal? Cut off a hand. Rape? Cut off the genitals. Throw a baby into a lake?

As far as I’m concerned, anything less than replacing the piece of wood with a cement block, tying their ass in a supersize Hefty, and tossing them overboard is just too good.

Oh, and make sure it's that new stretchy, reinforced kind - they hold anything.  Even squirming, worthless, f*cking piece of shit assholes.

This Bugs Me

I don't like bugs. Period. End of discussion.

OK, maybe not end of discussion, as I really feel the need to rant.

Call me squemish, chicken, girlie, whatever - all little things that crawl give me the willies.

Ants, especially here in Texas where "everything is big", are high on my hate list. We don't just have your run-of-the-mill teeny black ones. No, like our ten gallon hats and twenty gallon hair, we have enormous Red Fire Ants, so named because a single nip from one will make you feel as if your entire leg is going up in flames a la the Hindenburg. Oh the humANTity!

Cockroaches are just plain disgusting. They are sneaky, covert and crap on things on the middle of the night...like your counters or loaf of bread. I lived in Hawaii for several years and the roaches there look like the product of nuclear testing. My husband's shoes were not big enough to adequately squash them. Manhole covers were not big enough...

My least favorite has got to be the spider. I don't just hate them on principle, I hate them because they can kill me.

I'm not kidding.

I'm allergic and my last spider bite sent me to the hospital with severe heart palpitations. I left with warnings from the doctors that the next time could be much, much worse, and now carry an Epi-Pen around with me so I can stab myself in the leg should a spider dare to dine on my flesh.

So you see, my bugaphobia is well grounded.

You can imagine then how thrilled I was to read the recent FDA report detailing the existence of cochineal extract, that would be bug juice for we lay people, in everything from the yogurt I eat to the lipstick I wear.

Yes, apparently this extract, also referred to as carmine, can be found on the labels of more products than a millipede has legs. It is used as a red dye and is extracted from the ground bodies of an insect known since the time of the Aztecs.

Listen, I expect the Aztecs to have resorted to this, they didn't exactly have Eli Lilly, Merck and Estee Lauder, but us? In the 21st century?

According to the Food & Drug Administration, carmine puts the red in ice cream, strawberry milk, fake crab and lobster, fruit cocktail cherries, port wine cheese, lumpfish eggs and liqueurs like Campari. It is also used in lipstick, makeup base, eye shadow, eyeliners, nail polishes and baby products. Cochineal extract shows up in fruit drinks, candy, yogurt and some processed foods.

Of course, you don't see it on your labels as bug puree, rather it consistently shows up as "color added" or "E120". Obviously this is disturbing to vegetarians, Jews trying to keep kosher, and people, like me, whose bowels turn to bug juice at the mere thought of anything creepy crawly.

The FDA has obviously known about this since Montezuma let Cortes borrow his blush, but they ruled out banning the use of the colorings since it found no evidence of a "significant hazard" to the general population (other than being seriously skeeved out). It's also declined to require that labels disclose the colorings are made from insects, as the Center for Science in the Public Interest has asked.

OK, fine - I may not agree with that part, but I can also see the marketing hurdle all these maufacturers would face were they required to list, "milk, yogurt cultures, fructose, bug bile..." on my Yoplait, or "canuba wax, mineral oil, insect innards..." on my lip gloss.

Alas, I am addicted to my yogurt, will not emerge from my home with out my make-up firmly in place, and think candy, especially Red Hots and Hot Tamales, are the best things known to man, so I guess I am doomed to this never ending insect nghtmare.

You'll have to excuse me now. I have to get ready to take my daughter to soccer practice and the mere thought of applying my new lipstick has got my sphincters on high alert.

Talk about Montezuma's Revenge...

American Idol Audition Recap, January 25: I Left My Eardrums In San Francisco

Ahhhh, San Francisco - a melting pot of cultures, lifestyles, personalities - home to great food, gorgeous landmarks, and 100 square foot houses that sell for two million dollars. A place where a metrosexual like Ryan can really be gay - wait, I meant happy...I think.

Looking right at home in his pinstripe dress shirts and Humanity Jeans, hair all gelled and standing at attention, Ryan welcomed us to the town that gave us past season contestants LaToya London (who along with Jennifer Hudson is my pick for Most Screwed Over By The American Public) and Nadia "Just Look At Me Really Hard So You Forget I Can’t Sing Very Well" Turner.

As the Wonkavator rose through the faces of Idols past, I wondered, would San Francisco prove to be a bridge to the golden tickets of Hollywood or just a gate with no key for the hopefuls who crowded into the Cow Palace? Either way, considering the venue, it was sure to be udderly entertaining...

First up? Happy Heidi From Hawaii (that sounds like a bad porn title) who is often told she looks like Jessica Simpson - yes, Jessica Simpson a week after she fires her stylist. Dressed in a taffeta rainbow, she locked her hands together, and breaking Linda’s Commandment For American Idol Auditions #5, began to sing a flawless opera aria. Don’t ask me which one - they all sound alike. Paula then asked her to unclench her fists and sing something "pop". Sadly, the great voice vanished like a midnight buffet in front of Pavarotti. Aloha Heidi, it’s back to the islands for you.

Breaking Linda’s commandment #2 (Boys shalt never sing songs recorded by girls.), Shawn Vasquez, 18, another opera student who "takes his music very seriously", launched into Neither One of Us by Gladys Night. I kid you not when I say his singing was so off the charts bad that my dog ran towards the TV set and then began scratching at the back door to be let out. Paula, dressed this evening as a banana with cleavage, was actually rendered speechless. Simon, however, was not, saying Shawn’s "voice is almost non-human." I guess that would explain my dog. Needless to say, the judges all wanted to "be the first to say goodbye".

After a succession of Shawns and Heidis, in walked Jose’ "Sway" Penala who did everything right - from his smooth, simple, runless singing to his quiet demeanor to his choice of attire, he certainly made Paula "sway" as he sang "Don’t You Remember You Told Me You Loved Me, Baby". Considering the number of times she has gone into heat during the audition process so far, I would strongly recommend the producers get her an ankle monitor (a la Martha Stewart) so they can track her during this season.

Next up, Matthew - oh heck, we’re all friends here, so I’ll call him Wolfie. Describing himself as "a little bit like Clay, but a little different than Clay, I think my range is around Clay Aiken" he attempts to sing Measure of a Man from Clay’s first CD. Yes, yes, Wolfie, I would say you are a little different than Clay - kind of like Ruben Studdard is a little different than Clay. And I definitely agree that your range is around Clay, around the side where bad resides. After being shown the door, he insists the judges "made a mistake" and that "they didn’t understand my similarities to Clay Aiken". No problem, the producers offer up a split screen of Clay and Wolfie singing. I’ll be damned, Wolfman was right. He is a little bit like Clay... in that they’re both men...I think.

Our next contestant was 28 year old John Williams, fresh from the deserts of Iraq and a nine year stint in the Air Force. I realize the contestants are all nervous, but poor John was sweating like he was still in Baghdad. In what was one of the strangest auditions, he sang a bit and then stripped down to a tin foil shirt (he must shop at the same store as Rhonetta) and proceeded to convulse all over the parquet flooring. The judges must not have wanted to piss off the patriotic-Josh Gracin crowd and let him through to Hollywood. Note to John: Don’t unpack when you get there, I predict a very short tour of duty.

Katherine McPhee, 21, was up next. May I just pause here to address the producers? It’s kind of a dead giveaway that a contestant is through to Hollywood when you show us a backstory complete with a visit to the person’s home, before they even sing a note. I prefer my suspense to have a little more, oh, I don’t know...suspense? Anyway, her Mom’s a vocal coach, yada, yada, yada, she sings great, blah, blah , blah. Randy claims her the Best Voice This Season (at which point Paris Bennett surely looked at the TV and said, "Oh no you di’ent") and Simon called her "current", whatever the hell that means. Fresh milk? Today’s newspaper? The Gulf Stream?

Eric Cornforth, 18, got his 15 seconds of fame, unfortunately he was asleep and his hair was on backwards...

That’s ok, Shalicia "I’m Blue Daba dee Daba die" Carlisle was awake enough for two people So confident in her vocal prowess, she had quit her job to "become the next American Idol". That statement broke commandment #3, which she coupled with the breaking of commandment #6: Thou shalt open your damned eyes when singing. Shoes off, on her knees, playing with her hair, she would not take No for an answer and began reciting ghetto poetry, then sang two songs, "Don’t you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me" (Somewhere, Rhonetta’s boyfriend just laughed out loud) and "I’m sorry, sorry, sorry..." Yes, dear, you are, are, are. Simon, having taken his Prozac, actually called Shalicia’s boss and got her her job back.

Next in was 16 year old Shawna Longstockings, fresh off my Wendy’s Frosty cup. Singing Stockard Channing’s infamous ode to all easy chicks, Worse Things I Could Do, from Grease, she was like a chunk of parmesan - grating. Luckily, they gave her a chance to sing something else and she nailed some Alicia Keyes. She got her ticket to Hollywood, but also got a front row seat for the fight beginning to brew among the judges...

(Insert ominous music...)

While you hum the music to Jaws, I’d like to pause to list Linda’s 10 Commandments For American Idol Auditions

1. Thou shalt don no costumes, uniforms or shredded lingerie.

2. If thou haseth testicles, thou shalt not sing a song recorded byest a person with ovaries.

3. Thou shalt not worship any false idols. Translation: Thou shalt never lookest into the camera and stateth that thou art the next American Idol. Further, in loss, thou shalt spew no rantage so foul so as to require the use of the AI logoeth over thy mouth as thy walkeths away.

4. Thou shalt not carry, cart, drag or cling to any type of prop in thou’s audition. It’s distractingeth.

5. Thou shalt not sing opera. Periodeth.

6. Thou shalt rejoice in the light by opening thy damned eyes while singing.

7. Yea, tho there be a time to every season under heaven, thy time to dance shalt not be in the season of thy audition. Standeth still.

8. Thou shalt take vocal Pepto Bismal beforest thy audition so as to thwarteth the vocal runneths.

9. Thou shalt not compareth thyself to any former Idol lest thou wishest to end up humiliatedethed in front of millions of disciples.

10. Thou shalt not covet, steal or murder thy neighbor for their golden ticket. Thy producers keep records of who geteths them.

Amen...

Up next, quadruple threat Marcus "Dragonslayer" Phillips - that really was some shirt. I’ve seen them in stores before, but had never known just what type of person buys those large rayon dragons... Describing himself as an All Terrain Entertainer, he proceeded to rip up the audition room, 4 wheeling through a falsetto This Little Light Of Mine, then rapped in such a way that K-Fed suddenly sounded like Eminem, did some indeterminate dance moves and then made fart noises with his mouth which I assume was supposed to be beatboxing. He left saying, "I do what I can", unfortunately, he just demonstrated that he can’t do anything.

Jane Santayana, 19, sang a respectable version of Sweet Love, but Simon was sour on it, further escalating the tensions between himself and Randy Beethoven and Paula Mozart. The fight was coming like a bad WWF match, only the initials stood for Wow, We’re F*cked as you just knew that any moment the producers were going to roll in a giant Jello pit and it was going to be ON...

Then Deborah Dawn Tilley’s hair sang - actually not badly for hair - but sadly for Deborah, the Muppet auditions were in the other Cow Palace. Simon’s remark that "I need to hear you sing with my eyes shut" sparked the doobie in Paula’s temper and there ensued a fight over whether she was actually there when he said those same words to Clay Aiken...Sorry Paula, but that was season two, and you may have been there, but you were not really there, if you know what I mean...

No matter, as Cartman from South Park would say, Simon apparently had some sand in his vagina and stormed out leaving Randy and Paula to contend with the last contestant, Manuel Viramontes, 21, who clutched an image of the saint who, as he explained, was instrumental in helping his mom conceive him over two decades ago. He asked the saint to grant his wish to be the next American Idol and that he would never ask for anything ever again...ever. Well, he didn’t make it to Hollywood, butchering both Ribbon In The Sky and Bohemian Rhapsody - badly - but great news! He won tonight's award for Contestant With Audition Tourettes while bobbling his head uncontrollably, AND he saved a ton of money on his car insurance by switching to Geico! (As for the saint? No ticket to Hollywood, but Manuel is now pregnant.)

That’s it for San Francisco. Only 18 people made it to Hollywood, no word on how many jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge when they didn’t...

Next week, all bets are off, baby - we’re heading to Bright Light City, where thousands of wannabes will be hoping that, for once, what goes on in Vegas, won’t stay in Vegas. Stay tuned...

American Idol Contestants Victimized? Fat Chance.

I should be tired, not getting to bed till after midnight due to last night’s recrap, sorry, recap, and all, but I’m not. I should be cranky, but I’m not - in fact, I’m so happy to be alive that I leapt out of bed this morning. Why, you ask? Because each new day brings with it the promise of new American Idol scandal!

And I was SO not disappointed today.

While no contestant has emerged as a serial killer-drug addict-wanted felon yet today, the wires are still hot, in fact you could say they are flaming...

Yes children, it appears Simon and Randy have incurred the wrath of the GLAAD organization - for those of you not up on your abbreviations, that would stand for the Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation - a worthy, good intentioned organization I happen to support, except today when they are acting stupid.

And stupidity, being the equal opportunity employer it is, knows no sexual orientation.

Apparently, they contend that AI network FOX and judges Randy & Simon are homophobes. GLAAD spokesperson Damon Romine cites Simon’s "Are you a girl?" question posed to Denver auditioner Zachary as a perfect example of his "insensitivity to the young man’s gender expression." Pardon me, but doesn’t one have to clearly be expressing a gender for that statement to qualify? That boy - HE is the one who said "Yes, I pee standing up." on national TV - has no idea which "direction" he wants to go in life. And that’s fine - he’s young and will eventually figure himself out, but that’s where my sympathy and understanding end. This is American Idol - THE most watched show in the country and if you choose to go in front of their cameras, you’d better be able to take the heat of the kleig lights.

Also up to bat, taking a swing at American Idol today, is NAAFA - the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance.

OK, I have to admit I have never even heard of this group and I laughed out loud when I read about them. Not because I don’t like fat people - don’t get your granny panties in a wad - but because "accepting fat" is the same thing as "accepting shitty health, shorter lifespan, and a compromised quality of life". I’m sorry, but I just can’t get behind an organization like that.

But I digress - their particular beef, as it were, with AI is that the producers and judges are "cruel to overweight people". Peggy Howell, NAAFA'S public-relations chairperson says, "I have mixed feelings about 'American Idol.' We saw how far Ruben Studdard has gone because of the show. However, Simon Cowell continues to make rude remarks about overweight and obese contestants."

Last night’s comment to one man that, "You look like the Incredible Hulk’s wife" drew particular fire. Sorry, I laughed then and looking at the photo I laugh now. Not only is he bathed in green apparel, his rather copious amount of green eyeshadow and eyeliner does not do much to help his cause.

Howell warmed to her hate-on-Simon theme pointing out how he consistently comments on overweight contestants' poundage, "Simon is always saying that an overweight person doesn't fit the image of what an 'American Idol' should be, but many Americans are overweight, so the people at 'American Idol' should rethink what a winner can look like."

Uh, hello? Can you say Ruben? How about polar weight opposite Clay Aiken? And Fantasia Barino certainly isn’t coming down a Victoria’s Secret runway anytime soon. They all were/are normal looking people - too fat, too skinny, too sweaty, too mouthy - just like the average American.

This contention that these contestants are being victimized is ridiculous. Every single one of them, before they are allowed to warble, butcher, massage, or deliver a single note, is required to sign a legal release allowing them to not only be filmed, but allowing American Idol and Fox to use their images in any way they see fit.

AND THESE PEOPLE ALL WILLINGLY SIGN ON THE DOTTED LINE.

This is season five, people. By now it is no secret that these precious weeks leading up to the actual competition showcase the weird, the wild, the worst - that’s what we watch them for. Sure, it’s refreshing to see, hear and get excited about someone like last night’s sure-to-be-in-the-top-10, Paris Bennett, but we really watch these audition shows because of the potential William Hungs. The producers know this, which is exactly why, out of ten thousand people who show up in a city, they allow so many bad contestants through to Randy, Simon & Paula.

And as with any reality TV show, the extremes are the ones who make it through final editing. The skinny white boys with bad hair and Michael Jackson moves, the scantily clad, completely delusional Rhonetta, the hyper effeminate gay men, the overweight men and women who truly believe they are the next Usher or Shakira, the ones in costumes and uniforms, the ones who bring props and thirty family members...

You know, the interesting (read: TiVo-worthy) ones.

And I refuse to feel sorry for a single one of them. They watch this show, they know what the final cut audition shows are all about and they all agree to trade their dignity for a shot at their 15 minutes of fame.

So GLAAD and NAAFA? My advice would be to assist those who truly are deserving of your help, who are truly being harassed, victimized, defamed.

Like we American Idol viewers. After all, we’re the ones who have to watch these people for weeks on end.

American Idol Audition Recrap, er, sorry, ReCAP Tuesday, January 24, North Carolina: Barino, Barino, Wherefore Art Thou, Barino?

Greetings everyone - well, last week’s initial round of auditions weren’t even deleted from the TiVo box before the first scandals of the season erupted. God love The Smoking Gun, they are quicker at sniffing out criminal contestants than a dog sniffing out someone wearing beef jerky underwear.

It seems we have lost potential twinset, Derrell and Terrell Brittenum, as they now have a booking (literally) with Penitentiary Idol. Yes, as of last Wednesday, Thing 1 was already in jail and Thing 2 was set to turn himself in, both charged with identity theft. And while Fox refused to comment on their Idol status, it is fairly safe to say that while the yellow sheet they received during auditions may offer them a chance to Pass Go and Collect a Ticket to Hollywood, it doesn’t exactly have the power of a Get Out Of Jail Free card.

In other Idol news, Jessica Sierra of season 3, found a 16^th minute of fame when she made headlines for being stalked all the way to Grandma’s house by a big, bad, seriously obsessed wolf...

But on to this week’s round of auditions which found us back in Clay Aiken and Fantasia Barino-land: North Carolina.

The show opened with the expected shots of crowded stadiums, convention halls, cattle barns - an overflowing milk bucket of hopefuls, but just who had the actual talent necessary to rise like cream to the top?

Certainly not the people in the opening shots ... Foxy Brown, Michael Jackson (It’s official. The transformation is complete - He is now completely white) and a girl dressed like a pack of Lifesaver candy.

First into the audition room walked Sabrina Oakley, 26, who claimed to sound like Faith Hill and have men constantly hitting her - wait...I think she said hitting ON her...sorry. Wearing clothing three sizes too small for a five year old, she launched into a version of Lean On Me - I say a version because although the tune sounded familiar, I didn't recognize any correct lyrics. But that wasn’t enough, she began to shimmy and that girl had serious junk in the trunk - however, like some cars, her trunk was located in the front... Suffice it to say, I believe she owes Faith Hill an apology and I now do believe the men are always hitting on her — at closing time.

Cachet Robinson then proved that anyone can sound good in the shower, unfortunately she left her shower at home.

Amanda Robinson flew in singing Somewhere Over The Rainbow which is exactly where bluebirds fly to get the hell away from the sound of her voice.

Was all hope lost for North Carolina? Was the talent pond left dry by the discovery of Clay and Fantasia?

Just when I was ready to gouge my eardrums out, in walked Sonic waitress, Kelly Pickler, 19, complete with a country song sob story about being abandoned by her Mom when she was 2 and having a father who currently rooms with Terrell and Derrell. Looking like Carrie Underwood, if Carrie Underwood were sexy, she sang Kelly Clarkson’s Since U Been Gone and redeemed the entire state of North Carolina. Look for her to stick around if for no other reason than she’s really nice to look at.

Poor Shawn DeSalazar broke the Don’t Wear A Costume and Don’t Croon rules - showing up in a poorly fitting tux, carrying a trifold explanation of the solar system, and singing like John Stevens. Shawn may not have a future in show business, but look for his little, mouthy brother to end up being a power agent for William Morris in ten years.

Next up, Richard Garland, 25, a dummy ventriloquist - wait , scratch that - he had a ventriloquist’s dummy...After making it speak, he rudely shoved him back in a box where Chucky took his revenge by making him sing like crap. Again gang - if you are toting props, you don’t got chops.

Rhonda Jones, 21, was a breath of fresh helium, sounding just like I do when I inhale balloons at birthday parties (not that I do it that often...). Her Mom says Rhonda is a combination of Carrie Underwood and Britney Spears, proving old Mom has been huffing the helium cylinder for decades. Rhonda sang the Rugrat version of As Long As You Love Me, then proceeded to beg, saying she "wanted this more than a whole bag of gummy bears". This made me pause and wonder if anyone keeps statistics on how many of these people want to kill themselves when they watch their auditions play back on national TV?

Breaking the don’t wear a uniform rule, in marched Air National Guardsman, Sgt Steven David Jr., 28. As he sang Let’s Get It On, Simon and Randy pimped Paula out and made her dance with Steven who actually continued to sing well for a man with a massive erection in his pants. When they said he was going to Hollywood, he picked Paula up - she’s easy, by this point she was fully straddling him - and walked to the door where they were greeted by his wife. Ahhhh, nothing a wife likes more than opening a door to find Paula Abdul riding her husband like Seattle Slew.

Halicia Thompson and her posse of 15 were up next. A wonderful singer, she proved people do watch Nick At Night by singing the theme song to Cosby Show spin-off, A Different World. Thrilled at getting her golden ticket, she asked if she could kiss Simon and produced a mouth condom in case he didn’t want to directly swap spit. But Simon doesn’t like to wear a raincoat in the shower and allowed the kiss to happen without protection. He’s such a whore.

Kendra Winston was our next candidate for Blabitat for Humanity, sharing her personal struggles with us all: 42 foster and group homes while growing up, emancipated at 15 when she proceeded to demonstrate excellent judgment and have the first of three children.  She then got married, kicked his sorry ass to the curb, obtained her GED and is now attending college. At 24, she certainly personified her song choice of Ain’t No Mountain High Enough. I liked her until, in her excitement, she emerged with her golden ticket and walked right past her three young children. Kids? What kids? I’m going to Hollywood!!!

After a commercial break Ryan reminds us that it doesn’t matter if you have a sore throat, cough due to cold, are tired, anxious, have diarrhea or mild anal leakage, once you get in that room, it’s time to step up and deliver...

What!?! Rosie O’Donnell is auditioning for American Idol?!? Wait - never mind - it’s just Kenneth "Chase" Bush, who should seriously consider becoming a Rosie impersonator. I bet there’s loads of money to be made at grocery store openings, bowling alleys, GLAAD meetings...a good thing since he won’t be making any as a singer.

The producers then played a montage of Simon’s season five catchphrase, "I’m not being rude..." well, yes you are Simon, but that’s exactly why we love you, so keep it up.

My eyes are still bleeding from watching Chonna Clepper, 20, who was wearing the shredded pelt of a purple leopard she recently killed while on safari at Frederick's of Hollywood. I have to be honest, I was totally shocked when Chonna said her mother was a stripper while she was growing up. I guess because there’s always the chance your child will grow up to dress like a skank. Nice to see that Chonna dodged that bullet.

Oh my God! Look! That face! That hair! It’s Jimmy from H R Pufnstuf auditioning! But wait, where’s his flute Freddie?

Sorry, I must be hallucinating - it’s late, I’m tired...but still...

There’s always at least one contestant in each city that is stricken with tourrettes while singing and tonight that would be Brandon Haithcox, although he compounded the twitching with a mad case of the hiccups, so I give him a 9.2 for technical merit. Sadly, I can only give him a 2.5 for his choice in girlfriend. Can someone please explain the term "famous clothes" for me? I was distracted by her peroxide mane and ginormous hairclip...

Jeffrey Ryan Baysen, 27, must have been wearing his "famous clothes" because, unlike Brandon, he made it to Hollywood. He sang Bless The Broken Road (let's hear it for Rascal Flatts -winner of the award for Song Most Frequently Bastardized this evening!), but Paula did not hear a note. She was too busy staring at his perfectly tuned muscles and the treble clef in his pants.

Cedric Robinson bragged of being related to Fantasia, a favor she will not be returning after his ear splitting trip to falsetto hell. I do believe she would agree he is a link in what he sang though, Chain of Fools.

Ahhh, Paris in the springtime - well, actually the Fall if we’re being technical, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Paris Bennett, 17 - granddaughter of Ann Nesby (I’m not familiar with the Grammy winner from way back, but Randy salivated all over her) had a speaking voice reminiscent of Cindy Lou Who, but when she sang, it soared as high as Mount Krumpet. Even the Grinch would have been impressed - oh wait - Simon was. Her fall to the floor, emotional reaction was nice, but then she got hit in the head with the door, so I'm not sure how many of those tears were for the Hollywood ticket and how many were induced by a concussion...anyway, look for her to make last week’s 17 year old sensation, Lisa Tucker, lose sleep.

Day two opened with Simon’s birthday. No indication of just how old he is, but the cake was big enough for MANY, MANY candles and at least two fire extinguishers standing at the ready. Oh look at Randy - he dressed up for the occasion - and I thought only women did the vintage thing - those white patent leather shoes, I think Chevy Chase wore them in the original Vacation movie.

First up was Marcus Behling, 22, who boasted having won approximately ten talent shows, which after hearing him sing, I believe is a word with which he he takes great liberties. He sang She’s Out Of My Life and held the notes so long she had time to not only get out of his life, but to find another man, get married, settle down and have three kids. I’m serious, those notes were in his possession for so long he could probably take them to be appraised on the Antiques Roadshow. He defended his training by stating he had bought Paula & Randy’s audition tips DVD - which not only made Simon’s birthday, but his whole entire year, approximately.

Mr. Personality, Jimmy Crabtree, who sings karaoke 6-7 nights a week, was so passionate about his music that he damned near fell asleep while singing it. Me too.

Luckily I was jarred back to full alertness by Sammy "I’m Raw" Neighbors, whose effeminate nature (ahem) makes Clay Aiken look like Vin Diesel. Flamboyantly laying a red blankey on the floor for his performance of I Can Show You The World, I so wished he could fly away on his magic carpet - it was one of those moments where I am eaten up with embarrassment for another human being. And dear God, my retinas burned out the back of my head when he suddenly launched into Straight Up and began shaking his ample booty. I’m going to have nightmares tonight, I just know it.

Tyra Schwartz got her chance to vent about her cheating boyfriend and the subsequent 11 hour train ride without him to get to auditions. Don’t worry Tyra, In The Still Of The Night he will lie in bed and kick his own ass when you are famous.

The producers then treated us to a brief It’s Raining Men montage and all I can say is that it made me so glad I am not single and drenched in the toxic dating downpour.

Michael Jackson, cleverly disguised as Seth Strickland, took a shot at regaining his once white hot career, but sadly, he can’t dance very well anymore and could not remember the lyrics to his own songs. Sorry Seth, but "she’s outta your life" for a damned good reason.

(Editor's Note:  This is the greatest piece of evidence that Michael Jackson is indeed on the verge of bankruptcy.  Allowing American Idol contestants to sing his songs?!?  That house in Bahrain must be costing him and arm and a leg and what's left of his right nostril.)

Breaking every rule I have for Idol auditioners, Jordan Southerland walked in wearing his firefighter uniform, flip flops?!? and his face. Sorry, I’m not being rude here, but Jordan does not exactly keep Orlando Bloom up nights. He then pissed the judges off by nailing Josh Groban’s You Raise Me Up. They hate it when someone who looks like him can actually sing - think Scott Savol. I will, however, go out on a limb and say that Jordan does not strike me as the telephone throwing/girlfirend beating type.

Finally, after two hours of teasing, trash talking and TITillation, we get the full glory that is Rhonetta Johnson. Having blown all her money on the case of Reynold’s Wrap she used to make her tube top and boots, she sadly could not afford a full skirt or underwear, a fact continually punctuated by the high kicks and dance moves which necessitated a record use of the AI logo. Sorry guys, many more pixels were needed to adequately block all those Basic Instinct images.  (God help me - H R Pufnstuf, Raw Sandy Neighbors and now Grand Canyon crotch shots - even Sharon Stone would be afraid to go to sleep tonight...)

Rhonetta flabbed, er sorry, blabbed on about her greatness, even how 10 psychic friends said she would be famous - they apparently left out the part that it would be for making a gigantic tin foil ass of herself on national TV.

Before going in to audition she told Ryan that "I dress real nice like this all the time. Everything I wear, people stop and stare." Uh, yeah, Rhonetta, we do that at trainwrecks, car fires, Star Jones...

Entering the room, she informed the judges she believed she could be bigger than JLo and Janet. Well, if that’s the goal, stop now girlfriend, you are already there. Her audition was as bad as her outfit choice and her grammar, and she was quickly shown the door.

Unfortunately, in true trainwreck/car fire/Star Jones fashion, we could not look away. The cameras trailed her down to the street as she trashtalked Paula, bubbly water, and the world in general - spewing as much ego as cleavage along the way. According to Rhonetta, "Y’all gonna see me on TV and y’all gonna be sayin’ Damn, Damn, Damn!"

No SHIT. SHIT. SHIT, Rhonetta.

Her parting shot was, "I’m settin’ the city on fire!"

You know, I thought I saw sparks flying from the friction of her big thighs rubbing together. Hopefully, Jordan and his firefighter uniform were still on hand.

Well, as Rhonetta makes her way back to her streetcorner, and we look forward to tomorrow night’s San Francisco auditions, we are left to wonder several things:

1. Will San Fran live up to its reputation for rather unique "talent"?

2. Do "famous clothes" really make the man?

3. Will Derrell & Terrell make bail in time to catch their flight to LA?

and

4. How long before TheSmokingGun.com reveals Rhonetta is actually a man named Ronald?

Season Five - I’m lovin’ it. How about you?

Scraping The Bottom of the Reality TV Barrel

Blame it all on Survivor and Mark Burnett.

He started this whole reality TV craze many moons ago on an island peopled with sweaty, naked, hungry competitors, conniving and alliancing (tell your Spellcheck to bugger off - I know it’s not a word) to win a million dollars. It was decent enough TV viewing in that it made us all wonder just how far we would be willing to go, how much self esteem we’d be willing to sacrifice, how little we’d be willing to wear, to pad our bank accounts.

Well, success in TV land breeds, not more success, but copycats wanting to replicate success. And so was spawned Fear Factor, where contestants swallowed not only their pride, but copious amounts of horse rectum, in order to emerge victorious; Paradise Island, where thongs were the required uniform and hooking up was the main event; The Bachelor, where Olympic level hooking up is the object as well, but the difficulty level is raised since it must be done while marinating in a hot tub.

Of course, reality TV then moved on to showcase (read: humiliate) has-been celebrities via programs like The Surreal Life where Hollywood cockroaches like Brigette Nielson and Peter from The Brady Bunch shack up for a month at a time. No real object, no cash prize, just a chance for us to watch them squirm in the petri dish of our flatscreens. The 2006 season is now offering us a second chance to see if celebs can dance (Dancing With The Stars) and also to see if they can fake their way into the Ice Capades (Skating With Celebrities). Again, these shows take serious liberty with the words "stars" and "celebrities" - you aren’t about to catch Christina Aguilara or Charlize Theron debasing themselves this way.

But we watch.

We’re stupid.

And we like to see other people humiliate themselves. It makes us feel powerful, better about our own little lives.

Well, even that basic human instinct is not enough to make me want to watch what’s been dreamed up by TV producer David Kreiff...

Are you ready?

A TV reunion of Long Island Lolita Amy Fisher and the Buttafucuos.

Remember them? Amy was a skanky 16 year old, Joey B was a skanky, much older, married man, who personifed Fuggedaboudit! - they got skanky together many times and then Amy went to his home and shot his wife, Mary Jo, in the face when she answered the front door.

Ahhhh, young, skanky love.

Amy served seven years in prison. Joey did time for statutory rape. And Mary Jo’s face remains partially paralyzed to this day.

Well, apparently, with more than a decade now gone, they all, at the urging of Mr. Kreiff, and an untold amount of money, think it would make good viewing to come together and discuss just what happened lo those many years ago.

OK. I can believe Amy and Joey would climb right on board the sleeze wagon for this, after all they epitomized self centered, self indulgent, just plain selfish behavior, but Mary Jo? What in THE hell is she getting out of this? She dumped his overweight ass and ego long ago and has moved on towards happiness - engaged to be married to someone else now.

Fisher defends the show with, "It's time to just put it behind us. We played this all out in a public eye. It'd be interesting to let the public see the healing process at the end. They saw everything else -- why not let them see the final product?"

Because no one gives a damn, Amy.

Joey Buttfuc.. oops, sorry, Buttafuoco explains, "I've been asked about a million times by Mary Jo, 'Why did Amy shoot me?' I was never able to get that answer. There's going to be a lot of shocking revelations, and that's why I'm excited to sit down to do this."

Why did she shoot her, Joey? Gee, how about "she was 16, screwing you, and stupid"? Nothing too shocking about that, except of course the fact that anyone would be stupid enough to screw you to begin with.

Call me crazy, but even in a TV world where shows like Wife Swap, Trading Spouses, and Who Wants To Marry My Dad? not only find airtime, but ratings, it is hard for me to believe anyone truly wants to set their TiVos to catch this.

And I could be right. As of this writing, Mr. Kreiff has yet to find any network even remotely interested in buying this - and come on, when FOX turns you down, you know it must be bad.

No, I would suggest to all of them, that if they really want to cash in on their moldy, curdled, long expired minutes of fame, they should hook up with reality genius Mark Burnett. Maybe if he covered them with honey and tied their their sorry, attention seeking asses to one of those gigantic anthills in the Congo, I might be inclined to watch.

Until then, I have better things to do with my time and my TV... The Bachelor is in Paris, Danny Bonaduce is fresh out of rehab, and Bruce Jenner is going to attempt a camel sit spin this week!

Fuggedaboudit!

Hope Springers Eternal

Angelina Jolie turns from wild child swinger to United Nations humanitarian...

Bad boy Sean Penn wades through the toxic porridge of New Orleans to help rescue victims...

Eva Longoria donates a used dress to be auctioned on eBay to raise money for charity...

You know, just when I think there is hope for this weary world, that self centered people just might be getting their collective asses in gear and learning to care for and nurture one another, along comes another golden reminder that I'm total idiot.

And that procreation is just way too freaking easy.

Straighten up and pay attention class, because today's nominee for worthless human being is simply too good to miss.

Allow me to introduce you to Shannon Cook, 25, of Wheaton, Illinois. Shannon is a mother of three children, all under the age of four, and apparently a huge Jerry Springer fan. (That's not to imply Shannon is huge - although "huge" and "Jerry Springer fan" are not always mutually exclusive.)

After you read this next part, her Springer addiction will seem abnormally apronic (apropos + ironic = apronic.  Shoot me, this word squishing disease, think Brangelina, Vaugniston, Bennifer, is getting out of hand...)

You see, apparently Shannon and her boyfriend got tickets to the October 19th taping of the Springer show and decided there was nothing wrong in leaving three small children, ALONE, ALL DAY, and took off for Chicago.

Three children. Under the age of 4. Alone.

Luckily, after about five hours, the older two children made their way to a next door neighbor's house and the situation quickly unfolded. I say "luckily" because the unthinkable scenarios that could have played out are as horrifying as is the thought that Shannon has probably done this before and would have surely done it again if not caught.

Upon returning around midnight, Shannon was welcomed home by police officers and Child Protective Services who informed her that the burden of child rearing had been taken off her negligent shoulders and that she had won an all expense paid trip to the DuPage County Resort & Jail.

The boyfriend, no less guilty in my book, but not being fettered by genetic relation to the kids, got off scott-free.

Shannon was sentenced yesterday to thirty days in prison and one year's probation - her children, however, have been sentenced to an indeterminate length of time in three separate foster homes.

Considering Shannon's defense, "I didn't think I'd be gone that long.", the punishments are as dysfunctional as the offense.

The self centeredness (yes, I realize I just made up a word) of it astounds me and sadly personifies something I have long said: Far too many children are simply the result of sex, not love, not longing for a child - just unprotected, thoughtless, one night stand sex, plain and simple.

Children should be valued, cherished, unconditionally loved and protected - not viewed as an inconvenience or barrier to the "fun" things in life. Parents should be self sacrificing, nurturing, caring and willing to lay down their lives. Hell, people in general, should act that way towards one another. (Yes, I know, hope springs eternal...and I'm a total idiot.)

Then again, if more people behaved that way, Jerry Springer wouldn't have a show.

So look for Shannon on an episode soon...and Jerry being the indestructible cockroach he is, set your TiVo for 15 years hence when Shannon's children will surely show up in an episode all their own.

Food Lawsuit Is Pure Junk

If you have kids, borrow kids or simply pay for cable TV, chances are you have run across the video nirvana of the prepube demographic: Nickelodeon. Home to Spongebob Squarepants, Timmy Turner and his Fairly Oddparents and of course, junior Mensa member, Jimmy Neutron, Nick is one of the hottest channnels broadcasting today, its only true competition being Mickey Mouse and his Disney Channel.

But competition aside, both channels play directly to the younger members of our society, are insanely popular, and, for the most part, contain safe broadcasting hours for our children.

Like any television network, however, they make their bread and peanut butter by selling airtime for commericals. But as opposed to the Victoria's Secret ads and 30 second spots for Budweiser you will find sandwiched between Desperate Housewives and football playoffs, on Nickelodeon you will find advertising targeted directly at the young people watching: macaroni & cheese, cereal, fruit rolls, juice boxes, toys and music.

Makes sense, don't you think? We may all hate commercials, but they are part and parcel of free enterprise, and you are always free to walk away when they are on or TIVO through them.

Well, that logical approach just doesn't cut it for a pair of Massachusetts parents, Sherri Carlson and Andrew Leong, who today filed suit against not only Nickelodean, but against goliath carbohydrate manufacturer, Kellogg, charging them both with marketing junk food to kids.

Gasp.

Say it ain't so.

Poor Sherri says she tries to get her three kids to eat healthy foods. "But then they turn on Nickelodeon and see all those enticing junk-food ads.  Adding insult to injury, we enter the grocery store and see our beloved Nick characters plastered on all those junky snacks and cereals."

And what Sherri?  These inanimate, one dimensional, characters WHO ARE NOT REAL, bludgeon you to death if you don't buy the products on which they are pictured?

Give me a freaking break.

These stellar examples of passive parenting, backed by the Center for Science in the Public Interest and the Boston-based Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood, are pointing their chubby fingers (gee, perhaps you should sue the people who advertise during The View, Days of Our Lives, Monday Night Football, and whatever other crapola you glue your fat eyes to everyday?) at Nick and Tony The Tiger alledging they ignore the reports of childhood obesity and are responsible for making our nation's children obese.

Puh-leez.

Have these people looked around lately? Hell, have they looked in a mirror in the past ten years? The obesity problem trickles down like fat on a griddle from the parents to the kids they are raising. Bad choices made by Mom and Dad turn into bad results for little Johnny and Janie.

And since when is it the manufacturer's responsibility to monitor what goes into our mouths? Sure, they may make the Ding Dongs and Twinkies, but no one is holding a gun to our fat heads making us inhale them, wrappers and all.

This lawsuit is just another beautiful example of how anything we don't like in our lives simply HAS to be someone else's fault. Where is the personal responsibility in this world?

If my children were overweight, it wouldn't matter if they mainlined sugar laden commericals 24/7/365 - I'm the one who buys the foods we eat and I'm the one who is in charge of what, and how much, my children consume.

For the record, my children all watch Nick, the Disney Channel, et al, and of course they ask for all manner of garbage when we are in the grocery store. I guess the difference between myself and Andrew & Sherri is my eerie ability to say NO to my kids.

Sure, they get to eat Pop Tarts and Frosted Flakes, but not ten tarts at a time or a whole box in one sitting. Plus, they are not allowed to stagnate on their rear ends all day - they are active, healthy kids. Not overweight, self indulgent sloths.

America is fat. Period. Take a trip to any other country on this planet and within five minutes of stepping off the plane you will notice the LACK of overweight people. Take a walk through any Walmart in this country and all you see are people with no self control, no self esteem, and a cart full of crap.

It's not Kellogg's fault and poor Spongebob is surely not to blame for the spongey asses bobbing through our society today.

So Andrew and Sherri, it doesn't matter how many lawyers you find to take your money, or how many alliances you find to back your notions, when you boil it all down, your lawsuit is as fat, bloated, and full of junk as the commercials you are targeting.

Save your money and invest it in some parenting classes. Start with one that can teach you to form the word NO with your mouth and another that can instruct you on just how easy it really is to turn off your television sets.

American Idol Recap, Wednesday, January 18: The Denver Auditions: Are They High Or What?

Call me pathetic and in serious need of a life, but my day, shadowed as it was by a skin cancer surgery, was made considerably brighter by the ray of light called American Idol...

I just reread that...Someone smack me -- HARD.

Fine, I admit it - I am as hopeless a devotee to this show as they come. Crack whores have little on me in the way of addiction. Truly, I am willing to beg, borrow, steal, maim - even sell my body (look for my skin cancer on eBay - God knows some wackjob in this world would bid on it) to pay for the electricity needed to power my Tivo January through May - AI season.

That all being confessed, you can imagine how my adrenaline pumps at the sound of the music and the sight of the Idolvator delivering the cyborg singer to the raised platform...

Not so much though at the sight of Ryan Seacrest...

I swear, will someone get that child a real wardrobe? Eventually he is going to run out of logo laden, hip-ly silk screened t's and then what? I say the day he shows up in a Happy Bunny tshirt that reads, "You Smell Like Butt", is the day we all stage an intervention. It worked for Lindsey Lohan - she was confronted by Lorne Michaels and the SNL gang (tell me she didn't briefly think she was being Punk'd by Ashton Kutcher) and went from being an anorectic, chain smoking, car wrecking, teen queen to what she is now: a self confessed bulimic, chain smoking, asthmatic drug addict!

But I digress...

We are here to pass judgment on future anorectic, chain smoking, car wrecking, teen queens and self confessed bulimic, chain smoking, asthmatic drug addicts.

Wednesday night's AI auditions found us in the Mile High city, Denver, Colorado, where the delusion is as deep as the Rocky Mountain snow. State exhibit A? A stadium full of ugly Americans belting out "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" - uh, no, no it's not. There ain't no mountain high enough to keep that awful sound from drifting over into neighboring states...

First up in the auditions? Marlows Davis, Jr., 16, who surely had Marlows Davis, Sr. running to the courthouse to change his name. Young Marlows dripped confidence, "I have fans. They're waiting for me to perform..." and sweat in equal measure. He then opened his mouth and managed to multitask: butchering Alicia Keyes while cleaning the wax out of his ears... He was also the perfect example of the thousands of contestants who are stricken with the runs during their audition. You know, the vocal runs where they take a one syllable word and then chase it up and down the harmony hills like the horny Appalachian in pursuit of Ned Beatty in Deliverance - unfortunately most of the contestants squeal like Ned Beatty in Deliverance too...

Needless to say, the judges decided to "run" him out of the room.

Marlows was followed in the Annual Parade of Chalkboard Nails by a pair of red boots - sorry, the wearer was so bad, all I can remember is her footwear - I have blocked out the rest, and a girl named Olivia who dared to sing "Straight Up" to Ms. Abdul.

Note to wannabes: Just don't. It is still hotly debated, to this day, almost 20 years later, as to whether Paula actually sang the damned song herself. Pick something different that doesn't come loaded with painful memories for P, ok?

Finally, just as all the cats in Denver were beginning to howl in protest, in walked 16 year old Lisa Tucker - polite, poised, clothed - everything the other 16 year olds were not. Singing "One Moment In Time", I predict we will hear her many, many more moments in the future as the competition ramps up - she was flawless. Thank you Lisa, because my ears had been on the cusp of bleeding.

We leave for a commerical break for Skating With Celebrities - and let me just say - I'm hooked. I expected a trainwreck, watched and was immediately sucked in. Sure the word "celebrities" is a bit of a stretch - after all, Todd Bridges and Debbie Gibson aren't exactly household names, and Bruce Jenner's nose looks suspiciously Michael Jacksonesque, but you have to give them credit. One month of training and they bravely took the ice to skate a routine with a seasoned pro. Maybe I'm impressed because I fall just looking at the ice in my soda, but I'll definitely be back next week to watch this show again.

Back at the auditions, much is being made of Simon's need to pee, as if being British means he does it more often and with his pinky sticking out while he takes aim. No matter, his small bladder affords us the opportunity to watch the bored contestants as they flip, flop, draw and cha cha for the cameras. Young Amanda "The Banana" Berg, performs her Chiquita floor move and then sings Can't Fight The Moonlight for the judges. Unfortunately she can't fight the tourrettes that seems to take hold, causing her head to move continually from side to side.

Next up, Brett Young, 24, nickname "Ace". The kid could sing, but watch out. Paula had Corey Clark eyes as she watched him and looked like she would like nothing better than to give the phrase "Ace in the hole" a whole new meaning...

Rochelle Elaine, today's sob story, brought a whole set of human flash cards with her to spell out her name, yet as she told her tale of being recently evicted with no where to go, I couldn't help but wonder, "What about all those people?  They'll wear your sorry ass shirts, but won't let you stay with them?" and "Maybe you should have spent all that tshirt money on rent instead?" Singing Chain of Fools (dedicated to the chain of fools wearing all those shirts?) she makes it to Hollywood and some temporary free room and board.

Moving on, the producers then showcased the glut of rockers inspired by the success of Bo Bice and Constantly Mugging Maroulis, although the guy with the black shirt and candy cane tie surely set rock and roll back at least thirty years when he sang, "Hey man, where'd you get that lotion?" and something about "hypnotizing chickens". Steven Tyler, even in his worst days when heroin outvolumed plasma in his bloodstream, never sang about chickens...

The rocker chicks weren't much better (worse?), represented as they were by the semi comatose Naomi Guse singing "I want to be sedated". Listen, I'm not a doctor, but I think she already had some form of depressant on board.

Next category? I'll take Contestants Wearing Cowboy Hats for a thousand, Alex. Chris Daughtry, of the shaved head and crop circle facial hair managed to pull a yellow rabbit out of his hat - winning a ride to LA. And then we were treated to Garrett & The Shit Kickers - although young Garrett was the only one auditioning for Idol Bonanza. Garrett has done little else in his 18 years besides chase cows and serenade his turkey - although I suspect he recently made time to take in Brokeback Mountain...ahem...

He managed to warble an Elton John tune (was I the only one expecting Rawhide?) and in the shocker of the night, both Simon and Randy branded him with the YES iron. Garrett proceeded to have a stroke and drop some serious cow patties all over the floor. The only question now is this...Will he be able to fit his good luck turkey into his carry-on luggage?

Moving on, we were treated to the Mensa representatives, "Flawless" Nick McCord, dressed as the Yellow Book mascot, and who incidentally doesn't even know how old he is or his own company's slogan (Paradise Cleaners: We clean, leave, clean your , um, yeah, house, home, smelling, what?) and Ben "Cosmic Coaster" Hausbach, a man who claims to intimidate others with his brilliance.

I do believe Ben wins the prize for most ironic song choice of the night: "If I Only Had A Brain".

Well, neither of the boys has a voice, so it's down the yellow brick they wander - at least Nick is dressed for the trip.

In walks April Walsh, taking a page from the Sound of Music fashion book by choosing to wear her bedroom curtains - not the best look when you are as wide as a window to begin with. She doesn't help her intial impression by stating she will sing a song by Bjork. Visions of dead swan dresses danced in Randy's head - you could just tell...somehow though, April beat the odds and made it through. I think her dress reminded Simon of his Mum's sitting room couch and he was momentarily sidelined by nostalgia.

Finally, God knows they had teased us enough in the previous hour, came young Zachary - a candidate for both Pro-Active acne medication and a sex change operation. Looking for all the world like a flat chested female, an image he clearly fostered with copious amounts of make-up, clothing choice and voice - he seemed unusually offended when Simon asked him point blank if he was, in fact, a girl. For once, I did not find a Simon question to be mean, but seriously posed. Zachary assured us that he "pees standing up", but I was still distracted by the fact he was wearing more make-up than Paula. Singing "Queen of the Night", even Randy had to comment on the interesting choice of lyrics. Of course he did not make it through, and, of course, he proceeded to lambast both the judges and America for being prejudiced, ignorant and not "getting" him.

Zachary, you don't really seem to "get" yourself yet. Figure out who you are, nail down a gender and some self confidence - then blame the rest of us if we still don't "get" you. Oh, and help your Mom find her lips - all that remained on her face were the ghosts of lips past.

OK kidlets, that's it for Denver - the pickings were decidedly slim this go 'round. Maybe we'll fare better next week when we hit Clay Aiken's and Fantasia Barino's old stomping ground: North Carolina. Those Colorado mountains may have given us some "rocky" results, but the hills of NC may be hiding some "smokie" vocals just waiting to be discovered.