I’m not a fan of politicians. I make no secret about that in my writings.
Democrats, Republicans, Liberals, Conservatives, Independents, Green, Red, Blue – makes no difference to me – I practice "equal opportunity" when it comes to outing their bad behaviors, questionable stances, and tendency to talk down to the American public.
But tonight, and I stress this is a one night stand only, I love me some Dubya.
Because tonight, as George Bush nauseated the Democrats, butchered the English language, and spoke as if he were talking to a group of three year olds in his State of the Union address, and despite his bottom dwelling job approval rating, he also did something for which my tired body is eternally grateful…
He squished American Idol down to one hour.
Which means I may well finish this recap and get to bed before the clock strikes midnight.
Hmmm…write this down in your diaries, people. Linda Sharp thinking of her bed and George Bush at the same time, and feeling excited.
In terms of rarity, that’s right up there with Hailey’s Comet, getting bitten by a shark, or winning the lottery.
Speaking of which…
After spending the past four days defending my hardline stance on the sweethearts from Seattle – Kenneth Briggs-Swale (decide on a name, Golum, would ya?) and Jonathan "I Bought That Hawaiian Shirt In Every Color" Jayne – and defending the judging as being no more or less harsh than past seasons, I have to add just a few final thoughts…
No matter how we all like to think American Idol is different, has a higher purpose, or is a wholesome family show – it is, at its core, reality TV, people. Sibling to the sand encrusted Survivor, cousin of the rectum munching Fear Factor, nephew of Wife Swap and Trading Places.
And reality TV is not kept alive by normal, boring human beings.
I can attest to this because I have a casting agent friend in New York City who has been trying for years to drag me and/or my family on to one series or another. And despite the numerous producers’ interviews, extensive videotapes, multiple questionnaires and lengthy essay questions I have endured, you have yet to see me pop up on one, have you?
Wanna know why?
I’m too normal.
I don’t dress in spandex. I don’t thump a Bible at the breakfast table. I’m not a racist, a bigot, or a prude. I adapt to new situations with ease. My children are not animals. My animals are not children. My husband and I love one another. I don’t weigh 400 pounds. And my view of the world is far too open – as in I don’t hate gay people, I welcome differences, and I love meeting new people from all over the world.
National Geographic’s show where they send a family to some remote village on the other side of the planet? My family was too ready to embrace pooping in a hole in the ground.
Trading Spouses? I am too much fun, and any family that would get me wouldn’t want to give me back.
Wife Swap? Same deal – only the husband would change the locks and not let me leave.
Nanny 911? My kids are well behaved, polite, and already know for damn sure that they are not in charge around here.
The Dog Whisperer? My Pomeranian already has rules just like my kids, and besides, I am a much bigger Alpha than Caesar. I’d have him humping my leg in no time.
But I digress… My point is, that people like Jayne, Brale-Swiggs (whatever), The Hotness, Red with the 1 ½ teeth, Rhonetta Johnson and her aluminum foil tube top, and Urban Amishite Troy Benham are chosen specifically because they make reality TV.
They know exactly what they are getting in to when they are allowed past the producers of AI. And before anyone gets in front of the judges, they are all warned that it could be "brutal", and if they do not want to run the risk of being seen in a less than flattering light on national TV, that they should leave the holding area "Now".
And you know how many leave? NONE.
That’s right. Zero people give up their chance to bask in the klieg lights, no matter how harshly they may illuminate their many flaws and failings.
So please stop defending Jonathan and Kenneth. They were on The Today Show and Jimmy Kimmel, for God’s sake. In fact, they are now guest correspondents for Kimmel, having already hung out at the Bob Hope Classic interviewing Clint Eastwood and George Lopez, and are scheduled to work a NASCAR event this weekend.
Paris Hilton and Jessica Simpson invited them to a party. They each have agents now. They won the PR lottery, people. They are not hurting.
(Hmm, considering Bush’s popularity is at an all time low of 28%, you would think Carl Rove would have put him in the AI audition rooms by now.)
Oh, one last thing - if watching these audition shows truly upsets you, makes you uneasy, or causes such intense empathetic embarrassment for your fellow human beings that you have to leave the room?
Watch something else. I realize American Idol is an addiction akin to crack, but it really is that easy to stop. Just say NO and change the channel. (I’m sure you’ll run into Jonathan and Kenneth on any number of other programs.)
That concludes the ranting portion of this recap…now, let’s groove on down to Memphis, shall we?
With a population of 650,000, Ryan opens by wondering where everyone is at? Empty streets, lonesome highways…have all the Elvises left the building?
Nah – they’re all (well, 16,000 of them) crammed into the stadium waiting for their shot at superstardom. (Or Stupidstardom, as is the case of my favorite boys from Seattle – and Paris Hilton)
Up first? Frank Byers, who certainly traveled with the largest posse on record. A cheerleader from Southern Arkansas University, the entire cheerleading squad and a small sampling of the marching band road tripped with him – now that’s what I call support.
Singing Heard It Through The Grapevine, he was happy, confident, and personally, I thought he sounded pretty good. But apparently, that’s why I write instead of work A&R for Clive Davis – I don’t have good ears. All the judges thought he was "over the top" , even "caberet" – so it was a unanimous No for Frank.
I have to give it up for him though. I don’t think I have ever seen a contestant handle rejection with such a positive attitude and such grace. No tears. No rants. No need for the AI Logo Profanity Cap – he was happy and rejoined his crew outside and they began to cheer for him anyway.
Of course, Simon had to ruin the fun and came to the door to tell everyone to "Shut up.", at which point Ryan earned the first use of the AI Logo by telling Simon, "Someone’s a BLEEP today."
Boys, boys…
Up next was the dazed and confused Timika Sim – 16, practically incoherent, with what looked like Vaseline smeared under her eyes. Seriously, she was so subdued, I thought she might fall asleep while Ryan was talking to her.
Inside the audition room, things did not exactly perk up. And like Simon, I guess I am tragically uphip, because I had no freaking clue what a "maya" is. Randy, however, uber dawg that he is, translated it as a "singer". O. K.
Timika began singing Rock With You, at least that’s what she said it was. She didn’t have the energy to enunciate. Her audition was so nasally, I wished someone would lean in and hand her a Breathe Rite strip.
When Simon cut her off and told her No, she asked, "Wan me sin agi?"
Huh?
My apologies to Ashanti for being blasphemed so badly.
Chris Rivera came next, a combination surfer, cowboy, hip hopster with gold bling, puka shells, shaggy hair, and even shaggier jeans. Seriously, they looked like they were from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre collection. He wiped out on a rendition of Superstition and was quickly washed away from the audition process.
Alexis Partee was dressed more subtly – jeans, rugby shirt, tennis shoes – however, she did have her own accompaniment – earrings which rivaled any windchime hanging on my mother in law’s porch, and enough bangles on her arms to be her own percussion section. Yet, despite how hard she tried to get the "partee" started, her audition was a unanimous No. (And to anyone who thinks I am going to make fun of her smile? Forget it. The girl has braces and is obviously working to correct the situation.)
At first glance, our next contestant wouldn’t rate a second glance, but wait. Sundance Head (forgive me, but that is a stripper’s name if there ever was one), a stocky young man with a ZZ Top Starter Kit on his chin, was ready to make us all look again. Singing the blues throwback, Stormy Monday, I would wager that living rooms all across America went as silent as did mine – this boy has chops. Clear, controlled, powerful, and dripping with soul, I have to agree with Simon who said he has, "one of the best voices this year" and that he would be amazed if Sundance didn’t make the finals. Robert Redford would be so proud.
I must, however, pause here to warn Simon against any more Taylor Hicks cheap shots – The Soul Patrol is a powerful force, my dear man. So pissing off The Grits Mafia with a comment like "blew Taylor apart" isn’t really advised.
Coming back from a break, we briefly met Wandera Hitchye, owner of a hair color that is typically only found on rusting automobiles. She sang Change Gonna Come, and although the judges didn’t like it, I didn’t think she was bad – until she stormed out and the AI Logo had to be used to obliterate her entire tirade.
A string of No’s, highlighted by someone with a Rainbow Care Bear on their head, and Paula telling someone else, "It’s too desperate" followed. Huh? Talk about the pot calling the kettle crazy…
Travis McKinney, a well dressed, well spoken young man was up next, talking about his girlfriend and their recent problems. His audition song was going to be an ode to her, and warned viewers that it was going to be "more emotional than anything ever on American Idol".
He obviously doesn’t remember the Brittenum twins from season five…
I honestly was hopeful – he seemed like such an normal guy, not the trainwreck type at all – but he launched into his song like he was the Karate Kid – the Karate Kid on acid, that is. What was that? Jushitsu? Tae Kwon Don't? To quote Simon, "No, no, no, and bye, bye, bye."
Danielle McCullogh had one goal: to make them smile. Pretty and young, with a blond Rachel-Green-Caught-In-A-Weed-Wacker hairstyle, she dove into Aretha Franklin’s Baby, I Love You – and was good. Her voice was throaty, soulful and controlled. See you in Hollywood, Danielle.
Day Two dawned with a Paulapalooza Hugfest. I have to give it to her, Ms Abdul was very gracious and hugged them all on the way in to the hotel. Old men, young men, women – she could have just walked past, but No, she took the time to acknowledge them all.
I have to ask though – What the hell was she wearing around her neck? A Whitman’s sampler? Valentine’s Day came early, I guess.
The first contestant had nothing but love for Paula as well. Big and Tall shopper Christopher McCain, 28, thinks "Paula is hot" - and since we all were treated to the backstory of his wife cheating on him, being forgiven, but apparently not really wanting to be forgiven, evidenced by her repeated cheating - it’s OK for him to get sprung over Ms. Abdul on national TV.
As he continued to speak – I began to hear Johnny Cash in my head – "I hear the train a comin’…"
This was not going to end well…
He rambled on about how "when I’m big and famous, she’ll (his ex-wife) come back, and I’m not gonna have it." Well, Christopher, I would hope her penchant for sleeping with other men would have more to do with your decision than her possibly wanting to share your fame.
In the audition room he spoke of his "drive, determination, talent, and moves". Moves. I swear I heard chugga chugga choo choo getting closer…
He started dancing and singing to Footloose and it was then that I heard the conductor squeal the brakes and honk the horn, but to no avail. The train wrecked with full force. And when it was over, all that was left was "Topher", and his shattered dreams.
(And yes, I did catch Paula twisting Simon’s right nipple off. But he probably liked it, so I’m not going to go there.)
What filled the screen next was the first woman I believe could challenge Rhonetta Johnson to a good old fashioned "Ho Down" – Janita Burks. She was so bad, I will let her speak for herself and simply provide a transcript:
"My style is very important. It works in with my confidentiality. It boostes my confidence many, many ways."
What she needed was to boostes her boobses – they were practically falling out of her too-tight halter dress, held in place by what I kept hoping was the lord of all rings – please God, let it be strong enough to restrain those bad boys.
I loved her next remarks, "I believes in dressing sexy, but not over-the-top." Obviously out-of-the-top is ok, though.
"The judges will think I’m innocent, conservative, and sexy."
Yes, Janita, everything about you just whispers, Marian the Librarian.
As she began to sing Disco Inferno, my husband shouted, "Burn, baby, burn!" When she got to the part that goes, "it’s getting loose in here", I assumed she had to be singing about her breasts. That ring was losing the battle and they were threatening to jump out and turn that ballroom into Studio 54.
Heck, even Paula was caught trying to telegraph to Janika that the boys were attempting to jump ship. At one point, I swear it looked like Janita had a naked toddler dancing upside down in her dress.
True to her lyrics, the audition went up in flames.
One of the more unlikely looking contestants I have ever seen (and that’s saying something) was next. Looking like a cross between Fidel Castro and the Pantened loveliness that is Bo Bice, Sean Michel (pronounced Mee-shell according to his MySpace page) does not exactly scream, "Superstar!!!!" And his Ghandiesque remarks that "all of us are homeless…poor inside" did not really set the stage for what richness was to come when he started to sing Johnny Cash’s God’s Gonna Cut You Down. He was fabulous – and I can just hear the AI stylists sharpening their scissors and razor blades now…
AFTER. THE. BREAK Macy Gray look-a-like, Melinda Doolittle, got her chance to come out of the shadows. A professional background vocalist, Melinda has made a career out of standing behind other singers, but then so did Sheryl Crow and Barry Manilow (sue me – they’re the two that came immediately to mind and I'm too tired to Google for some hipper examples of background singers turned superstars.)
Nervous, timid and shaking, Melinda tore into For Once In My Life – and I believe that for once in her life, she was right where she should be – front and center. An amazing voice, so much control, and packaged in such a sweet unassuming character. I think I have found my early favorite.
The judges all thought she was brilliant and Randy said it was "one of the best auditions ever." No argument here.
Cut to stock footage from last season’s trip to Graceland and then we are introduced to Robert Lee Holmes, 21, and as green as the shirt he is wearing with his black suit. Seriously, when he spoke, he reminded me of Bubba from Forrest Gump – all innocence, naivete, and shreemp.
But Robert thinks he sounds just like Elvis Presley.
Crap. And we just got the last trainwreck cleared off the tracks…
Explaining to Ryan that he wasn’t going to dance during his audition, but "do a movement", I saw the warning lights begin to flash and the crossing guards come down.
In the audition room, Simon engaged him in a discussion about what he does. "I sing, dance, and write stories."
What kind?
"I write stories about the music of Robert."
Lord, it’s never good when a person speaks of themself in the third person. Get those cars off the tracks!!!!
Simon, ever brave, asked, "How does the current part end?"
"With a period."
Whoo! Whoo! Chugga chugga chugga…
Robert then launched into Burning Love, his favorite Elvis song. Well, launched is rather generous. It was more of a paper airplane than a space shuttle. It was truly awful, but the judges let him sing, even keeping the beat for him.
But then something awful happened. Someone must have switched the track direction because the perpetual trainwreck that is Paula crashed. She was grooving along, doing her signature spastic-seal clap and suddenly she hurt herself.
Paula apparently got hung up on all her bling and the cameras caught her (or rather the producers generously shared the moment with the audience) writhing in pain over her claptastrophe.
I guess Earl is right. Karma is a bitch, Paula. That’ll teach you to leave Simon’s nipples alone.
Needless to say, Robert was told No and slinked off to Heartbreak Hotel.
What followed was a montage of train cars piling up in the form of contestants singing and dancing to Burning Love. All they accomplished was to burn my retinas out the back of my head – seriously, I’m still seeing spots. Spots with massive cleavage.
It was hideous. From a girl with hair the color of Barney who "forgot my medication", to contestant 57401 who, God love her, really needs to audition for The Biggest Loser, not American Idol, to the guy wearing a lampshade on his head looking like he was singing about an STD – digging around in his drawers the way he was – talk about a hunk, a hunk of burning love. Then, as if that wasn’t disturbing enough, he pulled a Zoolander and whipped his underwear out through his zipper, flinging them into the air.
All right Jimmy Kimmel – you philanthrophic soul, you – let’s see you take pity on this guy. I say you send him on the red carpet as your Oscar correspondent. None of the stars wear underwear these days either – he’ll fit right in.
One more break (thank God) and we came back to Phil Stacy, who was in Memphis to audition when he received the call from his wife that she had just delivered their second daughter in Jacksonville, Florida.
He joked that he was going to sing Let’s Get It On in her honor, since that’s the last thing she’d be wanting to hear from him right then. Fine – cheap joke, but I liked him immediately. He has a very Chris Daughtryness to him, and it’s not just the preference for a low maintenance hairstyle.
Inside the audition room he sang My Girl for his three ladies in Florida and while I agreed that he started out a tad sketchy, I thought that the full picture ended up pretty well drawn. His voice is different and with some coaching could be great. And with that, the proud Daddy is headed to Hollywood.
I love that the cameras followed him back to Jacksonville, closing out the show with the feel good moment of him holding his new baby girl, Mykala. See, all you cynics? American Idol is not just about humiliating people after all.
Well, that wraps it up for the Home of the Blues. Or in Phil Stacy’s case, the pinks. In all, 22 people (most of whom we will not see until Hollywood) made it to the next round. Tune in Wednesday night as American Idol heads to New York City. Is the big apple bursting with juicy talent or is it just riddled with worms? You bite first.
This is the funniest recap I have ever read!! My sides are splitting! Can't wait to read more. I have emailed your website to evryone I know, because they will will LOVE your humor!! GO GIRL!!
Posted by: | Wednesday, January 24, 2007 at 06:10 PM
Thanks ladies - glad you enjoy the recaps!
Posted by: Linda Sharp | Wednesday, January 24, 2007 at 10:50 AM
I read a lot of blogs, but yours is very entertaining! I like your style.
Posted by: Marnie | Wednesday, January 24, 2007 at 10:40 AM
I'm so glad there is someone out there that thinks the same way I do! You put into words what I can only think in my head for fear that I might...just might be going to hell for what I'm thinking. Then again, if I'm going, so are Randy, Simon, and Paula. I love the fact that they are harsh...they ought to be...like you said, they know what they are getting into and if they are really in the special olympics...who the HELL gave them money for a plane ticket? That was just cruel. So I give kudos to Simon and his cruel honesty. It's just what America needs...someone to voice what everyone is thinking.
Posted by: Miranda | Wednesday, January 24, 2007 at 10:28 AM
Hi! I found your page last week and was anxious tonight to read up on your views of the show -- I adore your thoughts; they're so on-the-spot and comical!!
As for Robert, I thought he sounded a lot like Buckwheat when talking, and I was LMAO at the poor guy.
Glad to read you're a Pomeranian owner as well!
Keep up the great work, Linda!
Posted by: Jackie | Wednesday, January 24, 2007 at 01:16 AM
"Wife Swap? Same deal – only the husband would change the locks and not let me leave."
Depends on the man. I've only read one blog entry, and you already annoy me.
Posted by: | Wednesday, January 24, 2007 at 01:11 AM