Don't Get Me Started with Linda Sharp

American Idol Results Recap, Wednesday, March 31: What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted? They Go Home

OK, it's no secret I hate, abhor, detest results nights.  They are long, stuffed fuller than a Build-A-Bear in the hands of a new employee, and simply insulting to the audience.

So, forgive me if I FF a lot through these eps.  I take many a bullet for you people, but rehashing garbage from the previous night is like watching paint dry.

No, my apologies to paint.  Watching paint dry is actually more exciting.  Watching a results show is more boring and protracted than the line at the DMV.

So let's get this over with, shall we?  I have inner eyelids I would like to gaze upon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What an opening!  Footage of the kids interspersed with a Clash of the Titans trailer!

Because, like, OH MY GAWD!, they're so much alike!  Men and Gods!  Idols & Judges!

BOOM!  One day somebody's gonna have to take a stand...  BOOM! (cut to Tim Urban!  Hair mightier than the snakes on Medusa's head!)

BOOM!  One day somebody's gotta say "Enough."  BOOM!  (Like Andrew!  Yeah - he's ready to summon Poseidon to forever wash away the memories of Straight Up!)

Lots of flashes!  Lots of video cuts!  Then Liam Neeson!  Release the Karaken!

Eeeesh.  What an overblown opening.  Yes, the movie looks entertaining (although I still weep for the memory of Harry Hamlin interacting with Bubo the metal owl.), but COME ON.  Could we possibly whore things out a little harder?

This show is all but standing on a street corner wearing smeared lipstick and ripped fishnets.

The doors opened, puking forth Ryan in a supernova of white light.  A quicky hello to the judges - Randy in yet ANOTHER cardigan.  This one bright blue with a gold birdie on the boob;  Ellen in a plaid shirt and pinstripe jacket;  the Karaken wearing satin and pearls;  and Simon in basic black.

The kids were assembled on the Couches of Constipated Emotion, but no results just yet!  Let's welcome Season 2 winner, or at least half of him - Ruben Slim-n-Trim Studdard!

He looked pretty great - healthier for sure.  Still a big boy, but he has lost quite a bit of weight since the last time he showed up.  He performed his latest single Don't Make 'Em Like You Anymore, and I have to say - Ruben has grown into quite a performer.  Much more personality, and still that smooth, silky voice. 

Most notable?  His head did not Niagra forth under the hot lights.  Botox that bald pate, Ruben?

Afterwards, Ryan talked to him about his new physique - he works out and is vegan.  Ryan had Big Mike come over to temporarily Oreo cookie him in between the big men.  That was funny.  Ryan is positively petite.

Ruben then pimped his new album and his upcoming summer tour with Clay AIken.  That should be a good one.

AFTER THE BREAK Ryan cued the Ford Vommercial, a waste of time set to Kung Fu Fighting in which the kids (all but Casey) dressed in Chinese waiter costumes.  (Anyone catch Crystal?  She looked completely disgusted to be involved.  Sorry dear, one makes a deal with the devil, one must dance to the devil's tune, and that tune tonight was Kung Fu Fighting.)

OK, finally the lights went down, and the most drawn out results began.  Lee, stand up, then let's all talk about Lee, to Lee, what's Lee's favorite color, dreams for his grandchildren, childhood pets, etc.  Then let's announce him SAFE.

Casey, please stand up and let's recite the Gettysburg Address to waste time.  Maybe they did, I just know I hit the 30 second fast forward THREE TIMES.  SAFE.

Aaron, stand up, and say the alphabet backwards, then let's have the judges expound on why they love fruit rolls, and then have Karaken smack Simon a few times.  Did that happen?  I have no idea, FF.  SAFE.

Siobhan and Katie please stand up.  Siobhan, cry.  Katie explain quantum physics.  Judges, order some stuff from the IKEA catalog.  Siobhan, stop crying, you are SAFE.  Katie, you and your hooker boots, go take a stool.

As she crossed the stage, a large bug flew up Ryan's ass causing him to lean over the judge's table right in Simon's face again.  Dude, you are NOT tough.  Give it up.  People are tired of watching you attempt to reassure yourself of your own virility on national TV.

Another break and we returned to learn from Ryan that next week's theme is the Lennon / McCartney songbook.  Great!  Time for another teenager to BF (and I do not mean best friend) Imagine.  I swear, I hope John Lennon was buried on a rotisserie.  It would certainly make the spinning in his grave a far sight easier.

And then, what to our wondering eyes should appear, but Justine Bieber in the audience, looking so dear!

Yes, Justine.  Not Justin.  That child looks and sounds like a 12 year old girl, not a 16 year old boy.  I realize many people have young children who are over-the-moon about the latest incarnation of Aaron Carter, but the girls of Casa de Sharp?  When (s)he comes on the radio, the dial gets cranked hard and fast.

Ryan then cued the prerecorded performance of Usher.  This I enjoyed.  Decked out in black from head to toe, save the silver sequined lapels, the man danced and sang with ease.  The song was off Raymond vs Raymong and called OMG.  He is so smooth, a natural born performer.  Will.I.Am showed up at one point to make some noise, but Usher was the main attraction.

I am happy to report he cleansed the stage of the stain left behind by Ke$ha.

Then it was back to more drawn out results.

Didi, stand up, blather on about your song choice, the weather, ask the judges why do the stars goes on shining, why do these eyes of mine cry, then find out, SHOCK!, you are in the Bottom 3.

Big Mike, stand up, recite every word in the dictionary under the letter "Q", then have Ryan say, "Walk over here, please."  MIke walked over, sphincter clinched in "You have got to be kidding me, I'm in the bottom?!?" then Ryan immediately said, "You are safe."

Cue superhuman strength (assisted by his Samson coif - a pink hair extension glued to the back of his head) egged on by Crystal who obviously does not suffer Ryan fools lightly.  Big Mike full body picked Ryan up and should have dumped him on the Fembots, but he gingerly put Miss Seacrest back down.

Crystal, stand up - why waste time - SAFE.

Finally, Andrew and Tim stood together, grass grew, paint dried, I think I even saw Tim's hair grow an inch to the right - then Ryan announced Andrew was Safe and Tim was to join him and the ladies at center stage.

Oh hell, we don't need three of you!  Katie go back to the couches.  You are SAFE, but be warned - America obviously doesn't like you much.

Before we could find out that Didi was going home (come on - she doesn't have condom hair or abs) we had to endure P Diddy Daddy Puffy Diddlysquat - whatever the hell his name is this week.

Diddy Dirty Money?  Um, ooooookayyyy.  I think we should all get to change our names like we change our underwear.  Hmmmmm, what will I be tomorrow?  How about Anehole Lillypad?  Skitchy Skatch Scratchy Snatch?  That one just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?  Like a Dr. Seuss character ... if Dr. Seuss did porn.

Anyway....

With lights streaming down from heaven, something began bouncing on the stairs - I assumed it was Diddy, and the girls with him?  Are they Dirty Money?  

The stage was engulfed in fog, strobe lights, dancers, and one girl dressed all in black who began dancing like Chacha DiGregorio in the R&B version of Grease.

The song finally ended, and Diddy, so full of himself, ran around the judges to the little stage to bask in the producer induced applause.  Dude, you should change your name to Hubris Hyperbole.

Finally, Ryan stood with Tim and Didi, and we found out what we knew from the beginning, Tim was safe, Didi had to "sing for your life."  Yeah, right.  But we'll play along.

She reprised Rhiannon - a truly decent effort - but it was certainly not a shock when Simon told her it was "bad news."

Cue journey tape, lots of tears, group hug.

I have only one question.  How in God's name do they make 60 minutes feel like 360?

Forget Diddy's Hello, Good Morning - Goodbye, Good Night.

For Katy: ABSolutely Fabulous!

For Shawn: Special Delivery :O)

American Idol Recap, Tuesday, March 30: Ushering In Some R&B

OK, so let's hear some honesty from the blogmunity.  Is there anyone in this Top Ten who would compel you to part with your hard earned $$ for a summer tour ticket?

I'm seriously not feelin' the love.

Season Ruben - Clay?  Been there, saw the panties flying.  There was excitement, endearment, hordes of people who loved that season, those two in particular.

Season Fantasia?  Of course.  That was the season that gave us Jennifer Hudson (simultaneously confirming America's head was firmly up its ass by voting her off before Jasmine Trias.)

Season 4 birthed Carrie Underwood and Bo Bice.  Well worth the price of a ticket.

Season Daughtry?  Forget McPhee and Taylor Hicks (and I was firmly in the Soul Patrol) - Chris Daughtry was, and is, amazing.

Season 6 was just not exciting to me - between Jordin Sparks and splatterpuss Blake Lewis?  It never even dawned on me to investigate tickets.

Then there was David Cook.  'Nuff said.

And last season, Adam Lambert exploded into America's living rooms.  He didn't win, but he lit up the stage in a way no former contestant ever had.  If ever a kid didn't need the win, it was Adam.

Which brings us to Season 9.  Yawn.  Snoozzzzzzze.  We have ten contestants, sure.  But most are filler.  Appetizers.  The Aarons, Tims, Katies, and Didis are the bowl of stale rolls on the table while you wait for your exciting entree of  Siobhan Scalloppini and Crystal Cordon Bleu.  Sorry, but not even Casey James is doing it for me.  He's like a souffle, puffed up, tasty, but ultimately just (h)air.

Maybe Usher can whip a little life into this group.  Let's find out...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oooo!  We get to go backstage!  Behind the green curtain in Oz!  And what's back there?  Plywood, wires, two lines of kids decked out in JEANS and sequins!  And a gaggle of judges!  (Would that be jaggle of judges?) 

Ryan:  The next 2 hours mean the world to 10 people (because the past two months they were just passing time?).  This spot backstage is the final chance they have to collect themselves (apply mascara, text message, pee).  You can literally hear a pin drop (because if you are noisy, Debbie the Stage Manager will beat you to death with Matilda). 

(Move forward to jaggle of judges where Ellen and Simon seem to be sweet on one another.)

This is where the action happens (obviously.  Look out Simon, Portia could kick your arse.).

Once the contestants cross this line (hopefully having chosen wisely - song, not chalice - name that movie) and walk through these doors, the atmosphere changes.

Cue screaming throng.

T. I. their moment.  T. I. your show (No, MY show would be an hour long and not have any commercials).  T.I.A.I.

Out came the judges - Randy in his argyle cardigan, Ellen looking like a busboy after a working back-to-back banquets at the Doubletree in an untied bow tie and a grey jacket with cheap piping on the lapels;  Kara wore leather pants and a one shouldered smock from Liberace's Dental School;  and Simon looked very Jesus Christ Superstar in his drapey white tunic over JEANS.

After welcoming the Idols onto the stage, Ryan then rolled tape on the night's guest mentor - Usher would be on hand to critique them through their Soul / R&B choices. 

I love Usher.  I love him even more after having watched the kids suffer through a lightweight like Miley Cyrus.  Sorry, I do not care that the Disney machine spit her out, or how many CDs she has sold to their Hannah devotees, Miley Cyrus is not yet suited to mentor on this show.

Usher, on the other hand, is pretty amazing.  From albums sold, to 3 Grammys, to being a mainstay in the genre he is on hand to assist them with?  Spot on choice by the producers.  (I am also a lover of Yeah - the song backing the video, and the tune most remembered in The Hangover.)

Besides, the guy has the most adorable kid in the world...

 
(The muscles aren't bad either... ahem.)

In the studio, Ryan donned shades (more Secret Service than cool, Ryan) chatted up Usher (I'm assuming the guy who stood up next to him was entourage/bodyguard?  FAIL.) about the contestants, his new album - Raymond vs Raymond (he threw in the big word 'dichotomy'  - hmmmm, brawn AND brains?), and then rolled tape...

Up first, longtime Usher fan, Siobhan, who admitted to being "wicked nervous" upon meeting him.  Usher commented on her "unique vocal ability" and then cautioned her to scale back her wardrobe:  "don't have so much going on."

Sound advice as she had shown up to see him with her hair a rat's condo (bigger than a nest), her quirky glasses, a t-shirt, vest, chains, bracelets, tights that looked like her legs had been dipped in an oil slick, and Siobhodd footwear - something high and indeterminate.

On stage to sing Through The Fire, she still kept her personality with footwear for wrestling on the moon, but refined her hair - slicked back and braided across the front (the girl IS beautiful).  She wore what appeared to be toilet paper, or a hastily grabbed table cloth around her waist, and some black/burgundy fabric wrapped around her torso with one length of toilet paper from the skirt up over her shoulder.

As for the song?  Yikes.  I have four cats.  They could have taken the place of the backup singers on stage with Siobhan.  She was sharp, shrill, shouty - and the emotion of the Chaka Khan song was drowned out as it became very obvious everything had once again been engineered around allowing her to scream (a tad more delicately) at the end.

No matter.  All four judges hated it, but love her, so all critiques were excuses.

Randy and his elephant (what the hell, dude?  You dress like a preschooler on his first day of school) said it was "all over the place" but he loved her "courageousness and conviction";  Ellen said it was like "hiking and you miss the trail" but no matter, "I love you.";  Kara called it an "off night", but hey, "you deserve one" (remember that when Andrew slaughters another deer on stage, Kara);  Simon was actually honest - "by far your weakest performance and I'm getting bored of the screaming at the end."

What followed were two more minutes of critiquing that left Siobhan looking like she wanted to do nothing more than scream some more - AT THE JUDGES. 

Casey worked with Usher next on Hold On I'm Coming.  Usher called it a "perfect song choice" and said of Casey, "I am truly impressed with him."

On stage, flanked by a horns section on one side, a cadre of back-up singers on the other, Casey came out in JEANS (duh), boots (double duh), a red shirt covered by a black shirt, hair pulled back, and his binky guitar in place.

I have to give it to him - Casey bores me overall - yes, even despite the good looks, I need more than eye candy, people - but tonight, he sounded pretty amazing.  He was confident, used the guitar to full effect, and seemed to truly enjoy being up there.  If nothing else, he definitely perked things up after the Siobhan Smackdown.

Randy said, "This was another hot night for you!";  Ellen said that while Casey is "always good" she felt it was a "little generic .. safe zone for you";  Kara agreed that he is "not showing how much" he can do;  Simon called it his "strongest week" so far, said Casey "sounded authentic" and that he was "really, really impressed."

Ryan, never one to let a sexual inference AstroGlide by, clarified for Casey that when Kara urged him to "show it all," she meant "musically."

Big Mike worked with Usher next on Ready For Love.  He cautioned Mike to be mindful of the audience, to "let everyone feel your energy."

Set up on the small stage behind the judges, Mike was accompanied by Matilda and Bar.  He wore JEANS and an entire steer (come on - you know damn well it takes an entire cow to outfit that man in a leather jacket), along with his guitar.

Wow - this song - slow, stripped down - showcased his range, his control, his emotion.  Now, if the guy could only sing while awake.  Mike - you have to OPEN YOUR EYES.

Randy said Mike is "in the zone";  Ellen called it "beautiful";  Kara said he did "an incredible job";  and Simon said that "for the first time in these live performances, I can actually take you seriously as an artist ... terrific job."

Didi met Usher and did what Didi always does - she cried.  Good, bad, happy, sad - Didi cries.  For his part, Usher called her song choice of What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted "a very emotional song for a very emotional young lady."

Cut to center stage, Didi draped in a strapless gold and black sequined gown, slit uptothere, her hair wavy and long.  She looked beautiful, but continued her career as the spokesmodel for Hooked On Phonics. (Or as Brian Regan says, "Hooo-ked On Pa-honics wor-ked for MEH!"

She's just not good at emoting.  She sucks the life out of a song by singing like English is her third language.  If she truly had an emotional connection to that song, as she told Usher, it was MIA.  The whole performance was FLAT - not so much in singing, but in delivery.  Seriously, Dominos delivers pizza with more height.

Randy said it "flatlined for me";  Ellen called it "way dramatic"; Kara said, "It's over done, girl ... you've lost your way";  Simon likened it to "swimming in jelly" then called it "so over the top, so old fashioned, so off melody."

Didi, in response to your asking, What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?  Um, they sing at the end of the show on Wednesday nights...

Back from a break, Ryan shared the Stools of Stuff The Show with Tim, or Teflon Tim as the press is dubbing him, for his ability to let the judges' comments slide off.  (I personally think it's his brain that is shellacked and simply doesn't get it.)

With Usher he practiced Sweet Love - Usher stopped him and asked "have you ever been in love?"  He then told Tim to sing to him that way - UGH.  Watching Tim sing to Usher (who looked away) was WAY uncomfortable.  Tim's maybe been in love with hair gel, a poster of a girl, or a girl across the classroom, but I'm not buying he has any intimate knowledge of, well, intimate knowledge.

On stage, dressed in JEANS, a white dress shirt, loose tie, and blazer, he started singing while sitting on the stairway to Ryan's heaven, and he is Didi's male counterpart in HOP land.  Staring straight ahead, he had the look of a stalker - not blinking, just staring - not a passionate dude trying to woo a woman.  He appeared to be walking through cement, and what is up with the head constantly tilted to the side?  Is his hair that heavy?

Randy said that while he "sang in tune" there was "no vibe, no swag";  Ellen talked about the home version of Tim Urban on Idol in which people drink when she calls him "adorable" then said all she did was wonder "why did you choose THAT song?";  Kara called it "Broadway at times, Vegas at times ... you took the soul out of the song";  Simon summed it up:  "You're going to smile, the audience is going to vote for you, nobody cares, you'll be here next week, well done." 

Translation:  The Hello Kitty crowd is enamored and has no taste what so ever.

Andrew had his turn with Usher to strip down another song, this time Forever.  Usher said, "he made me love it even more."

On stage, in a purple checked shirt and shiny gray suit, he sat on Bar with his guitar and JUST SANG.  He slowed the song down and did his damndest to Forever make us forget Straight Up.  I'd say mission accomplished, Andrew.  The vocal was the show this time, and it made me forget the singing / dancing nightmare of last week.  (Lesson learned?  NEVER ever everever take advice from Hannah Montana.)

Randy hollered, "Andrew is back!";  Ellen called it a "really amazing, strong performance";  Kara said it was "one giant leap in the right direction";  Simon said it was "miles, miles better" but said "as a person you come over as very boring."

This unleashed Mama Garcia, and if Big Mike was wearing an entire bovine, she had skinned an entire zebra.  She went up to Simon and a torrent of Spanish came out in defense of her son.  I didn't understand, but I know she was not asking about the bathroom or ordering two beers.

Katie was next to re-meet Usher - apparently she had run into him at Epcot once, but big, burly bodyguard dude wouldn't let her get a picture.

She sang Chain of Fools and he encouraged her to show some "pizzazz and attitude."  Sorry, Usher.  She's had a McPheemapotomoplasty - the removal of all pizzazzitude.

On stage, her hair pulled back into a long ponytail, wearing shiny leggings, gladiator heels, a gray shorts romper, and crystal Hula Hoops in her ears, she attempted to work her way through Chain of Fools, but I wasn't buying.  She has a big voice, but she has not lived long enough to be a link in anyone's chain.  And the "oh no you di-ent" head wobble?  Katie, you are a 17 year old white girl.  STOP.

Randy contradicted himself with "a little disconnected vocally" yet "one of the best of the night" and a comparison to Xtina;  Ellen commented on the "Snooky poof" hairdo;  Kara called "one of your best vocal performances";  but Simon again was realistic, saying it was "pretty good" but "very robotic, quite cold" and like something from "Star Search."

She then bogarted Crystal's answer when Ryan asked who she was going to listen to.  "Myself."

Oh no you di-ent.  (insert wobble of head)

Lee shared the Chat Chairs to be asked by Ryan, "How do you create a moment."  Lee, being the toastmaster he is (not), responded with something along the lines of, "Performing and giving a performance in which you perform performerly.  Can't I just sing, dude?"

With Usher he rehearsed Treat Her Like A Lady, which Usher called a "special treat."  He told Lee he has "an incredible voice - just own it."

On stage, guitar in hand, dressed in a black shirt, JEANS, and a blazer, Lee finally gave up leasing, renting, co-opting - he did own it.  He connected to the song in a way he never has, even smiled a couple times, and seemed to be enjoying himself.  Vocally, there is never an issue - he has a natural gift - is gritty without having to try.  You and me?  We'd have to swallow a beachful of sand to sound like that.

Randy called it "unbelievable" and "the best I've heard you in weeks"  Ellen said, "Now the night's started.";  Kara called him "amazing";  Simon said he's "always believed" in Lee," but that "This was the night your life may have changed forever."

Lee's response?  He stuck his guitar pick in his mouth.

Finally it was time for Crystal to back up her promise of a "big surprise" this week.  She played coy with Usher, but he guessed it, "play the piano and sing."  Bingo!

Usher loved her, but then, what's not to love?

On stage, dressed in black leggings (AI must have gotten a deal on those, too.  A BOGO special?  Buy one pair of JEANS, get some black leggings free?), a red dress, and heels, she played the piano and started slowly on Midnight Train To Georgia.  Good job.  Yes, I was holding my breath hoping she would not mess up (by her own admittance, she has not really played in years), and I was really happy when the music picked up and she got up from the piano to finish the song.

It was another solid job - she just IS.  And I love her.

Randy called it "another great performance";  Ellen said, "you're never not good"; Kara said she "can't wait to see what you do next";  Simon called the song choice "sensational," said the vocals had "incredible moments," but that he could tell she was "over thinking" on the piano and cautioned her to "not let this process suck the identity out of you."

Simon, a fleet of Rotor Rooter trucks could not suck the identity out of Crystal.

Winding things up was young Aaron to sing Ain't No Sunshine.  Usher called him "incredible" and tried to explain to him how that string of "I know"s in the song needed to be sung.  I don't think he got it.

On stage he wore JEANS, a plaid shirt, and a leather hoodie and I will admit, while not being a member of Team Aaron, I am starting to like him a bit more each week.  He sounded strong (cold must be gone), but NO, he did not "get" Usher's instructions on "I know."  If it had been a record, I would have thought the needle was skipping.

Randy said it "started a little rough" and said it was just "kinda a-ight";  Ellen said, "good song choice ... good job";  Kara offered, "I liked it, I didn't love it.";  Simon likened it to a "cupcake" next to Lee's "main course."

And that's it for R&B night.  Did you like Usher as mentor?  Do you think he helped a few lost singers find their way back?  Do you think he's just one hot pile of manness?  And are you ready to watch not only Usher, but Diddy, and Justin Bieber perform Wednesday night?

Is that YEAH I'm hearing?  (Well, maybe not about the Bieber part...)

Teen Angel

The teen years are brutal.  They just are.

The years when your body takes over, changes beyond your control begin, your shape shifts, your skin breaks out, cliques are formed, identities are defined as we begin to figure out just who we are, and what we stand for, in this world of ours.

Even if a person comes through relatively unscathed (as did I), you will find very few willing to go back and do it again.

Me?  Not on your life.

Teenagers back then were catty, mean spirited, vindictive, entitled, rude, and hateful.

Maybe you didn't wear Calvin Kleins or Nikes.  Perhaps your tit didn't sport a Lacoste alligator.  Maybe you weren't a cheerleader or on the football team.  Maybe you were smart, quiet, enjoyed theater (that would have been me).

And maybe you (read: me) just refused to play their game - being friendly with everyone, cross contaminating cliques with your outlook that we all pee the same way.  And that the rich kids didn't DO anything to earn their cool clothes, cars, and attitudes.  They just happened to fall from the vagina of someone else who worked hard or married well.

But their bad behavior was confined to hallways, lunchrooms, and the bleachers at Friday night football games.  Respite could be found at home, your part-time job, hanging out with your group of friends.  Sure, occasionally they would get hold of a home phone number and do some crank calling, but that's about it.

If you could live with their snickering and condescension, life was OK.

I just rolled my eyes a lot and went about my life - marginalizing them by refusing to play their game.

For my efforts, I had quite a few friends.

That being said, I STILL wouldn't go back.

Fast forward to the technology babies and their ability to bully which has grown by gigabytes.

Cell phones, camera phones, Facebook, Myspace, email, YouTube...  mechanisms used to communicate with all and sundry every time they pass gas, have a fleeting thought, or a lyric floats through their brains.

And all mechanisms used to exploit, ridicule, and harrass those they deem lesser; those they target for emotional annihilation over some perceived slight or social transgression.

The news reports regularly on students caught beating the shit out of one another - the grand event proudly posted on YouTube.  Sometimes parents (still harboring their own middle school emotions) get involved and set up fake accounts to harrass other teens they believe to be a threat to their own child's social success.

The school hallway gone virtual.

And deadly.

Last week, 15 year old Josey Ratley of Florida was in a medically induced coma after being brutally beaten by another 15 year old.  Her crime?  Via text message she had said something to him regarding his dating her 13 year old friend.  She disapproved.  He cornered her at school and stomped her with steel toed boots.

And we all remember Megan Meier who hanged herself after being tricked into thinking she was MySpacing with a teen boy (in reality, the pathetic mother - Lori Drew - of a "friend").  The messages devolved to the point Lori Drew texted (as Josh Evans), "Everybody in O'Fallon knows how you are. You are a bad person and everybody hates you. Have a shitty rest of your life. The world would be a better place without you."

A few hours later, Megan hanged herself in her closet.

Young boys have done the same.  And it is simply inexcuseable to write these suicides off as "flukes" or "bullying gone bad".

Those behind these acts are being intentionally disruptive, abusive, manipulative - and their acts (like stomping Josey) are completely premeditated.  As for the Lori Drews?  She is an adult.  Acting like a toddler.  And like the infamous mother who plotted to have her daughter's cheerleading rival's mother killed - should be held responsible for the fallout.

The lastest casualty in the cyberbully wars?  Phoebe Prince, a 15 year old who was incessantly stalked from September to when she, too, hanged herself on January 14.

After being raped by her bullies.

Her crime?  She had crossed paths with the mean girls of the school for dating a senior football player, and they were worse than any Tina Fey screenplay caricatures.

Nine teens have currently been arrested and charged with civil rights violations, criminal harassment, stalking, assault, disturbance of a school assembly - and two of the boys, with statutory rape.

Their bullying was relentless - in the school (in front of teachers and administrators who did little to nothing), via text, phone, Facebook, etc. 

Sadly, her family had moved from Ireland to the USA only months before so their kids could "experience America."

Yeah, welcome to America where we grow fast food waistlines, me-mentality, and shitty teenagers who couldn't define accountability or consequences if it showed up on a Wall Post on their FB page. (One of the mean girls' favorite taunts was to loudly call Phoebe an "Irish slut.")

Even after her death, and before authorities began to unravel what had led to it - these shitful monsters were posting heinous messages on a Facebook page set up to honor Phoebe's memory.

And when a local news crew came to the school to interview people about what had happened, one girl told the reporter that bullies stalked the hallways of the school.

What happened to her?  As soon as the camera had left, one of the girl bullies came up, slammed her head into the lockers and punched her in the head.

Often these cases of cyberbullying are beyond the reach of administrators because they take place off school property.  However, in Phoebe's case, the bullying was constant, and often in front of teachers.  According to other students, these mean girls and their male counterparts rule the school and get away with murder.  No pun intended.

Phoebe's parents had her buried back in Ireland so as to "put an ocean" between she and her aggressors.

So very much is wrong with what happened to her.  What happens to so many good kids each and every day in every school across this country. 

Schools turn their backs, avert their gaze because it's too much trouble to get involved.  Parents, even if they know the extent of what is being done to their child, are often poo-poo'ed by administrators.

And the kids?  How many suffer in silence, until the only silence they see as the answer is the silence of their own grave?

If your child has a Facebook, email, or text account and you don't have the password, shame on you.  I have the passwords for all my daughters and check in on their writings regularly, as well as the writings of those they know.

I have interceded when Culley was the target of mean girls in middle school and popping antacid tablets everyday before school.  Her teacher told me - I shit you not - "I have to focus on getting them ready for the TAKS test." And when the counselor wasn't offering enough protection or intervention to stop it?  I attended an assembly and went right to the source - the shitty little clique - and put not the fear of God into them, but the fear of MOM into them.

And then I began showing up regularly in class, at assemblies, at school functions.  And I would stare them down, so hard they would begin to fidget in their seats.  It worked.  Culley's true friends rallied behind what they could see was a visible show of force and support, and the mean girls moved on like the cowardly jackals they were.

There is simply no defending these actions or the kids that dish them out.  Sure, their parents try - I still remember the emails I got from parents and friends of those shiftul miscreants who beat a girl up in the locker room and YouTubed it for posterity.  F*ck them.  They are just as much of the problem as the ones who do the actual deeds.

If you constantly make excuses for your child's bad behavior or failings, they will inevitably ratchet up their bad behavior and failings. 

Children are dying.  Feeling they have no way out but death.  Some being beaten so savagely that death may be the final respite.

Teach your children every single day that "There is nothing good about making someone else feel bad."

Because Teen Angel should only be some sweet sad song from 1960, not a growing roster of real sad teens no longer with us.

It's Tracey's Day!

 

It's Cindy G's Day!

Tickle Me Fellow

This just made me smile.  The little guy is a loris, and he apparently enjoys the small things in life - like being tickled.  :O)

Healing Thoughts Needed For Leigh!

Chicky just emailed to let me know Leigh just posted this on her FB page:  Off to the ER. My stupid body picked a bad time to go all heart attacky on me since I had Disney plans for later this week. Argh!! Angry at my heart!!!!

Please send all your good thoughts, positive energy, hope and prayers towards Florida.  Will let you all know when I hear more...

 

Crucifying Trust - Revisited

I originally wrote this piece back in 2006, when this travesty took place.  And since then, my family has worked very hard to put it behind us.  Thankfully, the person it involved is not in our lives, and out of sight has thankfully given us a level of comfort the past few years.

But today, there he was. 

Kendall, first exposed to him when he turned up as an AR on the game she was reffing.  And next, in the complete physical reaction Carson had when she found out he was even in the same soccer park as she was.  Her entire body stiffened, and she practically ran to the car.  (So much for feeling great after a winning game.)

Out of sight is obviously not hand in hand with out of mind.  What happened to her nearly 4 years ago is still close enough to the surface to compel her to flee from even the possibility of being anywhere near him.

As of this afternoon I have advised the ref assignor that he is never to be a ref on her games, that she is never to be on any ref crew with him, and he is not to be anywhere near any of my daughters.

And I am sick to my stomach.  Because today I found that what happened to her has not just "gone away" with time.  And the thought that it will be a scar on her heart forever makes me want to cry.

This is the original piece, and it bears reposting, because regardless of how religious YOU are or how much YOU love your church - you NEVER have the right to do what this man did to my child.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Editor’s note:  This one goes long.  Pack a lunch.)

An off-putting thing happened to me a couple weeks back…

I was at a busy gas station, pumping fuel into my minivan for another long weekend of soccer taxi driving.  While standing there, enjoying the sunshine, organizing my thoughts for the games ahead, I noticed a white sedan about twenty yards away parked by the gas station fence.

In it, I saw two old people, a man and a woman, chatting. 

At most, I thought they must be reading a map or drinking some stellar service station coffee.

As quickly as I had considered them, however, my mind moved on to strikers, mid fielders, and defenders, and snacks for the strikers, mid fielders, and defenders.

Then, just as I had placed the nozzle back in its cradle and was getting into my car, I noticed the old man approaching.  I continued to get in my car and as I reached for the door, he stopped me from closing it.

OK, at this point, all I can say is that he is lucky he was an old man, nattily dressed in a sports coat and tweed cap.  Had he been even one liver spot younger than he was, my fight or flight response would have kicked in and he would still have the imprint of my door handle in his shriveled groin.

As it was, somewhere in my mind, I knew that if he was actually accosting me, I could snap his brittle ass in half.  I may be small, but so is dynamite – and you don’t mess with either.

He then proceeded to greet me with a smile, a how are you doing, what are doing today, all in a gee-I’m-a-harmless-old-coot manner.  I politely informed him I had a busy day ahead and needed to get moving.

It was at that point he thrust three pieces of literature into my hand, telling me that he was sure I had some questions about the world that could be answered by reading them.  I said thank you, took them, and quickly got into my car, watching him walk back to his old woman companion and their parked white sedan.

Yes.  I had just been Jehovah-jacked.

I find it disgusting when earnest young men, dressed in their white shirts, black ties, and backpacks come to my door to preach to me about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  Heck, I find it disgusting when little children ring my bell unaccompanied to sell me chocolate for their school fund raisers.

But at least I like chocolate.

But presuming to come to my house, and now to accost me in a gas station parking lot?  I have no patience for proselytizing, period.

Alliteration aside, these people do not know me.  They do not know how I believe, what I believe, if I believe. And their blanket presumption that whatever those answers are, I must be doing it all wrong and am in need of their saving? 

It’s beyond rude.

Yet, as unsettling as the old man encounter may have been, or how irritated I get when I see the young men on their bicycles canvassing my neighborhood, they do not hold a votive candle to the religious raping that occurred this past weekend.

We were ensconced in yet another two days of soccer play offs, in which only one of our daughters was participating.  Normally, our 14 year old would have been home, thus freeing the ten year old from being held captive on the sidelines of her 13 year old sister’s games, however, the built-in babysitter was away on a school field trip, meaning our youngest was faced with toughing it out – just her and her Nintendo DS – as she got dragged along for the weekend.

Lo and behold, the phone rang the night before and it was her soccer coach (her season has ended) offering to pick her up and let her spend the day with him and his daughter, a wonderful little girl on her team, instead of having to sit through a long Saturday of sister-soccer.

My husband and I (and of course, our 10 year old) truly appreciated the generosity of the gesture and arranged that he would pick her up from the fields the next morning after the first game was over.

Now, I freely admit, even being the over-the-top, will-go-out-of-my-way-for-anyone person that I am, I was frankly surprised at his willingness to come all the way to a different town to pick her up.

But, I let it go.

After the first game, he arrived with his kids to pick up our daughter.  We chatted about their plans for the day, which included mention of errands like a haircut for himself (fine), lunch (of course), and a movie (how fun!).  We kissed our daughter, and completely trusting she was in good hands, turned our backs and headed to the next game.

Later that afternoon, my cell rang and it was her coach, checking in.  Everything was fine, but there was a cool car show at Hooters that his 13 year old son wanted to check out, and he wanted permission to take her there for something to eat.  I joked that his son wanted to check out the “headlights”, not the cars, but that yes, a hamburger at Hooters was fine. 

I don’t like Hooters.  I think Hooters is ridiculous.  And even if there were a restaurant for women called Boners, I wouldn’t go.  Not because I am a prude, I simply think it is stupid.

But, I let it go.

That night, while tucking her into bed, we talked about what they did that day.  She talked about how short the shorts were on the Hooters waitresses (good girl!), but that the hamburger was good.  Then she said they went to some “church-like” place for a while and that she was uncomfortable there.  No mention of going to see the movie Happy Feet as we had discussed.

At that point the hairs stood up a bit on the back of my neck, but she was really tired and falling asleep.

We don’t go to church.

We have specific reasons for not going to church.

I wasn’t happy about that being included in her day, but, I let it go.

Well, as it turns out, there were more details forthcoming. 

While at the “church-like place”, Carson was plied with candy, raffle tickets to win a bike or scooter, and skits, which she admits seemed fun at the time. 

Then a “whole bunch of people” were sitting and listening to someone called Captain Kelly preach to them “really loudly”.  Then he asked for “everyone who has not let Jesus into your hearts yet” to come forward.  It was then that her coach told her to go to the front of the church with the other people who were moving forward.

To say my husband and I were sickened when she told us this, is an understatement of Biblical proportions.

To her credit, this child who has been taught that it is OK to tell an adult No when something makes her uncomfortable, refused him and stayed seated.

Asked what happened next, she went on to describe how all the people – kids, grown-ups, etc – who had gone forward, were TAKEN OUT OF THE ROOM.  (Yes, this man was not only encouraging her to join a group of strangers, but to leave his sight.)

The service moved on with her coach shoving a dollar into her hand to put in the offering basket, and then Captain Kelly repeatedly shouting that “if you do not go to church every Sunday, you will not go to the sacred place (heaven)”.

Forgive me a moment while I swallow another wad of bile threatening to hit my keyboard.

So, in summary, my ten year old child was emotionally raped by her soccer coach, told flat out that she has not let Jesus in her heart, and that since she does not attend church, she is going to Hell.

I believe in the Ten Commandments, but last night my husband and I were ready to throw “Thou shalt not kill” right out on its ass.

I cannot even begin to explain how violated we feel by this man.  He stood there, lying through his teeth about movies and fun, and then took our daughter to be “saved”.

And then to Hooters. 

Blatant hypocrisy fan that I am (gag), I love that he asked our permission to take her to Hooters, but not to take her to church.

Again, we are not a family that attends church.  We believe in God, we do not believe in religion.  It is very simple.  It is not a lack of faith in Jesus or God or even faith itself.  It is because religion does not bring people together - it separates them into clumps of people who are afraid of one another and who judge one another. 

Don’t believe me?  Turn on the news.  Heck, turn to your own heart and see just how you view someone who doesn't go to your brand of cathedral.

Rudy and I are raising our children to look at the world with open eyes and to accept people with open hearts, not to judge them or have the first question they ask be, "What church do you go to?" because it should not matter.  Our girls are friends with people based on how the other people behave.  The content of their heart, not how often they sit in a pew.

The funny part is that our 10 year old has a better understanding of, and connection to, God, than most people ever will.  She is loving, open, accepting, caring, self sacrificing - and to tell her she has never let Jesus in her heart is reprehensible.   To plant a seed that she is going to Hell?  It sickens me.

If church fits someone's lifestyle, or needs, or fills a void, that's fine.  I respect that.  We are teaching our children to respect that.  It’s an adult choice to go.  It’s a parent's choice to take their own children.  But to take someone else's child without their permission?  To proselytize to them?  To make them uncomfortable or risk their safety by encouraging them to leave a room with a bunch of strangers?

I'm sure in his mind, his heart was in the right place, but in ours, what he did was so far beyond the pale, we simply cannot allow her to go out with him and his daughter alone again.  The violation of our trust, the flat out lying to us about what they were doing that day makes it impossible for us to risk her safety, state of mind and heart, or, quite frankly, our time with him anymore.

The descriptions of candy, tickets to win a bike or scooter, etc - it's simply not what we want our children exposed to.  Bribing a child or tricking them into religion is not how they should come to God. 

A person's relationship with God is a one on one affair. 

No one else is responsible for my soul, my husband’s soul, or our daughters’ souls.  We don’t need saving.  And believe me, I don’t need someone coming to my home, or dragging my child to their church.  I live in the buckle of the Bible belt.  Churches are on more street corners than Starbucks down here.  If I want to go to church, I know where they are.

I believe that what scares people like her coach is this:  We are decent, loving, open, giving, generous, sacrificing people.  We have a 16 year happy, fulfilled marriage and three compassionate, caring children, we know peace – all the things churches teach you can only be yours if you attend every week and tithe 30% of your income.

But we don’t go to church.  So how can we possibly be all these things, have all these things?  I’m sure it doesn’t make sense to anyone who has been indoctrinated and screamed at weekly about going to Hell for nonattendance.

Our belief is simple.  We do not need a church around us to talk to God or feel his presence.  I don't view God as someone I need to make an appointment with each Sunday.  I talk to Him all the time.  That's the thing religion misses – the thing religion doesn’t want people to figure out.  God doesn't live in some big building with a cross on top, He is portable.  God is like an iPod, and you can listen to His “greatest hits” anytime because He lives in a person's heart.

I'm glad my daughter’s belief is stronger than her coach’s.  She knows that what Captain Kelly (ok, forgive me Father, for I am about to sin – what THE hell kind of stupid ass name is that anyway?) said is not true.  And not because of anything Rudy and I have taught her. 

Carson came into this world with an understanding of God and Heaven built in.  She could tell you stories about Heaven that would shame a minister. 

She has been there.  And she has no fear of where she's going, because she knows exactly where she came from.  And I guarantee you, this child who constantly gives every cent she has to charities, who champions every underdog child in her school, who cut all her hair off last summer so that a child with cancer might have a pretty wig to wear, is not going to Hell.  If anything, there’s going to be a ticker tape parade when she gets back to Heaven. 

I encourage every person of faith to enjoy your faith. Revel in it with people who are like-minded.  Find comfort in it.  Use it to justify what you need it to justify.  Just don’t force it on other people who think differently.

And don't ever make the mistake of stealing someone's child and exposing them to it without express permission. 

Because you have been warned.  That other parent will come down on you like the wrath of the very God you claim to worship.