Wednesday, January 19, 2005

"It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year..."

Oh man, I love this time of year. The air is crisp and cold, and the only things on Tuesday worth watching are "House" and "Law & Order: SVU" (you thought I was going to say "Queer Eye", didn't you?). Or is that really it?

No, boys and girls, it's also time for the audition round of "American Idol." The rest of the show sucks; I hate the competition. I think the butchering of late 20th century American standards is appalling -- where the hell is the melody? You can't find the blasted melody for all the notes around it. And, I think its unfortunate that R&B singers get contractually pigeonholed into singing sappy pop songs.

But, aside from my not-so-secret hate of pop, what is most unfortunate is the large number of people whose families and friends lie, lie, lie to them about their frightening lack of talent. Is your child, your friend so delicate that he or she can't take the truth? What about being humiliated on national television, exposed for the god-awful song butcher they really are? Do you really think your popularity at the karaoke bar is enough for you to survive month after month of grueling rehearsals, styling, and inevitable weight loss schemes -- face it, you loser, people like you because they're as drunk as you are.

Here's how not to screw up your "American Idol" audition:

Learn the words to the song you're singing. The words to "America, the Beautiful" are in every public library. Don't sing an Aretha song and fill in the words with "mm" and "yeah."

Learn the melody. Don't try a key change if you're pitch challenged.


And, the real hints to surviving:

Don't, for the love of all things holy, wear a costume or an unfortunate dress, or some other such mess. Similarly, leave the striped polo shirt home. Blink-182 auditions are next year.

Telling Simon that God told you you were destined to sing is suicide. Especially if you can't.

Don't ask people you know if you can sing -- ask strangers. They have no reason to lie. Your friends do.

Okay, the commercial is over and there is another 45 minutes of torture to go...

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