Must Be Something in Those 10,000 Lakes
It’s time once again for the (extreme) torture and (mild) triumph of America’s favorite show. I hope you’ve all gotten over those nasty McPheevers and framed your Soul Patrol membership cards for posterity, because we’re starting all over again with a new crew of fresh faces, famewhores and wannabes. And who knows, there may even be a singer or two thrown into the mix for good measure
My grandmother AuntieDaughter
] once told me there will never be a shortage of Americans willing to get in front of a camera and make fools of themselves, and American Idol has been profiting from this wholesome tradition for five long years now.
Helping out in Minneapolis is sadly not our own Purple Highness, but rather folksy songstress and “poet,” Jewel. She, Randy, Simon, and Paula seem in high spirits (but seriously folks, when is Paula not in “high spirits”? [/cheap shot])
Sounds like serendipity, doesn’t it? I mean, when serendipity is spelled “s-e-t-u-p.” I Love A Parade … Of Fools
Oh, Ryan. Would you stop with the projection already?
But she stumbles around for interminable lengths of time trying to remember the words to fricking “Kiss,” a song with maybe 40 words in it. Why did I have to see this? Why, producers, why? I have to break my recapperly professionalism for a moment (shut up, I am so professional) and say that Teshawn was my last straw. Brokenote, Take Two
Ryan informs us that the ladies of Minneapolis are kicking butt and taking names, and it’s too bad we haven’t been able to see them.
But one short reel of horracious man-singing later, we arrive at Jared Fowler, a Navy man, who may turn the tide for us. (No pun intended, but ha! anyway).
He starts off innocently enough, kind of vanilla, but by no means offensive, and then all of a sudden he’s playing Bizarro Steven Tyler, driving all the neighborhood dogs crazy with his screeching “high notes.” Or maybe that’s playing Regular Steven Tyler.
Oh, and Jewel was there too. Seriously, I don’t think she’s said 10 words this whole night. She must be storing it all up for her next book. A Day Without Talent? Sounds like a bestseller to me.
I know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t another Kellie Pickler. This girl can actually understand Ainglish. Hope! Glorious Hope!
Matt takes the opportunity to earn a few fans by calling his unsupportive mother and crying to her about Hollywood and blah, blah, true dreamz, yackety smackety. I’m still angry about Dayna.
At least the army brand will keep those leches formerly known as Simon and Randy from teasing her. Uncle Sam doesn’t play that.
I’m guessing she’s supposed to be one of the under the radar kids, because she gets short shrift on the show, and thus short shrift here. Sorry, Sarah.
Not to be outdone in the crazy stakes is Brenna Kyner, who say Idol is her BFF. I weep for her. Her friend sucks.
He sings Live’s “Bad Day,” and by “sings” I mean he shuts down his throat and squeezes out some raspy, raspy things which in the interest of description I will call notes. There were two of them.
Simon and Company patronize him for a while before letting him go on his hoarse little way. I miss Elliott.