It's So Much Fun My Ears Are Bleeding

I have a secret. It's a "dirty little secret" like in the song by the All-American Rejects. They ask the burning question "who has to know?" I don't know if you have to know or not, but the burden of keeping it to myself may be more than I can bear. People passing me on the street or sitting next to me in a restaurant wouldn't be able to tell of my affliction, but it lurks inside me anyway. It is a secret that belies my burly stature and rough and tumble persona. One that I can no longer hide. I need to come out. I will shout it from the roof tops...I love "American Idol!"

Yeah man, that's right. I make no apologies. I got hooked at the end of a season two years ago. Last year, I may have mentioned that I watched the show a little, but this year, well in for a penny, in for a pound. Last night was the season premiere, and Idol did not disappoint. The beginning of each season is dedicated to showing America how many truly untalented and completely delusional people are roaming the streets. Last night, the auditions were from Minneapolis, or ""Minne-hopeless" as resident "dawg" Randy Jackson put it. Randy may have actually been understating the case.

It has always amazed and saddened me the way some people can make themselves believe something despite mountains of evidence to the contrary. One by one, talentless boobs paraded in front of the judges and let loose with aural assaults so horrific that my dogs tried to hang themselves rather than have to listen to any more. Without exception, these sad, insane and mostly homely crooners disagreed with the judge's assessment of their bellowing and proclaimed their undying pledge to continue singing and to one day "make it". "What do they know?" was the most common sour grapes retort, just before the rejected would break down sobbing in the arms of their similarly deluded friends. It sounds horrible doesn't it? You couldn't be more wrong. Unless of course you were walking into the audition room to belt out "Kiss" by Prince.

As much as watching the audition process makes me weep for the future of this country, I can't get enough. The fact that people quit their jobs, got fired or bought an Uncle Sam costume just to wait in line to be told they suck is testament to America's fascination with fame and everyone's desire to be a "star". I've got no problem with people chasing a dream. God knows I've lived my life that way, but at some point, someone should actually tell you that you have some talent. Sure, you need to fight through rejection, but did you hear some of these people? They were in a talent black hole so deep that they could fight from now till Simon Cowell finds a loose fitting shirt and they still wouldn't be able to see the end of the fame line.

That's why the audition shows appeal to me. They are dream killers. Some people need a good injection of reality. Cry all you want Mr. "I've been singing all my life", it's back to the Jiffy Lube for you. That's OK, we all need our oil changed. Just sing down in the bay where no one can hear you. I think the judges need to be meaner. If I were them, I would make it my personal mission to let the hopeful know just how awful they were. There should be no question when the pitiful try to leave the audition room, unfailingly banging into the wrong door, that they should never, ever, sing again. Give Ryan Seacrest a stack of cards to a suicide prevention hotline so he can pass them out to the belittled when they emerge beaten, their dreams shattered and wander, slack jawed back to their regular lives. I think that next season, the judges should be armed with tazers. That way, when some grotesque Goth chick starts butchering a David Bowie song, or some monotone punk starts arguing that he in fact is the next Idol, they can zap them like an angry bear. I think some spasms and vomit might make for good TV. All that being said, thank God for these idiots. I haven't laughed that hard in a while. Later...Brian