My wife was home last night and you all know what that means.
American Idol on Fox!
Two hours of teenagers striving for their dream while three judges give their bias opinion without regards to the contestants friends, families or feelings. What a delight it is to watch a woman, Jennifer Lopez, with a brain the size of a gnats ass and an ass the size of Nebraska, try to form coherent sentences, while critiquing people, who could out sing her the best day of her bubble, butted life.
Then there is Steven Tyler, who looks more like a demented grandmother than a rock star. He babbles words and sayings he doesn’t comprehend himself. Mr. Tyler, “over the top” is not normally used as a compliment so quit trying to use it as one. Plus put on your glasses, wear contacts, whatever but quit squinting at the young females like you are picking out a piece of veal. It’s creepy!
Randy Jackson, the old man of the panel. The hideous dresser. The man whose vocabulary is measured in dozens of words. Pitchy? What does that even mean? That is not criticism that is nonsense! Which lines were pitchy? Which parts were pitchy? Give these people something they can use. They deserve it.
One last thing, you three over hyped, under talented, dealers of self delusion. You are not coaches – you are judges! The jobs are not the same. Quit giving useless confusing advice. Tell them what you thought of their performance, as precisely and quickly as you are capable, because believe it or not we (meaning my wife) didn’t tune in to see you three.
I never thought I would spend a Wednesday evening sitting on my couch missing Simon Cowell and I sure never, ever thought I would look back fondly at Paula Abdul’s post performance comments.
If Fox doesn’t cancel this show, they should at least insist on new judges next year. If not for me, do it for the rest of the husbands who are exposed to this brainless blather.
Oh, Kara DioGuardi where are you when we need you the most?