In an odd way, it pains me to write that. Not that I'm a huge devotee of "American Idol." But I used to be. And longtime readers of this blog will remember that this show was part of the impetus to start this daily extravaganza.
Back in 2007, I was such a fan of this show that I wanted to comment on it daily in this forum. Comically, of course. It was an easy target for laughs.
I hate to admit that, years backs, there was one season of "American Idol" where I actually voted. Yes, I know, the shame. But I was a big fan of that particular season's Melinda Doolittle and cast one or two or ten votes for her every week.
I was that fan.
Truth be told, I lost interest as soon as the show lost Simon Cowell as the main judge. He was the anchor of this love fest. The voice of reason. The guy who really did honest and accurate critiques of the contestants. Simon made sure our time was not being wasted and ensured that this was a truly legit talent competition.
When Cowell left, there began a revolving door of idiot judges, one less qualified than the next. Ellen DeGeneres, for Pete's sake! Mariah Carey, who probably has yet to score well on a fifth grade spelling test. Nikki Minaj, whoever the hell she is. Steven Tyler, whose relevance ended when the first George Bush was President.
And, of course, there's Jennifer Lopez. She left and came back this season. Lucky us. The absence hasn't improved her. She's still as dumb as a post. But, what can you expect from some slob who grew up in the Bronx? Indeed, you wonder if the contestants will truly benefit from JLo's advice. I mean, as allegedly one of the biggest and nastiest bitches in Hollywood, she could teach them all how to effectively drop F-bombs when their assistants forget to include lemon with her tea.
As uninteresting as all those judges are, the main challenge with them was that they seemed to like everybody. There was no real judging, just platitudes. It was like singing in front of your father's aunt. She'd like you no matter what. And send you five dollars every birthday.
This is where I tuned out. And so did lots of other viewers as American Idol jumped the proverbial shark.
So, with their audience leaving so fast that somebody must have yelled "fire," the Idol producers decided to revamp the show. They moved that load Randy Jackson into the role of "mentor," just in case these contestants need help picking out clunky eyewear or jewelry. As I wrote earlier, JLo is back. That's what happens when your film and music career goes belly up. Keith Urban is there. Who cares? Ryan Seacrest continues as host so the young finalists will have at least one person on stage shorter than them.
Yawning as we speak.
But I was mildly intrigued to see Harry Connick Jr. as a new judge. I've enjoyed his work before. I saw him in concert twice. Harry doesn't get involved in crap. Maybe there was hope for Idol again.
I finally tuned in last week and then again last night. And, truth be told, Connick brings some much-needed credibility to the festivities. For the first time since Simon Cowell left, there is finally a judge who's not an automatic "love you" review. He gives honest and pointed critiques for these hopeful rock stars. Seated against the other two morons, Connick is that proverbial sore thumb.
The problem with American Idol, though, is really the concept. It is incredibly tired. They've changed the judges, the sets, and the lifts in Ryan Seacrest's shoes. It's a new paint job, but the car is still the Edsel. Or the Ford Maverick which exploded upon impact years ago.
The songs are all the same. The finalists all look alike. The composition never changes. You can count on at least two kids singing ditties with their teeth wrapped up in braces. There's always at least one or two Black girls who fill the "Jennifer Hudson" role and even sing her songs from "Dreamgirls." There's a couple of hillbillies who are wearing shoes for the very first time.
It's now nothing but a formula and it never ever changes.
Translation: I was bored to tears.
In the past, you could always count on some of the kids being at least attractive. Eye candy for the teenagers in the audience or the older guys at me living vicariously at home. This season, they have amped up the geek quotient. All the kids are dorky. They all remind me of the best friend of the hero in that 80s slasher movie. You know, the schmuck that gets killed off in the first half hour.
This year, there is the first openly gay contestant, some schlub named MK. Despite the fact that she's a history maker on this show, she could be the most atrocious singer they've had since that Sanjaya idiot years ago. Listen to five seconds of MK screeching like a cat on your backyard fence and you'd rather be listening to Penny Marshall sing La Boheme.
Sure, they all sing their hearts out. They battle each week for votes. Seacrest keeps talking about record numbers of people casting ballots. How does that happen when the show itself has reached its lowest rating threshold ever? Well, in 2014, there are tons of ways you can love your favorite Idol. You can vote on the phone or Twitter or Facebook or by signing up for the Affordable Healthcare Plan.
Still, that all doesn't mean squat if the actual show itself is lulling you into a coma.
So, Harry, I sampled again. And, despite your valiant efforts, I am done. Again. And, like so many of the recent Idol winners, I will disappear. Not to be heard from again.
Len....out.
Dinner last night: Leftover sausage and rice.
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