Are you perhaps craving more of my Rock Critic wit and wisdom? Then cruise on over to East Portland Blog for my revealing and candid take on Live’s version of Johnny Cash’s “I Walk The Line.” (You know, it’s the arrangement American Idol Contestant Chris Daughtry ripped off from Live and then took all the credit for!)
Kris Allen and Adam Lambert with Allison Iraheta, Who Got Kicked off for Being a Girl
Okay. Imagine in your head that a US sponsor of cooking shows is holding a televised National Sushi Making contest. After months and months and endless months of weekly competitions, those in the running have been narrowed down to two final contestants, who will compete for the title of American Sushi God, or something like that. The finalists are Iron Chef Masaharu Marimoto and some dude who works at McDonald’s.
Now, if you have ever eaten one of Marimoto’s tuna rolls, you know that guy is the bomb-diggity when it comes to making sushi – and I don’t even like fish. I mean, there is no better sushi chef than Marimoto and I am telling you that you only need to eat ONE FUCKING TUNA ROLL to know it. And maybe the guy from McDonalds has learned how to roll some sushi in the endless weeks of the contest, but his tuna rolls, well, they are not going to make anyone’s head explode with delight, is what I’m saying. Still, if you were offered one of McDonald’s guys’ sushi rolls, you’d eat it, enjoy it, and not spit it out onto the ground or anything.
So, the day of Judgment finally comes and the two contestants wait on stage, all excited and shit to find out which of them will win the God of Sushi title, but everyone knows that Marimoto will win, because, well, duh. And the winner is…Guy Who Works at McDonalds!!!! Why? Because those expert Japanese sushi chefs are “So uppity.”
That was my reaction last night when I heard that twee douche bag, Ryan Seacrest announcing that Kris Allen (who?) had just won the American Idol contest over Adam Lambert. Are you shitting me?
I confess that I watched only about thirty minutes of AI total this season, because I finally figured out (after four seasons) that I hate the kind of mindless pop drivel spewed forth by the singers on this show. However, it took only about three seconds of witnessing Adam Lambert cover “Ring of Fire” for me to realize that this kid was not only the most talented and unique singer on this season’s show, he’s the best contestant that they’ve ever had or ever will have. They should have just handed him the prize right after the spectacular “Ring of Fire” Las Vegas bonanza showdown. Because – like Marimoto’s tuna rolls – it just does not get any better than that.
I guess Kris’s victory over Adam provides us with the one final epiphany we need to see what a fucking sham joke this show has always been. Simon Cowell doesn’t even pretend to be interested anymore and the whole audience booing for any kind of negative criticism shows just what kind of tools make up the studio audience. The whole “results” show drama is boring and stupid. Seriously, I stopped watching Pineapple Express to see the last half hour of AI and I could barely keep my eyes open. And Kris Allen is about the 5th or 6th most talented person on this year. Hopefully Adam Lambert’s post-Idol career goes the way of Chris Daughtry and he doesn’t have to worry about not having captured the number one spot on this completely ridiculous, clown ass show.
I have a shameful, embarrassing confession to make: in another life, I watched two entire seasons of American Idol — the one where Fantasia (deservedly) won (I think that was Season 3) and the one where the ridiculously fantastic Bo Bice inexplicably lost to the robotic automaton known as Carrie Underwood. That’s when I decided this program was bullshit and I would never never ever ever watch it again. I have spent this entire season of American Idol openly hating on this show (while watching it sporadically in secret) and having my intense hatred of all that American Idol stands for reaffirmed every time someone with a pulse, like Carly or Syesha, got slammed to the mat while all the judges collectively felated finalist (and let’s face it, he was the “chosen winner” right out of the gate) David Archuleta, the worlds most obvious puppet-boy plant. And I’ve never been a huge fan of AI’s other Season Gazillion finalist, David Cook, because I think the world has enough Scott Stapp-by-Way-of-Chris Daughtry clones. But let’s face it: the guy can fucking sing and seems to have the ability to actually rock.
But anyway, I did end up watching last night’s season finale, the Battle of the Two Davids, while I enjoyed a delicious burger I’d grilled up for my dinner and waited for Hell’s Kitchen to start. Jacob over at Television Without Pity has a full-on righteous recap that is way more hilarious and scathing than anything I could possibly pull out of my ass on such short notice, so I’m going to defer to him, because he said it all.
Thanks to Best Week Ever Dot TV for the images!
Color Key After the Jump!
Backstory: It’s not always easy to lure me out of the Chickpad on a weeknight, but just last evening I hopped the M21 bus to Houston and Elizabeth Street to hang out at a listening party for the new album by some band called Motion City Soundtrack — a group of unwashed-looking guys pushing thirty who sing songs about what it’s like to be 15 years old and have “problems.” Aside from the fact that the party was held in a place where you have to make an appointment to custom design your own over-priced Nike sneakers, attendees were promised an “open bar” and snacks, so it really could have been any crappy band and I would have been there, because free food is free food.
The upcoming new album by Motion City Soundtrack turns out to be pretty much the typical “Poppy-Punk-meets-Emo” fare by your garden variety signed-to-Epitaph band that wishes it had the nads to be Bad Religion. You know: not horrifying but not anything I would ever listen to if I wasn’t being paid to write about the drummer. I will say that the production is top notch, being that the songs are alternately produced by either Ric Ocasek or the team of Eli Janney (Girls Against Boys) and Adam Schlesinger (Fountains of Wayne). So you know they threw down a few bucks to get the thing recorded. I sincerely wish these guys some good fortune in selling lots of copies of this album, the name of which escapes me at the moment, because I might even be into their music if I wasn’t in my forties and didn’t have my shit completely together.
Oh, and speaking of the free food, can I just say that I was served what was definitely the single most delicious cheeseburger I have ever eaten in my entire life? I’m not even exaggerating. That burger was so fucking awesome, I’ll be talking about it for the rest of my life. When I’m on my death bed, the last word that slips from my withered mouth will likely be, “cheeseburger….” Mmmm…Count on it.
But I digress. What I really wanted to blog about today is Hey Paula (Thursdays at 10:00 PM on Bravo) the new reality TV show starring professional train wreck and washed-up has-been, Paula Abdul. I happened to get home from the party early enough to catch the debut episode and it was just insane. Jesus god, this show is so ridiculously, desperately heinous, it makes Britney and Kevin: Chaotic look like The Sopranos by comparison. If there was ever any doubt that Abdul – whose histrionics and incoherent babbling have made American Idol almost unwatchable to me — is a pill-popping lunatic with, at best, a tenuous grasp on reality, this show blasts that doubt to smithereens. I can’t believe she actually allowed cameras to follow her around and immortalize her on film acting like an overwrought, pathetic loser. It would almost be sad if she hadn’t volunteered to let the whole world (or at least those with basic cable) witness behavior that makes a freak like Courtney Love seem like the paragon of self-control. You can bet I will be watching this show every week until they take it off the air, because Hey Paula must be seen to be believed.