oh, some sherbet for your palette

(Whoops! I meant to put this up this morning, but I forgot. Well, here it is NOW.)

Remember last year, when I live-blogged “American Idol”? And people ACTUALLY made fun of me and such? Showing their utter lack of humanity? And whimsy?

Well, it’s back, you know. “American Idol.” And I know it’s insane. Really, I KNOW.

So, I’m trying to decide …. you see …. WHAT to do ….

But IF I ever live-blog this thing, there will be NO protests or mocking from the gallery. You hear me, gallery!?

Soooo …. I know what! Let’s relive some of my mania from last year — especially my rabid obsession with that odious domestic abuser Scott Savol:

These are random entries. Don’t worry. You needn’t have seen the show. You’ll get the general idea, I’m sure.

(From early in the competition, first time we see Scott):

Next up … Big, big guy named Scott Savol . He thoroughly sucks up to everybody. He’s a rather muttery bloke with no discernible personality. Singing “Superstar” — a song I LOVE. Truly Shocking. This weird guy can actually SING. He mutters when he talks, but SINGS when he sings. Sweet Moses! It’s freaky. That voice coming out of that person. Judges say it’s a YES. Good for you, muttery weird guy!

(THIS one was bizarre):

Oh, Lord. Are you kidding me? A MIME. How I loves me the mimes. Ooh. And she’s clever! She’s holding up a sign. And now …. she’s actually miming Aerosmith. Because nothing says “Aerosmith” like gloves and white face and total silence. Way to go, hon. You’ve offended the iconic artistry of both Steven Tyler and Marcel Marceau. (And I’m actually bugged about the Steven Tyler one.) Simon says, “One of the best I’ve heard today.” haha. Bye-bye, Mimey.

(From weeks later):

Scott, the domestic abuser: Let’s face it. He’s creepy. “She’s Gone” by Hall and Oates, who are in attendance tonight. Opening note is waaay off. Blech. He’s not working those low notes. Come on, dude. Your diaphragm is certainly big enough! (Hmmm … “She’s gone ’cause I beat the crap outta her,” maybe?) Randy: “Scotty, what’s up, baby? You started off rough. The low notes were pitchy.” “You brought it home at the end.” (What does that really mean? You sang it without dropping dead?) Paula: “You did awesome.” Simon: “You’re a nice guy, however, there were more bum notes than good notes. On the whole it wasn’t very good.” THEN … Scott stupidly retorts, “On the other hand, there are millions of people sittin’ at home who didn’t have the nerve to do this, so I think I rock.” (Hmmm, Scott. How ’bout this: On the other hand, there are millions of people sitting at home with better sense than to make stupid asses of themselves on national TV.) Sorry. I truly dislike this guy. Go home go home go home go home ….. To quote what Farmer Hoggett said to “Babe”: “That’ll do, pig.”

(From a week they had sappy “profiles” of each singer):

Scott: (Will his profile mention the domestic abuse? Let’s listen, shall we? Hmm. Wow. It doesn’t. We learn that he’s “sensitive” and they “always thought he’d be a priest.” Also, “He’s had a lot of curve balls, but he’s hit them out of the park.” Really unfortunate choice of words, Ma.) His song is cloying, dreadful. I think he’s actually sweating SYRUP. And not only is he an abuser, but he could be the cause of abuse in others, because I just wanna slap him. Or anyone. Awful. Way off-pitch in places. Criminally badd … Randy: The song … that was your weakest performance in weeks. Paula: Song didn’t do you justice. Simon: I’d pack your suitcase tonight. (Let me help you, hon. I insist.) And ladies, I’d lock the door and hide; Scotty’s coming home.

The Domestic Abuser: “On Broadway” Love this song. He’s singing this because Simon said to pack his bags last week, so he’s singing for spite, I guess. Ooh, he’s imploring us to “Get uuuppp!” (Better do it; don’t want to get him riled now.) He’s basically having a singing hissy fit, which doesn’t look good on anyone. I just can’t stands him. Randy: Some bad notes in there. But every week you seem to come up with just enough. Paula: Have you ever hear the word “moxie”? You have moxie. I loved it! (Yes, yes, Paula. The big boxie oxie has lots of moxie. He lumbers onstage and cries, “I roxie!” Just don’t make ‘im mad or he’ll clean your cloxie … or something slightly less stupid. Hey, this is LIVE!) Simon: You’ve had more escapes than Houdini, but, that aside, that was probably your best performance. (Oh, Simon, how could you? I feel so … so … betrayed. Take your too-tight T shirts and go. Just go.)

(Where I make some especially astute observations about “woo”):

Vonzell: “Treat Me Nice.” She starts off with a big “Wooo.” I’m not a big “wooo” fan, personally. “Wooo’s” usually make promises they just can’t keep. Song is kind of … I don’t know … sigh …. Big finish, etc. Lots o’ cheers. Randy: I’ve had a great record career, but I’ll say that was one of the best performances of that song. That’s how to win this. (Huh? That entire comment is mush to me. I don’t get it.) Paula: Any musical producer would snap you up to be on Broadway. (Too bad it’s not “Broadway Idol,” Paula. A compliment the girl may not really want to hear.) Simon: Um, Randy, we need to have a chat. Over all, I thought it was a bit of a mess. Childish and cutesy. (My sentiments? Woo.)

(And one week’s comments on Carrie and Bo, winner and lucky runner-up):

Bo: “Stand By Me.” Ahhh, love it. But started waahay off key, I think. Oh, dear, Bo. Find that key. Okay, he does. Can’t say much other than he’s good. Randy: You know what I love ’bout’choo? You know how to pick the right song. (And he referred to “bein’ in da dog pound,” again, as he did last week. So we learn that a place that sucks for dogs is great for “American Idol” wannabes.) Paula: (Well, I don’t know. She talked about colors or something. It was very Pebbles Flintstone. Gaba da bada ga.) Simon: You chose the best song by a mile.

Carrie: “Trouble.” Well, she showed some life for a few seconds and ACTUALLY kicked that mic down. Wow. Who needs ol’ Connie McCheese now? She sounds great, I think, but she just doesn’t inspire. She’s a kind of blank to me. An Etch-a-Sketch with a smiley face on it. Randy: That was a great song choice and you sahhnng it. Paula: You had a blast. (Oh, Pebbles.) Simon: Totally agree with Randy. You have to give your fans what they want and that’s what they wanted.

(Where I’m fully hacked off and decide I am the best person to give “American Idol” some advice):

About that Scott Savol, who keeps avoiding his just musical punishment: Look. I’m utterly incapable of seeing him rightly or fairly, I suppose. I have no tolerance for abusers of any kind. Given his background, American Idol is the LAST thing his ego needs. An abuser’s ego knows no bounds and Scott certainly doesn’t need his fed in this overblown, surreal way. I don’t care how purty he sounds when he sings. It’s a character thing for me and his will only suffer further damage by this excessive attention. He needs to be ousted for his own good.

Wow. I just really, REALLY disliked him. I was quite swept away in my own little hoedown of hostility.

So …. do I really want to put myself throu ….. ohh …. wait …. WAIT! HOLD. THE . PHONE.

(Yes, IT’S on and YES, I’m watching it, because there is a little dude right now who is singing “If I Only Had a Brain” from The Wizard of Oz!)

Lord, he is ACTUALLY singing some doo-doos. Like this:

I could while away the hours
Conferrin’ with the flowers
Consultin’ with the rain
doo doo doo doo doodoodoo!
And my head I’d be scratchin’
While my thoughts were busy hatchin’
If I only had a brain

He sang doo-doos, people.

OH, NOOOO! HAS IT SUCKED ME BACK IN!?