Now I know a lot of you absolutely hate this show, or the very idea of it, and believe that it introduces yet another pop star who will clog our airwaves with sentimental, schmaltzy suckage, and to a certain extent I agree. American Idol is probably, in the longrun, bad for America. It is, in fact, a giant uranium lollipop for an already cancer-riddled music industry, but at the same time, there is something that is undeniably crack-like about it. It starts out as a carnival freakshow and ends up being a heartwarming human interest story, and in a world filled with buckets full of depressing stinkiness, it's nice to sit down in front of the TV twice a week to enjoy a little bubblegum.
I just wish they would do something like American Idol for writers. They could have potential contestants stand at podiums to read excerpts from their growing literary masterpieces, in front of a panel of judges from varying genres. Stephen King would be on it, of course, and would probably parallel in judging style to Randy Jackson, because he's cool and laidback. There would have to be a third-rate, mainstream "pop" writer, who is more about story, and comes up short on actual writing skill, who would serve in the gleefully ambivalent Paula Abdul capacity. I'll go with Dan Brown, Dean Koontz, or James Patterson for that one. And there would, of course, have to be a snobby, literary stuffed suit to play the snarky role of Simon Cowell. I can't think of anyone who is still alive who would fit that bill (maybe the talented yet undeniably pretentious Brett Easton Ellis). I think I'll just have to go with the very late Oscar Wilde, only because he had such great one-liners. The winner, of course, would get a $1 million book deal with Simon and Schuster.
I've been trying to come up with something worth submitting to this competition, and I think I finally got it. The following is a small excerpt. Please... be honest.
"Her hair flowed all like shredded paper that was gold-colored as she rid on a giant white horse to meet the man of her destiny. He had bicepts like hard dinner rolls, and tenderloins as scary great as those giant sausages you find hanging up at the deli. Yeah, he was her dreamboat, allright, and he was waiting for her. In a giant field filled with all kinds of pretty flowers and stuff, wearing rilly tight pants that made his butt look all hot. "Hello my lover." the girl said as she rode up next to the man who looked rilly good. "I think I'm going to rip you right off that horse and have you ride me instead." the tasty lump of man-meat said in a rilly sexy voice that was all low and manly. The girl got all blushed and brushed her hair back from her chest that had been totally bequeethed with ragingly massive boosums. "Why don't you be a gentle man and help me down then?" she said. He helped her down and wrapped his big strongly arms around her waste. "I want you to taste like a steak. One I just cooked on the grill." he whispered in her ear. She moaned at his manlyness. "Oh yeah, totally."Oh hell yeah. Simon & Schuster can start drawing up that paperwork already. I got hot just writing that.