I am watching television. I am deeply ashamed, not only because I am watching television, but because I have caved in to the overbearing weight of American popular culture and begun watching American Idol.
Historically, I have shunned reality TV — I watched only one episode of Survivor, I eschewed Big Brother and Fear Factor and When Boring People Go Bad 3. But I have gotten sucked in now, and there is no going back. I was thrilled last week when J.D. Adams failed to perform up to expectations; I hated J.D. Adams, with his smug smirk and self-assured, I’m-gonna-win-it-all confidence. But I tried not to get too involved, tried to remain calm and detached, tried to convince myself that I was not dialing the IDOLS phone number after the broadcast with any real conviction as I voted for Trenyce four times. And she was robbed! Robbed, I tell you! I mean… um… yeah.
So I’m watching tonight’s broadcast, and the burning question in my mind is: What is wrong with Ryan Seacrest’s hair? It’s styled kind of strangely. He looks like a raccoon attacked him.
Clay Aiken is first up, and he is my favorite, the one I have been rooting for from the start, because he is not cool, is not overly suave, is not, in any way, shape or form, J.D. Adams. He is real, and his voice rocks, and I want him to win, to get revenge for all the geeks who have ever been written off by people who weren’t willing to look beyond the surface and see the real, multifaceted human being underneath. He kicks ass — but Ruben and Kimberly are even better, and I decide to vote for all three, and my life really is pathetic now, as I wait for the phone lines to open so I can cast my vote. I have fallen into the pit of reality television hell. I love this show.