what came first, the music or the misery?

Climate change is sort of getting me down in a direct way rather than a hypothetical “what if Florida falls into the sea and I can’t go to my high school reunion?” kind of way. Not that I would go, but these are the thoughts that strike me when I’m dying my hair or standing in the electronics section of Target buying yet another iPod usb cord (how do I fuck those up so often?).

So, I’m in a crap mood, therefore I’m going to express my deep thoughts on American Idol (may Allah curse you with bloody urine!). As you can see, I’m clearly disgruntled. I will explain. You’re frickin’ dying to know, I know.

I was sort of mentally raped by American Idol as I didn’t choose to watch it, but I was in the room as it was broadcast and slowly it crept up on me until I would actually glance at the screen when the contestant I favored appeared. I assume a lot of people have similar experiences. It’s mental floss, cotton candy for the brain. I think if some criminal mastermind wanted to take over America, all he’d have to do is seed AI w/ subliminal messages and stand back to watch his master plan come to its inevitable fruition (if he wasn’t thwarted by some performance art heroes dressed in rubber shark suits and mime make up hurling Propaghandi vinyl at people’s heads).

I have to admit that I find Simon extremely amusing. I enjoy schadenfreude, so his comments often crack me the hell up. I also tend to agree with him about the talent. I don’t know if that means he’s right so much as we have the same taste in general. The problem I have with the format, though, is that I have a serious problem with other people being shamed or doing embarrassing things. It makes me sort of shrivel up inside, so seeing other people humiliate themselves on national television is the worst sort of torture for me—and I’m not even just talking about the auditions, often the performances during the main body of the show are horrid.

I have some pretty longwinded commentary about AI being the embodiment of the dying mainstream music industry, about artists as commodities, and about The Machine churning out slicked up, prelubed, emotionless product, but you already know all that.

I’d rather talk about my emotional devastation over Danny Noriega being voted off the island. This was my first reality tv experience. I don’t watch Project Runway or America’s Next Top Model or Survivor, so I was completely unsuspecting when it came to becoming super invested in some random other human being I don’t, and will never, know. It was like all those other life experiences that are rather ineffable and when explained by others who have experienced them, rather baffling. I’ve never been stabbed, so if you explain to me the mechanics of it, I will nod and make hmmming noises, but until I (inevitably) get stabbed myself, I won’t get it. AI is like that. Stabbing. In my face. The torturous music, horrible clothes, saccharine sentimentality, and gawd awful “dancing” aside, I wasn’t expecting to be really *excited* about some kid on the show and then have America (you’re on notice again, country) sit on my chest and smother me.

I *loved* this kid. I still do, if he manages to segue his career into a Vegas lounge act or something, we’ll take a road trip to Vegas so I can scream and act like a moron w/ a room full of drag queens and scene kids. (Yes, WE, JD, suck it up. I’ll trade you karaoke or something else soul sucking for it.) He was the distillation of everything fabulous about out teens (by out I mean GAY). He gave Simon the head wag. I have nothing. He flounced and cocked his eyebrow and was BITCH, PLEASE all over the place. I was charmed to the bottom of my Chucks, I tell ya. I want to take him out for drinks and listen to his catty commentary about some random dude he hooked up with who turned out to be straight. (Oh, iTunes takes pity on my and just tossed me Jeffery Foucault.) He *cried* unashamedly when his buddy got booted of the show. He’s the new world of gay youth who aren’t embarrassed to be who they are right in the face of crappy, conservative America. Bless. He also has emo hair and wears hoodies, so I guess he’s sort of my bitterly inappropriate crush. And now he’s GONE.

American Idol, I curse you to the very boundaries of hell and wish you laid waste until not even the memory of your memory survives. May everything you do rebound on you to cause you heartbreak and endless torment. *spits* *cries into Cobra Starship hoody*