These Hollywood episodes are my favorite part of the Idol season. By this point I've grown tired of the lame auditions and can no longer laugh at the cluelessly off-key. I'm ready for things to get more intense. Bring on the tears, the hysteria, the ripping of sequined camisoles! Tonight's episode narrowed the field from 175 to 109. Since I missed their audition episode and had heard all the hype, I was eager to see the harmonizing twins, Derrell and Terrell Britennum. While they definitely can sing, their personalities make them unwatchable. Their egos are bigger than Simon's. I was glad to read they'd been kicked off the show due to being wanted criminals. I am starting to root for a few contestants. I like Taylor Hicks, the subtle, gray-haired soul man. I also like Kellie Pickler, who wins the prize for most heart-wrenching story, with her daddy in jail and all. But my absolute favorite is Garet Johnson, the hyperactive naive country boy. Idol is at its best when showcasing underdogs like Garet. He may not have the training to go all the way, but at least he's enjoying the journey, even to the point of jumping into the ocean (which he'd never seen before) in his jeans.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Apparently the Rolling Stones are now upset that the Super Bowl half-time show censored their lyrics in those seconds of delay before airtime. They called it ridiculous and unnecessary. I completely agree. I was raised on unintelligible rock music, (the first few albums of REM! Helloooo!), and I still couldn’t decipher the geriatric mumblings of Mick Jaggar. I hate to jump on the “aren’t they old farts” bandwagon but the truth is, they ask for it. Have you noticed other elderly rock stars of that era being ridiculed as much? Paul McCartney, Tina Turner? The Stones don’t seem to have any self-awareness of their own rock ‘n’ roll shtick. In addition, they’ve barely evolved over the decades (unlike comparative new-kid-on-the-block oldies U2). I’m bored with Keith’s bored theatrics and Ron’s half-hearted guitar struts. Jagger’s tired spastic moves now come complete with old-lady-under-arm-flapping-sag-skin. Is that grandpa doing a retro-tribute act or is that The Rolling Stones? If that’s the real deal, it smells very, very stale. Grandma Marianne Faithful, please send us a box of moth-balls?
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Today I found myself transfixed by Animal Planet's Puppy Bowl II. Maybe it was the cheesy bites, bits of Pizza Hut's newest crust innovation, that Coolia and Nerdia tossed my way that put me in a sedated state, but the puppy blitzing had me in a trance. I could have watched all 6 hours of the action, but Coolia kept turning the channel back to that other game so she could watch her Notre Dame classmate Jerome try to finally win the big game. I know I missed some key puppy plays. Especially enjoyable was the "bowl cam", a view from the bottom of a drinking bowl at lapping pups. This was much more entertaining to me than John Madden drawing Xs and Os on the screen. I found myself getting a little wistful, thinking back to a year ago around this time when I made my Animal Planet debut. Now I'm too old to qualify for the Puppy Bowl. I guess they think you can't teach an old dog a gadget play like a reverse halfback pass.