A Moment by the Water-Cooler

I watched American Idol last night. Now, like many of the 70 million or so other Americans who watched it (I just made that figure up), I can’t seem to get the experience out of my mind. I have never been a fan of the show, but on Wednesday nights there very little on, and this is the only night I get to indulge in shlock TV and ice cream. I thought that the early rounds of auditions for this show would be interesting, but I only could take about an hour and fifteen minutes of the two hour cattle-call, or rather, in some cases, hog-calling-contest.

Now, meanness has always bothered me. It would be hypocritical to say that I am not guilty of it from time to time, but I hope that it is usually justified, say, when I’m speaking of the Republican Party or something (I believe you need to fight fire with fire). I experienced conflicting emotions, however, when I witnessed the three impeccably preened judges enduring a parade of Seattleites, with a wide range of talent, try for their shot at stardom. I wanted to hate the judges, especially the villainous (and, by now, richer than God) Simon, who veered between patronizing, mocking and cruel. But, on the other hand, I was amazed at how disillusioned some of the contestants were. Part of me (I think we’re seeing a wishy-washy theme here) wanted to route for Simon—or at least not hate him so much—when one contestant, whose opinion of herself far surpassed her ability (something that is so common in the everyday workplace), went on a tirade against the smug Brit. It was like watching two trains carrying e-coli crash head-on.

But there were no-talent contestants who were, even in the face of heartless criticism, gracious and humble. This is something that, to me, shows far more character and worth than the ability to jam thirty notes into one measure of music. My problem isn’t really with the judge’s reactions and comments; it is with the producer’s choice to hold the most talentless contestants up to nation-wide ridicule. If the show wanted to showcase a contestant who took a break from working the street corner to show her “wha-eva, I do wa I want,” attitude on national TV that’s one thing (a la Jerry Springer), but everyday Americans who have been baited by the pseudo-glam of the Fox network being mocked for not being “pretty” enough, or talented enough bothers me. One young man, who appeared to have been put up to it by his co-workers (like that smug prick Jim from The Office), embarrassed himself so vehemently that his shame seemed to radiate from the television set. The whole thing smacks of frat-boys getting the geek to down a bottle of vodka so they can get him to sleep with a goat or something.

But here’s the rub. This next segment is going to cause me to get “this man is a total hypocrite” tattooed onto my forehead. There was a brother and sister team whose father is a classical Indian musician. Both were extraordinarily good. Instead of choosing nauseating ballads by Journey, or tone-twisting neo-soul by Christine Aguilera, the young woman chose Summertime and the young man chose a song by Stevie Wonder. Simon blandly dismissed the sister for not having anything new in her voice, although I thought her version was awesome, but the brother was the only contestant whom Simon liked (during the time I was watching). Both “kids”, the sister is nineteen and the brother is seventeen, radiated genuine enthusiasm and spirit, and it was very difficult not to be totally charmed. So difficult, I’m afraid, that I believe that I am hooked for the season, provided that Wednesday is the primary night for the show.

Here is another admission. During the commercial break, while I was getting my second Polar Bar, I began to sing “Willin” by Little Feat. I tried to imagine the looks on the faces of the judges as I created a tone that was like a bleating sheep with acid-indigestion. I imagined Simon pausing with his pained expression fully intact, and finally giving me, what has now become his catchphrase, “What the bloody hell was that?” I realized, if the auditions come my way, I should be out of the country at the time.

As stated, I could only take a little more than half of the two-hour show. By nine-thirty I was dozing in front of Mythbusters with Jamie and Adam trying to send a wood-splinter through a latex model of someone’s head. Now there is a show that I would love to pass an audition for.