And another season of American Idol is out of the gates. This is a happy event in the Meow household –happier now that we not only get to nitpick at our weekly serenading, but also get the added bonus of a toddler dancing and squirming to the music. It is utterly charming, I tell you.
Some people don’t like the auditions. From what I’ve read (sorry–no links this time), many consider them a boring selection of appetizers before the main meal. Some others feel the judges are too mean to the contestants. And a few others like to hear *good* singers, so there is no point in wasting your time listening to soloists from the circle of hell that Dante missed.
I like them. To me, the auditions perfectly illustrate all the highs and lows of our human condition, peppered with snarkiness from Simon and dorky little asides from Ryan Seacrest. Oh, Ryan, how you maketh me shake my head.
I particularly love and love to hate those contestants who we, in the privacy and comfort of our own homes, can plainly see are no good. Some of those no-good contestants are in fact so not-good that they are painful caricatures of themselves.
I think some viewers like to see them fail miserably for a laugh. Or perhaps they are not so mean and they just cannot believe that those poor people auditioning actually think they are good and attractive and alluring and all good adjectives in between.
Whatever it may be, the consensus is that surely there can’t be such self-blind people in the world, right?
Surely someone would tell them, and they would turn around, Von Trapp family style, and with a curtsey say, "Why thank you ever so much for telling me I am tone deaf and my clothes are risible! Gee whiz, I had better go change and have a go at singing lessons, haven’t I?"
Surely those contestants would hear their cacophony in the shower and cringe with self-awareness?
And surely they could take a look in the mirror and say, "You know… if I want to impact people favorably, my [slut-from-hell/pugilistic-Uncle-Sam/fishnets-and-feather-boa/weird-cowboy-giddyup-getup] is probably not the best outfit for me. Certainly it could be appropriate elsewhere [Halloween], but not if I want to radiate that toothpaste commercial aura that says ‘I am an American Idol’"
But they don’t. Surely is not so sure with them. They do it time and time again, despite having seen their brethern and er…. sisteren be felled by the obvious logistics of the impossibility of a person who cannot carry a tune in a bucket being able to win favor with judges at a singing competition.
You think that those poor miscreants only exist in TV, pathetically auditioning for things they are clearly (to everyone else) not meant to do.
However, we all have our grossly blind points –some of us more than others. The worst part? That while there is, mercifully, a person as blunt and often rude as Simon Cowell to control the quality at a talent competition, there are many instances in life where things happen otherwise.
And certainly, starting with the talent world, many acts would benefit from a Simon-Cowellesque scathing commentator. In two words: Paris Hilton. (though at least it sounded that she could carry a tune, I must grudgingly admit).
(Just because I know we all love torturing ourselves, click here me pretties):
How many of you have known people who’ve taken up, oh…. say, uh…. oh well, really, anything? And then they convince themselves that they are really good at crafting/selling/writing/acting/being human beings while everyone gets to watch the trainwreck from a sometimes-too-close-for-comfort distance? And then we have to sometimes outrightly LIE and say that well, they weren’t so bad, really, and maybe better luck next time? But they don’t give up? And they keep pushing it until one day you can no longer be silent and you just have to say something because otherwise you WILL explode or worse, you will not only let loose but you will REALLY give it to them and let them know just how ridiculous they are for doing something they are SO INCREDIBLY ILL-SUITED FOR DOING.
And that’s when you stop talking to one another.
But back to my point. AI is entertaining because you feel you’re part of quality control.
And sometimes people will be too polite to tell you the ugly truth.
Do not fish for compliments in honest seas: you might not like your catch.