Pool Cue News and Review

I’ll admit it. In the past I’ve been into American Idol. I’m not sure why, since the last thing I want to see is some 19 year old taking Imagine and “making it his own”, but I do love a train wreck. After last year though, I told myself that I was done. No more Simon, Randy and the crack whore. Beer is a bad thing though, and as I was six or seven in and channel surfing it was AI or The Biggest Loser, so I decided to become the biggest loser myself and tune in, especially after hearing how the finalists all just got done raping the memory of The Beatles.

So I turn it on and what do I see but an Oompa Loompa straight out of Willy Wonka (the old version) screeching away. Clearly six or seven beers wasn’t going to do the job tonight, so I immediately grabbed another sixer. It took everything I had to not turn the TV off, but the alcohol was numbing the pain. After she was done damaging my eardrums, I see some 4:20 friendly trustafarian chick come out and butcher a Sting song. I don’t know what she was thinking, but that chick must be taking some serious testosterone pills because her voice was deeeeeeep.

As the next couple of singers come out and sing songs I’ve never heard of, I start wondering if I was indeed a hip teenager in the 80s because I haven’t heard of any of these songs. I’m set to turn it off and then a commercial for Run Fatboy Run comes on and my nerves are settled. I imbibe more alcohol and settle in for the second half of the show.

Back to the show and what the fuck is up with a) all the singers playing instruments and b) all the people in the audience waving their arms like they’re hearing Purple Rain? Some blond chick sings as my mind strays and I start wondering if she’s had a Girls Gone Wild moment yet. I search the web to no avail. While I’m searching, some very pretty boy from Fuckhead, GA decides to channel his inner Ace Young and just repeatedly kicks the corpse of Freddie Mercury in the balls with his Queen karaoke. In order to resist the urge to have an intentional Wiinjury with my flatscreen I have no choice but to drink more. I pray I pass out before this show ends.

Ah… I love Irish accents. Foxy. Ah crap… she’s singing Total Eclipse. If it ain’t The Dan Band, I’m not interested. Back to searching for leaked “private moments” from the blond chick.

My DVR wants to change to The Riches. What the hell… its been an hour and this crap is still going on? I have resolve though, and since The Riches will be on 20 more times this week, I belay my DVR’s order to change channels and instead continue with the pain.

Oh look… another Oompa Loompa! I wonder if he’s related to the first one…

Nice… some cat playing an air guitar on his pool cue and singing Ace of Spades… oh wait, that’s a commercial.

Back to the show and we’ve got another hot blond to Google and quite possibly the ugliest baby I’ve ever seen. What the fuck kind of version of Billie Jean is this? Finally, the ugly baby finishes butchering classic Jacko (like you didn’t have a copy of Thriller), Seacrest Out and I survived American Idol. I really need a shower, although I don’t think even extra strength Lava soap will wash the pain and shame out of this evening.