Let me preface this by saying I will honestly never watch American Idol again, ever. Just pull the plug if I'm ever faced with a "watch or die" ultimatum. That whole agreement with my wife (I'll watch AI, she watches playoff hoops) is up in flames. Never again. I can't possibly summon up the words to describe the absolute hatred I have for everything related to the show. If an earthquake swallowed up the entire arena tomorrow, I'd happily applaud. Indifference is for pussies when it comes to this. I'm pretty sure the "Axis of Evil" is actually a phrase used to describe the triple headed fukktard that is Archuleta-Castro-Cook.
Ok, where do I even begin? First off, Archuleta is a little troll. Not that I have anything against pre-pubescent stage-kids who couldn't take a dump without permission from his pops. And really, he'd be a likable enough kid if I was a Catholic priest, but Archuleta singing Elvis after saying "I hadn't really heard it" just made me want to strangle both him and his dad. And he was the least of the offenders tonight... Which brings us to Jason Castro. When he's not single-handedly setting back the marijuana legalization efforts by at least a decade, Jason enjoys moonlighting as an Ipod eraser. After his performance tonight, "I Shot the Sheriff" and "Mr. Tambourine Man" have been both been mysteriously banished from my itunes and if I could somehow have someone pull an Eternal Sunshine on me, Jason Castro's existence would probably be the number 1 memory I would want erased. Oh, a suburban white pretenda-stoner with dreds who probably calls people up daily at 4:20 and laughs about having the munchies is fun and all. If I ever want to know the relative merits of Pachouli vs. Nogchampa, he'd be my point man. But really, covering Bob Marley would have been the single worst thing to ever happen to not only American Idol but TV itself since Ashlee Simpson had her own reality show if not for David Cook... Bear with me here. I'm trying to procure some pure liquid morphine to help me get through this... My wife thinks I may need counseling and frankly, I'm a little scared of what I'd do to the therapist. Can you meet the judicial definition of "insanity" if you actually know you'll go crazy in a certain situation and still went through with it? Maybe I'd only get committed for a few years, at which time I'd assume they'd load me up so full of Thorazine and Lithium that maybe, just maybe I'd forget how much I'm hoping David Cook drowns in his bathtub tonight. Then again, this type of sh!t seems to stick with a man, and I'm fairly certain that I'd end up like Henry Bowers in Steven King's "It", staring up at the moon from my asylum only to see David Cook's face staring back at me. And what would he be singing? Yep, "Baba O'Riley". No sooner had the phrase "Worst thing to ever happen to my ears" been stated in complete defeat after Castro's butchering of Marley then... I can't even talk about this rationally right now. I just can't. Let's just say that hearing "Baba O'Riley" turned into a ballad/Ford commercial doesn't exactly excite me. "Teenage wasteland" indeed... What's next, karaoke versions of the Pixies, the Dead Boys, X? Will I be hearing the Ramones used to sell subscriptions to US magazine? Will the Clash be the ring-tones of the future (only sung by some twisted ninny in a sweater vest at 3 decibels)? I give up. I'm 30 years old and I'm pretty sure I give up. You've succeeded in taking everything good and somehow managing to turn it to absolute
. Someone should just draw a big Golden Arches on the Sistine Chapel, paint a mustache on Adam, and somehow turn God into E.T. The touching fingers are already there and a little red paint and an "E.T. phone home" caption should do the trick. Seriously, I'm waving the white flag. I surrender to the inanity of anything that Rupert Murdoch touches. Between American Idol, the completely unwatchable playoff game, and the non-stop relentless promos for that "What happens in Vegas" movie, I'm pretty sure that the end of days has come and gone. To drive home the point, I turned to Comedy Central and the first line I heard from George Lopez was "White people get into some funny sh!t" (I assume he means, "Like somehow paying me for making Princess Di's funeral look funny"). Face it people, we're in hell.