New Your New Your

Yeah yeah...cos I'm from new Yawk I gotta hear all dis gripin about our performers. Da reality is simple, we got more singers in da contest den anyplaces else.

Now, I hope that feels your overdone NY accent quota for the year, cos I don't like doing it. On with the show...or train wreck...you choose.

Normally I'm never disappointed in my own state, we are a dignified group (angry, hostile, indignant, rude and surly) and very rarely do you find something that can embarass us. We like to call those embarassments one of two things:
1. Tourists
Basically, these are the people who are visiting from someplace else and don't get it.
"I'm from Maryland and I love it here, except I don't understand why strangers don't talk to me on the subway".
Even if they decide to live here, if they don't get it, then they are tourists.
2. East Villagers
This group of misfits is usually responsible for some of the mind bendingly lame performances we saw last night. Villagers are basically a mix of real NY residents and wannabe real NY residents. They show up and rent the apartment next to some heroin addicts and claim to be actors and performers while working as waitresses and waiters. It's this group of defects that you see parading around on television saying things like "I'm a superstar".

For some reason, that area draws in freaks like magnets. Anyone with any desire to be famous gathers down in the village, they all frequent the same lame bars and call them trendy (like a 20 seat smelly bar is trendy because a bunch of out of staters sit there at night discussing how cool the village is). Now you take these tourists and East Villagers and put them in front of a camera and you get the spectacle you saw last night.

First you have real NY residents, some good, some bad. They came they saw they tried...a few got in. The sad part is the jackasses who inserted themselves in as normal NYers and made complete fools of themselves on national television. I for one am beginning to tire of the producers sick need to put mentally unstable and/or deficient people in front of the camera as if this will amuse us. The bush baby, the Elvis torture test from Memphis and NY's crazy guitar playing psychic who hates her first name. She's sounds like Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks and Led Zeppelin, appearently that's what they would sound like if you stuck them all into a small room with hungry bobcats. Sorry Julie, a real psychic would have known they had no chance...just ask Dionne Warwick and her Psychic Friends.

What really made me throw my shoe at the screen last night was this annoying nuisance Ian Bernardo. He's a total fraud, he wasn't even entertaining as a joke performer. He purposely showed up to be a jackass and all I wanted to do was hit him in the face with a boat oar. I honestly am not sure who I am more pissed at, Ian for being a worthless talentless hack, AI for giving this loser air time, or Fox news and everyone else who is interviewing this moron as if he is running for office. Please people ignore the morons and focus on the talent.

33 people made it through last night, but my fear is since Davita was one of them, how many other instant cut people got through today only to be sacrificed in Hollywood. Justin Timberlake kid showed some promise, and so did a few others but it seems like perhaps barely good enough might be enough this year. I'm not looking forward to the massive slaughterhouse they are lining up in Hollywood, but at least it will fill time for them.

One last note, I have no problem with Nicholas Pedro getting a second chance, however if I was on the panel he would only be allowed to try out with one song, "Buttercup".

Kurt Cobain took all the talent with him

So here we are sitting down to enjoy another evening of people who should never sing. The show opens with another lame shot of the city backdrop and an annoying Seacrest comment about the screaming of the locals. A few more of those shots would have been more interesting then the two tortursome hours of untalented hacks parading in front of the triumverate of weirdness. Let's start on the triumverate, what the hell is wrong with Paula? At one point she actually said, "Hold on to your dreams becaue they will get you something someday". I think she's taking animal tranquilizers, she's even more incoherent then the last few seasons. On to Randy, appearently he's starting to wear down under the pressure of 200k or so really horrible singers. He's gotten rude and nasty and apeparently is trying to take some of Simon's press and airtime. Simon is Simon, he hasn't changed but you can see the shock in his eyes as some people come through the doors. I did think it was a little girlie on his part not to at least stand up as Taylor Hicks wannabe rushed him with hair gel. Before I end this section....perhaps a new do wouldn't hurt, I mean he does look like he combs his hair with buttered toast.

I'm sure by now you are wondering about Kenny and Cartman up there, well to be honest it was the first thing I thought of when Kenneth Briggs and Jonathan Jayne first stepped into our lives. Simon called poor Ken a bush baby and the hard part of that is that it's completely true. But as soon as I hear Jonathan sing, I knew we had found the real life Kenny and Cartman. Take a quick listen to Cartman singing "Come Sail Away" and tell me you don't hear the obvious connection. Now Kenny doesn't really speak but he sure does look like Kenneth.

I'm just basically scared at this point, 16, 000 people in Minnesota yeilded 17 contestants, 10,000 people in Seattle yielded only 14, this basically .13%, not 1.3...that would be 130 people. Less then one percent of the state had any talent. Now, before anyone accuses me of not being a singer, or being brave enough to audition, I know I can't sing, and now I know 99.87% of Seattle can't either.

C'mon people, when your husband says don't waste your time, stay home. Spend some quality time looking in the mirror, do you look ridiculous? Are you sure you don't? Check one more time, a lot of ridiculous people showed up. Check with friends and relatives, and if Randy, Paula and Simon say NO, this is probably two bits of bad news for you.
1. You can't sing
2. Your friends and family are either too scared to tell you, think it's funny to not tell you, or are coddling you like an idiot.
Any way you slice it, that's going to really change your future thoughts about them isn't it?

I'm begging you Memphis, do not blashpheme the King, do not show up in Gold Lame jackets or black leather suits. No polyester jumpsuits with belts that used to be a rear bumper for a Pontiac Bonneville. Just show up in your regular clothes, sing like yourself, and then leave when they give you an answer.

My last thoughts for you Memphis folks, don't sing any of the judges songs, don't sing their favorite songs, and certainly don't try to style Simon's hair.