Thank you, America!

And thank you, American Idol, for not giving the line "I was every little hungry schoolgirl's pride and joy" to Archuletta.

My Civic Duty

As I write this, the American Idol finale is starting (I can't bear to watch all 2 hours so I'm DVR-delaying), so by the time you read it the whole awful thing will probably be all over. But I just want to say now to the pop culture gods, please please please don't let David Archuletta win.

I've haven't felt this strongly about the outcome of American Idol since... ever. Last night I voted - multiple times - for the first time since season one. Given my usual affection for the skinny, baby-faced, gay or gay-acting Idolers (those season one votes were for Jim Verarros - don't judge me!), you'd think i'd be an Archuletta fan. But Jim was an underdog and the standards were lower in those early days. And also, I HATE the way David sings.

I hate the way his voice seems to come from the back of his throat as if he's doing a bad Kermit the Frog impression. I hate the way he can't sing a song straight. What was all that Mariah Carey shit he did last night during "Imagine?" I hate his complete and total lack of stage presence. I hate the way his performances put me to sleep with the stunning blandness. I hate the way the judges inexplicably fawn all over him. Maybe there's something they see live that doesn't make it through the cameras?

Look, I'm sure he's a nice kid. And he's cute in a slightly creepy neutered jailbait way. He has a decent range and usually remembers his lyrics. I can't imagine what all this attention from the likes of Ryan Seacrest and Paula Abdul and 10-year-old girls must do to a shy 17-year-old who probably got the crap beat out of him on a daily basis in school until a few months ago. So let him come back in 5 years when his voice (and the rest of him) has matured a little. But please, if you care about truth, justice and pop music (and David Cook, a contestant who's actually very talented), don't let the Muppet win.

And if it's already happened, consider this my angry rant, and hope that we've all forgotten all about it by next week.

Street Scenes

This afternoon I saw two things on the street that struck me as odd, even by Midtown Manhattan standards.

Outside Macy's, a woman dropped the cigarette she was smoking onto the sidewalk, picked it up, and put it back in her mouth. I guess if you're already a smoker it doesn't really matter what other nasty shit you put in your body, but EW. I tend not to be squeamish about living in New York. I know that when I touch a stairway railing, or hold a subway pole, or, frankly, walk into my gym's locker room, I'm taking my life in my hands. I can't live in a bubble, and germs are, as Dan Savage would say, the price of admission. But dude, you don't pick up things off the streets of New York and put them in your mouth! No! Bad tourist!

A few hours later I saw a man wearing a belt that said "JESUS IS MY BOSS." I suppose it's a fine sentiment if you like that sort of thing, but it seemed a strange thing to emblazon above one's ass. I couldn't help thinking that "Jesus holds my pants up" would have been more appropriate. Then again, the belt was upside down, so maybe Jesus needs to hire some smarter employees.

Pluck all night

Really?

I think I can handle a lot. I try to accept that other people have beliefs that differ from mine, and to be open to those beliefs even when they're stupid. I can have an open mind and a conversation about intelligent design, Jesus, Iraq, or The Hills. But...

Florida Teacher Accused of Wizardry

...seriously?? In the United States of America, in the 21st Century, the most basic of slight of hand illusions gets a man fired? I have nothing witty to say about this, I'm just too baffled.

Chung Chung

And another thing...

Last night's Idol makes me sad for musical theater in general. Here was a chance to expose kids all over the country to a style of music they'd maybe never heard before, or had heard and dismissed, sung by people they admire, possibly in a more accessible way, and like it. I personally never liked Andrew Lloyd Webber (though I was already into musical theater by other composers) until I heard a re-orchestrated version of Jesus Christ Superstar (which now sounds as hopelessly dated by the grunge era as the original album sounds stuck in the 70s, but that's not the point). I'll never be his biggest fan, but it was enough to open my mind a bit and get me listening to other things, some of which I like very much, including those 70s-tastic recordings of Superstar.

Idol has blown pretty much every chance at this this season. The Beatles episodes are another prime example. There are great songs out there that these kids could all sing well. So why do they do bad songs, or worse, sing good songs badly?

Do you think you're what they say you are?

We're barely 5 minutes into this week's sure-to-be-tragic episode of American Idol, and Ryan Seacrest just said, "[Andrew Lloyd Webber has] composed most of the important musicals of our time."

I'm sorry, what?? Look, I like Andrew Lloyd Webber. He's composed some very, very popular musicals. Some of them are even good. Some might even be considered important, if not artistically then for the way they changed the landscape of Broadway.

But most? Look, I know this is a world where "too Broadway" is a common criticism. If Ryan's ever even seen a musical he wouldn't admit it lest he look gayer. And for the love of god, there should never ever be a Stephen Sondheim or Jason Robert Brown night on American Idol. But really? Surely there's a homo or two on the writing staff there who could've written a less off-putting voiceover.

Oh my god now Dreadlock Boy is singing "Memory." This is the worst idea ever. It's nowhere near in his range and he seems to have forgotten the words. I totally get that most of these kids are out of their elements here, but why not ask someone which songs were written for boys?

I have to stop blogging while I watch this or I'll throw my laptop at the TV.



Okay, one last thing, and it's actually a compliment to Lord Lloyd Webber. It's apparently actually impossible to sing "You Must Love Me" without sounding like you're on your deathbed. It's a surprisingly great example of music telling a story and conveying a character's emotional place in that story. Unfortunately, that makes it one of the worst possible choices for karaoke, and Brooke, a good singer, sounded like she was dying of cancer.

Suicide Watch

Late this afternoon I discovered a typo in a letter I'd written. A letter that had already been proofed, mail merged, proofed again, and printed 150 times on letterhead.

If I don't blog for a while, it's probably because I've killed myself.

Nope, it was the Pope.

Earlier this afternoon I was walking up Lexington Avenue, headed for the F train station on 63rd Street, and I found my route completely blocked by cop cars and barricades. "Fuck," I thought. "The goddamn Pope."

I was about to turn around and take a different train when I saw some motorcycles approaching - clearly the beginning of a motorcade. If he was just passing by then presumably the street would open as soon as he was through, so I decided to wait. It might be kind of neat to see the Popemobile anyway.

But there was no funny bubble car, just the usual array of black cars, cops and ambulances. People cheered when a car with some flags on it went by, at which point I doubted that this was the Pope at all, and wondered if it was some other dignitary on the way to Yankee Stadium to see the Pope. But someone in the crowd confirmed my original guess.

And also as I'd guessed, as soon as the motorcade passed, which only took a few seconds, the crowd dispersed and the barricades were moved, no big inconvenience to me (how rare!). But I was sort of amazed that all these people had stood there waiting. To see what? Many of them seemed very pleased with themselves afterwards. Why? Anyone could have been in that car. Does a papal drive-by make you closer to god somehow? I just completely missed the point. Not of the Pope, or of seeing him, but of seeing his car. Religion aside it's like a certain level of celebrity-worship that I just don't get at all. There are people I'd love to meet, or see perform (deliver mass, same thing), or sit near at a restaurant, but "Oooh, there goes his cab?" I don't get it.