It is wholly inexplicable and mystifying that a nation could be so obsessed with a show like this, a worthless, fifteen-minutes-of-fame, trashy-so-it's-bad piece of garbage that captivates more collective attention than the average Presidential race. Constantly, I am forced to hide in my room when this show comes on because it overrides all other shows where I live. With paper-thin walls, I can hear every minute of it: the generic pop voices, the horrible auditions at the beginning of every season that throw pathos out the window, and the growing absurdity of the judge's sweetness, complacency, and ruthlessness. It is by far a more rewarding experience to watch unintelligent programs mock this show than it is to watch it itself-- "Shrek 2," anyone? And "American Idol Rewind," a vapid expansion of the show's early years, is even more heinous and pointless. Yet people continue to watch the competition, from talentless winners (Kelly Clarkson, Clay Aiken, Taylor Hicks, etc.) to unique, worthwhile losers (Daughtry!) But guess what. Even Chris Daughtry hates it when people mention his appearance on this show. Because it is, in its own, Idol way, a puerile, infantile, mindless and banal exercise in finding the next unlikely hero to throw through the ruthless pop culture gum-ball machine. A word of advice to the people who actually tune in every January: go and watch the classic 1981 movie musical "Shock Treatment." Once you see its town overwhelmed to Orwellian proportions by TV shows like this, you will see the error of your remote-controlled ways.
Review of American Idol
