The song remains the shame.

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Post-Hung, it’s not even a big deal when a weirdo grabs a few seconds of fame for being an impossibly shitty singer. Last night’s American Idol had those kids, the ones who were coddled in their Nowheresville bubble with coos of “My little angel can sing,” right up to the second that Randy or Simon told them to shut the fuck up. (Paula barely said anything intelligible all night; girl was wasted.) One kid showed up for his audition with those hippie sticks you see in university quads and at freejam concerts; he also tried desperately to impress with a last-ditch flurry of stilted vaudevillian soft shoe. I can’t remember what he sang, but I know it sucked, and dude definitely got stuffed in a locker this morning at his school.

Seacrest and his camera crew greeted the kid in the hall for his exit interview, and caught a full second of rage before he melted into a teary mess of Midwestern dream vomit. Who was there with the sawdust and vacuum? The kid’s mom (I assume), who comforted him with a hug and the reassuring statement “Don’t worry honey, you’re only 16. You’ll still be famous.”

What the fuck?

What happened to “Don’t worry honey, you’ll still go to college,” or “Don’t worry honey, at least you’re still the tri-county area’s 2006 hippie sticks tumbling champion,” or even “Don’t worry honey, you’re still my boy?” I guess it’s fine for parents to encourage their little chickadees to sing, even when they can’t. But encouraging them with something as callow as fame seems like child endangerment. Success, maybe. That has its problems as a dream, too, but at least there’s something tangible to achieve. Fame or celebrity are just empty words interchangeable with Daughtry, Nicole Richie, and Tila Tequila. Besides, what that kid and his mom didn’t realize is that he just was famous, and that now it was over. In 2007, fame is pretty lame.

Anyways, Good luck, dude! Oh wait, you can’t read this. You’re stuffed in a locker with those hippie sticks jammed down your jeans.

JTL

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