American Idol
I’ve watched a few episodes of American Idol this season, and I got my fill. I probably won’t watch it again until the end of the season when the last 4 or 5 people are left. That way I’m certain to get a decent performance out of them. Everything between the really horrible (and funny!) auditions and the really good performances at the end are a waste of my time.
Anyway… I had a dream that I was part of American Idol, and I’m not sure where it came from. It’s also quite disturbing (at least from my point of view.)
Simon walks up to me and says, “It’s against my better judgment, but we’re giving some of these bush-baby buffoons a second chance at getting on the show. They’re your responsibility. Weed them out, and only give back to me the ones that have shown remarkable improvement.”
As he walks away, I feel the desire to kick his British ass, but he’s my boss, so I hold back. I turn around and I find a ton of hopeful singers at my back. They’re eagerly awaiting my greeting. I say nothing to them, but I motion for them to follow me. I turn my back on them, and lead them up a hill, and into an ancient German castle that resides on the side of a cliff.
As we enter the castle, I pass by a mirror and I look like this guy. That’s right. I look like Vlad the Impaler. That’s when I realize that the people following me into the castle have two options:
- Make the show and win a shot to become rich and famous.
- Fail to make the show, and be thrown into the furnaces in the basement of the castle to heat the castle for the rest of the contestants.
However, the people following me like sheep do not realize their mortal peril. They think that they get another shot at being famous, and the worst thing that can happen is that they are shot down again and that they have to return to their homes a nobody.
I sit behind a table, and person after person after person auditions. My attitude is a cross between Paula (a cheerleader) and Simon (an asshole.) It’s an odd bipolar feeling of going between these two extremes while dressed up like an ancient killer of thousands of people.
In the end, I send hundreds to their deaths to the furnaces (but I’m toasty warm) and a few make it on to the show to try to compete with the real singers in American Idol. Somehow, I’m happy to say that I sent this guy off to the furnaces. Good riddance.
I usually wake up almost right after my dreams are over, but I seem to sense that I slept (and slept quite well, oddly enough) for a while after this dream ended.
