Yo, yo, yo! Dog Pound! We got a hot one tonight!!!” Randy Jackson hollers, trying to make everyone bark around him.
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“That was the sexiest, sultriest performance you’ve ever done,” Paula Abdul coos, as she tries to cool herself down after the heartthrob performs.
And everyone’s favorite “American Idol” judge ends the torture with a simple, “That was appalling.”
This season’s “American Idol” has produced the biggest amount of talent so far, with the most diverse group of singers on the stage, and has garnered the highest ratings since the show began.
But this season, I’m starting to see the show differently. This season, I’ve begun to despise the judges with all of my heart and soul.
What is their purpose anymore? The show has done extremely well due to the power it gives to its viewers, the success factor its past winners have gained and the likable personalities of the contestants.
Now, while some may argue that Simon Cowell’s insults are what cement the show in to its popularity status, and while I would have agreed with that for past seasons, this year he has got it all wrong.
My biggest pet peeve is how the judges are so contradictory toward the performers week after week.
Take for example, Chris Daughtry. (He’s the bald rocker for those who are out of the loop.)
A few weeks back, Cowell praised him for being the only one to n ot conform to the pop scene after he transformed Johnny Cash’s “I Walk the Line” into his own masterful performance.
This past Tuesday, however, after a rendition of Creed’s “What If,” Simon uttered that Daughtry “can’t keep doing this week after week” because he’s on a “pop idol” show.
Simon, make up your mind before someone punches you in the face. At least give the poor man something to work with so he’s not confused as to what the heck he should be singing.
The good thing about a show like “Idol” is that as seasons go by, contestants are realizing that maybe they don’t have to be Kelly Clarkson, and that other genres can succeed in the competition.
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This season there’s a rocker, a ditzy country girl, an R&B chica, a gray-haired soul singer and a hoarse rocker voice stuck in a country boy’s body.
It’s what makes the show so interesting to watch, but the judges have lately just been putting confused looks on the singers’ faces and aggravating viewers like me to no end.
Paula is wasted every week, drinking from those “Coke” glasses night after night.
Randy is a white man trapped in a black man’s body, trying extremely hard to be tough when really he has no idea what he’s talking about, dawg.
Simon is increasingly antsy and ticked off at the world, and doesn’t care about anything except himself and the money the show is making him.
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