Jambalaya!

I can't believe I'm writing a post about American Idol. I'm not a regular viewer, but I have tuned in a couple times, perhaps driven by sheer curiosity as to how Sanjaya is still on the show. Man, if I knew about the ponyhawk in high school, the hair landscape of Lisbon Falls would have been much, much different. But I digress.

On Tuesday, Brooke and I watched American Idol. I explained (as if I am some sort of American Idol tour guide) how Sanjaya really wasn't a good singer, and that he was hanging on by hair alone. Brooke thought I said Jambalaya, so now that is what we call him. Anyway, we had a reasonable enough time making fun of the judges. Could Randy complete a sentence without using the word "dog"? Could Paula, in what appeared to be a drug-induced haze, finish a sentence? Would Simon call me directly on my mobile? Will the Rebuplicans fire the judges because they're not promoting the party's agenda? America needs to know!

The small shred of dignity I was holding onto was based on the fact that while I do admit to watching the show one or two times, I didn't vote. But then I felt like Bill Clinton. You know, Mr. "I tried marijuana, but I didn't inhale." Who the hell tries marijuana and doesn't inhale? I really trusted him less after that. That reminds me... who's voting for Hilary?

Once again, I digress.