A whole lot o' nothing. And then some….
Random header image... Refresh for more!

Androgyny Idol

The writers are back. The Oscars are a-go-go. And American Idol has gone….Androg?! What?

I know it’s been on for a couple of weeks now. And yes, I watch it and love it with or without writers striking. I cried for that poor girl who lost her dad and auditioned two days later. Come to think of it, it is a bit weird but hey, that’s TV. And that poor boy who lived in his car? The Leo DiCaprio lookalike? He was ever so Christopher McCandless, but striking out for the wilds of Hollywood instead of Alaska. Devastated when he didn’t make it. But there’s always next year. And that guy from the town of 220? The one whose mom wanted a homecoming queen, but just got…the queen? What happened to him? I’ll be looking for both boys in Season 8.

But let’s discuss the boys of Season 7. Mostly forgettable, to be sure. But so many ladyboys! And so many girlymen. I’m not just talking sexual orientation. I’m talking s/he. I’m sorry, but Danny Noriega would make for a stunning woman. And tho’ he channeled Jonathan Rhys Meyers rather than Elvis last night, I loved him. He’s got my vote.

As does the Youngster. David Thingy. Usually they get some young dude who blows (not in a good way). But this time, the 16-year old of the week (or did he say he turned 17?) was unf&ckingbelievable. He has my vote too.

As does Dreads Travolta, the stoner of the group. Did anyone else notice how, despite the crazy locks and the hippy vibe, the guy is a shoo in for our beloved Danny Zuko? Who wouldn’t vote for that? I would.

And finally, my fave, Michael Johns. Or is it John Michaels? Y’know, the last guy. The Man. The only one of the lot who ooooooooozed it. Love love love him. As a tv crush only of course. And maybe because he looks like my favourite hockey card, the almost-has-been, Darcy Tucker. (Long live #16! Long live no trade clauses!)

But my guy Si was right on the money, all night long. The Manly Man from Oz has “it”. It = sex. There were the guys who radiated Christian country and/or 50’s whitey pop groups. Or some wholesome combo. And the indistinguishable boy band graduates, nary a T-lake among ’em. Or that horrible Axel Rose wannabee. Who wears a bandana that screams “botox me?” Seriously, didn’t that strange design look like eyeborws that needed lifting, or at the very least, plucking? Eeeeew, I nealry forgot about that other faux-rocker with the terrible comb-over. And don’t get me started on that theatrical Chuck ‘n Buck fellow. Gross.

Oh Idol….I’m so glad you’re back. Bring on the androg, the youngster, the dreads. And of course, the hottie. They’ve all got my vote. Too bad it doesn’t count.

Oh wait! I almost forgot to mention Chickezie Jacuzzi. He of the orange suit and lovely demeanor. He’s sweet. he can sing. But does he have what it takes to be remembered? I thought so last night, but obviously in the cold light of day he falls a little short….

Last year, the ladies kicked butt – Be Bop Blake notwithstanding. And tonight, it’s Ladies’ night. Show ’em girls. I dare you….


Anonymous said…

The fact that you can reference Danny Zuko and Darcy Tucker in one entry both awes and frightens me.


February 20, 2008   No Comments


Old News

Oscar who?

The fat lady has sung. And won awards for it. But once the Academy has strutted its stuff, once we’ve seen the outfits, the frozen faces, the sore losers, the passed over , what’s really left to discuss? Ellen? Not bad, not bad at all. Was I rolling in the aisles? Um, no. ut Jack Black and Will Farrell and John C Reilly were hilarious. Maybe they should host next year. Really, they should. All musical comedy, all night long. Oh, wait, that was Billy Crystal. Admittedly, I miss those songs….

So why write now, you ask? Well, simply put: because you asked. I’ve received more than a few emails wondering where the Oscar talk was. I figured everyone and his brother and her mother-in-law are blogging about Oscar. Or were. What’s done, is done. But I’m a bit of a crowd pelaser, so hear I am, BOD. Blogging on Demand.

And since you asked…

Does anyone else think that Jerry Seinfeld was there to subtely pitch himself as next year’s host? His new Bee Movie aside, what’s he done for us lately?

La Kidman. Oh, Nic, what have you done with yourself? Turned from Batman heroine to the Joker. And Mr Freeze. That face! Once so gorgeous, now so….still. She’s always been like a statue – but now her face is too. And not in a good way. According to one of my gossip hound friends, she’s being written up as being 35. 35!!!!! She’ll be 40 this year. Or at least 39. A fellow gemini, I like to keep track. Obviously she does not.

Murphy’s Law. Bird in hand. Calll it what you want, but Eddie’s loss was the scoop of the night. And no one was more surprised than the man himself, who promptly left. Grow up, Edward!

JHu should take a leaf out of JLo’s book and learn how to do the red carpet. The latter, always perfect. The former, I know she’s a newcomer but come on! My mom always told me, never put your hands in your pockets. Someone should’ve told Jen H. Fact is, when you’ve been generously endowed in certain areas, you either accentuate the positive (Ms. Lopez), or you hide it. Drape it. Skim over. You don’t thrust your hands into your fancy shmancy dress. On the red carpet. Or anywhere. It’s simply not a good look. From skimming to straining in a matter of seconds.

That’s about all, sportsfans. While the list goes on, I shalll not. Unless, of course, you’d like to discuss Idol. I figured I’d wait ’til the top 12 are chosen, considering these ealry exiters will be promptly forgotten. They’re the best of the worst, after all, chosen to put – and keep – the real talents in teh spotlights. But let’s let them enjoy their moments in the spotlight, brief as it may be.

Oh, before I leave you….dedicating Let’s Get it On to your parents? That ain’t right.

Go Beat Boxer! Go JT Beckham!



Anonymous said…


11:13 AM

Anonymous said…

It was Kidman’s lips that threw me! She did have very thin ones, but come on – she’s turning into Barbara Hershey. I predict that all this work is going to screw up her career. I feel bad for these women who are evaluated on their looks and then starve themselves or get surgery to keep up appearances and boom, we drop them for being crazy! And yes, I think she is.

12:36 PM

Anonymous said…

Oh, MOAM– your Oscar talk is right on– though Jerry seemed sorta… mean… like he was slumming or something. Don’t forget Jerry, you’re a TV STAR– you may have more money than the front row combined, but c’mon– lighten up. No surprises– except for Alan Arkin– what a great speech. And did anyone notice that because they’re so strict with the time limits on speeches that EVERYONE had there’s written down? No “you like me, you really like me” moments anymore. No one-handed pushups. No spontaneity at all. And the show still ran late! Maybe it was because of the shadow puppets? Also, the nominees are already there– we want our celeb fix– no nominees as presenters! Pad the show! Used to be the co-stars of upcoming movies would get out there– Queen L and John T weren’t even allowed to mention “Hairspray” by name– even though they played them on with music from the upcoming movie! And if you’re gonna trot on Hollywood royalty to give away the Best Picture Oscar– make sure it’s someone in a wheelchair! Was Kirk Douglas unavailable?


February 28, 2007   No Comments


Oscar Talk

It’s official. The biggest lunchbag letdown in showbiz has announced its contenders. Who’s the little gold guy gonna go home with? And does anybody still care?

Yep, it’s Oscar time. So wake me when it’s over.

The Academy Awards has lost its spark. Not that this is news to anyone, but it’s sort of sad nonetheless. Will I still tune in? OF COURSE! But I’ll be bracing myself for the inevitable disappointment. Not because of the cheesy song ‘n dance numbers. And not because of the overall earnestness. And definitely not because of the below-the-line-people’s speeches. In fact, I kinda like those – especially when they thank their families and dead relatives. Those speeches, the death montage and all the tear-jerking sucky stuff I kinda dig.

No, the real reason for the letdown is because every other major award has already been given out, so there really are no surprises. DGA’s, PGA’s, SAG’s. Every critic and their circles. And of course the Golden Globes. It’s like unofficial insider trading to determine who will win the official Oscar race. In fact, nowadays the only way to win an Oscar pool is to correctly guess the short film and documentary categories. For everything else, the work is done.

Still, it’s exciting to hear about Dreamgirls. The most nominations of all. Sure they missed the biggies, but let’s face it, it’s all about Effie. Always has been, always will be. No wonder audiences burst into spontaneous applause when Jenny Hudson belts it out. She’s spectacular. So much so that when asked “Have you seen Dreamgirls?” the only possible answer I could give is “how many times?” (OK, that’s a bit of a spice. Despite my best intentions to go again and again and again, I’ve still seen it but once. But hey, I have the cd – movie and play – in the car. It’s the next best thing to being there. What? There’s lots of flicks out there. Who has time for traders?!)

Looks like Marty Scorcese will finally get his Oscar. Not because The Departed is his best work, but because his time has come. And gone. And come again. And gone. And come again. The Academy loves doing that. Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman, anyone? I liked The Departed and I LOVED Marky Mark in it. But best picture? By the end the entire theatre was laughing – out loud laughing – as the body count rose.

Best Actor race has Mr Whitaker’s name all over it. Haven’t seen Last King O’ Scotland. And I don’t really want to. Maybe because I read the book years ago. For work. Back when I used to work. And I passed on it. Didn’t think it was a movie. Oops. But he seems like a nice enough fellow, and that droopy eye always gets me, so Go Forest, Go.

Yes, I know it’s Helen Mirren’s year, but if I had a vote, and if it counted, it would be for Dame Judi. Always. Personally, I think Ms Mirren is a TV actress. An awesome TV actress, but I never can get past Prime Suspect. I also think The Queen is a TV movie. A very good TV movie, but a TV movie all the same.

But what do I know?

I know that Little Miss Sunshine was fantastic. And that Sasha Baron Cohen was robbed (robbed!). And the saying “yah man” in a South African accent is enough to score a person an Oscar nom. And that Ellen is hosting. I also know that I’m rooting for Babel – in every category. (Even the best supporting actress ones that it so deserves but will never get. Don’t tell). And I know that no matter how you slice it, the best song demos always bite. Big time.

Oh who am I kidding? It’s the Oscars….and it’s all about the outfits!

Posted by Mother of all Mavens at 2:24 PM


Anonymous said…

Kelly from the Bad News Bears was nominated!!! I can’t even deal with looking at him he freaked me out so heavily. I can’t decid if it will be Marky Mark or Alan Arkin as they both stole the movie – what do you think? I know everyone says Eddie, but will oscar? And as much as I love Kate Winslet – whatever on the nom. And Will Smith instead of Sacha Baron Cohen in his sickly sweet movie !!! What’s up with taht?

8:05 PM

Anonymous said…

who are you kidding. you’re already stocking up on peppermint patties.

9:28 PM

Anonymous said…

How can you do an entire post about the Oscars and not mention the biggest and best surprise of the entire awards season put together???????? Ryan Gosling (the most underrated actor EVER) was nominated!! Finally!

And puh-leez, enough about Jennifer Hudson. PLEASE, I don’t want to hear her say “it’s just more than i ever could have dreamt, I always dreamed but never this big, blah, blah, blah” anymore…WE KNOW. You are just sooooo humble and so innocent..whatever.

So long as Ryan shows up.

(OK, I feel better now).

10:44 AM

Anonymous said…

Oh MOAM– Babel this! You’re obsessed. And of the noms, it’s certainly the most desrving. And I agree– The Queen? TV-movie all the way. I saw it again, on a plane, and it was a perfect fit. Little Miss Sunshine? What-ev. There’s always an indie that everyone has to get behind because it doesn’t suck as hard as the other indies we go see hoping that the indie is still thriving. Let’s get real– there are very few indies that are actually still indies and because Little Miss S (in a mini-dress) crossed over, it’s everyone’s Little Darling (now there’s a movie ripe for re-make– though I think Dakota– now that she’s ‘growing up’ has likely optioned it– maybe she can do it with Abigail Breslin in the Kristy McNichol part). But speaking of ‘crossing over’ — and to quote… “he feels the Dreams can cross over…” Obviously not. What up with that? Has Oscar fallen out of love with the musical? Dreamgirls is way better than Chicago. Could it be that Hollywood ignored this because of the African American cast? The gay director? The fact that it’s well-written, well-shot, well-edited, well-lit, well-costuned, and well… well-everything. And this is not just because I am an admitted DG-head. Even if it didn’t get the Best Pic nom– Best Director– hello? Do the voters think J-Hud arrived on-screen fully formed? So what makes me happy– Ryan Gosling was excellent, Marky Mark was excellent, I didn’t see Little Children but you gotta love a comeback story. The real oversight: Children of Men NOT in the Best Picture & Best Director category. If anything’s gonna bump the Dreams– it should’ve been this! Looking forward to the medley of the 3 nominated songs though. It’ll be so sad when they lose to Prince. Who come to think of it would’ve made a great James Thunder Early!

12:30 PM

Anonymous said…

okay– so Prince wasn’t nominated– even after wining the Globe. Make way for Randy– and I mean: make WAY. Are they gonna go all cancer-pity and give it Missy Etheridge? Come to my window– and jump out of it!


January 23, 2007   No Comments


Hey Jude

September. Back to school. Back to books. Back to teachers’ dirty looks.

Back to everybody’s dirty looks ‘cuz the Toronto Int’l Film Fest is on. The stalking, gawking, and party crashing has begun. Not for me tho’. Despite daily visits to Ted, Lainey, and Perez (and a ‘script to US Weekly), I refuse to lower myself to the standards of the camera-toting throngs, opting to see some films instead.

And of you believe that….

That’s right kittens, after sitting out last year due to newborn babe (and accompanying heft and angst) I’m back in the green room. Sorta. Gone are the heady days of lounging backstage at the Galas. What? You call it skulking around, I call it lounging. Tomato/Tomahto. Anyhoo, those days are done, replaced by the wealthy big game hunters who pay to play with the stars. Or stand near ’em, cuz their handlers have become ever so ferocious, protecting their charges from the flashes of unathorized cameras. But whatever, I can still share, right?

So sit back and relax, cuz this might take a while. Ladies and Gents, I bring you the First Annual Mother of All Mavens, Not-even-close-to-the-red-carpet, All-singin’, All-dancin’ Revue Review.

AKA the who’s nice, who’s rude, and who’s loaded with tude report. With a slice of cinema on the side.

First off, saw a Brit Flick called Confetti. LOVED IT! Hilarious and completely improvised. Took ’em 6 weeks to shoot, yet 6 months to cast. Well worth the wait because these actors are GENIUS. Anyone who is married, was married, wants to get married or – hell, knows anyone who is/was/will be married should go go go. Opens later this fall. Remember: C-O-N-F-E-T-T-I. The little flick that could…

Unlike Volver. Sorry Pedro, but I was unimpressed. Sure I liked the film, but I wanted to love it. Problemo was Penny. She was just too hot to handle. Seriously, her beauty was distracting. The camera loves this gal. Little Pia was there in person and, while obviously pretty, I hate to break it to ya boys, but she’s certainly not the robobabe she is on-screen. Go figure.

On the other hand, a man who IS a robobabe (in a farmhanded kind of way) is Brad Pitt. But y’know what? I kinda felt bad for him. The stage was lined 3 deep with snappers (hee hee) and the second Brad set foor on stage the place turned into a rave. They should’ve warned us. We’re talkin’ seizure-inducing amounts of flashbulbs. They should’ve warned Brad too ‘cuz he became a deer in the headlights. Poor guy. And he’s quite slight, not nearly as hunky as expected. Beyond the pretty face was the movie itself: BABEL. Now we’re talking magnificent. It was un-f&cking-believable. Run, don’t walk. Intense and brutal and amazing and and and. Can’t praise it enough.

Oh, and after it was all over? It was like being at a boyband concert. Deafening screams, chants, the works. Ole, ole, ole Brad Pitt indeed. We found ourselves outside with the greatest access ever (basically outside his car. Yes, his car) (we’ll take what we can get, thank you). But my Man and I decided to just take it in stride. And leave. Why stoop to such levels of stalkerazzi? He’s just a guy after all…

Unlike Jude Law.

He’s my fave. Topper on my List. That List. And he. was. there. last night. But wait!Before we get to him, I must tell you we saw Christopher Guests eagerly anticipated oscar spoofer, For Your Consideration.

Two words:

Wha happened?

Loved Waiting for Guffman. Adored Best in Show. Amused by A Mighty Wind. Wouldn’t consider Consideration. I hate to be the one to tell y’all, but it sorta sucked. Yes it was amusing, of course it was. But the subject matter was ripe for the pickin’ and they barked up the wrong trees. Think of any metaphor for DISAPPOINTED and you’ll get my drift. Kudos, however, go to Kitty O’Hara. As always, she stole the show. And Fred Willard wasn’t bad either. But the rest of the gang? Solid “c”: Coulda done better.

Jude Law. Jude Law Jude Law Jude Law. J-u-d-e L-a-w.

In a flick called All the King’s Men. With Sean Penn, Kate Winslet, Mark Ruffalo, Anthony Hopkins, Patricia Clarkson and James Gandolfini. Star-studded? Whatev, wake me when it’s over. Or so said my Man. And he had the right idea.

Flick was a heavy handed snoozefest that went like somethin’ like this: narration by the gorgeous and talented Mr Law. Screaming speech by Crazy-haired Penn. Plot, plot, plot. Shot of cross-lined rural road. Dramatic music. Shot of car/train/truck nearly missing camera. More narration by the gorgeous and talented Jude Law. Another screaming speech, etc. And repeat. Over and over and over.

Swing and a miss.

And the kids themselves?

Sean Penn? Surly, as you’d expect. Princess Buttercup? Gorgeous. Might way 100lbs on a bad day, as you’d expect. Jimmy Gandolfini? A brute and boor, as you’d expect (come on, people, he could go either way) Mark R.? Divine. As you’d expect. Kitty Winslet? Eyebrows aside, a stunner – and also quite tiny. As you may not expect.

And Jude? I could barely look at him. Magnifique! But he’ll be making another appearance later this week. As will I. As you’d expect. Hopefully I’ll muster up the mustard to actually look at him for more than 2 seconds. Or not. Stay tuned for all that…And more!


Anonymous said…

Jude? Really? You don’t live in England anymore, MOAM. You know that right? Maybe you should go dressed as Mrs. Featherbottom. He seems to like the nannies.

2:59 PM

Mother of all Mavens said…

No I certainly don’t live in London anymore. Jude the more Obscure was practically my neighbour. A mere local lad. A B-lister. Look how we’ve all grown! Old enough to know I ain’t dressing like a nanny, let alone a feathered bottom one! Plus he’s been there, done that. Damn.

4:22 PM

Anonymous said…

Excellent entry mother. If only all reporters told it like it is. I care if they are really skinnny, have bad skin, are nice to the homeless (Nathalie Portman reference who I saw not only giving cash, but have a full-on converstaion with a man on the street) – that kind of stuff.

It’s so interesting that Mr. Pitt is so over-the-top famous again because of his sex vixen babe. They won the PR wars hands down. Jenny A should go back to TV – there is no competing with Richard Burton and Liz Taylor!


September 10, 2006   No Comments


The Devil Wears Patricia Field

Shiver me timbers. Yo ho ho and a bottle of Malibu.
What’s with the pirate motif you ask? I dunno…Just trying to figure out how the entire movie-going world can be bothered going to see a flick based on a Disney ride rather than going to play outside. If you must sit in a darkened theatre – and I, for one, must – head straight to DWP.
Duh – Devil Wears Prada!
Finally saw it last night after a couple of false starts, sold out runs, and Dairy Queen diversions. And let me tell you, it didn’t disappoint. Was it a brilliant work of art? Er, no. Oscar worthy? Ummm, a bit of a stretch. A damn good ride? Hell yeah!
When I saw the trailer last week, I knew I’d like it. How bad could it have been, really? Kinda like the book itself – sorta cheesy, but who the hell cares? It’s entertainment. Truth be told, I cannot for the life of me remember if I read the book. I think I did. But I also read The Nanny Diaries, and some other ex-fuax-se about a celebrity tabloid reporter. And they’re all kinda the same for me:young ingenue meets bitchy employer, tries to be “one of them” but remains true to herself by staying one of us. It was one of those books I wished I had written. Except as weird as my years working for a big shot English-gone-Hollywood movie director was (at times), it was never really that book-worthy. Anecdotes a-plenty. Scandalous behaviour? Only if I spiced it.
But back to the movie. It’s the perfect summer flick. And not just a chick flick either. Boys, don’t be afraid: the cinema was packed with your kind. It was actually kinda weird how many men were there. Straight men. Maybe they came to pick up women. Or maybe they were out to revel in their true metrosexuality. Whatever, they enjoyed it too. Everyone there seemed to enjoy it (yep, we had the over-enthusiastic fans near us. The groaners. The whoopers. The worst.).
DWP was an actor’s – and wardrobe person’s- movie. Less a character-driven ensemble piece, tho’ I s’pose you could call it that. No, it was about the performances. These cats owned their roles (for the most part).
First of all, Ms. Streep. Genius! She’s perfect, perfect. It ain’t breaking news – she’s got the ice queen down pat. Hence all the buzz. So nothing new to report there. But did you know Stanley Tucci’s quite the cool queen himself? Divine! I’ve never been a huge fan of Mr. Tushy, I’ll admit. Maybe because I was obsessed with Murder One way back when. He was Richard, the creepy guy who did it. The murder, that is. Remember? Anyhoo, he’s terrif in DWP.
And props (yep, I said props) to Anne Hathaway. Not too horsey, not too doe-eyed, not too keen. She almost broke Brokeback Mountain for me. Made me want to hurl. So it was with extreme skepticism that I approached the theatre. But not only didn’t she wreck the flick, I thought she was quite good. Believable, beautiful, and – that boatnecked-and-buttoned-up combo with the cap and layered necklaces aside – she owned those outfits! Not that the outfits were anything I’d pine for….But they served their purpose – to make Patricia Field a lot of money and keep that Sex in the City trendoid cheese look in our collective consciousness.
Oops. I almost forgot about Emily Blunt: Fab. And Adrian Grenier: Vince. The other folks were forgettable and/or insignificant so we’ll fast-forward over them. Especially fashion-boy-love-interest-guy from that kids’-lawyer-advocacy show that flopped. But you get the picture. So skip on the Pirates in their has-been boho garb and head straight to Prada – if for no other reason than to see what you’ll be wearing this fall.


Anonymous said…

“ex-faux-se” — brilliant! Get Heather Reisman to put it on a sticker and slap it on to “A Million Little Pieces” and on to that plagiarizing Harvard chick’s book, too. You’ve coined a new one, MOAM. Add it to the lexicon!


July 11, 2006   No Comments


The Finale

Everybody’s talkin’ about the young Mr. Hicks. The Grey Goose. The Silver Fox. The harmonica-totin’ whiskey tenor who kicked some serious Idol butt last night! What more can I say? Soul patrol rocked the house down. Or is that a contradiction in terms? Whatever. He did. His new force-fed single aside, the guy’s the bomb. Some people I know thought he was mentally challenged. But for real. I say all part of his charm, people, all part of his charm.

I think American Idol is the new Miss America – it’s just all the talent competition. Or maybe it’s Oscar Night. But less boring. Think about it: in Hollywoood, at the Kodak Theatre. Broadcast to 200 million people world-wide. It has the glitz, the glamour, the cheesy host with the cheesier jokes. Last night’s show even had the statues – or were they statuettes? Swap the songs for speeches and waddaya get? The Academy Awards. Guest stars, skits ‘n sketches, even a red carpet – Oscars. Minus the death montage. I wish they’d do a where-are-they-now segment. That’s a death montage in itself. Kind of.

Since pretty much anybody who’s anybody watched the damn thing (and if you didn’t, shame on you!) let’s just recap some of the finer moments, shall we?

Who could forget the quick shot of David Hasselhoff in the audience? Crying. Yup. Real tears. Runnin’ down his face…

Who can understand why they bothered giving those who already had their 15 minutes (or 15 seconds) of fame another shot? That freakazoid dancing guy? He scared me. That weird Clay Aiken guy? He scared me too. Pick a better idol friend. That Mr “I-swear-I’m-straight” Aiken? He scared me the most.

And what’s with Meatloaf’s aversion to touching? Didja notice? The red hankie thing? I kept waiting for him to wave it or throw it or wipe his brow with it. Or something. But he used it to touch McPheever. He held her hand, whilst holding the hankie. Was he afraid of picking up some germ? From her? Other way around, dirty boy, other way around.

I loved Elliott, as always. And his mother. And his duet with Mary J. Sure he lost his newfound confidence real quick. But that’s part of his charm. God bless him.

And Paris. Held her own with Al Jarreau.

Toni Braxton. Toni, Toni, Toni. I think she and Paula got together and shared a little tipple or popped a little somethin’ before the show.

I thought Chris and his twin from Live were kinda funny – funny, strange, not funny haha.

Does anybody remember the husky-voiced, dead-eyed girl? She was one of the first to go. What on earth was her name? I felt kinda badly for her.

Mandisa, Mandisa, Mandisa. Red and white. Not great colours for couches.

Burt Bacharach and Dione Warwick. What more can I say. There was something for EVERYONE.

And finally…PRINCE!! Now the show’s really got cred. And no intro or nothin’. My take is that they weren’t sure whether or not he’d show up. They probably had the finalists prepare a little fare-thee-well duet just in case. Thank god he showed. ‘Cuz he was HOT.

As you can tell, I don’t have much to write about today. Idol. It was on. It was hokey. It was sappy. It was long. And I loved it. And my PVR worked so I could fast-forward the commercials. So I really loved it. The phonelines and computers were buzzing today, friends. Yes, everybody called it: Taylor all the way. It looks to me like the bandwagon is jam-packed. Too bad show’s over. For now.

So you think you can dance? It starts tonight….


Anonymous said…

Long live the death montage! And since when did venerable songwriter Burt become a casino gaming table? Bachrach, MOAM, not Baccarat.

5:44 PM

Anonymous said…

there’s no bandwagon sister! I don’t even watch the show and I called it during auditions. Called Fantasia too – but who didn’t? Oh yah – you!!! Also, I turned for a second during a Lost commercial (we were too anxious to wait for the PVR) what is up with his dancing? I had no idea when I picked him that he couldn’t dance. And by the way, why was I not told Prince was on???!!!!!

5:53 PM

Mother of all Mavens said…

bachrach, bacharach, so many spellings…I even checked. Whatev LA, you know who I mean… I never put Baccarat!!!

6:09 PM

Anonymous said…

Wow, I look forward to everyday to read your BLOGS, keeep it up

9:06 PM

Anonymous said…

Clay Aiken is a frieky bitch. And that hair! Yea those two freiks was crazy, mang… the dancing one and the Clay Aiken wanna be. I felt my skin crawl with the Clay Aiken wanna be! He made me very nervous. Anyways… if we are really talking about the show having cred, etc… I would not have it ride so much on the fact that Prince was there, even though he is an enigma and perhaps the most ‘Popular’ of the bunch. He is an original in the sense that he morphed other people’s style into his own unique style, to make his own unique style… but he owes way too much to Clinton and Sly.

I think that the real cred belongs to Burt Bacharach, actually. And I wish more younger folks truly understood the importance of this songwriter. He does not write music for lounge singers and for people of a much older and conservative generation. His music and lyrics are timeless. Just put on some of his classic music song by Dion and close your eyes. His shit is as important as the Beatles, Dylan & Stevie… easily. His art transcends time and genre. He is just great, end of story! But it gets lost on the younger folks who just don’t get it. And I am not a younger folk but I do get it. It’s a shame.



May 25, 2006   No Comments