Remote Control Confessions

American Idol makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It's not witty or clever or unique or novel in any way. Yet, when I watch it I cannot help but feel that all is right with the world. Maybe I just need a come-down after Battlestar Galactica killed off my favorite character and alter-ego Kara Thrace (and more about that shit show later this week). Maybe everyone just needs a little dose of unadulterated optimism in her life. I don't know what it is, but I enjoy Idol. Even when the judges and contestants revere some very terrible pop stars (Mariah, Celine, Whitney). Even when the scripted banter between Ryan Seacrest and Simon Cowell amounts to the same you're-gay-no-you're-gay-no-you-are-so-very-very-gay exchange week after week. Even when Paula Abdul blathers on at length using only adjectives and conjuctions. Well, actually, especially then. I just like it.

This season, in particular, I find myself looking forward to the show. I think it might be the uncommon maturity of this group of wannabes (particularly now that Antonella Barba and the interminable Sundance have been purged). Like pretty much everyone, I'm a little bit in love with Melinda Doolittle. She's humble! She's cute! She has OCD! And she can really really sing! My one complaint is that she sings songs I don't really care about. I wish she'd update her songbook by about two decades (My Funny Valentine? This isn't America's Next Tony Bennett). Of course, last week the judges wondered whether Evanescence was too "edgy" for the viewing audience. So maybe Ms. Doolittle is playing it safe with the oldies. Whatever she sings, though, she has twice the conviction of most contestants, which is why she will probably win.

On the other end of the scale -- poor, poor Sanjaya. And Haley. Did they wander onto the soundstage by accident? On a show that traffics in the most middlebrow, non-threatening brand of pop music, these two still manage to deliver the excitement of half an Ambien and a glass of wine.

Speaking of Haley and Sanjaya, I love how Paula soft-pedals her harsh comments by first telling the contestants how cute they look. It's the kiss of death. Maybe that's because Paula's idea of cute looks like this. Weirdly, I couldn't find a photo of Paula wearing a tiara, even though she always wears a tiara. It's like the internet ate all the photos of Paula wearing a tiara. I hope the internet doesn't get sick. But just in case, don't count on email access for a while, ok?

Anyway, thanks for letting me share my secret shame with you. Even if I'm not really sufficiently ashamed. I'll probably write all about this season of Idol, boring you with updates on Simon's and Ryan's comparative gayness. This week's winner: Ryan for mistakenly admitting to his closetful of high heels. Oops! Of course, his reference to the closet didn't help matters any.

Tomorrow: An ode to Starbuck and miserably, humanly flawed television characters everywhere. And an Idol update, of course. I'm thinking Sanjaya is gone.