Thursday, February 23, 2006

Lost Reruns Make Me Gay

Originally uploaded by dangunderman.
Lost can't seem to get its shit together. They've taken more hiatuses (hiati?) this year than Dubya. Last night ABC replayed the pilot, which is particularly strange since so many potential plot points introduced in the first episode have fallen by the wayside.

So instead of watching that, the missus put on American Idol, which featured performances from the final 12 guys. There's this freakazoid named Taylor Hicks who went last. He's a bit schlubby, prematurely gray, and has no real sense of style.

There's a documentary called Fast, Cheap, and Out of Control by Errol Morris that features four people with strange jobs. What they do becomes riveting only because of their passion for, say, naked mole rats. I don't give a shit about naked mole rats, but the dude who works with them is so into them, you can't help but love the freaky things, too.

So most of the singers, even those that were good, were nervous, which in turn made nervousness the dominant emotion of the performances. Not Taylor. The guy is pure music. As soon as he started singing, joy. That was it. Utter bliss. He can really sing, which is a plus, but more than that, the dude was infectious. That he's a schlubby, prematurely gray, no-style motherfucker melts away when he sings.

Go, Taylor Hicks!

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At 1:55 PM , Anonymous said...

Aw. Thanks, mister!


At 8:45 PM , Blogger Ali said...

Dude's only 29. The prematurely gray works for the Jon Stewarts and George Clooneys and Matthew Codys of the world, but I desperately want to give this guy a rinse.


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