I have another confession to make: I watch "American Idol."

And I don't particularly like it.

This is not to say that I didn't watch nearly every episode of the season. In the beginning, it was mostly morbid curiosity that drove my desire to catch it every week. Watching some of those people "sing" was like watching a car crash -- you know you should look away, but you just can't. But as the bad, the worse, and the downright crazy were slowly whittled away, leaving only those with, God forbid, talent, I felt my interest waning.

Yet somehow the car crash phenomenon kept me coming back week after week. Through Ryan Seacrest's painful hosting, Paula Abdul's mindlessly positive comments, and scores of bizarre interludes where the contestents hung out at car washes and 50's diners, I kept on watching.

As the finale drew closer, the media was abuzz with talk of American Idol. Who would the winner be? Would Clay's Broadway voice triumph over Ruben's smooth crooning? Would sassy law student Kimberly beat out country boy Joshua? Has Ruben ever had his cholesterol checked? As I pondered these burning questions, one thing became clear to me: I didn't care. I realized that no matter who won, I would never buy any of their albums. Perhaps I was influenced by my poor first impression of Kelly Clarkson's debut album (which has on it the most boring song ever written,) but especially after the early departure of bordering-on-rock Kimberly Caldwell, the competition was full of people I didn't care about singing songs I didn't like.

Not exactly a winning combination. So, as much as I would have liked to be excited about last night's finale, I just wasn't. But I want to say congratulations to Ruben...sorry, Ruuuuuuuben. I hope lots of people buy your album. I know I won't.

(*) Required fields

* Name:


* Email Address: (Required, but will not be displayed)


URL:



* Please retype the above number:


* Comments:


Remember info?