In the Demonic Grip of American Idol

Okay, I admit it: I’m hooked on American Idol. I started watching in January when they were doing the tryouts. I just wanted to enjoy the “gag” acts, and the performances by people who thought they were good but are actually terrible, the type of act which is what brought fame to William Hung a couple years ago. I’d never watched American Idol before.

In general, I detest reality shows. I watched the first two seasons of Survivor, and then the All-Star Survivor, but that’s the extent of it. I considered myself far too sophisticated to watch American Idol (as if watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer doesn’t, by itself, squelch all claims to sophistication).

But it didn’t take much to get me hooked on American Idol. I read somewhere that the show had been a guilty pleasure, but now, in its fifth season, it has gone more mainstream and people aren’t afraid to admit that they are fans. Well, I’m not exactly bragging that I’m a fan. I’m just humbly admitting that, by letting myself get addicted to AI, I have some deep flaw in my character which merits closer scrutiny.

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