“IT STRIKES” Again: My American Idol baby and ten steps to a healthier lifestyle

[The following column was published in April, 2003, a time when I always had coffee money and a few fivers in my pocket. Oh, how times have changed. The fivers are gone and the two-mile loop (mentioned below) has been replaced by an exercise bike. gah]

My American Idol Baby and ten steps to a healthier lifestyle

Tupperware Friday was a big hit. I mixed together five items found in plastic containers at the back of the fridge, added a splash of Memories of Kashmir Spicy Tandoori Sauce and created a hotter, spicier version of Harrison Hash. Because her taste buds have been numbed by other tongue-tingling excursions down strange culinary paths, Pat didn’t notice the difference.

By 7:30 p.m. the dishes were done. After expertly balancing the last pot onto the top of the awkward tower of rinsed dishes I turned to my wife and asked, “What would you like to do tonight? Go for a walk? Stay in?”

Pat stared suspiciously at the stacked dishes and didn’t answer right away. I sensed she was tired after a long workday so before she could formulate a response I grabbed the TV listings. The first three programs scheduled for 8 p.m. were Search for the Most Talented Kd in America, Test the Nation, and Star Search.

“More difficult choices, Pat. Would you like to see (I read from the listings) ‘Youngsters from across the nation perform in a talent competition’?”

“You mean American Idol?”

“I imagine it’s a younger version of that show. Probably like ‘if some of the teenagers made you weep, wait ‘til you see this’!”

Pat said, “What else is on?”

“How would you like to ‘take an IQ test along with a studio audience’?”

“That’s the last thing I need - an IQ test on a Friday night.”


["My American Idol Baby can hit high C!"]

I quizzed her on two easy items just to warm up her brain. I said, “For 5 points - name 5 things you ate for supper this evening.”

Pat tried valiantly. “Left-over rice, some kind of spicu sauce, red peppers. (A short pause.) Corn niblets maybe.”

After a longer pause I said, “I’m sorry, Ma’am. You’re out of time! Not even close.”

We began the second round. “For 10 points - where are your glasses?”

Before she could answer I slapped my hand over the nearest coaster. “Bzzzt! Too slow!” I declared. “They’re on your face.”

“Now, let’s see what else is on TV,” I said. “There’s Star Search. It comes with no explanatory notes but I think we catch the drift.”

We agreed that instead of being offered seasoned performers we are getting more and more peeks at potential entertainers, possible up and comers, who seem to be less prepared every year. So TV viewing is a bit like asking for cheddar to go with your apple pie and getting a gob of Cheez Whiz.

Simon Fuller, the creator of American Idol, wants next to recycle careers of “people who have had a taste of fame but, sadly, their candle has been snuffed.” (Time magazine, Feb. 2003)

And if he carries some programming to their logical extremes we might soon be viewing even younger entertainers with ‘potential’, i.e., American Idol Baby, ‘brought to you live from the maternity ward.’

I put the listings down and snuffed the idea of watching TV. Ten steps later Pat and I were on Cathcart St., walking our two-mile loop.

gah

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