For some reason, every year we make a big deal out of the Boston Marathon. It's a national story, as if we're suddenly fascinated with the concept of running. A half a million people gather to watch people run for hours. Any other day of the year if you asked a drunken Massachusetts crowd to watch somebody run for four hours, they'd smash a bottle over your head. Marathon day, suddenly it's the talk of the town.
The main problem I have with the Boston Marathon is the same problem French people have with the Tour de France. The home team just isn't very good at the competition. The last time an American won the race was in 1983, which coincidentally was right around the time Jack In The Box started serving the 2000-calorie Bacon Ultimate Cheeseburger. Since then, we're stumbled to the finish like a Will Ferrell character while Kenyans have won seventeen of the last twenty men's races. I'm completely okay with that, by the way. In Kenya, you run because you have to. You run because it's a part of your culture, your transportation, and your survival. In America, we drive ourselves to the gym so we can get on the treadmill.
I'm not being xenophobic, I'm just saying a runner who looks more like a Belushi brother crossing the finish line is a more interesting story to me than seeing a 78-pound guy with 1% body fat win the race. The only thing that interests me about that scenario is wondering if he's heavy enough to break the tape. I like my athletes to weigh more than their shoes.
I'm completely okay with running, just not as a spectator sport. I have a lot of friends that run, all of a sudden. It seems like we all got near forty, and we all realized we hadn't moved since we were thirty. I salute them. I went out and jogged a mile and a half last weekend, and my knees thought Jack Bauer was trying to get information out of them.
Running for me is just a part of another sport. If they finished the marathon while having to catch football passes every fifty yards, or had to touch bases and turn corners, maybe then I'd be more likely to pay attention.
Reid Kerr ran distance in high school, a fact which gets funnier each and every day.
Nobody gets named "Ethel" anymore, do they? If someone refers to "Ethel," it's a safe bet they're referring to someone who remembers that World War I used to be called The Great War. Reid Kerr doesn't know any "Ediths" either.
Great, Walmart won't sell me anything for my pounding sinus headache because it's after 9, and they're afraid I'm going to use it for meth.
Meanwhile, I could probably easily buy meth from 80% of their customers in the store right now. I could wander into the parking lot, avoid the badly-aimed security cameras that are only there to keep you from shoplifting, and probably buy something strong enough to make my head explode.
Thanks, Walmart.
Reid Kerr is tired of pollen. If you don't know what that is, you're very lucky.
Adam Lambert is the celebrity mentor for this week. What advice can he pass on to the current crop of Idols? "Don't kiss a dude onstage in your first national appearance, because it will terrify middle America."
Crystal starts us off with "Saved," a gospel Elvis song that's not one of his more well-known hits. Nice call here, as she's basically doing a song without having to worry about comparisons to the original. As with last week, Crystal's positioning in the show indicates they're pretty high on her. She knocks this one out, as usual.
Andrew does "Hound Dog," a song that's going to be hard to cover and put an original spin on. Sadly, Andrew puts an awful original spin to the song, and it just comes across as weird. Simon calls it "lazy."
Tim does "Can't Help Falling In Love With You," sitting on a stool in the acoustic position behind the judges. He does a very pretty arrangement of the song, but there are some weird harmonies in there. Adam advises him to use the falsetto in the last chorus, but Tim wisely ignores him.
Randy's quote? "This may surprise you, right? I actually liked it."
Not exactly the highest of praise, but Tim's starting to catch on.
Lee performs "A Little Less Conversation," another good one for him. He's not as over-the-top as last week, but he's hitting his stride.
Up next is Aaron, doing "Blue Suede Shoes." Very strange pick for the youngster. It comes across as very High School Musical, especially when he drops "liquor" from the song and sings "drink my cider from an old fruit jar."
By the way, is "Blue Suede Shoes" the only song in the rock and roll era that discusses slander? Feel free to discuss.
Siobhan sings "Suspicious Minds," which the judges are split on. Siobhan tells them she can't label herself with one singing style. That's fine if you already have a fanbase, but American Idol is all about shallow, gut reactions about pop stars. People want to be able to categorize their favorites, even if they have other facets. Kris Allen is the singer-songwriter type, Adam Lambert is a glam rock star. You can't be an enigma and play on the national stage.
Fresh off his save, Michael is doing "In The Ghetto." The judges love it, even Simon gushes. I still don't think Mike wins it, but the contest is a thousand times better with him still in it.
Katie sings "Baby, What You Want Me To Do," another song that's not one of the top ten. She's got a great voice, but something about her just doesn't click with the fans. The judges are unimpressed.
Casey is the closer, with "Lawdy Miss Clawdy." He's right in his wheelhouse with this one. It's nothing different from what he does every week, but he sounds good doing it. The judges are a little disappointed in him, but he's just giving them what he is.
Top Three: Crystal, Michael Bottom Three: Andrew, Aaron, Katie Going Home: Andrew, Katie Reid Kerr thinks American Idol should do a them night of songs about Elvis, rather than Elvis songs. Let them do Mojo Nixon's "Elvis Is Everywhere."
Well, it's safe to say the odds have been raised on 24.
Since the announcement this season will be the show's last, two episodes have given us two big character deaths, and two straight "silent clock" endings.
The lovely, yet-possibly-crazy Renee bit the big one this week, shot dead in a post-coital sheet wrap while preparing to unveil the next big bad guy.
Two things happened in this episode that rarely occur on the show. Jack was hungry and thirsty. You almost never see him eat, possibly because they'd have to explain how he goes to the bathroom.
One of the other quirks of the show is that thanks to the omnipresent timing, we know now how long it takes Jack to have sex. From first kiss to afterglow was right about twenty-eight minutes, if you're scoring at home.
By the way, not counting his time in the Chinese prison, everyone Jack's ever slept with on the show is either dead or mentally incapacitated. That's not a good sign. If Jack's got eyes for you, good luck, you're not long for the world.
Also, if Jack yells "Stay with me" at you, you're a goner. Hope you enjoy your SAG card while it lasts.
For a show so bad early on in the season, 24 has certainly flipped the script for the second half of the final year. There's always that moment over the course of the 24 episodes when the enemy turns, when the first plotline we were following abruptly ends and the second, more dangerous bad guys are revealed. 24 has done that nicely this year.
It's also gone back to the basics. It's about Jack. When it comes down to it, we don't really care about Renee, or the other CTU agents, or Freddie Prinze Junior. If Jack's not involved, we're not paying attention.
Now, however, Jack is invested. And he's angry.
And yeah, we're watching again. Reid Kerr is wondering whether Keifer Sutherland is a movie star, or just a guy who made some movies and now has a really good TV role.
There's another Free Willy movie? Seriously? Didn't Willy just eat someone a few months ago?
Perhaps they should start easing back on the cute-killer-whale movies while the memories of the actual-killer-killer-whale are still fresh in our minds.
Likewise, if they plan on releasing a movie where Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger gives kids a strong moral lesson, or Jesse James plays a hero who fights Nazis instead of sleeping with them, perhaps you should just leave those on the shelf, too.
And for my money, if you have to rescue the same whale from getting landlocked four times, Darwin dictates he's a goner.
It figures. Jeff Bridges wins an Oscar, Beau Bridges plays second fiddle to a whale in a straight-to-DVD movie.
Reid Kerr has nothing against whales. Or in favor of whales, for that matter.
I'm not sure why, though. After eight years of American Idol, I guess I should be used to talented singers being voted off the show by now. It could be argued that not winning the show might actually help your career more than actually being named the last Idol standing. However, Big Mike getting the boot, albeit temporarily, this early in the competition floored me.
If you missed the results show, Michael, Aaron, and Andrew were the bottom three. Andrew joined Mike in the final two, and Mike was eliminated. After he sang "This Woman's Work" for his encore, the judges used their one-time save to bring him back for next week.
It's not hyperbole to say this is the worst American Idol season yet. While the ratings are still strong overall, the show is no longer the king of the airwaves. Media writers are openly discussing this year's crop as the least talented, and bringing in Ellen Degeneres hasn't jump started the excitement level. Simon is in his final season, and lacks the sarcastic fire of previous years.
At this point, I only see three contestants who are smooth enough to win the contest and pick up the Idol gauntlet. Mike, Casey, and Crystal are all good enough, and already formed enough as artists to win it. The other remaining five certainly have good moments, but also seem differing shades of awful. They're just not consistent enough to take it.
And then, Michael gets knocked off in the round of eight, and a bad show gets worse.
It was stunning enough that Ryan Seacrest seemed shaken, his encouragement to Big Mike to sing his way back onto the show seemed sincere. The judges didn't seem to waste much time giving him their only pardon.
But that's the hook of the show, I guess. The audience wants what it wants, and votes accordingly. If they don't believe in Chris Daughtry, he's gone. If Adam Lambert scares them too much, Kris Allen is crowned the king.
If Big Mike's talent, stage presence, and life story aren't enough to sway the voters into making him one of the top seven, though, I'm not sure it matters.
Reid Kerr may not be an American Idol, but he is developing the body style of the American Dream, Dusty Rhodes.
Frankly, I'm stunned.
