Every year I end up getting dragged into watching American Idol, and every episode I am reminded why I hate the show so much.
You would think that a show so named would involve finding someone who not only sings and performs well, but who represents American values. Lately, a more suitable title for the show would be Promoting Multicultural Deviants.
Once the top 20 contestants have been selected by the judges, the fate of the contestants lies in the hands of voting viewers. But up until the top 20 is chosen, it seems that the judges are told by the producers to let in “diverse” characters, contestants who can send the message to America that our traditional ways are passé. The show has devolved into a celebration of who can act the most gay, the most African (not black, but African), and the least like their gender.
While it is not usually the freaks who win in the end, it is they who are celebrated the most up until the top 20 is selected.
This season saw the most extreme contestant the show has ever had. He named himself Jada, wore women’s clothing, plucked his eyebrows, sprinkled glitter on his made-up face, had hair down to his waist, and writhed suggestively on the floor as he sang. Oh, and he gave Madonna-like stripteases. The judges praised his pride in not being afraid to flaunt who he was (correction: who he wished to be). Nikki Minaj, the judge who talks with a black dialect only when she wants to, much like Barack Obama, after the man’s sex-based performance, shouted at him, “You go, girl!” and pet-named him adoringly “Girlie.” Yet he was singing on the boys’ team, so it seemed he was not the only one confused about his gender. He made it very far in the competition, despite singing how Fran Drescher talks. Thankfully he was ultimately booted off, but not before the judges were able to stick it to America by praising him and his oh-so-brave diversity.
There is another contestant who has made it offensively far on the show. She has the Martian-American name Zoanette Johnson. This girl’s speech is so garbled and her lisp so powerful that you cannot understand fifty percent of the word she says, let alone sings. She came onto the stage in a recent episode to assault our ears with “The Circle of Life” from The Lion King. She introduced the song by rambling about some mumbo-jumbo having to do with Liberia and how it’s about time that Liberians see some mainstream representation in America (hey, just what the rest of America was thinking, Zoanette!). She is very proud of her accomplishment of being a black person. So heavy is the struggle to be black, in fact, that blacks make up 30 percent of this year’s contestants, more than twice their proportion in America. (Not that I care; if the top 19 best singers are black and one is white, I’m not going to claim racism; I’ll just point out that those cries would be piercing if 19 of the 20 contestants were white).
American Idol, like so much of the media, has become a conditioner for young people. It tells them to replace American traditionalism with otherworld-ism, to celebrate the vast number of contributions to our society from cross-dressers, and it instructs our male youth that if they want to be fashionable and hip, they must groom meticulously and wear pink cardigans. With this kind of agenda, it’s a wonder the show doesn’t receive federal funding!