Bill Vendall or Rutherford Bixby III

Matty the Mainer's friend Heather showed him this video, which he showed me, that had Sanjaya telling everyone he was graduate art student Bill Vendall, and that his Idol stint was all apart of some graduate project.

That reminded me of my buddy, Rutherford Bixby III, descendant of president Rutherford B. Hayes on his maternal grandmother's side. He was a graduate student in cultural anthropology specializing in American pop culture. He's been on Big Brother twice. You may know him better as Chicken George.

It was interesting watching him on the Big Brother All Stars, because there was this understood wink-wink nudge-nudge whenever he talked about how smart the Doctor was, or when he became a member of Chilltown. I really thought he was going to give himself away when he almost put the Doctor up for elimination, but luckily Mike Boogie stepped in and bailed him out with his little power play about his "power that can change the game" thing. That Rudy, dumb like a fox.

Mads and I saw him present a paper based on his doctorate dissertation after his first appearence on the show, and we figured the game was up. But CBS didn't seem to care, and he made the All Stars show. Chicken George and Rutherford Bixby III were such disperate personas they figured it wouldn't matter if they brought him back. They were right.

Mads: No, Not My Antonella

It happened. They cut her. And with it, they cut my reason to watch American Idol. Sure, she may not have been as good a singer as some, but she was definitely better than that other chick that got through... I don't remember her name... you know who I'm talking about, the Latina... Christ, why can't I remember her name?

Anyway, I put in a call to my old buddy Simon, and he was a little annoyed with me for championing Antonella's cause.

"Yeah, but, Mads," he said. "She just can't sing. And this is a singing competition."

Oh is it? Apparently not. And if you're not going to put the best singer through, you might as well vote for the best looking chick. I've gone to bat for you quite a bit America: from SUVs to bad John Cougar Mellencamp jingles for inferior to import Chevrolets, even as far as the whole second term for Bush thing... but this not voting for my homegirl... this is too much.

He Voted for Antonella 76 Times

Matty the Mainer was in town last night to watch a little Idol with us. He had a ton of Cingular roll over minutes to use, so he wanted to vote for Antonella, because he thought she was the worst. I think he got the idea on voteforetheworst.com.

"So you're trying to skew the results by voting as much as possible for the worst, even if there are better singers who deserve your vote more?"

"No, don't be so cynical."

"Okay, indulge me with you reasoning, I want to hear this."

"It's simple, Deep Cheeks: America is all about the underdog, right?"

"Okay."

"Well, what's great about Idol is that we don't only get to root for the underdog, we get a chance to help the underdog out. What could be more beautiful? I'm not voting for Antonella because I think it'd be funny to keep her around. I'm voting for her because I'm pulling for her. I believe in her."

I looked at him for a second.

"You're full of shit, you know that?"

"Whatever. Did you TiVo Monday's episode of The Hills?"

"Yep."

"Then let's pop it on. I want to see what happens when Lauren's friend hooks up with Brodie. And that Audrina's hot."

"True 'dat."

I Was Attacked by Taylor Hicks

That's right, I was assaulted by the American Idol stand-out. I was at a bar in a small New Hampshire town, having just come from an exclusive brunch with Barack Obama and about thirty other people. At the bar, I made my way over to the box of juke, and found the most amazing song ever: Billy Ocean's "Loverboy".

As the song started, I turned to the bar to signal the bartender to pour me another mimosa, when I was tackled from behind. I tried to get back up, but this figure was upon me, reigning blows. It was Taylor Hicks... only it wasn't...

It looked like him, only bigger, and greener. His gray blazer was torn to the point that it was only a tiny vest on his gross pectoral muscles. Someone scooped me under the armpits and dragged me out into the parking lot. It was Randy.

"Damn it, dawg, why did you have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Whenever someone plays "Loverboy" in front of Taylor Hicks, it sparks this uncontrollable rage. You're lucky to be alive."

"That's hot."

American Idol Audition

Pageant Girl was still hanging around our apartment, much to my chagrin, and her new thing was a desire to audition for American Idol down in New York. She thought she had what it took to be a star, and wanted to know what Mads, my Norwegian companion, and I thought. Mads convieniently forgot to tell her he knew Simon Cowell personally.

She sang Kelly Clarkson's "A Moment Like This", and it was so bad that Mads and I wore faces similar to those a two-year old would wear after being given a lemon and unknowingly eating it. I spoke first.

"Um... I think... I don't know if that song was right for you."

"Woman, you sucked. Don't quit your day job, whatever that is."

"Oh, you're such a kidder, Mads. How was it really?"

"I'm Norwegian, we don't kid. Woman, you can't sing if your life depended on it... which should be all right, because I couldn't imagine a scenario where it would."

She looked on the verge of tears, so I jumped in.

"I don't necessarily think it's your ability to sing. That song just wasn't made for your voice. I'd try another."

"Like that Ashley Simpson song, 'Pieces of Me'?" Mads said.

I looked at him, he looked at me, and then together:

On a Monday, I was waiting... and on Tuesday I was waiting... and Thursday I can't sleep. Then the Phone rings... I hear you... the darkness... a clear view... you've come to rescue me

Pageant girl was none too impressed.

"Are you guys gonna listen to me sing or what?"

"Sing the chorus with us, Pageant Girl," I said.

Oh, it seems like I can finally rest my head on something real... I like the way that feels. Oh, it's as if you know me better than I ever knew myself... I love how you can tell... all the piece-ass, piece-ass, piece-ass of me.

She stormed out of the room and slammed the door while Mads and I were giggling.

"Shouldn't you go talk to her?"

"Probably, but Days is going to be on in a few minutes, and I don't want to get into some big thing that may run into it."

"Oh."

We both kind of just looked at the floor for a second. Mads lifted his head first, and looked at me.

"For what it's worth, I thought your idea about doing a new song was a good one."

"Thank you, Mads."

"You're welcome."