Dear Mr. Taylor Hicks,
I'm a casual fan of "American Idol." I was sucked into the show after browbeating from my mother, who is addicted to mindless reality programming. As someone who has a well-honed appreciation for bad television, your show has become not unlike a low-rent, industrial-powered heroin speedball for me every Tuesday and Wednesday evening.
Since it appears, Mr. Hicks, that you're going to beat the thick-hipped, over-vocalized, endlessly insecure and hopelessly needy crotch-popping Katherine McPhee like a rented mule, I have a couple requests.
First...
Please stop doing this. It is very annoying.
Much as you try, no one is confusing you with Joe Cocker or Ray Charles. On them, this move looks authentic.
On you, quite frankly...
If you have, in fact, suffered a debilitating inner-ear disorder that compels you to bend hard to port every Tuesday and Wednesday evening in front of millions of half-witted heroin addicts, please disregard my request.
Another request: If you're asked again to sing another dreadful version of Bruce Springsteen's interminable "Dancing In The Dark," please, whatever you do...
If you, in fact, choose to do the finger gun, then by all means do not...
...pretend to blow the smoke off the muzzle of your .357 index finger.
And if you, in fact, do the finger gun and then blow the smoke off the muzzle, by all means and for the sake of all things holy and sacred, please, I beg of you...
If, in fact, you do whiff while trying to kick the mike stand in order to look cool...
...don't go back for seconds. It makes you look desperate. And white.
It also triggers massive depression in your former competitor, Chris Daughtry, who still can't believe he lost to a schmuck bar mitzvah singer like you.
Otherwise, good luck this week in the finals. And continued success in looking like George Clooney's boozy, underachieving little brother.
Sincerely,
The Staff At Side Salad