Idol: My Top 5

Here are my Top 5 for American Idol:

My pick for this year is Siobhan Magnus. 

I wish I could tell the contestants: 
Don't sing Michael Jackson or Anita Baker.  It can't be done.  
Lee should cover a Jonny Lang song.  


Ideally.. Alex Lambert would be in my top 5.  I really liked the Hispanic kid too.  I voted for both of them until they left.  Of the remaining contestants, the 16 year old kid has an incredible voice, but when I look at him, I see an old man. I don't get him.  I don't get Katie either.  Didi was good last week when she sang Linda Rondstadt, and the judges didn't give her enough credit. Last night she nearly ruined "What Becomes of the Brokenhearted." Clearly she hasn't heard Joan Osborne's version. (Standing in the Shadows of Motown - rent it. It is SO good.)


Typically, I don't like the raspy, hard rock type, but Lee is something more.  I think he and Crystal stole the show last night. 


Last night, I voted for Casey, Lee and Crystal.  It was the first week that I did not vote for Siobhan or Didi.  And the first week that I voted for Casey.


Do you agree with me? Why or why not?


Photos: Fox via MTV.com

Antiquing

A sometime-hobby of mine is antiques: browsing and occasionally buying.  My biggest interest is low-price jewelry.  I also like most things that are different, cheeky, thoughtful, beautiful, and rare.  I am into history and old literature, specifically of the Jazz Age.  There are a wealth of antique stores in my area.  Yesterday I went out for jewelry findings and came home with a lot of altogether different items.  Much to my surprise - most things were discounted 50%. 

The first stop, near the door, was a collection of antique silver.  I'm an afficionado of the cheese plate, and a burgeoning entertainer.  I picked up these butter knives and a spoon (all silver-plated) --

And I turned around and found this 3 piece set.  Sugar bowl, creamer, and tray.  Instantly, I pictured it sitting on a wooden table somewhere, filled with raw sugar and creamy milk, and looking handsome.

And then I found a stack of old sheet music.  It was all so clever.  Some of it was so silly I wished I could photograph it and post to Facebook instantly, but I had left my iPhone in the car.  This one was too good to pass up: "It's the Smart Little Feller Who Stocked Up His Cellar That's Getting the Beautiful Girls."

Words: Grant Clarke. Music: Milton Ager. Copyright 1920.  Check out the lyrics --

"Oh you won't satisfy them/ with presents you buy them

It isn't for presents they pine

Once they wanted a guy/ for the rocks he could buy

But now it's the guy/ with the old Rock and Rye

You may live in a palace/ but Annette and Alice

Will pass up on Dukes and the Earls

For some guy in a shanty/ with lots of Chianti

He's getting the beautiful girls

Oh, you beautiful girls.

I'd love to hear someone play this on a piano! 

Anyway - my total was less than $20. 

To the Editor (Re. an athiest holy day)

To The Editor
The Express-Times

Regarding the March 26th letter suggesting an athiest holiday, I beg the writer to consider the basis of the word 'holiday.' It is 'holy day.' The removal of prayer in public schools, while appropriate, is not much to celebrate. If you are thrilled by it, you might quietly recognize it. Ours is a Judeo-Christian country, out of tradition. I don't see harm in leaving God in the pledge, nor should anyone be chastised if he wishes not to participate in the Pledge of Allegiance.

Friday Photo: Nico the Cat

Happy Friday.  Do something restorative this weekend.

The Addiction

I frequent a website featuring street fashion photography, popular among the fashion world.  It occurred to me today how frequently I have seen a photograph of a person with a cigarette carelessly between two fingers, as if an accessory -- much like a belt, a hat.  This person is usually European, drop dead gorgeous, may be older but is often times younger.  This person is cool.  Confident.  Stylish.  Self-aware.  Or is he?

I have not been affected by a glamorous image of cigarette smokers.  There is an image that reached me much sooner, and it came to me in my youth.  This is an image of a person very, very dear to me, who has been addicted to nicotine ever since I can remember.  An addiction of heavy smoking that stains teeth, fingernails, and fingerprints a shade of yellow.  The lungs, a former pink, are aged black.  An addiction that comes with a cough that is chronic, has texture and layers, and is never just a single cough.  It is a coughing fit.  It is the body simultaneously needing and rejecting the nicotine. 

Ironically, I have suffered from asthma from a very young age.  I've not had the luxury of experimentation, of casual smoking.  When I was five years old, I spent time in a hospital tent so that I could breathe fresh oxygen, free from pollutants.  I remember using my Etch-A-Sketch but forbidden to shake it, because the physical activity was just enough to make me lose my breath.  My older cousin Donna sat with me and shook the Etch-A-Sketch to reset it.  About five years later, I went to the shore with my father and my brother.  We’d forgotten to pack an inhaler or any asthma medication, and I had an asthma attack.  I can still remember my father’s anger and fear as we waited for a prescription so that he could go to a pharmacy and get my medication.  I played basketball in middle school but it didn’t last.  I loved the sport but I couldn’t handle the running.  I played soccer in high school, it was my favorite sport.  I quit because I couldn’t run.  To this day, the following induce breathing problems: animals, dust, exercise, perfume, pollen, smoke.  I practice yoga and have become quite good at it.  My weaknesses gave way to my strengths. 

I am deeply saddened, however, that I must watch my father slowly kill himself with cigarettes.

If you are reading this, and you are a smoker, do me and yourself a favor.

Please quit.

Image: The Sartorialist

"Bingo!"

A couple of weeks ago, I committed to a basket bingo event which raises funds for K's brother's high school baseball team.  Their mother, Sue, had purchased a ticket for me.  I am not a bingo person, but I am a bit of a family person, and they are like family to me.  I was not thrilled but I was honored that Sue had bought a ticket for me, and one for Colin's girlfriend Megan as well.  We were all in.

I keep an open mind and an optimistic attitude at all times.  But this event was doomed from the start.

To begin, it's K's birthday.  I saw him in the morning and then went home and prepared myself a big breakfast - eggs, bacon and toast.  It was marvelous.  The weather outside was hot and sunny, the second hot spring day of the year.  I flipped on the TV.  Step Up 2.  Not exactly my kind of movie, but I turned it on just as the underdog dance crew was assembling.  I couldn't turn off the TV because I was enthralled in the sick moves the dancers pulled off.  I finally got my act together and knew I would now be 10 minutes late and still needed to get dressed.  Not wanting to leave the kitchen a complete mess, I prepared a hot soapy sink for all of the dirty dishes to soak.  By the time I flew out of the house, I was 30 minutes late.

I arrived at the high school and entered the cafeteria.  Upon entering, I was handed a stack of bingo boards (thin paper sheets in groups of 3) I located my group when I saw Sue standing and waving, and the lovely Megan came to greet me. I settled in at the table and turned to the page that my group was on.  I ripped off the cards on top of mine, believing that I had missed five or six games in my lateness.  I threw those games in the trash - a decision that would come to haunt me later.

It was packed with eager Bingo pros and baseball fans and family alike.  The varsity players circled the tables, offering special bingo cards and food for sale, and gathering trash.  After getting acclimated,  I was bored pretty fast.  I would be there for another two hours.  All I could think of was K, who declined the invitation to play bingo, saying "it's a ladies' thing."  I texted K: You owe me.

The events turned exciting when K's grandmother neared BINGO status.  Megan yelled "BINGO!" for all of the room to hear.  We quickly realized that no one at the table had achieved bingo, and Megan's face reddened as she realized that she would never live this down - ever.

Bingo moved fast.  With a group as large as ours playing three games at a time, someone yelled "Bingo" every couple of minutes.  Soon, I realized that I had run out of bingo games.  Sue laughed, realizing that I had thrown my cards out, and the baseball players had collected our trash and consolidated it in the bigger cans at the edge of the room.

And then Sue did something really embarrasing - she walked over to the trash and begin digging through it.  I rushed over to her, urging her to stop.  Another baseball mom walked over and helped her to dig through the trash.  I offered some self-deprecating comments, as I was now meeting K's family friends for the first time.  It was my turn to blush, and I wondered what I was missing outside in the sunny heat.  On K's birthday.

Sue acquired new cards for me, which was great, and I was back in the game.  Megan wanted to get some snacks, and she asked if I'd like to walk with her.  I remembered what it was like to be a high school girl: they travel in packs.  We took a few minutes, which, in Bingo terms, is a long time.  I sat back down and looked at the screen.  I had missed a lot of numbers.  I hurried to mark my boards with everything I'd missed.  Soon I was stopped, and I looked up to find everyone smiling at me: We don't play this game.  It's a special.

Specials, regulars, I had forgotten.  It made sense why we took a break, because we were not playing that game, and I quickly blamed all of this on my newly acquired ADD.  Fumbling for words, I was exasperated: "Does anyone have a gun?"

My companions laughed harder than they probably have in a long time.  Sue removed her glasses to wipe the tears from her cheeks.  I was strangely satisfied in my ability to get a rise out of people.  I should be a comedian.

Friday Photo: Inspiration

I saw this at the store when I was card shopping.

  Not a bad way to look at things.

Friday Photo: Childhood

Who was your childhood idol?  

Has time changed this, among other things?

The Big Idol Upset

Last night was one of the worst times of the season to be eliminated from American Idol, and the audience eliminated some of the best.   It’s befuddling, but also not at all upon a closer look at the audience.  The portion of the audience likely to vote is just a slice of the pie.   Let’s assume that those who vote do so in numbers larger than one.   So essentially, some of America watches Idol.   Some of them vote.  For the same person.   Many times in one night.

Following last night’s picks, I question whether I want to invest my time and energy watching the show.   I have voted for Alex at least 30 times this season.   I was a fan of Andrew, but after his lukewarm rendition of Genie, I was bored and unimpressed.   Tim Urban’s Hallelujah cover was uncomfortable for me.   Ellen went out of her way to hug him.  I wonder if she regrets it at all, in retrospect.   Alex seemed to be one of her favorites, as she praised him regularly each week.  One Entertainment Weekly reporter wrote that Ellen was left speechless exiting last night's show.

Alex Lambert crying is going to be one of the memorable events on the show.  It was unscripted, broke the mold, and showed unguarded emotion.  From Alex.  Krystal.  Lily.  And Siobhan. 

That's not bad for TV, not bad at all.

That the outcry of Idol fans has been so large proves that Lambert actually was an audience favorite - despite not collecting enough votes to remain on the show.  That Lambert immediately spiraled into sadness and remained there for many minutes compounds the difficulty of this judge and audience favorite's early departure from the show.  Even though he looked like a big sissy, his emotional reaction is overshadowed by the surprise element of the talent upset. 

Clearly, Lilly Scott’s peers and fans do not watch American Idol or else she’d have been carried through.   Krystal’s peers do not watch either, largely, but she is getting votes - as one of the few with raw talent, she should be getting votes.

All Alex Lambert has to do now is to prove that he is not a loser.  He’ll not be touring, having fun and making money with his Idol friends.  Hopefully, he’ll be doing something much cooler.
Fortunately, American Idol isn’t about making it to the end, anymore.   I think it is about exposure - establishing a fan base by way of competing.   Look at Chris Daughtry and Jennifer Hudson.   They were not deemed winners, but have two of the most illustrious careers of all Idol contestants.

Of the remaining contestants, very few have Lily's individuality, eccentricity, marvelous style, and ability to carry an obscure or forgotten song.  Very few have Todrick's brightness, vocal range and phenomenal dancing talent.  The younger pageant-worthy contestants simply will not be able to fake Lambert's soul and sincerity.  Sincerity cannot be faked; it is the one thing which cannot be, sincerity.

I’ll see this season out rooting for Didi, Siobhan, Lee and Michael.  After that, I don’t know.  I’m starting to hope that I’ll be doing something much cooler next year, too.

Tiger's Ladies

JFK.  Bill Clinton.  John Edwards.  Eliot Spitzer.  Mark Sanford.  The list of famous philanderers is long, like a big men's club.  Tiger Woods is the new member.  (I know it's not just men - women cheat too - but the traditional women's role as child rearer leaves them more vulnerable, in a sense.)  But what is different is that he's an athlete, not a politician.  He's where he is because of skill, talent and hard work in a field arguably more competitive than public office.  And public officials are, of course, elected and paid by the public.  


Tiger Woods never asked to be a role model.   I suppose being #1 golfer has placed him there.  He craved privacy - his yacht is named Privacy.  I was surprised to hear this of him, since he seems to be wholesome.  But it also proves that we just don't know people, though they're in the public eye so often.  People don't even know themselves.  What we've learned in the days since news of infidelity surfacing: Tiger's human.


Everyone is talking about Tiger - but is anyone talking about the women?  That's what is interesting to me.  As a woman, I expect a LOT of my fellow women.


As alleged mistresses have come out of the woodwork, it's as if each is more scandalous, more fame-seeking than the last.  One headline: Tiger got me pregnant.


I doubt it's true.  If it were: sweetheart, you've gotten yourself pregnant.  It all begins with YOU.

Photo: Chicago Sun-Times

Friday Photo: His 'n Hers

New shirts.  It's actually quite difficult to find suitable women's fan apparel when you want something original, different, that fits well, etc.


So I buy mens' shirts.


It's about that time - baseball.  beers.  longer days.  Spring.

Michael Vick: #7

Michael Vick.  This disgraced quarterback was imprisoned following his role in a Virginia dogfighting ring.  In reference to the fighting, abuse, and killing in which Vick participated, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell called the acts "illegal... cruel and reprehensible."  Vick was charged with two felonies. 


When Vick was reinstated to the NFL and began playing for the Philadelphia Eagles, the outcry was enormous.  Animal rights groups and football fans alike were highly uncomfortable with this convicted animal abuser playing football on the highest national level.


Did anyone have a problem with Vick working in construction following his conviction and prison sentence?


I'll be clear about this: the abusive acts that Vick committed are disgusting.  Abused animals are difficult to look at, and the fact that he inflicted them indicates that his mind is more sociopathic than not.  (When I researched this story, I pulled photos from the internet.  Google 'Michael Vick' and you'll see photos of abused dogs, images manipulated by users to include a uniformed Vick with dogs, in addition to football press photos -- it isn't a pretty sight.)


I can only imagine that the bulk of the country's discomfort was that football fans felt conflicted about supporting a team, watching, or rooting for a dog killer.  In 2006, Sports Illustrated estimated Vick's salary at 25.4 million annually.  If we are disgusted about Vick's reinstatement simply for the fact that he is highly paid, as if rewarded for his crimes - perhaps then, all NFL players are grossly overcompensated for their talents?  Perhaps the real issue is whether the NFL fans, from casual to serious, can abstain from their judgements of Vick just long enough to allow him to entertain on Sunday afternoons and Monday nights.  

Photo, top: Beefbites.wordpress.com  

Photo, below: Sports Illustrated