"TRAUMA!" Or "I Was Forced To Watch The Auditions"

Over the years, living in places that are desperately poor and/or violent, a great many things – coup attempts, tanks in the streets, children with weapons, people being stoned to death, bombs going off – have happened that should have left me traumatized. Somehow I have managed to cope with all of them. This weekend, though, my friends made me sit through some of the auditions for American Idol. Now I am traumatized! This is what passes as entertainment? People stepping up and playing out some fantasy or delusion of grandeur for the amusement of all? Why does the Coliseum keep coming to mind? Perhaps the judges need to wear togas with red sashes and simply give a thumbs up or thumbs down to the – and I use this term lightly – contestants. I now understand why Randy, Paula and Simon (yes, now that I have seen one audition episode I can speak of them as though they are personal friends – that’s how this works, right?) are they way they are. We are witnessing three separate reactions to the horrors they experience every audition day. I am fairly certain that they were wholly unprepared for what they were to face when they first signed their contracts. As to why they continue, I assume that once a mind has snapped, there is no reason not to continue with the same patterns. That and now that the rest of the world has seen what they must endure, who would accept the position? Paula’s seeming craziness is clearly an attempt to cleanse her mind of sights such as need-a-chest-wax guy and the even worse sight of the same guy AFTER the chest waxing. Randy is fond of words such as ‘dog’ because what else can he call these poor, deluded souls that would be allowed on TV? Simon isn’t really mean; he is in self-defense mode and clearly the healthiest of the three judges. When he slips and attempts to encourage someone who had some talent peeking out of the rest of the wreckage that they call themselves, those people attack him for not instantly granting all their wishes. I’ve only watched this monstrosity once but two cases come to mind: Glitter girl – she would make a good lead singer in a cover band says Simon (or is that Simon Says). Not bad, one can achieve local fame and a decent living, especially in Philly, from such a gig and culture-hero Simon has given his blessing. But, no that was not the scenario that Glitter Girl had constructed in her fantasy and so she unleashed her self-proclaimed ‘actressing’ skills to tell the world that Simon is an evil troll lurking in the recesses of humanity waiting to destroy all that is good and pure. The other was Princes Leia – while her voice wasn’t bad, her appearance was, ummm, distracting. Evidently she wasn’t aware that the judges were tasked with finding an AMERICAN IDOL, not an American intent on bringing a sub-culture to the fore. Again, her fantasy did not go as so meticulously planned and a rant ensued. Her twist? There wasn’t enough diversity amongst those chosen. The show cleverly proved her wrong by showing a wide assortment of those chosen for disappointment in Hollywood. Because, of course, the diversity among the past winners of this oddity wasn’t clear enough (and you must live on some other planet if you are not at least aware of the past winners – oh, wait. I get it now. We’re talking Princess Leia – she just got back to Earth. Now her rant makes sense).

It was a disturbing evening for me. My friends – and my guy – enjoyed watching the various oddities display themselves and the fall-out that occurred from the rejection endured. They enjoyed watching the judges send poor souls with no hope of anything other than humiliation to the superficial Holy Grail that is Hollywood. They speculated on whether or not these people truly believed they have talent or whether friends and family were playing a cruel joke on these sad human beings (the “Moses” man singing “Let My People Go” springs painfully to mind). And I cringed, speculated and laughed right along with them. Images are seared into my brain and sounds are recorded into my memory that will forever haunt me. Questions like “These are my friends? What does that say about me?” will plague me the rest of days. The trauma is complete. My baser instincts have been exposed and my own delusions of grandeur exposed. They will watch more of the auditions, I will not. I will attempt to lift my soul and soar above the madness. Until “Dancing With The Stars”, “So You Think You Can Dance”, “Ghost Hunters”, or any one of the myriad “Your House is Ugly and So Are You” shows comes on.