OUCHIE: Watching this year's snubbed auditionees (is there like, a technical theater term for that?) on American Idol -- the stubborn ones who won't accept judgement -- go out in public to prove Simon wrong provides solid, perhaps sublime testimony to the enduring strength of the human spirit. . . . and the tendency of that spirit to roll right the heck over the fragile framework of human dignity.
Ouchie, ouchie, ouchie!
But it was nothing compared to The Surreal Life, and watching Vanilla Ice throw a crying tantrum about not being able to separate himself from his old image after hounding Gary Coleman out of a Mel's Diner by repeatingly demanding that Gary do the "whatchootalkinboutwillis" line. Vanilla is very, very concerned that the audience get to know him for who he really is and, apparently, he's really a small, cruel, shallow, loud, loutish, unreflective, repellant, petulent bully.
Light side. Dark side.
Mere decadence. Utter depravity.
Realitv is a slippery, slippery slope. I am descending rapidly, but The Surreal Life is still beneath me.
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