Wednesday, August 30, 2006

weebles warble

The "American Idol" tour wrapped up the other night. A snarky review in the Los Angeles Times opened with these words about the song "Living In America":
It wasn't merely that moments before turning James Brown's goofy late-career hit into a lost song from "Rent," the group was singing Queen's "We Are the Champions," an anthem that should be kept as far away from funk as a Zippo lighter from a Jheri curl. It wasn't the visual clash between Kellie Pickler's corset-stretch jeans combo and Katharine McPhee's evening gown, or the blinding whiteness of Ace Young's teeth, or the nauseous, back-seat-of-a-speeding-car feeling caused by witnessing Taylor Hicks' crazy dance moves in the flesh. It was the complicated confusion of the whole spectacle.
The target audience for the concert obviously does not include music critics for major metropolitan newspapers. Instead the show is designed for people like my nine-year-old niece. Her parents took her backstage when the tour hit Washington, D.C. I scanned a copy of the publicity photo she got autographed by the Idols. See if you can decipher the signatures:

If you're really into the whole Idol scene, you've probably already been to the Pop-Tarts website to watch an exclusive tour webisode. If you haven't yet, feel free to use the secret code from the inside of my son's last box of Frosted Raspberry. It's FRRB456K. Here's another hint. If you do a Google search for that code, several others will be revealed to you also.
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Anonymous Pam Mc said...

Thanks Frank!


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