Thou Shalt Not Have False Idols

I hate American Idol. It's glorified karaoke. It's an overbloated juggernaut that crushes everything in its path. It pre-empts House and sends Lost scampering for a later time slot like a little bitch. It produces mediocre pop stars who don't write or compose any of their own material. It has, directly or indirectly, produced such inane phrases as "Soul Patrol" and songs like "Jesus, Take the Wheel." It prolongs the slow, painful deaths of the careers of inebriated wash-ups like Paula Abdul.

This article predicts that Lost will die after its fourth season, and the swan dive of its ratings are due in no small part to Idol. Lost ain't what it used to be, but it's still better than watching a limey make fun of autistic people who think they can sing.

To illustrate my hatred, I am going to give Sawyer-like nicknames to current Idol contestants:

Antonella Barba: Meadow Soprano
Sundance Head: The Other Farley Brother

I don't have any others because I don't watch the show and I don't know who the contestants are. But I hate them.