Carry On My Wayward Son

This is Season 1.5 of American Idol for me. I began watching the auditions last year and then broke up with the show for a while. I did reunite with the gang in time to see a whittled down group drown in the grey wave that was Taylor.

It’s refreshing to see that the format and people are pretty much identical to last year's group. The adorable ragtag band of mental defectives, kids on a lark and a few people who might get the break they deserve are all here.

If I was stuck in a room for days judging people for a singing competition where most of the contestants shouldn’t have made it to this point, I’d be a lot more vicious than Simon, on more medication than Paula and even more worthless than Randy.

The person who doesn’t seem to get painted with the same mean brush might turn out to be the cruelest of all. Ryan Seabreeze. What are you doing? How can you be creating those awful TV moments and getting away with it?

The dippier contestants land outside the audition room for their exit interview and Ryan asks them a question or two they can’t answer because they don’t know what’s just happened. And then he stares. And stares some more. The not so TV savvy contestant tries to answer, eyes darting around for safe haven and then little Ryan stares just a little big longer. Excruciating and brilliant.