Idol Crap

I stink.

Not literally, of course – I mean, I do bathe nearly every other day. No, I stink figuratively. I stink because I espouse enlightened views and live like a rube. I stink because I can, in fact, believe it’s not butter. I stink because I have not watched one second of the 2006 Olympic Winter Games, but have watched three hours of American Idol when it aired directly opposite Olympic programming.

What is most sad is that I need look no further than my reflection to assign blame. Though not entirely by choice (the Mrs. is allowed to TiVo three shows per week), I have selected to watch crap television rather than my nation’s quest for international sporting glory…and apparently, I’m not the only one:

"American Idol" continues its scorched-earth campaign to cleanse the television landscape of programming we hold sacred. On Tuesday night it made hash out of the Winter Olympics in their first face-off – just six days after "Idol" reduced the Grammy Awards to ratings rubble.

Between 8 and 9 p.m., when the tape-delayed, mostly men's figure skating Games coverage was holding the interest of about 16 million viewers, "Idol" was amusing nearly 27 million by dashing the dreams of roomfuls of Ashlee and Usher wannabes.

Of course, NBC bears some responsibility “Slowrino” games. The incessant fluff pieces turned me off to the network’s Olympic coverage long ago, but in an age when one can’t venture outside without being inundated with information, tape-delaying events for primetime broadcast is simply unacceptable. Even if I cared about who won gold in Cross-Country Skiing: Women's 10km Classical (it was Estonia…can you believe it?!?), I would have heard the result from sixteen different sources before I turned on my TV at night.

I will say this in my defense: perhaps the media should stop trying to create drama and let the sports take care of themselves. Had I invested time in watching, for example, the men’s figure skating event (must…resist…“Brokeback Mountain”…joke…), I would have thrown my shoe at the screen when subjected to a feature on the “bad boy of figure skating, Johnny Weir (see above) who is “redefining” what America expects its male skaters to be:

A huge Christina Aguilera fan, Weir wears a silver charm with the letter "D" for "dirty" (Dirrty is his favorite Aguilera song) around his neck. His nicknames include "Tinkerbelle" and "Simba," and he has a fan club whose members call themselves "Johnny's Angels."

Dude, here’s a free tip – when you wear a swan outfit, you’re hardly a bad boy. And when your nickname is “Tinkerbelle,” don’t think you’re shattering any stereotypes.

At the Torino Games, every bad boy dresses like a swan