The ABC'S of an Ignorant Liar - Part 2

In Los Angeles, I dropped the art pens for a camera. By the eighth week in, I was shooting on 16mm, writing story and script after story and script. When I wasn't in class or working, I was typing away. I would drive down the road and come up with five story ideas. Everything from drawings to outlandish ideas to raise money to make a movie, I was thinking out. One week my sophomore year in college during Spring Break, my head had filled its capacity and I had to get it emptied or I would have been 'certifiable.' I locked myself in my room and punched out four first drafts of screen plays at 120 pages a piece. Not just to write, mind you, but full fledged characters, story and settings in these manuscripts. Upon review of my friends and colleagues, they were 'damn good.' They needed adjustments like any other story, but nonetheless my brain was empty if only for a day. By my junior year, I had written a 307 page fantasy adventure story & script that was grand in scale and elaborate, complete with sketches, maps, timelines and back story to all of it. By my senior year I had shot two films and written a post-apocalyptic script that was given rave reviews, even if the films were 'green,' (novice Student Films.) Along the way, I had compiled journal after journal, (nearly fifty,) of every move and story idea, I had thought of in my life. I didn't go anywhere without a pocket notebook and pen, because if I got to thinking I had to get it out. I have pocket notebooks full of just bulleted set ups for scenes. When I went to my first,(and only Rave,) I filled up a whole book on just the experience. (That being the only surrounding that had me fill up a book. I wrote everything, person and light I saw, because at the time, I knew there would come a day where a film of mine would require a rave scene.) Funny part and here's what I am trying to get out: I didn't need those notebooks, because I remember every look and feel that's ever caught my eye or interest. A song playing on the radio takes me on a journey. When I shoot or edit something, if one of those scenes pops into my head that matches, I use it and the music involved. Friends and Co-Workers will always say, "Garrick, where do you come up with this stuff?" or "Man, that song and the way you did that scene was perfect." My answer, "it just happens." I remember all those little or large moments and store them. Does that sound like an ignorant ADD riddled person? If it does, I'd like to meet the smart ADD guy.

There is only one problem I have with my method of madness and that is, I sometimes let my mouth go as fast as my brain. I blurt out things that may not be dead on, but not so much to 'lie' or 'tell people what they want to hear' but because in my brain I have already figured out how the story will go and I let everybody in on it before the story has actually finished running its course from being excited about it. It's an impulsive thing that I have managed to tone down but not out quite yet. For instance, I would be offered a contract job and get it in my head and begin telling everybody and planning everything, then they would call and cancel the job and I'm stuck telling everybody that I am not doing it now or I'm real bad about saying that a job is done, when I know I still had a couple more adjustments to make. It's not to outright 'lie,' it's just that being done on a job is so exciting, I tend to after all the work say it's done because to me, after 60 hours in front of an editing bay and I am down to my last few, it's finished. These accusers of ignorance and attention deficit will also say, I don't listen or follow through. That may or may not be true. I may appear to be a space cadet or off in "Garrick Town." It's because I'm planning my next venture and when the thoughts of it embed into my brain, it overruns every spare thought I have. Then it builds on others and then those build on others and the only way I can keep myself sane is to push it out of there whether by, writing, shooting, drawing or whatever. Why do I have that big website full of shit??? Because I have to put it somewhere or it would sit in Garrick Town and crowd my creative process. Why do I write these blogs? It is not because I want to be popular. It's not because I feel like this will get me noticed or to be a part of this MySpace craze. Hell, I don't think but a select few read the damn thing to begin with, but it is easier to do it this way and get it out then leave it in a pocket notebook somewhere. Maybe one person will read it and feel the same way about them selves. Who knows, maybe somebody will say, "Man, that Garrick guy is as fucked up as a mayonnaise biscuit." At least somebody sees the ABC's of me.

If all that I have done in my small 33 years sounds like the works of an incompetent, ignorant, space cadet who has no direction in life, I'd hate to pick Bill Gates, John Ford or Colin Powell's brains.

And if I sound certifiable by this TRUE analysis of myself, at least when I pass on, my kids can have months of entertainment watching my 500 plus raw recorded DV tapes of footage I've captured since I was 8, the films, and other clips I cut from all of it. If that's not enough to keep them busy they can read, laugh and cry at my newspapers, scripts, short stories, long stories, and over 50 hand written journals I have scribbled in. If that's not good enough, they can watch a home video of me thrashing on a skateboard or study my drawing books with all sorts of craziness in them. Maybe after all that they can say, "Man, I know it sounds cliché' but you have no idea when we say our father was one of a kind."

You wanna see smidge of stuff that my brain has to deal with?


 

The ABC'S of an Ignorant Liar Part 1

I'm going to clear the air for anybody that has the wrong idea about me. I have been being called stupid and ignorant from someone very close to me for a very long time and I have just now decided that I was going to share to the world including this person what I think of me being ignorant or stupid.

Number 1 - I am not incompetent. I am not a liar. And I'm not irresponsible or "flaky." I am either a frickin' miracle of modern science or I am certifiably insane.

You make the decision. In my defense on the 'certifiable' thing, I'm not a violent guy nor paranoid nor homicidal. I was never abused as a kid. In fact, I grew up in an upper class, typical family. Sure we had our things but what family doesn't. My great grandfather, grandfather and father were and are brilliant men. My father, along with being a city renowned dentist is also an established professional photographer. He devoted his life to his family and I've spent my life trying to make him proud.

OK, so enough about that. Through the years, my mother was certain I was "mentally awkward." I visited distinguished hospital after distinguished hospital to have tests run on me. I don't remember specifics but I do remember the doctors saying I had what they called 'Attention Deficit Disorder.' This was 25 years ago. It was back when the government and the medical industry realized how much money they could make hammering the American Public with all these new ailments and dysfunctions of the human body through books, propaganda, PSA's and billboards. Of course I was going to be ADD. Forget the fact that my IQ test at 10 revealed my score was 100. (*This was Above Average. Genius was up in the 130 range.) Yet I was still a 'kook' and my mother made sure everybody including myself knew that everyday of my life, because I didn't pay attention in class. When I did pay attention, I scored 98s like they were going out of style. The SAT [Psssstttt!] 990. (Granted, because I was "ADD" I got no time limit and a room to myself to do it in. I would have probably done better in a timed environment. Who knows?) My life thinking back with or without ADD ….. Fucking Achievement.

I was shooting music videos in my backyard, (directing my father on camera,) when I was eight. I was playing soccer by nine. When sixth grade came along, I was writing short stories and episodes about my group of friends being in Squaw Valley as Professional Snow Skiers, dealing with relationships, growing up and skiing competitions. By 14, I was a well skilled skateboarder while snow skiing in competitions for the Appalachian Junior Ski Team. By 15, I was shoved into Boarding School for 'Learning Disabled' kids. I would have schooled on the fucking equator if that is what would have kept me from any more doctor tests. In boarding school, I was a collegiate wrestler, (and fake wrestler as well,) lobbying for a ring, (to box and wrestle in,) to be put into our dorm room and through liabilities and other BS red tape… Got it. I invented my own Wrestling Federation and held tri monthly 'pay-per-views.' I also kept coming up with innovative ways to sneak into the girls' dorm… HA! (Just seeing if you are still with me.) I was listening to The Cult, Dead Kennedys, The Misfits, Zeppelin. "Very unusual taste for a 15 year old," a teacher stated. Too bad they are all classic rock bands now, lady. When I wasn't in the dorm arena kicking ass or getting my ass kicked in, I was writing an 'underground' newspaper that touched on Student Opinions and my own thoughts of the rise of "authority" in schools and government in which they had gradually under the radar begun to take peoples' right to think for themselves away. Upon my parents deciding to give me my junior and senior year at public school on the advice of two of my teachers that said it was time for some real classes for me, boarding school and yet another group of great friends I had acquired at a school were gone.

In public school was where I began realizing I wasn't like other kids. I carried on my 'underground newspaper,' to the masses and it blew up like the Harry Potter books, (in Hickory High School anyway.) Once a week, a four page handwritten, hand drown and animated paper was distributed to lines of people in lunch wanting to read my garble. The first couple had a 30 copy run. By number seven, over 100. After the debacle which I will tell you about in a minute, I was pumping out 300 copies like it was boogers. On top of all of this I was still doing my work. Granted, I was only doing enough to get by, but doing it nonetheless. Then, my real encounter with the 'new authority' I spoke of would change my life and perspective of life all together. A kid was expelled from school for outrageous reasons. I won't get into specifics, but let's just say he was a less fortunate kid who had a food card. The public school and Booster Clubs didn't need him. His parents were never going to contribute to their cause. He came to school in the same clothes three days a week and occasionally was tardy because his parents were too drunk from the night before to drive him to school forcing him to walk three miles to the school on a very short notice. I didn't know him that well, but I wasn't your normal 'click' guy who didn't associate or acknowledge people outside of my "rich friend group." I knew and liked everybody equally. Well, I along with a few others felt the reason for expulsion was because the faculty felt he was one kid that didn't belong in the "prestigious" HHS and used a ridiculous excuse to get rid of him. Well Garrick decided that wasn't going to stand and again, being cool with everybody managed to get my hands on some documents that would at least put the expulsion in question. In Issue 12 I exposed the situation. It was probably not the Issue I should have also gotten into depth with sex and what teenagers were actually doing with their spare time in our high school. As many before it, this issue did not fly under the radar. It caused an up roar with the Administration and they impulsively suspended me for 10 days. (A 10 day suspension would inadvertently fail me for the semester.) My father as mad as he was at me was just as mad about the Freedom of Speech and Press theory being negated and it was. There was no slander. What I wrote was all true. I didn't point fingers or attack anyone. I just put it out there. Two days into my suspension, there were petitions, banners, protests and sit outs for the 'miscarriage in justice' bestowed on me. The punishment even made the majority of parents angry and although some did not agree with what I was writing, they did deem it unique and innovative. By the fifth day of my exile, I was back in school and pardoned. (*So was my expelled friend.) The agreement was I could do the paper, just couldn't distribute it on school grounds. I designed and wrote 96 of those papers before I left for Los Angeles.

Sound like an ignorant dumb ass, yet? Read part two for conclusion.

Here is just one of the covers to my "controversial" newspaper.

Another Set of Steak Knives

OK, so we didn’t win at the festival this past weekend. 95 shorts submitted and we were 1 of 10 they picked which is good, but no excuse to come home empty handed. We received some great reviews. The committee in fact said it was one of their favorites And I heard through somebody else that the decision came down to "Warlord"[winner] or our film. If this is true and they weren’t just fancying us,) we would have been Runner Up but the festival does not give out a ’Runner Up’award.There is only one winner per category. So... I guess a PG movie with a kid in it probably supersedes a movie with harsh language, opinions, and violence to the older ’big wigs’with the financial donations to the festival.It’s fine. We had a great time and everybody hosting the festival were really nice, generous and professional.

Filmmaking is an art. How people judge art probably has to do with the venue, geographics, and taste. You don’t put a Picasso, Van Gogh and Warhol next to each other and say, "Pick." Regardless whether you are Picasso or Joe Smo, art is an expression. It is also an overwhelming profession that will take over life, (during the duration of the piece,) and will mentally impair you. Anybody that does it take days off their life on every venture.

Point I am tryin to make is no matter if there are 5 people or 500 on a film crew; whether your movie is an aesthetic disaster or critically acclaimed masterpiece, those people that worked on it were inspired, and engulfed in this
particular piece of art forever how long it took to complete. They worked their ass off bleeding, sweating, and crying over that small hour and a half that is either forgotten or remembered for eternity. If you sit the credits at the end of a film you will see what it takes to make a movie.

That alone is why they do it. Awards are what you get when you see a theatre full of people and a part of you displays itself on the big screen above. I’ll take this honor and move on to the next one.

Although, I will say, the sets of steak knives are beginning to pile up.

More than Meets the Eye.... Eye doubt it.

I’m only going to answer this question one more time. Here are the reasons I am not seeing Transformers.

1)Michael Bay
2)$200 plus budget rarely makes a good film
3)When Computer EFX take over the importance of sets, story and now acting duties, you’ve lost the word ’Cinema’ altogether completely, (which started the phenonmenon to begin with)
4) Again, Michael Bay

Yes, I’m old school. Yes, I am a prude when it comes to devoting time to watching films. Yes, I owned every Transformer that filled the toy store aisles back in the day. (Prowl was my favorite.)

But...

If I were to spend $15.00 on a "Dreaded Summer Movie," Box Office Ticket... It would be... (WAIT I DID!!!!) Oceans Thirteen. --Wonderful by the way!!!- If I were to get two more choices, they would be:

Bruce, Kevin and this franchise they call Die Hard. They are saying it is the smartest of all the DH’s before it. If no "Yippy Kah Yah" then it would have to be "Bugger..." The Pirates World End. You are now saying what is the difference?

Two Things: One, I’m a huge ’Adventure’ movie buff, obviously and that movie the last time I checked, the Pirates movies still spent money on real sets. IE: Boats, Oceans, Swords and Two, It’s the final of the 3. I own the other two... Why wouldn’t I at least give the finale a day in court? With Indiana Jones 4 in production as of June 18th there is no room for no brainer EFX movies. Transformers is just that. The movie shot almost completely from the Autodesk Software Platform, this movie from what I’ve read and obviously seen has no substance. No story, (or one we consider halfway descent.) I hear everybody say, it’s great and yada, yada, but they are not saying it’s great as a piece for your collection of ’Cinema Storytelling.’ They are saying it is great because the filmmakers... Scratch that the Computer Effect Makers green screen a bus getting hit with a wrecking ball and then superimpose ’Rock Crusher’ in the wrecking ball’s place. Cool and all but I’ll pass. Robot movies have never been all that cool unless you have seen Short Circuit and hell, the cartoon for these ridiculus hunks of steel wasn’t all that good to begin with. You know why you haven’t seen a GI JOE movie? Because they realized after Dolph Lundgren effed up He Man, that these kinds of cartoons based on old school action figures don’t play well. This one will not either. Gimme’ Rum, Nakatomi Plaza, a Fedora or even then an R2-D2 Beep. The Transformer schtick should have stayed where it belongs... The discontinued item list at Toys R Us.

Prove me wrong.


**Good Old Fashioned Fantasy, Adventure, Action Driven Movies I am putting on my TO WATCH LIST.
***In Order

1)Indy 4
2)Sweeney Todd (Tim Burton)
3)Live Free/Die Hard
4)Grindhouse
5)Pirates World End
6)Batman - The Dark Knight
7)Beowulf

8)BUY BABEL ON DVD AND WATCH OVER & OVER AGAIN.

Hold On A Little Longer...

So reality kicks in Monday night after I realize our wedding weekend is over and I’m twelve hours away from returning to a job I once adored, now I find it the only depressing element left in my life. I tried to hold onto every minute of memories from that Thursday where it began to now, but I find them now being shook off by the sinking feeling of still being incomplete, (career wise.) By this time, I should have been working at Charter doing what I love to do, but well.... That’s a different story... So going back to my job was as fun as a day of decathaters and doctors. I felt depressed again all of a sudden almost knowing, had I just or could find a job I can at least put up with while doing my other stuff, I would be completely content. All those thoughts managed to override the smiles, laughs, and hugs from the days before.

Then I got an email from the second film festival we applied to with Meter, and again, we had been accepted. Our little ’$500 movie that could’ had squeezed through 700 other submissions and ended up in the top 15 yet again. That made me feel a little better. I thought, if I could just hold on a little longer, all this misery may pay off... Just maybe.

This also meant ’Meter’ had won one award, and been accepted into two other festivals with not a single rejection yet. 3-0 record wasn’t bad for the odds. It was time to start taking this little film a little more seriously on my end. I almost felt bad for doubting the little bastard.

The Demons Are Silenced

At the late ripe age of 33, I am officially married. I finally decided to take the big step from the big kid to well, bigger kid.

I was dead set that not much would change. Everybody kept asking, "are you nervous," and I kept replying with the same answer... "No. I’ve been with her five years, lived with her for around four, had a kid together-- Nothing would change but well, we’d be official."

Seconds before, I was to walk out the door into the chapel to DO IT, I found myself shaking and just the sight of Mandi’s beauty in her dress and the emotions surrounding us that weekend, I couldn’t help as the days pass, feel more complete. Sure, you have the ’cloud nine’ feeling because you had a great time and everybody was there, yada, yada, at first, but I seriously feel different. Like a new found love, responsibility, and respect for Mrs. Amanda Lane, which I intend to uphold more than I have before. I’ve made some childish, dumb, selfish choices along my long road of 33 years.... No More. I’m sitting on the plane to Vegas for our honeymoon while Mandi sleeps with her mouth wide open next to me.

I’m thinking dirty thoughts. I may have realized I had to grow up, quite a bit... But Some demons I will never be able to silence. -Wink,Wink-

Lane's Thirteen

So I’m getting married Saturday... It’s gonna’ be one of the best weekends of my life. Not only am I marrying this hot chick I’ve
tried to nail down for five years, but all my friends around here I grew up with and my extended family of friends I grew close with from the West Coast are coming in. I’ve never felt so
loved in my life. How a dunch like me managed to find such good friends who would sacrifice their time, money and the headache of flying, driving or walking to Hickory this weekend, I will never know.
Either way, ALMOST everyone, (ex.Jazz,Justin,Mike D,) I love and care about will be at the Jameson Inn from Thursday to Sunday together and you better believe the video cameras will be rolling on what we have
know come to tentatively know as, ’The Lanes 13 Project.’ I can hardly sleep, I’m so excited and I know... I better get as much rest as possible. Here are some clips and links to past memories of my extended families get togethers and everyday life.

Enjoy.

End of a Chapter

I’m a sucker for Cinderella Stories and if you read this bullshit on a regular basis, then you know I have a taste for the over dramatics sometimes but this is a story I want to tell.

Back in the summer of 2003, Mandi and I took some time apart. I had reached an all time low with where I was in life. I had decided to pass on going back to LA in fear of yet again having to start over and well, I had fallen for a girl that wasn’t ready for LA. I was working at a shit restaurant with no prospects and I had become rather depressed. I began to mope and stayed rather disgruntled all the time. Subconsciously, I had blamed Mandi for keeping me in North Carolina and making me make that choice. We pushed each other away and there was no going back.

I then had another opportunity to move back to LA but chose to stay. The thought of borrowing more money from my parents for something, they thought was a bad idea at my age, weighted heavily on my shoulders.

I had secured a real job where I worked 8-5 and was bored to death. I missed Mandi. Within months, my position had been phased out and I found myself, desperate and almost suicidal. I knew I had to get out of Hickory fast. I had to get inspired again. I had to find what I had lost or I knew I would be dead. Scratch that… Everything I was would be dead. Scott and Stephanie offered me a place on their couch. I jumped on it. POOF! I was gone. Scott and Steph lived in Asheville. I had never been real fond, but at that point in time I would be OK with a cave in Afghanistan watching the boob tube with Osama. Three weeks in, I was still miserable,. I had been given a second chance at The Texas Roadhouse up there but where as the one in Hickory really helped one forget the hole I was in, the Asheville one did not. The people were different. The culture was different and I just didn’t fit in. Night after night I would take a couple of shots of Cuervo and sit on the bed with a pad and pencil and DO NOTHING, but look. Not one word would be put on paper.

Stephanie and Scott were getting married in New Jersey that October and of course asked me for my services. I hated doing weddings but of course, I have to earn my rent so I agreed. The more I thought about it, the more I thought, not only could I shoot their wedding but I could do sort of a road trip documentary. The boys and I were getting to the age where we were all going to have to grow up and this was sort of our last hooray so to speak. We left for New Jersey and I began filming. A sudden twist in the itinerary would change everything. The day after the wedding we decided not to go home. We went to New York, WTC and back down to DC and this was right after the Iraq War began so we captured a lot of cool footage. I could not wait to get home and start cutting. Everything opened up and I was inspired again. I found myself on off time sitting on a bench in downtown Asheville writing scripts and stories. I sat in our local quiet bar up there and churned out scene after scene of a feature I had planned one day to shoot.

Immediately following, I was hired on as a Production Manager at an advertising agency. The job sent me to shoot B Roll for Kenny Chesney’s ’I Go Back,’ video. I found myself in Chicago sinking a car and all over doing what I loved to do. I was laid off shortly after leaving Asheville and returning to Hickory. Mandi and I’s paths collided again and we were back together. We ventured to Florida where my skills and creativity would blossom. I was promised a job at Fox down there and through a bunch of BS lost it, so I was down there in holed up in our apartment for a month looking for a job and as I waited and waited after interview upon interview, I was honing my craft…. Reading books, learning to do the things I hadn’t had time to learn. Then finally I scored a job at a small time television company that produced a late night show. It was grueling. I was a one man crew with too much to do. I would have to shoot, update, cut, write and sometimes direct the shows on top of all the marketing promos, (flyers, banners, DVD’s etc.) Mike, my boss, burnt me out, but the job ended up being the boot camp of my creativity. My analogy to this experience is, I was like Christian Bale in Batman Begins. I traveled far and found a teacher that would work the shit out of me but when it was all over, I had become Batman. We returned to North Carolina and every wedding, commercial, or just stupid ass video were 500% better than they ever were and in between all that I had taught my self about building websites. I was a creative tick ready to pop.

The balls and the tools finally came for ’Meter’. Mark came to me through Freddy and within a sit down with him, I knew it was go time. This film was just a little six page script I had written after having a conversation with a very disgruntled man at Sergeant Peppers. The stuff he said overwhelmed me and when I got home I wrote it all down and thought, that would be a hell of a small short film that wouldn’t cost any money what so ever. I had just planned on grabbing a couple of my friends and shooting it in our driveway of the place we lived, but it fell through. Then I spent almost a year trying to find a lead, never being quite satisfied. The more I thought about the movie, the more I thought shooting it with a half ass actor and just shooting it half assed for kicks would be yet another waste of time.

Then that fateful night nearly two years later, I met Mark. Within a month we were rehearsing. Within two months we were shooting. Post production came where it was apparent that this film had become much bigger than I had ever planned. After the big premiere, my creative tick had mutated into a Godzilla type monster. I left the theatre after the premiere thinking, I hadn’t done a real movie in over eight years and I did this one without batting an eye. Not to say it was easy because it was tough as nails to get rolling on and then in post, the sound was a little out of my league, BUT technically and creatively, I nailed out with little sacrifice of my vision. I knew I had made it and after that moment, I could actually say I was a filmmaker.

Three months later, Mark and I found ourselves at the first film festival we had submitted to and had won second in the short drama category and sixth overall with our small film. The films that had placed higher had anywhere from 20,000 dollar budgets to even the ones placing below us of 5000. Mandi, Mark and I walked out of the downtown theatre satisfied and excited about the film festivals to come. I stopped on the sidewalk on Walnut Avenue and realized where I was. Across the street sat the bench I used to get away from everything and do some writing on. I then looked to my left to see the old quiet bar where I hashed out my feature. I had to smile. The place where I had become inspired again years before was the host of the place I had finally, after years of work, been recognized at.

I was done with that chapter of my life.

American Idol.... Ruined!!!!

I am going to say this only once and be done with it. I do not hold grudges nor do I exile people out of my little world if they fuck me over, but some things cannot be forgiven. Mandi got me into this American Idol shit a couple years back. I got hooked on the Season that found Carrie Underwood win the final. I watched that whole season through it all and with the exception of a couple of eye catching cuts from the show it went as it should have. Carrie was by far the best singer as Bo had the best personality. Two seasons ago it was a singing compeitition and it shows. Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood are Grammy winners. Carrie Underwood’s first album is still in the Top 100 as it should be.

Last year, American Idol showed it’s age and forecasted it’s own demise. Maybe as its popularity grows, it brings out even the compulsive, psycho, slumming people that wouldn’t know a good singer from their next bag of smack. But as last year unfolded you couldn’t help but week after week cringe at which less talented singer would stay as a great singer would go. OK, Taylor Hicks was good. Sure, he had the personality. He sang the old school, I grew up on but.... Was he really the best out there? No. Elliot Yamin... Maybe. Kathryn McPhee... Yes. Chris Daughtery... Very Good and very marketable. If you include the whole package... If the moronic American people would really watch, listen, and think, Chris probably should have taken home the crowd--- Maybe. If parents would influence their kids in what real talent is and tell them that just because he has a trendy blond mohawk it does not mean the guy is talented. Yet they continue to let their two fourteen year old girls hike their cell phone bills up with 70 text votes a piece on somebody that completely sucks, musically. Daughtery last year was voted off fourth. Yes, were the real people, the people that knew what American Idol was looking for, upset? Of course they were, but I was sure and said that, "he’s got nothing to worry about. Somebody will produce his album and he’ll have the best selling album of any of the other three." Was I right? Of course I was. I’m one of those guys that really looks and votes for the cream of the crop. Where are Taylor and Kathryn? Kathryn’s album tanked. Taylor’s... Well it didn’t sell the superstar units that past winners, Kelly and Carrie did, but I think he did alright even with that suckhead ’Are You Proud of Me’ song. He’ll fall into that ’Easy Listening’ category like Rueben did in Gospel and sooner than later be an obscure name kind of like you and I’s. I wasn’t completely disappointed though. I liked Taylor. He was an entertainer and with Daughtery out I was able to swallow Taylor beating out Elliot and Kathryn.

This season came and when the final 12 were picked I was already unenthused. San-Fucko beat out Sundance which was the first miscarriage of justice of the season and it set the pace for the rest of the season. As more musically inclined singers were voted off and San Fucko stayed I grew more pissed. Not to say that Gina, Hayley, or Brandon had any chance to win the Idol Prize, but the weeks they were voted off, they lost to San-Fucko who had no talent at all stayed. Why? I mean it got to the point where Simon literally said, "well let’s try another way... It was great," in a sarcastic tone. Why was he immune to the proverbial ’see ya?’ It must of been his ’good looks.’ There’s another show on the CW for that kind of talent... It’s called ’America’s Next Top Model.’ Again, Gina, Brandon and the others may not have been the best, but the week they lost out, had Sanjaya been voted off, might would have given them another week to turn it all around and may have lasted longer in the compeitition. Sanjaya’s good looks finally caught up with him and he was voted off. What nobody realized is that the time he spent on the show caused a lot of Collateral Damage, and the show suffered from it, meaning that the rest of the season would be altered because of the unjustified text votes. This situation would set up too late in the game, the men’s beauty pageant between Chris and Blake, who both should have been gone in weeks 5 & 6. A couple of weeks went without incident. Phil should’ve have been gone much sooner than Gina or Brandon for that matter, but he were ousted nonetheless. Then LaKisha was voted off fourth to last. The lucky number four that Daughtery had been just a mere year earlier. I hope, (since she should have been in that covenant and fateful third slot from last night,) that her career will take off. She along with Melinda and Jordan were the only talented singers left when the smoke cleared in the final six. The 311 beatboxing Backstreet Boy should have well probably never escaped the Top 8. Which brings me to the whole reason I had to Rant about this.

You American Idol Junkie/Morons... You have ruined this SINGING COMPETITION with an obviously lack of knowledge of what real talent is. This show is not a talent, personality, looks compeitition. Sure there is the whole ’entertainer,’ ’showman’ and ’singer’ aspect needing to be considered, but when you are picking merely on how you feel or how ’good’ that contestant looked from week to week, you ruin a good thing. Of course, that is why America is so fucked up to begin with. We know how to ruin a good thing and you guys did it last night. You fuckin’ blew it and have ruined American Idol for me forever. I will not watch another minute of that debacle. You say Simon is an asshole. You want to know why he is an asshole? Because he can be. He apparently is the only one that really knows what he’s talking about and what the reality is. After last night and the whole Sanjaya thing, I will not be surprised if he does not return to AI next year if they even decide to do it again. (If they do they really need to reevaluate the voting process.) As Melinda Doolittle was voted out of the finale last night to an undeserving Blake Lewis, Simons hands went over his face and his eyes shifted back and forth because he like me knew, American Idol would never be the same show it was three years ago. He knew that his love child was now a convicted felon. The show would no longer be an accurate or pure way to find the undiscovered talented singers out there. Before last night, I actually could not wait to see the final duel between two great singers in Melinda and Jordan. I had picked Melinda as my favorite from all the way back to her audition and like the judges said, "you have been consistent each week. You are a pro and should already be making records." Paula on Tuesday night, said that one of her performances was the best of hers all season and Simon said, "Yet another brilliant performance." OK, so if she was the most consistent and by far was and even sang her best performance of the year the night before the final vote off, how the fuck did she get voted off? Some would say, nobody voted for her because she was a sure win. Others would say that Blake had every girl from 9-40 voting on him because "he is was so cute." Either way, yes Jordan belongs where she is and now, (if there is any justice or brains for that matter at all,) she should and will win AI. She’s seventeen and can belt with the best of them, but Melinda should be there with her sharing in the spotlight because, honestly she was the best. Sure she was older but thats how it goes. Melinda’s paid her dues and has grown with experience and training, but when Seacrest said it was the end of the road for her last night, I sat stunned as did Simon and I am sure many other true to form viewers in America did. I watched her montage with that gay ’Home’ song playing and immediately following the last frame cut the television off. That spark of AI was over for me. I remember not many moons ago when I couldn’t wait to get home from work, cook dinner and sit in front of the boob tube and watch some good looking, fantastically talented musicians belt it out for the biggest prize in the world today. Now with it’s oversaturated publicity and bandwagon schmucks out there voting for their favorite merely because of what kind of mood they were in that day, the fun is over. In the words of the one of the greatest songs ever recorded, "The Thrill is Gone."

I will never watch American Idol again. That is a fact. It is not like my past promises like, "I’m never smoking again." That is statement to me is exactly what it means. I will never watch that show again and do not be surprised to see Simon bowing out after this year. He obviously along with me is the only other one that sees the rotting trend happening. I am sure Melinda’s career will blossum and maybe, just maybe the third spot was the lucky number this year whereas in a year from now, Melinda’s album will be pumping out profits from her fourth number one song from her debut album while Blake, like his favorite band 311, will be the result in yet another ’alternative slash hip hop’ fatality. All I will say as I never speak of this show again, is when Melinda, Blake and Jordan’s albums come out, I am going to empty my savings and campaign, (in the streets if I have to,) to get Melinda’s album bought. I will buy thirty to forty albums myself and pass them out to the masses just to prove my point if needs be.

My point and believe me, I am the poster boy for this statement: It does not matter how good you are. It does not matter how hard you work. It doesn’t matter how much determination you have. If you don’t look as good as the other guy and don’t have as many friends. YOU WILL LOSE!!!!!

Fuck American Idol. Fuck it square in its ass. Simon, holla’. We’ll start a real show and not allow the American Public to taint it with their obvious delusions of what really makes a superstar.