Bob's Blog

Check here for weekly updates on American Idol, a show I have to watch.

Why, I don’t know. But why spend time questioning yourself?

As for Tuesday’s abbreviated one-hour show, cut back so we could hear President Bush (yawn), I saw a whole lot of bad singers. Almost all of those who auditioned were bad. Sad to say, but the auditioning for this show is more of a freak show than a talent show _ at least the parts they show us on television.

Two people were shown crying their eyes out after being turned down by Simon, Paula and Randy. People, do you really not know how terrible you are? I don’t understand. Who in the world could possibly be telling some of these singers they can sing? Because they can’t.

I loved the girl, Princess Brewer, who was asked to compare herself to another singer. She chose Aretha Franklin. But she sang like Ben Franklin.

The only semblance of talent was 18-year-old Mecca Madson, a belly dancer with decent chops. She was invited to Los Angeles, but she won’t go far.

Las Vegas was pretty much a bust. Hopefully, Wednesday night will be better.

Next Wednesday night, when Wichita State plays Evansville, I’m going to try something new for a column. I’m going to sit in the Shocker student section. Don’t be alarmed.

I think it might be fun and it should provide a decent column. Are there any WSU students out there who don’t mind me sitting _ or standing _ with them during the game? I could be with my son, who is a student, but that would be too safe. I’m not looking for safe.

American Idol definitely works. Why else would 55 million people be watching? Why else would I be watching?

First, let me say I appreciate vocal talent. I love singers. Maybe that’s why this show appeals to me. Or maybe I’m just like everyone else who watches this show: I’m a sucker for emotion.

The qualifying aired Tuesday night on Fox from Greensboro, N.C., really got me going. First there was the cute blond, Kelly Pickler. She was abandoned by her mother when she was 2. Her father is in prison. She lives with her grandfather. She’s 19. In other words, she’s a Travis Tritt country song waiting to happen.

The girl can sing.

So could another woman — whose name I did not write down. She was married at 16 and had three kids by the time she was 19. She had been in and out of more than 40 foster homes. But she got her GED and now she’s going to college.

The girl can also sing.

You can’t make this stuff up. It’s true, 100 percent Americana. And the producers of the show play up the heartbreak and misery masterfully.

The whole American Idol process, in which contestants are chosen and then whittled down, is perfect for TV. This is a must-see show for me. I’m hooked and it’s beyond my power to do anything about it.

I can’t tell you how many people stop me on the streets and say: "You know, Bob, I would really like to get to know you better."

OK, maybe I could tell you. Not very many. But that’s beside the point.

What I am going to share with you in today’s blog entry are some of the truths of my life that maybe, just maybe, I’m not so proud of. Yes, I’m going to cleanse my soul by confessing to you, the Bob’s Blog faithful, some of my inner-most thoughts.

So here goes:

1. I watch American Idol. I know, so do 35 million other people. But the other 34,999,999 are losers.

2. While I applaud the notion of increasing the driving age to 18, I also think it would be smart to pull everyone who drives and is over the age of, oh, 70, off the road. I love it when people boastfully say something like this: "Yeah, my mother is 96 but she still drives a car.” Well, that’s not good.

3. I like chocolate milk. As far as I can tell, I’m the only person over the age of 11 who likes chocolate milk.

4. I have a subscription to Playboy and have not yet read one of the articles.

5. I love children and, believe it or not, children love me. But all bets are off when they get to be about 12.

6. I have an almost-daily lapse into mild road rage and it usually happens at the expense of a  90-year-old driver.

7. I know nothing about how to fix a car. I can’t work with wood. I don’t build anything. I can’t repair anything. My fix-it abilities begin and end with changing light bulbs.

8. While I don’t consider myself to be a homophobe, I’m not exactly rushing to the theater to see Brokeback Mountain.

9. It’s probably because of what I do _ being around sports and all the testosterone that goes with that _ but I generally find women to be more interesting than men.

10. I don’t understand how anybody can start their day without reading a newspaper. How self-serving was that?

11. It really seems like making any kind of progress in Wichita is a painful, arduous process.

12. I often cry while watching movies or television. And sometimes, even during American Idol.

13. One of my biggest pet peeves is people being late for an appointment. I sometimes get to games two or three hours early, then complain about being there so early.

14. Ten years into my job as a sports columnist, it amazes me how fans take some of my opinions so personally. But I’m glad they do.

15. While I enjoy this blog, it sometimes is difficult to think of something to write about. If you don’t believe me, check out this entry.

It’s time for another installment of Who is the Opinion Line Contributor? You know how it works _ I re-print a submission to The Eagle’s glorious Opinion Line and then attempt to tell you as much about the person as I can surmise from their submission.

Here goes:

Why do all these restaurant cooks think they have to deep-fry all meat and load all vegetables with onion or garlic or both? If they could cook, they wouldn’t need to use all that onion and garlic to cover up the bad food they put out. Lots of people don’t like onion or garlic.

While this person has touched on a huge problem facing Wichitans _ how many of you have not wondered about the rampant use of onion and garlic in this city? _ it is still a person with far too much time on her hands. Yes, this is a woman. In her early- to mid-40s. She is married but her marriage lacks spice, if you know what I mean. When she talks about Wichita’s restaurants, she’s mostly talking about the places with buffets. When she goes to a "real" restaurant, she sends her order back to the chef about every other time, embarrassing her family. She lives somewhere in College Hill, but did not attend college. And, finally, she is a big fan of tomatoes.