American Idol

My wife and I love American Idol, consistently ranked the most watched show in the nation. I prefer the beginning of each season, when the truly horrible contestants are auditioning. My wife prefers the end of a season, when the cream of the crop has risen to the top. We are both amused by the folks that seem astounded when told they cannot sing. “What you mean I cain’t sang? Everbody knows I can sang. I sang in the church choir every week! I give lessins, learnin’ other folks how to sang!” An article I read awhile back says that many young adults in the 15-30 age bracket (AI contestant range) are part of the “empowerment generation.” Parental psychology then was to tell your precious child that everything he/she did was perfect, so as not to crush their little dreams or stifle their creativity. Piffle! A child’s crayon art can be praised and displayed on the side of the fridge, without suggesting it deserves a place in the Guggenheim. My two adult children are strong and self-sufficient, and neither one feels slighted for not being on American Idol. Empower that!