I’m fortunate in living in Canuckistan, able to avoid the weekly viewing of American Idol which is, I believe, mandatory in the States, but last night I was visiting a friend who happens to be addicted to reality tv, and so this travesty was flashed before my eyes. Now, one is reminded, one is, of the Nixon-Kennedy debate: those who listened to it on radio thought that Nixon had won, while those who watched it and were treated to Tricky Dicky’s sweaty visage plumped for Kennedy. I’m just gonna lay it out here: if this poor songbird had not been trussed up in a strapless, shapeless ikat romper that was obviously fished out of someone’s grandma’s closet (the Late 70’s Costume Party Material section) she would still be a contender.
I had originally wished to say much the same about the Femulleted country crooner done up in the formal gingham shorts that gave her a backside as big as the Prairies, but not only is she still in (America loves a Femullet!) but Google has apparently banned it from their image search as NSFLunch.
UPDATE: L.A.M.B. No wonder. Give people too much punctuation and it goes straight to their (swelled, gelled, and poufed) heads.