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American Idol - Don't Cha Wish Seattle Was Hot Like Me (Season Premier, Part 2)

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Greetings from Drip City! -- The land where Jimi tread, Pearl Jam spread, and Kurt got dead.

Watching last night’s Seattle auditions was like watching nine thousand Nells emerge from the forest only to be greeted by a cold and critical society. These hopefuls were awkward and fascinating and odd. You wanted to laugh, but it was more painful than funny.

One could speculate that the bizarro-fest of talent was the toxic byproduct of wet flannel and caffeine addiction. I’m inclined to suggest that by Seattle standards, it might just be the best thing going. See, if grunge is what happens when rock & roll is sleeping-off barbiturates and a spandex rash, and American Idol is what happens when God dies and takes all the music with him, then really, there was no other way for this to go. But I digress.

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The performances of episode two were staggering. Last season’s singing cop (who, in his first audition, swayed jerkily while repeating the line, “I shot the sheriff but I did not shoot the deputy,” ) was back for another dance with destiny. This time, he was dressed as a clownish Uncle Sam on stilts (minus the stilts). We met a gal with a perma-pucker named Jennifer who referred to herself as “The Hotness,” a self-proclaimed “fluffy” gal, who was happy to oblige Randy with an impromptu rendition of Baby Got Back, a teenage, Indian, brother/sister duo in the throes of overt sibling rivalry (audibly egged-on by their parents, each other, and Ryan Seacrest), and a prancing, 6’7” tall woman who was her own wall of sound.