Never Alone when the TV's on

Per Anna's request, we're watching American Idol tonight - (I'm glad to see Ryan Seacrest has decided to join the land of the beardsman). We got sucked in way back when the show was more freak show than talent show, but we’ve hung on to where we are now: nine contestants and one Simon (he’s the reason I watch).

Time out. Anna just handed me a bowl of “ice cream.” Funny thing is, this bowl contains absolutely no milk. One of the many natural endeavors Anna has dabbled in over the last couple of years. Yes, I used the verb dabble, as in some form of witchcraft, which I figure is the appropriate way to describe how a person makes ice cream without milk. I could, I suppose, describe the creation as some form of hippy alchemy. Either way, I’ve just ingested six spoonfuls, and I must admit … it’s not bad.

Anyway, American Idol is, like, soo quintessentially American. The people on the show are as varied as our coasts are from the heartland. The performances are over the top, cheesy, fake and at the same time attractive and endearing. The endless verbal wars between Simon and Abdul or Simon and Seacrest are ego-driven, middle school dramas that are won by the cheers or jeers of the audience rather than the rational mind. And, of course, the most American part of it all is that we – the American public – get to choose the winners … and forget the losers.

Need further proof that we like to pick our winners? How about March Madness and the over 3 million “brackets” that were filled out on espn.com – two of which were mine? I felt the fool after picking Kansas – along with many experts mind you – to make the Final Four in one bracket. I felt like a genius after riding the tournament out in front of forty other people for the first four rounds. Then, I felt the pain of defeat and the anonymity of second place when UCLA took down LSU in the semi-finals. For three weeks, I’ve been glued to CBS watching fate and blind luck unfold basketball history far different than I or many other Americans foresaw.

Meanwhile, we’re now watching the new show “Sons & Daughters” on ABC, which was created by Lauren Michaels from Saturday Night Live. Geesh, this stuff is funny. Granted, 90% of the show is about sex. It’s also full of improv, dysfunction and highly enmeshed, blurred familial roles, which, yes, is definitely American.

Enough is enough. It’s time I returned to the couch. The Dodgers are into the bottom of the 7th with a 5-1 lead and Vin Scully is working his magic. Take me home Vin.

Wes