Charles Stricklin

I’m attempting to write this post with tears still in my eyes and my sides still hurting from laughing uncontrollably.

In the past, I haven’t care to watch American Idol. I don’t like manufactured bands and mediocre pop stars, so naturally I don’t particularly like “reality” shows where A&R reps who brought the world Madonna, the Spice Girls or N’Sync judge young people trying to break into that same, cookie-cutter music assembly line. However, watching this season’s auditions is going to make me soil myself one of these nights.

Tonight, a 22-year-old Seth Strickland (unfortunately, yes, we’re probably related, but he’s probably a distant, distant cousin) from Rome, Georgia attempted to sing Michael Jackson’s Thriller whilst doing the dance moves that accompanied the classic video. Seth so miserably failed to do either that I nearly had to change underoos, I was laughing so hard.

What really cracked me up was his breaking out of character when he made mistakes, and he made several mistakes. He’d softly be mumbling the words when a dance step didn’t go as expected, and he’d come to a complete stop, saying under his breath, “Awww… shoot doggy!” or “Awww… crap!”

Since I’m on the subject, even I, a music layman, can give American Idol contestants some advice on what not to do/wear if you want to have a snowball’s chance in H-E-double hockey-sticks’ of making it past the initial audition.

1. Don’t wear clothes with stupid sayings on them.
   Wearing clothes with the word “Hollywood” surrounded by question marks makes you look like an idiot.
2. Don’t wear clothes that make you look like a hootchy-mama.
   They make you look… cheap… like a hootchy-mama.
3. If you’re male, don’t sing a female singer’s song.
   The one exception was the gay guy who sung a Whitney Houston song, but at least he brought it down into his range.
4. Don’t dance.
   First off, this is a singing competition, not a dancing competition. Second, no one can sing well when they dance at the same time, why do you think Britney Spears lip-syncs?! Third, it makes you look stupid.
5. Don’t talk trash.
   Dissing Ryan Seacrest or any of the judges, either before or after your audition makes you look either crazy and/or like a sore loser.

My money has to be on the cute little girl named Paris, who sang what she said was a Billie Holiday song with the same melody as Take Five.

Kevin Smith, independent producer/writer/director of films such as Good Will Hunting, Chasing Amy and Clerks, not to mention his work on The Dark Knight (Batman) series, tells a hilarious tale involving Hollywood hairdressers who embody the Peter Principle, their disconnect from reality, their amazingly bad movies and their fascination with polar bears and giant spiders.

Warning: Foul language.

Except for the occasional beer with a meal, I don’t drink much anymore. But as a new fan of Fox’s drama series 24, I can see where this new drinking game would be very, very popular… and intoxicating!

I mourn the loss of childhood friend, Paul Taylor.

Paul was only a few months older than I, and he lived just over my backyard fence when I was in junior high and high school. He was the proverbial archetype of the “tough guy with a heart made of gold.” Even at 14, he shaved, and smoked, and drank and rode a motorcycle.

We became friends when David, my best friend even today, moved away to Houston. We would spend afternoons in his smoke-filled house, listening to records and playing our own music. Often we’d drive around the neighborhood in his old Fold Fairlane looking for something to do, and nearly without exception he drive in arcs across the local park’s parking lot so fast it’d nearly tip the car over, on my side!

During those years, I progressed from smoking Swisher Sweets to nearly 2 packs of Marlboro a day when he realized the reason I’d taken up smoking was to emulate him. Suddenly, one day when he and I walked around our neighborhood he suddenly stopped, grabbed the pack of cigarettes from my shirt pocket, tore them in half, stood inches away from my face and swore to me that if he found me smoking again, he’d beat the snot out of me. And no, he didn’t use the word ’snot’, I did.

In the decades since, I’ve lit up a cigarette only twice.

At school, he and I spent a great deal of time and thought concerning the young women in our classes. In high school, he began dating Pam, a girl who’d run afoul of my girlfriend at the time. They married, and started their family right away. Paul dropped out of school to support them. Some time later, because of our mutual love for Paul, Pam and I settled our differences, which it turned out wasn’t that hard because neither of us could remember the root cause in the first place.

When I returned home after serving in the Gulf War in 1991, I visited with Paul and his family, giving t-shirts and trinkets to his children, Rachel and James. They were very young and small then… both of them are fully-grown now.

Paul and I met a few years ago at Murrell’s for a cup of coffee and conversation. I found out that the pinging sound on my home’s rotating exhaust fans that had driven my Dad crazy had been caused by Paul sitting on his back porch, pellet rifle in hand, shooting away and trying not to give away his position with laughter. I also found out that his marriage to Pam seemed to be ending. Shortly, his prediction came true.

Some time later, I received an announcement in the mail that Paul was marrying again, to a woman named Roxanna, and subsequent phone conversations proved to me that he was very, very happy.

I’ve been intending to call and visit, but as with many relationships, if you don’t make the time, the time slips away from you. Tuesday morning, Pam called me, got my answering machine, and because she wasn’t sure of my voice, ended the call. She called again later and told me the news: Paul had laid down along side his van at work and passed away. The speculation was that it was a heart attack.

I’m thankful that Paul didn’t suffer long. I’m thankful he was a friend when I needed one. I’m thankful he stopped me from becoming addicted to cigarettes. I’m thankful he taught me how to play the drums. More that those things, I’m thankful for all the times he made me laugh. He was a good man, and a good friend, and he will be sorely missed.

Although I’m reinforcing a stereotype, I have to admit that this blonde joke is funny.

A friendly reminder that this Friday, the first Friday the 13th of 2006 is Blame Someone Else Day.

I’ve just finished watching the DVD of Serenity. Good movie. I like how the writer/director kept everything real instead of making it into some Star Wars-wannabe. For example, as the captain leaves the ship to his Number 2 in command, he reminds her that if he doesn’t return in an hour, to come rescue him. Now, that’s funny and keeping it real at the same time.

That said, I don’t understand what all the fuss is about. I suppose most shows develop a following of loyal fans. I’d imagine there are people who flip out over Family Feud, for crying out loud! I still wonder why fans stayed with this show after it was cancelled the first time.

I really enjoyed seeing Nathan Fillion again, after watching his character on Two Guys and a Girl start to develop into something more than a straight-man for Sharon’s put-downs. Now there’s a television show they shouldn’t have canceled! I also liked Adam Baldwin’s character Jayne as the tough soldier with a woman’s name and a tendency to get a little scared when it’s perfectly reasonable to be a little scared. Summer Glau’s character, River Taw, reminded me of Milla Jovovich’s character in The Fifth Element. Who knew brutally killing so many people could be so beautiful and graceful? Finally, Jewel Staite’s character Kaylee was wonderful, describing her sexual frustration with such innocence and humor it really puts you off guard for a moment. It helps that she’s easy on the eyes, also.

Bottom line: Good movie, I don’t see what all the fuss is about, but I won’t be asking Blockbuster for my money back.