Check out this short film on Chicago’s own the Blisters. Yes, that’s Jeff Tweedy’s son on drums.
The season premier of Saturday Night Live is always a bit sketchy (pardon the pun), especially when the show is in a “transition” year and has cut some cast members. This year’s debut was an exercise in “almost.”
This week’s host, internet comedic phenom and chronically over saturated Dane Cook, was almost funny. His monologue was a four-minute sample of his stage show, which is full of near clever observations and all but engaging physical comedy. The first show of the season sets the tone for the year. As the host for the season opener, Cook was…well…less than.
And then there was musical guest the Killers. Front man Brandon Flowers was decked out in a creepy moustache and oddly well-fitted western wear that seemed to be ripped right from the cover of the latest Urban Outfitter catalog. Jerking around and singing almost on-key, Flowers seemed to be trying a bit too hard to be weird. Crsipin Glover, he ain’t, lo though he tries.
If Saturday’s show is any indication, we may be heading to another dark chapter for the longest running comedy sketch show on television. Countdown to the obligatory SNL deathwatch: five…four…three…
So I was waiting for the hostess at a certain Chinese chain restaurant on Wednesday night in Chicago, and when she finally walked up to greet me she looked a little bewildered. As she was seating us, I heard a server whisper something about American Idol, and I looked over in the corner and lo and behold but who did I see? The Velvet Teddy Bear himself!
That’s right! I was in the same room with our second American Idol, Ruben Studdard, the man who beat Clay Aiken!
Of course, I was very excited so I said, “Hey, that’s Ruben Studdard!”
“Is it really?” asked the hostess, unsure of my credibility.
“Yeah, that’s totally him,” I assured her.
“Oh, okay,” she replied. “So that’s why they asked for a secluded table. I was all like, ‘Um…why?'”
No respect! It seems like everybody in the world watches American Idol, and then a couple years later the winner walks into a restuarant to get some lettuce wraps and nobody even knows who he is? I mean, really. The guy won American Idol. It’s not like he was just in the Final 12. He fucking won it. And nobody recognizes him three years later? What’s up with that?
He obviously needs to hire a better publicity team. That, or maybe—just maybe—American Idol isn’t quite the force it’s made out to be… Could that be it? Nah…