I had hoped to bring you details of American Idol's visit to Greensboro, but spending sixteen l-o-n-g hours with 8.500 rabid warblers has pretty much zapped my creative juices for the moment. But fear not dear reader (hello...anyone?), for I am redoubling my efforts to cover this momentous, if insipid event. Monday, the singing masses swarmed the Greensboro Coliseum, all clamoring for a shot at stardom and lots of humiliation along the way. Rockers, rappers and the occasional headcase all showed up before dawn, many belting out off-kilter showtunes while camera crews tracked their every delusional move. Of course, by the end of the day producers had dashed the dreams of most with a dismissive 'You're just not what we're looking for'. OUCH! But for every couple of hundred bummed-out wannabes who emerged dejected, an estatic songbird burst from the coliseum doors screaming ' I AM the next American Idol!'
Hoo-Boy. Tuesday the greatly reduced Idol ranks gather again for further reduction, with a certai namount of flailing about and gnashing of teeth. I of course will be there, turning it all into suitable television and looking for things to blog about. Here's promising a fuller report in the very near future. Seachrest...OUT!