I knew Michael McDonald. Michael McDonald was a friend of mine. And sir, you are no Michael McDonald.
I'd like to advance a theory: "American Idol" is less a television show than a gas or sub-atomic particle, or possibly some kind of virus. What other explanation is there for the fact that I have never seen a single episode of the show, this season or any other, and yet I know enough about Taylor Hicks to know that I hate him? I know that he has goofy hair, like Matt Damon in "Stuck On You." I know that he wears clothes the color of caustic chemicals. I know that he periodically shrieks the nonsense phrase "Soul Patrol" for some reason. And I gather that he is something of a screecher, in the manner of noted soul-killer Michael Bolton. How is it possible I know all this? There is only one plausible explanation: A kind of osmotic transfer of information at the cellular level.
I blame this Simon Cowell person. I believe he's been at work in the lab, and while the alchemical mechanism he's developed may well be the result of genius, it is surely an evil genius, like that of Michael Bolton. You know what this means, don't you? The Feds are looking everywhere for Doomsday devices, but they're looking in the wrong places. They shouldn't be wasting their time trying to find suitcase nukes or weaponized Ebola. They should grab up Simon Cowell and torture him until he gives up his twisted secrets. (Which he might not do. They should still torture him, though, because it would be funny.)