I can remain silent no longer. That "Celebrate Me Home" song by Ruben Studdard — the one they play whenever an American Idol contestant gets canned — is MAKING MY BRAIN BLEED. It lacks any redeeming value, musical or otherwise. I guarantee you that if any Idol contestant in the history of the show had performed that song, including RS himself, he or she would be seared by the judges afterward for making "the wrong song choice."
The other reason I hate it is because it makes absolutely no sense. You can't celebrate anyone home. You can celebrate an accomplishment, as in "Japanese scientists are celebrating their recent success at training rats to use rakes."* But you can't transport a person from point A (i.e., the set of American Idol) to point B (i.e., a room ablaze with the harsh light of reality) by "celebrating" him there.
If it were possible to celebrate someone somewhere, I would temporarily waive my personal policy of non-celebration to celebrate the new cat, Max, back to the cluster-fracked** universe from which he came. I would put a crown of daisies on my head, don a sequined skirt and propel myself 'round the maypole if it would make him disappear.
*They hope to one day celebrate success at teaching ferrets to drive snow plows.
**Battlestar is back on Friday, so hold onto your fracking hats!
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Oh, Henry, say it isn't so! Have Teh Peeples actually permitted Another Cat to invade your sacred space? Is there no justice in this world? No decency, no restraint, no morality at all?
We sob in sympathy.
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