From the Depths of My Soul, a Call for Reason...

Alright. That's enough. It's gone too far now.

It's time for Sanjaya to stop singing on my TV. I don't want to hear his rendition of "Walking after Midnight" during Country week, or listen to him warble through "Hound Dog" on Elvis Night. I don't even want to see him butcher Milli Vanilli's "Blame it on the Rain." That's right ladies and gentlemen, the lip-syncers are even too good for Sanjaya Malakar.


The good news is, after tonight's (well, I hesitate to call it a performance. Let's just say tonight's) hairstyle showing he just won himself a role in Mel Gibson's production of Apocalypto II: Electric Boogaloo (that's right, I made a Mel Gibson/Native American/Breakdancing 80's movie joke all at the same time). Seriously, tell me you couldn't see him, smiling that like, holding a still beating heart on top of an ancient Aztec Temple.

Up until this week I had only a mild distaste for young Sanjaya. I thought he was horrible, but harmless. But this week he not only ruins the cool-factor of mohawks for probably the next ten years, but also butchers a great No Doubt song. "Bathwater" is one of their coolest (and less appreciated) songs. Now, it's that thing that Sanjaya did last night on "Idol." Thanks, dude. That's another CD I've gotta break.

Mrs. Rogue has a particular love for "Bathwater" (or as we'll now forever know Sanjaya's version, "Lukewarm Bathwater"). She begged me to fast-forward (thank you Tivo!), but I couldn't. I just knew at any moment Gwen Stefani would bum-rush the stage and do us all a favor by beating him senseless with the microphone. Two and a half minutes later, Sanjaya's still warbling. You let us down Gwenny, and I'm not gonna forget that!


Look how surprised Gwen is while hearing Sanjaya sing. Aren't you sorry you didn't beat him, Gwen?

Ladies and gentlemen of the "American Idol" voting public, I come before you a humbled man. I don't claim to understand your criteria for judging. The idea that you could allow Antonella Barba to survive as long as you did in the competition astounds me. That Bucky Covington now has an album thanks to you, shows that you are indeed king-makers (or at least mediocre, over produced country singer-makers). I know Sanjaya's hair is bouncy, I know that Simon says mean things to him (and we all hate the British!), I know that Howard Stern and are telling you that you can make a difference. But put all that aside. Turn on your DVR tonight and re-watch the show. Or maybe cruise over to YouTube and look for one of Sanjaya's older performances. When he comes on stage, I know you'll be tempted to bob your head along with the melody he's abusing or the rhythym he's ignoring, but don't. Don't watch those lovely curls (or dangerously high mohawk) bounce around. Nope, close your eyes and listen. Hear Sanjaya sacrifice the songs of your youth (or your parents youth if you're one of his beloved twelve year old crying fans). Bathe in the mediocrity that is Sanjaya. And then, let him go. Like William Hung and Antonella before him, let him slide into the annals of pop culture as "that kid that couldn't sing on 'American Idol'". Only then can our long national nightmare be over.

And now for your viewing and listening pleasure, the Drunken Rogue brings you:

Sanjaya Anthem

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