Come One, Come All! The Sanjaya Show Is About To Begin!

Authored by Super Special Guest Poster and Unlikely Honorary Mama, Danny of Dad Gone Mad

They do this shit on purpose. They want it to look like the circus. They love to parade the other singers out one by one to thrill the audience by attempting death-defying stunts, like trying to sing an old Cyndi Lauper jam when know 50 trillion men watching on TV worldwide are trying to look up your skirt. And then, just when all the T&A has come and gone and you start to lose interest in the horrendous covers of horrendous Gwen Stefani songs, they bring out the clown.

I'm looking at you, Sanjaya. You freak.

The clown walks into the spotlight and the first thing you see is his head. What is that? Is it a dead animal? Is it one of those freakish scalp conditions they always show on that Discovery Health channel? IS IT PAULA?!

Oh. Phew. It's not Paula. It's just the kid's hair done-up into a row of seven ponytails so he looks like a Trojan horse on his way to battle. Which begs a question: how do you think Sanjaya would perform in a real battle , the kind they showed in Braveheart and Gladiator and that one Barney episode where the kid with the hearing aide lost it and annihilated the yellow dinosaur thing with the generic red baseball cap?

Do you think he would cry? I do.

Do you think he would pee his pants? I do.

Do you think he would think he fought well even though he ran and ran and ran away from the battlezone like a man with his pubic hair on fire? I do.

He starts to quote-sing-unquote. You sit there and you listen for a sec and deep in your heart you know , and I mean you're absolutely POSITIVE , that you're being Punk'd. You're indignant. This fucker can't sing! He's meek and he's feeble and he has roughly the same amount of rhythm as my your dead, paraplegic great aunt Eunice. This shit can't be for real. Where's Ashton? Where's Demi's houseboy?

Oh, but look! He has a fan in the audience! Go over and talk to her, Ryan. Make her famous.

Hi, sweetheart, Ryan says. Why are you crying?

Why the fuck do you THINK I'm crying, cocksucker, she says sweetly. That dude up there sounds like my Chihuahua after it got run over by Mr. Filbertson's Winnebago last summer.

Ryan becomes flummoxed. He kicks it over to the judges.

Judge #1 says, Yo! Check this out, dog. Check this out. You didjyer thing up there tonight, huh? But yo, dude. Seriously. That was way worse than a'ight, dog. Didn't work for me, yo. You were pitchy in some spots. And by 'pitchy' I mean right now? In this big chair? I'm ripping a Hot Pocket fart that sounds more appealing than that shit you just sang. Paula, what did you think, dog? Kick it to the 'burbs, G. Kick it to the 'burbs, man.

Judge #2 says, Oh, Sanjaya. You have such a wonderful spirit. But Randy's right. It was pitchy and your...just...your...um...well, it wasn't your best performance. And Jesus Christ, people! Whose leg do you have to hump to get a Tom Collins and a couple lines of blow up in this motherfucker?

After a lengthy pause, Judge #3 leans in to the microphone and says, Sanjaya, you are a weak, talentless motherfucker. I hated it. Absolutely hated it. It was repulsive. It was a diz-ah-stuh. It sounded like a Hoover with a busted belt and a clogged filter. Your voice makes me want to punch Paula in the neck, tap that ass and leave her with a Dirty Sanchez that'll never wash off. You suck so bad, Sanjaya. What are you, some kind of a fruit? Get the fuck out of here, and take your fucked-up hair with you.

And then our clown flashes that goofy, oblivious smile and says to Judge #3, You're just jealous.

Jealous of what? he asks.

I dunno. But you are.

And then Ryan puts his arm around the freak and says, If you want to vote for this piece of runny dogshit, dial 1-877-KILL-ME-NOW after the show. And I hope God has mercy on your soul.

And! Cue the next commercial where Fox pimps one of its own shows for the twelfth time in the past hour.

With that, our national nightmare on our weekly international nightmare comes to an end.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Visit Danny at www.dadgonemad.com

Comments

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Desperate for a results show open thread over here. TWoP is offline, and I'm twitching with withdrawl over here. Will Gwen sing? Will Sanjaya be sporting a Jheri Curl? WHERE MAH BETCHES???? (and bestard, DGM, you rule like a big ruling thang.) I have Jello shots, people!!!!

Posted by: missbanshee | March 28, 2007 at 07:55 PM

OOOHH... Jello shots! After the day(week,really) I have had that sounds awesome!

One thing we know for sure? That little twerp will be sporting some god-awful fucked up hair-DON'T and that bitch smirk, which is endearing him to millions of 40 year old queens everywhere. And then there is the fact that if I have to sit here for one more week and listen to his pathetic attempts to sing, I will throw the fuck up. Don't push your luck!

That said, DGM- that was the funniest thing I have read in quite some time. And sadly, true.

I need a drink.

Posted by: Jenny H. | March 28, 2007 at 08:15 PM

Christ, that's funny. Nice work, Danny.

Posted by: mike | March 28, 2007 at 08:19 PM

we love us some danny, people.

and i can set up an open thread for the results show, but i can't guarantee *I* will be present throughout... three nights in a row of open threads = tracey loses her gawd dang mind. you feel me right, dawgs?

what do you guys think? open thread, yay or nay?

Posted by: Tracey | March 28, 2007 at 08:26 PM