Jeremy Eaton
You know, I hate to be one of those grumpy grampies who prattles on and on about how "things were better in my day." Unfortunately, THINGS WERE BETTER IN MY DAY!! Take entertainers, for example: In MY day, we didn't have fancy-pantsy choreographers or vocal instructors to teach us how to be "entertaining." We had ALCOHOL. Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Foster Brooks they were all DRUNK and entertaining as hell. Now what do we have? Britney Spears. And if she's caught even holding a cigarette? The media craps their pants! HAS THIS WORLD GONE FAWKING CRAZY??

Another problem with entertainers these days is that they're all still in diapers. In MY day, performers had to pay their dues! They spent years honing their craft in hundreds of backwater clubs before receiving national recognition. But nowadays? It's "spit out that pacifier and put on this Abercrombie & Fitch thong 'cause you're hitting the BIG TIME!"

Oh, sure, I would loooooove to be a world-famous entertainer traveling the world over, performing for crowds of screaming fans but I can't. BECAUSE I'M MORE THAN 18 FAWKING YEARS OLD!! And does anybody give a crap that I've been practicing my craft in karaoke bars for the last 10 years in preparation for my big break? No, they do not. Because they're too busy watching 17-year-old Kelly Osbourne sing "Papa Don't Preach" on MTV's 2002 Movie Awards!! (Which I admit was pretty good but that's not the fawking point!!!)

So regardless of my incredible ability to sing, dance, and tell gutbusting jokes in front of a crowd, my entertainment career is already in the shithole. Now the only joy I get from life is slurping bowls of Metamucil in a cold, dark house and watching shows like American Idol (Tuesdays, 9 pm, FOX), where young, untalented whippersnappers audition for a major recording contract--and are told they suck big hippo dick.

Like the original show from jolly old England, called Pop Idol, the Americanized version also features kids from all over the country lining up to warble Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You" and falling on their big fat acne-ridden faces. And giving them a shove in the appropriate direction are three sharp-tongued and unsympathetic judges: recording industry exec Randy Jackson, washed-up singer/ choreographer Paula Abdul, and the show's co-creator, Simon Cowell, who takes particular delight in shoving the contestants' heads into the self-esteem toilet.

And even better? I can go online after the show and vote on who I like best (although I would rather help insult the ones who suck). But here's my point! Even though these craptastic kids are stealing MY limelight, I refuse to slip quietly into the dark corner of anonymity! That's why you can catch my singing/dancing/comedy act every Tuesday evening at Fat Bobby's Barbecue and Beer House, just 10 miles outside of town on I-5. The way I see it, if I can make it there? I can make it anywhere!!