KILLING THE EUNICHORN
(THE DAY THAT HOPE DIED)
I was painting all weekend and experienced a severe case of PB. PB or Painter's Brain is a semi-hallucinogenic trance like state induced by moving your arm up and down 3 million times in one day. It is Kinetic Chanting if you must know. Once fully induced your subconscious gleefully wrestles through the clutter of the right here/right now thinking mode and you start to examine deep thoughts with a crystalline clarity.
That is why I was immediately tormented by the realisation that Clay Aiken actually lost to Reuben Stoddard on American Idol. Let's face it, since then the world has gone to hell in a handbasket. It occurred to me that I haven't felt that shocked or depressed about world events since Bobby Ewing arose from the dead in the shower scene on Dallas!
Seriously, if ever there was a chance for mankind to right some wrongs and get back on track it was the opportunity to crown Clay Aiken as the American Idol. Since then we've had nothing but bad news: the War in Iraq, Asian Bird Flu and the absolute worst case scenario GASP the rapid devaluation of the uber film star and all-around-godsend Tom Cruise.
We have all witnessed Tom's self inflicted charismacide and Q-Rating implosion by couch jumpin' his way (like Tigger) from being the coolest guy on earth to some weird sort of creepy, katienapping, Scien-gerontologist. Eeew! His desperate cry for help is well documented by his mortal enemies at the American Psychiatric Association and more importantly, Enterpainment Tonight. Can you sense the irony? The analysis and treatment that he so fervently despises may be his only hope. OMG! What the hell is happening to our world?
But I digress....OK... remember when Reuben Stoddard stood before the world as the freshly minted American Idol? You could hear the gasp of disbelief that circled the globe (well the room anyway). Not because it so eerily mirrored the OJ Simpson verdict No No NO! Whoa Nelly we ain't goin' there. No it wasn't because Reuben was black. Reuben was a fabulous vocalist and a giant Teddy-Bear to boot! No my friends this is not about the colour of a man's skin. This is about something far more important than Human Rights or Racial Equality. This is about Showbiz dammit and Clay was a better Entertainer! He was Eunique! Yes, a little part of me died that day and I don't think that I will ever get it back.
Historians will someday write about that Televisual moment as a pivotal point in the evolution of our two greatest human inventions: Civilisation and Entertainment. Of course we can't change it now. What's done is done. You should ask yourself, 'who really killed the Eunichorn that day?' You did you bastard! You should have picked up the phone and voted for Clay. I hope that you can live with that. How do you sleep at night?
All I could do to console myself was to play Invisible over and over and over again in my head. I personally think that Clay should record Cher's song If I Could Turn Back Time just to rub our noses in it. For gawdsake Clay, come out, come out, wherever you are!