For all the Bill O'Reilly's who don't get him, and the Elizabitch Hasslesnatches who complain that Simon, Katy Perry, and Entertainment Weekly are personally endorsing him, check out a spot-on article that Rob Scheffield wrote on why Adam Lambert is the most exciting thing to happen to American Idol since Jennifer Hudson and Fantasia tore the house down years back. Shallow ignorant assholes like to focus on the way Adam looks, but people have to look at the fact that he's sexy, confident, and doesn't play the game like most of these boring ass pageant-esque contestants of Idol yore. I will most definitely have my tivo ready for when he wins the crown. Even if he doesn't, I'm sure that not only will folks be upset, but I'm sure he'll have a much promising career just like Hudson and Chris Daughtry (who I thought was a shoo-in, but was eliminated from the final four). Bo Bice won, but has anyone heard from him? All the conservatives, who were used to their boring ass mid-westerners winning because they did middle-of-the-road country songs I'm sure were upset that Danny Gokey was sent home last week (I guess his widower sympathy card must have expired), but at least you have Jason Mraz wannabe Kris Allen to root for. I really feel that id Adam wins, not only will he be the first west coast contestant to win Idol, but he will definitely be the shot of expresso Idol truly needs right now. Check out the Rolling Stone story below:
American Idol is back on top, and it’s all one little black-leather-clad demon prince’s fault. For the past few seasons, Idol seemed to be dying of boredom, but Adam Lambert, a goth studlet with mascara, black nail polish and a falsetto from deep in the larynx of Lucifer, has single-handedly rescued the franchise. He can do sincerity and ridiculosity all at once, exactly the algorithm Idol has been striving for all these years. Lambert combines the different Idol archetypes, delivering the complete star thrill heretofore doled out one sliver at a time. He has the burning “say my name, bitch” thing of Chris Daughtry, the cutthroat vanity of a Carrie Underwood, but also that innocent desire to give pleasure à la Kelly Clarkson. He packs a whole Gong Show of Americana into one pair of striped spandex tights.
Where the hell did they find this guy? There’s a “boy who fell to Earth” quality about him, like David Bowie’s Lady Stardust come to life. It’s a little hard to believe that, until a few months ago, he was toiling away as an obscure understudy in the L.A. production of Wicked. He’s easily the most fun Idol ever, a flam-bam-boyantly queeny California boy who has devoted his nights to making Midwestern housewives slobber into their tubs of Ben & Jerry’s Karamel Sutra. Whether he’s slutting up a rocker like “Born to Be Wild” (”wiii-eeee-iiyaaaiild!”) or sobbing his way through “Mad World,” he oozes pure awesome-stosterone.
Having Adam around seems to cheer everybody up, including the other singers, who know the pressure’s off. Hell, even Simon looks happy. Yeah, it’s supposed to be a competition, but part of Glambert’s charm is that by removing all the bogus suspense from the show, he’s made it watchable again.
We don’t know for sure if Glambert is gay — all he says is he has nothing to hide or deny — but if not, it’s the gayest embodiment of flaming youth by a straight guy since Bowie sold the world. Glambert plays off the new gay stereotype that has been reality TV’s gift to our culture: the hyperfunctional gay dude who has his shit together in contrast to all the neurotic, insecure straight guys around him. He reverses the joke from Mean Girls — he’s too gay not to function. Somewhere along the line, this has become an iconic gay image in the mainstream — seen more recently in I Love You, Man, where the only person with any confidence is the gay Andy Samberg character, who gets to be strong while all the straight boys are sulky little bitches.
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