New sewage has come from the Fox network's bum
With the big name "American Idol"
The show, they all said, surely gives viewers head
With the size of its ratings unrivaled

The premise, they say, is to give teens a way
To fulfill on their dreams of pop-stardom
The warbling's so vile, it's like sucking on bile
As you wait for your art'ries to harden

For each sings their song like they're wearing a thong
That's been shoved into all the wrong places;
Their eyes close to slits and they pucker their lips --
Making music? Or just making faces?

Paula Abdul's a bore -- 26 fans are no more
And her singing career is now empty
The producers -- they knew, she knew how to be booed --
Signed her on as a judge very early

And Simon is grim, and the people hate him
Because his disposition's not sunny
And he'll tell kids they suck, and should go drive a truck
And he's usually right on the money

Well Randy's a dawg, who does not like to jog
But he does like to use lots of vowels
Cause he'll say, "That's aaaaiiiiiight", so he won't sound too white
Though his act's a lame ripoff of Cowell's

No song can be sung by the great William Hung
And it's harsh but I still think he should be
To bring him more fame, a new record deal came
and he still sat and wondered 'well, should he?'

When William Hung blows hot air out of his nose
His sound-waves turn the minutes to hours
The judges all say he'd have killed fish that day
If he'd sung with more volume and power

You no talent fool, don't they teach math in school
One contract plus you means bling-blinging
Until William hangs, we will all hear 'She Bangs'
From a singer who's no good at singing

The ironic thing is that some of them sing
Well enough you won't reach for your Midol
But the ones with good stuff, are the first voted off
Of The Dreck Called "American Idol"

Guarini would strut with his poodle haircut,
Hoping his under-arms were not smelly.
He sang and he wailed, but that Clarkson prevailed,
When Just-in-time, the voters chose Kelly.

And Who'd-a thought that Clay Aiken was so great
He's not straight; Kelly Clarkson: no talent
The "singing's" insane; rock songs sung in vain
Killed "Rock You Like a Hurricane," you'd win

The way voices screeched and the songs that they played
It sure sounded like Satan's Cathedral
Far more re-voltin' than that Michael Bolton
Was The Dreck Called "American Idol"

Don't have much stage fright, come into the spotlight
And sing like you're in a cold shower
You'll book your own shows, you might even score hos
Not from talent, but from Idol's power

So who'll win the title: American Idol
The subject's got old, we should drop it
Forget who's a-winning, if I hear 'em singing
I'm going to scream Hey! You! JUST STOP IT!!!

(Randy)
Well have no more fear, aiiiight, the ending is near, yo
(Paula)
...But, dammit we're all out of Midol (<--and ideas)
(Simon)
You can't dance, you can't sing, so we're ending this thing
Yeah, this Dreck Called "American Idol"

[*** POSTSCRIPT ***]

(Leo Jay to EmiLoca)

I firmly believe Parody-mocracy
Must rely on group participation
Collab'rative art means we each do our part
So give up on your ego deflation!

Yes, add without guilt to this parody quilt
For your own contribution is vital
And as I have seen, you're the parody queen
With regard to 'American Idol'

(EmiLoca to Leo Jay)

Your statement is true; better three is than two
But should my verse go up for submission
My efforts they'd mock; from this thread, I'd be blocked
(I am famous for my premonitions.)

My ego-deflate may cause you to frustrate
But, admitted, I'm hardly a writer
So with no regret, this one thread I'll forget
For my life will go on (Am I Right, sir?)

(Leo Jay to EmiLoca)

Yes ma'am, 'Writer You' (and a fine writer, too!)
That your life on this thread's not dependent
So though we regret that you won't join us yet
I'm content that I put in my two cents

Your skills are revered, but you've made it quite clear
That to this task you have an aversion
The choice is your own, so I'll leave it alone
I would never resort to coercion

So you're off the hook, thanks for giving a look
And I'm glad that you found it amusing
We'll meet, I am sure, somewhere else on the boards
When you post on a thread of your choosing!

(Philbo to Everybody)

I'm sorry to say that I am not au fait
With owt from the genre "Reality"
It's so darn inane that it drives me insane
With its whole unremitting banality

Idol or Brother, both or another
I've never watched either, don't doubt me
So I can't add my verses, my insults and curses
You'll just have to write this without me

Maybe (he said) we should have a whole thread
Where all posts must be of this format
And we could all rehearse a discussion in verse
Using words to make rhymes, such as "doormat"