Oh man, I've been patiently twiddling my thumbs for the last 3 hours until the finale aired on the West Coast, so I could finally post this. Taylor Hicks is our new American Idol, and I couldn't be happier. Well, I could be (sigh...Chris). But if I can't have Chris, then I'm happy with the Silver Fox. (I hate that nickname by the way. It makes me feel like I've got a crush on an old man. What's the opposite of being a pedophile? Is there a word for that? 'Cause I might have it.) They really took it down to the last minute too. I was biting my nails at 1 hour and 59 minutes, worried that my TiVo was about to pop up with the dreaded "Erase Now? or Save?" quandary. I felt like I was Mr. Eko on Lost, watching that damn clock. But right at the final seconds, Ryan said Taylor's name. Yes! The crazy windmill-dancing bastard pulled it off! I understand why Taylor's dad was crying, but why was David Hasselhoff?

I have an insatiable appetite for useless information. When something or someone in the world of entertainment catches my interest, I want to know everything I can about them. I listen to DVD audio commentaries incessantly, I scour the internet for meaningless trivia about TV shows and actors... it's almost like a sickness.

It's my love of meaningless tidbits that drew me to VH1 Storytellers more than any other live performance show (save for Sessions at West 54th). The idea of the show was very simple: a band or solo artist would perform in an intimate venue in front of a few fans and then talk about their songs. The show only lasted one year, perhaps because not everyone cares as much about Michael Stipe's incoherent ramblings as I did, or watching Billy Idol flirt with young girls in the audience. Still, the show offered an interesting look at the creative process. Considering that VH1 is now nothing more than a channel where people talk about stuff from the 80s twenty-four hours a day, you can't blame me for pining for a show that was actually about music and not, you know, how awesome BurgerTime was.