Our national obsession with "reality" television has ensured that instead of just one day of judgment, we now bear weekly witness to several of them. And, Lord knows, the humiliation we see doled out by the likes of American Idol's Simon Cowell is far more hellish than anything God could dish out. And, personally, I wouldn't have it any other way. That's because I've come to benefit from this new way of casting opinions on our fellow man. In fact, in certain circles I'm fast becoming a "Simon" myself. It started last spring when I was a judge on America's Next Top Model: Portland Search (QW, April 6, 2005).
I was an asshole. And I loved every minute of it.
The good folks at KPTV asked me back for this year's show. And although it wasn't as elaborate as '05's, it was just as trying—as in my trying to figure out what to say to these girls. My fellow judges and I had just three hours to eyeball more than 100 supermodel wannabes. I wasted no time in pointing out the flaws of these virtually flawless-looking beauties. "You've got a big nose," I said to a leggy blonde. I quizzed another missy with "Are you fat, or do you just have wide hips?" I kicked another out of the room before she even had a chance to tell us her name. That night, I dozed off to sleep with just a few pangs of guilt about what I'd said that day.
Two days later, I was passing judgment on another group of contestants. This time out, it was at Milwaukie's new Thunder Ranch, a cowboy bar that looks like a cross between Brokeback Mountain and Hooters. Portland's "Celebrity Idol" was the name of this competition and it featured the singing talents of FOX-12's TV anchors as well as a few local radio jocks. Since these were singing "celebs," I cranked my ire up a notch and tried to be extra mean. No way was 99.5 The Wolf's "Mike" going to get off easy by just shouting "tequila" three times.
Confident in my abilities to pass judgment, I've found this brand-new "skill" bleeding into my private life—which led to a dramatic episode at the Northwest 23rd Avenue and Overton Street Starbucks last week. The WW office just moved to a still-industrial pocket of Northwest Portland, and this particular coffeeshop was new to me. And yet, three times in a row, the same barista screwed up my "grande, half-decaf, iced Americano" drink order. Instead of keeping my mouth shut, I blurted out, "She's a crap barista." At which time a second barista responded with an "you did NOT say that" and shoved me out the front door. Yes, I was kicked out of Starbucks.
So in the future I think I'll keep my opinions to myself—at least until the cameras start rolling. Snap.
Watch FOX-12's 10 pm newscast Tuesdays-Wednesdays or Good Day Oregon Wednesdays-Thursdays for more "Celebrity Idol."
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