Adam Lambert - American Idol 8 -My Observations Of A Mystical, Dark Lord

We turned on our TV's, at best hoping to be distracted from real life for 60 minutes. We got it hopelessly wrong, we hadn't seen it coming. Not in our wildest dreams would we have guessed what the Mystical Lord had in store for us. Under the Cover of Darkness, he inched his leather-clad form stealthily into our lives, and effortlessly conquered us, person after person, nation after nation, week after week.

We had no prior knowledge of this tall, dark, stranger's spellbinding ways; or his unprecedented vocal prowess. We counted each second of his glory notes, we watched him take a simple song and, in one deft moment, tear it up into ten thousand pieces. Only to watch in silent awe, as he just as swiftly melded it into a stunning vocal masterpiece. We were transfixed like marble statues, unable to move an inch whilst he slowly and methodically took possession of our minds, our bodies, our souls.

He challenged us constantly, never allowing us a moment's rest. He stole our classics and had his evil way with them, then casually tossed them aside whilst he deployed smoldering eyes, continuing his wanton attack on our defenseless and battered senses.

With cunning ploy, the bejeweled one camouflaged his spiked hair. Leather jackets and tight zip pants morphed into suits, and he fiendishly turned on the charm. He destroyed what little fragments of outrage we still had sloshing around our empty craniums.

We valiantly tried to muster up resistance; we knew Country week would slay him into submission. He took up the gauntlet and threw it back in our faces with a vengeance. The sitar and gyrations were laboring every shallow breath that he allowed us to take, weapons of chains and leather gloves looming menacingly.

Limping ever so slowly over to Rock week, we were expecting mercy from his continual domination. Finding ourselves assaulted by luscious sneers, the Cat o Nines very nearly caused our demise.

We took refuge under the safe haven of the Finale. We were attacked with hypnotic Beth Eyes, handcuffs and shoulder armor; his Alien Allies flying down from the heavens, wielding musical axes and bearing magical feet.

The Queen summoned the Dark Prince, who bore no mercy, he pranced over his kingdom with head held high, screaming his dialect across the moors, whilst maneuvering his heavy metal scepter with aplomb.

The smoke has subsided, but the damage has been done. His unyielding war on our eyes, ears, and minds has taken its toll. Never again shall we look the same way at music, nor tear ourselves away from whom we were meant to be. Never again shall we question the belief that we have the birthright to be different from the throngs, and succeed so well in doing so. We have been shown the way to treat others, to embrace sensuality, to revere life. We awake each day with spring in our step and a twinkle in our eye.

The Dark Lord has emerged triumphant; his millions of subjects remain captivated, sharing a beautiful, universal kinship, and knowing that we are in a much better place than before.

© 2009 Ann Mason

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