As you probably know, this was Simon Cowell’s last season on “American Idol.”
Next year, there will be someone new sitting in his judge’s chair, and Idol fans are all abuzz about whom it might be.
Buzz no more. I know who it will be. SPOILER ALERT!
It will be a “mean” British guy.
The show has a formula and it has been quite popular so far, so why mess with success, right?
Americans believe that British people are automatically somehow “better” than us or at least “think” they are better. You know, with all that uppity speaking English correctly and all that.
So he’ll have to be British.
And he’ll have to be “mean.”
True, Simon played a character and embellished his criticisms to play to his TV audience, but the fact remains that in most cases, he was just being honest.
And “honest,” in the age of tee-ball sensitivity, is mean.
“Tee-ball sensitivity” is how I describe the current belief that any criticism of young people is far too harsh.
Currently, in tee-ball, all the kids get to run the bases, whether they had a home-run hit or not. Teams don’t keep score and every player gets a trophy at the end of the season.
The game is meant to teach the rudimentary concepts and skills of baseball. It skips, however, the basic concepts of greater and lesser players and winning and losing.
“If you at least tried, you did a good job.” ARRGH!
When kids graduate to playing real baseball, scores are kept and teams win and lose. But some of the thinking of tee-ball follows these kids for a very long time.
Flash-forward to “American Idol” try outs, in which hundreds of contestants are rejected because they are completely and undeniably terrible singers.
Some are so awful, and so delusional, that they are put through to try out in front of Simon and the gang. That’s because the drama makes for engaging television, and — let’s be honest –it’s fun to make fun of some people.
“But my mother and my grandmother say I sing like an angel! ” they say. Or “That Simon is wrong! (Bleepity Bleep Bleep) I’ll show him! All my friends say I sing good!”
These people came to be this way because no one wanted to offer anything less than complete encouragement to them, even at the expense of honesty.
Now switch over to community theater. Community theater, by and large, is attended by friends and family of the cast and senior citizens.
I enjoy theater. I have friends who do community theater. As a good friend, I will sometimes attend a performance to see my friends and feel like I’m supporting the arts.
On one such excursion, I was disappointed to find myself at a rather lackluster performance. Even my friend did not deliver a good performance in this mess of a production. Yet, when the final curtain fell and then rose again for the cast to give their bows, the crowd of assembled seniors were on their feet with thunderous applause.
(Applause is polite and is required. A standing ovation for a crummy show is not.)
I applauded politely, but did not stand.
Later, while making my exit, I overheard some of the seniors talking. One complained that one of the actors was hard to hear and understand. Another commented that another actor seemed to forget his lines at one point. The third senior said, “Oh well, I’m just glad to get out of the house.”
Ok, that’s her excuse. What about the rest of these people, these enablers of mediocrity and outright awfulness?
People are so afraid to tread on a person’s fragile little feelings that they may be, in fact, setting them up for a much more harsh and hurtful fall in the future.
Honesty is not “mean.”
If you’re just honest with someone in your assessment of his or her shortcomings or need for improvement, there’s nothing mean about that.
If you embellish your criticism with words intended to be hurtful or unnecessary exaggerations intended to be funny or humiliate the person – that IS mean.
(That’s nearly the very definition of mean.)
Now if you’re just simply honest, with no intent of malice and the person you’re evaluating tells you that you’re mean…
Just hand them a trophy and tell them that they can run all the bases.