THIS SHOW'S A BUST!

Channel surfing again last night, I tuned in to the last thirty minutes of NBC’s “America’s Got Talent,” which should be re-titled: “America’s Got Freak-a-zoids.” Now, granted, there were some good dancers and singers, but there were also what I considered to be circus sideshow acts. At 7-feet, 3-inches, “Giant George” wrapped plastic tubing around a girl, jammed it up one of his nostrils, pulled it down out of his mouth, then sucked up milk, after which he ripped off his shirt to reveal fireworks taped to his chest, then blew ‘em up. And what was even more bizarre was that the judges gave this act a thumbs up and passage on to the next stage of competition! A sword swallower showed up later…I had to turn my head to keep from getting a gut ache watching him…but he, too, was given the green light. Alas, a gal named “Busty” who crushed a six-pack of beer cans with her size quadruple Z breasts received the heave-ho.

This got me to wondering what talent I could show off if this stellar TV show came to my town seeking auditions. Hmmm. I took piano lessons for a year when I was in grade school. After getting the scales down pat, however, everything pretty much went downhill. The left hand just couldn’t process how to work in conjunction with the right hand. When I was in high school, I could sing a little and play the flute a little but nothing special and only within the context of a band or chorus, so I could hit a sour note or just take a break altogether and fake it and no one would be the wiser. No solos or my cover would be blown. Dancing? Definitely a no. Not even close.

What is so odd here is that around the house I sing and dance all the time. Big Bore and I enjoy changing lyrics and butchering songs off key on a daily basis. And just the other night, I was showing him how I can tap dance wearing flip flops on my feet. I wish I could write that his response was one of impressive applause, but he just shook his head and rolled his eyes…and not in a good way. His reaction made me try to do better a second time around, but he assured me that an encore presentation was not in order.

Well, since this American has no true talent, I’ve decided the only way I’m ever going to get on television is....to come up with my own freak show act. I’m still cogitating over just what this might be. Any suggestions from my readers will be taken into serious consideration, as long as they don’t involve fireworks, swords, and beer cans or require a name change to “Busty.”