I posted something here that I thought was funny. Then I read it a few hours later and it just didn't seem as funny. In lieu of anything originally produced, I give you FuckYouPenguin.blogspot.com:

You know, there was once an ugly duckling who got picked on all of the time by the other ducks, who couldn't understand why the duckling was so ugly. But then it turned out that duckling wasn't really a duck at all, but was in fact a TOTAL FUCKING DICK.

Take this world-class douche, for example. Everyone is just hanging out, having a good time, and Mr. "My wingspan is bigger than yours" decides to unload on the scene. Even his swan friend is embarrassed. He probably does it all the fucking time because let's be honest: that's just what swans do. Me personally, I wouldn't be caught dead with a fucking swan.

8:10pm: Jackie - Christ on a bicycle, what is she wearing? Someone raided Minnie Mouse's wardrobe, and from the sound of the voice, I'm guessing it was someone with a trachiotomy.

8:18pm - Rick Braddy. This dude is prematurely balding, and his pro-mo's not exactly accentuating the positive. He sounds like a bad lounge singer. I'm beginning to regret that I didn't stop by the liquor store on my way home. Maybe we've got some crappy vodka around here...

8:30pm - Alexis Grace. What.The.Fuck. I thought this show was about hot people with minimal talent who could be widely marketed to the drooling pop masses. Did they drop the 'hot' part this year and go for broke? On a lighter note, I did manage to find some Smirnoff in the cabinet. No OJ in the fridge, so I figure I'll just mix it directly with the contents of my stomach. At least the contestants will start looking better...

Paula Abdul's rambling like a homeless drunk, and I swear her eyelids are looking lazy. Maybe she's tripping. Wait, was that Ted Danson and Doogie Houser sitting in the front row? Now I think I'm tripping.

8:45 pm - Brent Keith. Oh God, but he's laying it on thick: a country song about poor crackers with pickup trucks and chicks who use White Rain. Are you kidding me? If this guy was from where I live, we'd mount his carcass on a spear Dracul-style when he got kicked off this show. He says he doesn't think that country fans will forget his music, and this is the kind of music he wants to make. If that's what country fans want, they deserve all the ridicule that's heaped on them.

Cut to commerical. This vodka is going down good, but it's making my burps smell like warm garbage. I guess that's what happens when you chase dijon-glazed pork loin and mashed potatoes with low grade swill from a plastic bottle. I'm going to fridge to find something, anything, to make my burps smell better.

Question: If a mousetrap snapped closed on say, a cats paw or tail, would that cause permanent damage?

8:50 - Stevie Wright. The hotness draught continues. Talk about marketable though, that girl should be selling ad space on that forehead of hers. She certaintly shouldn't be singing; if I had to guess I'd say she hasn't even done karaoke before. Damn. The judges are blasting her for sucking so bad, and the audience is booing. Fox must've packed the stage with a field trip from the school for the deaf. Cowell says her performance was so bad "I wanted to punch my own teeth out, fashion a cutting tool out of them, and saw my own bollocks off with it." That may not be exact, but it's pretty close...

8:56pm - Anoop Desai. As a Carolina fan, I've got high standards for this guy even though he looks like a total d-bag. He can sing, but he sounds like Boys II Men circa 1992. The judges are complaining about technical shortcomings with his singing. Dial 6 to vote for unibrow.

Cut to commercial. Hmm. The vodka bottle's looking a little light; and no one's getting any hotter. That's an uncommonly bad omen.

9:04pm - Casey Carlson. The hot draught may be bottoming, but we've got a long climb ahead of us. Talent is still painfully absent in all forms. This chick dances like Elaine Bennis from Seinfeld; and it seems that the judges are avoiding eye contact in hopes that maybe this will all just go away. The judges are passing this poor girl around like a 5-dollar hooker. Paula says "the guys" always say she's beautiful; I would like to respectfully enter my dissenting opinion. She only looks halfway decent because she's following three trolls, The Forehead, Unibrow, and something that looked like an starved wildebeest with pink highlights.

9:18 pm. Michael Sarver. Dude works on an oil rig, so I ain't saying shit about him. Normal people go to the gym each morning before work, but roughnecks get up and put people they don't like into industrial-size plastic shredders and make smoothies from the leavings. I notice the judges are aware of this as well, and adjust their commentary appropriately. The guy sits down on the couch, and Seacrest's panties moisten noticeably.

9:25pm Ann Marie Boskovich. The Wife and I agree that hotness has made its first appearance of the night. And she can sing too? Hey, there's a refreshing idea! Ted Danson's on his feet. The judges give her shit about choosing a difficult song, and she calls them on it; which is a moment of awesomeness that goes relatively unnoticed. Cowell says something absolutely retarded about how the real world is going to be able to tell she's not a true singing talent. Hey Cowell, the refutations of your hypothesis are legion, and one of them is sitting right next to you. Her name is Paula Abdul.

9:35pm - Stephen Fowler. Michael Jackson's music freaks me out, because even though he's singing about a girl, you know in his mind he's thinking about a preadolescent Macaulay Culkin. The singing is okay, the hotness level has begun heading back down. He tries to say that his performance sucked because he's not 100% ready. Newsflash buddy, it's the first week, neither is anyone else. If you make the cut tonight (ROFL) try not to be such a pussy next time.

The vodka is finally gone. I think we've got a bottle of white table wine in the fridge. Can you mix stuff with wine? I think we've got some Apple Pucker in the cabinet. Apples, grapes, they go together right?

9:48pm Tatiana Del Toro. This chick has annoyed me from day one. She's a drama queen with an annoying laugh. She also rolls her R's, but only when she says things like Peurto Rico or something. When I watch her sing, I feel like I'm watching the talent portion of some cheesey pageant competition. I hope she trips on stage, loses control of her bowels, and is shamed into spending the rest of her life in a cardboard box. Cowell agrees with me.

Tatiana then proceeds to talk over Seacrest and plead with the American people to fulfill her dream of being the American Idol. I think she'd make a better Miss Chiquita Banana 2009. Also, wine and Apple Pucker tastes like Kool Aid and hobo piss; but it's better than sobering up at this point.

9:56pm. Danny Gokey. I think this guy is a good singer, so I'm expecting him to make the rest of tonight's contestants look like pillocks. And wouldn't you know it, he is doing just that. The judges push each other out of the way to impact-mold their tonsils to the base of Danny's penis. Except for Cowell, who likes to play hard to get.

Yes, he is risen; his wrath unleashed upon the Earth once more:

Who will save humanity once evil is yet again unleashed? Is this a precursor to the final battle between good and evil? Apparently, we knoweth not the day or the hour, but I'm pretty sure we should all free up our calendars around the end of September; just in case.

That's right motherfuckers. There's another one comin' down the line; and it's a real son of a bitch!