Hot Underwear; or Prince's Final Thoughts on "American Idol"

I haven't really watched American Idol since the Fantasia-Jennifer Hudson season four years ago, but I did tune in to the Dolly Parton episodes this season, only to be devastated when that cute little Filipino girl got booted, prompting me to stand up, point to the TV, and scream at America, "Racist! Racist! Racist!" She did a terrific version of Parton's "Do I Ever Cross Your Mind," while other contestants absolutely butchered—and I mean butchered—some of Parton's better-known songs. Goodbye, Ramiele Malubay. Maybe you can become the new Jollibee spokesperson? Your own people would never sell you down the river!:



As for David Archuleta and David Cook, I didn't really care who won. It's not like I was going to buy either of their albums, and, for once, I was not lecherously obsessed with either of them.... Until—OH MY GOD—they ran a Guitar Hero commercial featuring David Cook dancing in his underwear like Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Seriously hot. So seriously hot that I have to spell it like this: H-A-W-T. Swoon:



After that ad aired during the atrocious season finale (it would take me hours to blog about that train wreck of a program), I was feeling depressed because everybody in America knew Archuleta, the frontrunner from the very beginning, would win. (His Guitar Hero ad had the same theme, he wore boxers, and it was all, well, a little embarrassing, but I won't badmouth him in public because he's just a kid. Plus, the things that I have said about him in the privacy of my own living room have been so mean that I couldn't possibly show that side of myself to you.)

But then Cook, the "rocker," took the crown in the biggest upset in American Idol history. From a bartender to a superstar in matter of weeks. He cried. I cried.

I still won't buy his album. But I'll spank it in his honor.

Pork? Beans? Hell yeah!

So many songs from Weezer's new "red" album have already been leaked (the official release date is June 3, 2008), but Rivers and crew have finally taken it upon themselves to post the "Pork and Beans" music video, a YouTube-themed extravaganza of visual and aural delights:



For those haters (I know who you are) who have been crying for years, "Weezer hasn't made a good record since the blue album," and who practically shit themselves in disgust when they first heard "Beverly Hills," GET OVER IT! It takes real genius to create something as unabashedly infectious as "Beverly Hills," and Weezer's best album is actually 1996's flawless Pinkerton—derided by "fans" upon its release and only enjoying a sort of renaissance in recent years. "Across the Sea," anyone? It's one of my favorite songs of all time, so much so that I've even found a way to "teach" it in my playwriting workshops. I'm a tricky one:

"Mountain, Get Out of My Way!"

The farewell episode of The Montel Williams Show aired last Friday, a bittersweet goodbye for an Emmy Award-winning program that's been on the air for 17 years. "Wait!" I hear you cry. "Prince, why would you of all people even care about Montel Williams? You watch The People's Court every day at 1:00PM—the same time Montel is on. So why is the cancellation of his show such a big deal to you?"

Let me explain. I don't watch the commercial breaks during The People's Court, so during that time I either make lunch, read magazines, or flip through channels. And I'll frequently land on Montel Williams, a talk show that tackles heavy topics such as drugs, domestic abuse, rape, and murder—but also gave the audience some relief by presenting "renowned" psychic Sylvia Browne almost every Wednesday. I couldn't help but be mesmerized by Montel's honest concern for each issue he covered, by his shiny bald head, and by the fact that he cried more than anybody I had ever seen on television. Seriously. He seemed to be always crying about something. And when you see a tall strong black man crying, it makes you cry. That's just the way it is.

My relationship with Montel Williams goes beyond the talk show. In 1999, I bought—in hardcover—his memoir, Mountain, Get Out of My Way. Why did I buy Mountain, Get Out of My Way IN HARDCOVER?! Well, it's simple. The book was fucking called Mountain, Get Out of My Way, for Christ's sake! How could I not read that shit?!

The title is actually Montel's personal battle cry when facing challenges in life. This man has been though some tough times, including a grueling fight with multiple sclerosis, so I don't doubt the power of his words. I mean, you have to try it. Facing discrimination or disease or divorce or any other road block? Stand up and scream, "Mountain, get out of my way!" Sure, you'll look completely ridiculous and people will laugh at you, but, if you're going to be miserable, at least other people will be amused.

Boston, DC, Minneapolis, New York--Point Me to Your Red Light Districts!

The dates and venues for Jukebox Stories' June "tour" have been confirmed, and it looks like Brandon and I will be in some crazy-ass places. I put "tour" in quotes because we're doing a mere five performances. The rest of the country scares me. Prove me wrong, people!

On June 5, we're in Minneapolis at the Bryant Lake Bowl in their basement cabaret space. According to some Minneapolisians (what the hell do you call yourselves?), it's supposed to be an awesome venue. If you're lucky, I'll let you bowl me down a lane!

On June 6, those of you who will be attending the Asian American Theater Conference in Minneapolis will be able to see a private performance of our show at the Guthrie Theatre. We can all gang up on Brandon and yell, "Get whitey!"

On June 12, we're in Washington, DC, at The Wonderland Ballroom, a multilevel bar that's proud of its beer selection. I will be sad in DC because the first male strip club that I ever went to and that remains in my memory and heart ("Wet") no longer exists. What the hell am I going to do with all the dollar bills I've been saving up?!

On June 14, we're in Brooklyn at the Living Room Lounge, a multipurpose venue that sounds way too hip for me. Are they laughing with me or at me?

And on June 15, we're in Boston at Kennedy's Midtown, an Irish pub, the location of one of my favorite Jukebox Stories performances ever. Sure, it helps when everyone's a little drunk. But, man, when they're completely wasted, it's magic!

Information for all these shows are right here. See you soon!