Simon, Simon, Simon, why must you persecute me like this? I had to endure a thirty-minute rant from my mother last night. She and her little friends at the retirement community are back to watching American Idol. Their list of favorites this year is very short, even shorter than last year (I think Ace is on the Bad List just for being named Ace) and, unfortunately, Mandisa was on their short list. So these old ladies are already furious over Mandisa's getting the return ticket, and then they found out that tomorrow night is dedicated to the music of... Queen.

Good Lord, it was awful. "Now, Gregory, dear, who is this Queen? It's not Queen Latifah? It's who? And they've sung what? But isn't that that song that they play in stadiums all the time? And their last hit was when? But I thought the point of this show was to find people who would be popular today. This show's aimed at young people and not people like us? Now what exactly do you mean by "people like us"? Oh, I know you're teasing. And I'm sure you're right, but we have cell phones and buy records too, so why can't they find someone who appeals to people like us as well? And if they're going to have 'Queen Night' why can't they have another Motown night? Or a Broadway night or standards night? And another thing, Gregory, why do they keep pointing at us all the time when they sing? Especially that Kellie? It's... off-putting, that's what it is. If they had Lerner and Lowe night, that would be a good stretch for the contestants, and I'm sure we'd see a lot less of that pointing...."

And on and on and on, Wilson snickering the whole time while he pretended to read. I think he's going to insist on watching it tomorrow night. Weren't the first ten plagues bad enough?